#maul growing a beard

[trashmouth-richie]

your touch

eddie x female reader

summary: eddie survives the “earthquake” but has a hard time adjusting to changes, thankfully you are there

“This thing… fucking itches.”

He stood in the mirror. Harsh glow of sickly green fluorescent lights accentuating his mauled torso. Scrutinizing himself, hating what looked back at him.

“It’s only temporary,” you try to reassure him, speaking with a calm voice gently stroking soft hands over his hips, “just for a few—”

“Years babe!” He says hotly, irritation bubbling beneath his temples as he stares back at your eyes in the mirror, “a few years—you say it as if it’s not a big deal, like it’ll be over tomorrow.”

‘86 wasn’t Eddie’s year.

What was supposed to be filled with celebrating graduation and possibly a trip to LA to find a recording studio who would take him and the band seriously, ended in a week's time over Spring Break.

A week that brought new turmoil, hatred, fear and devastation to Hawkins— starting with a dead cheerleader, ending with a come-to-life DnD monster wreaking havoc across the small sheltered town.

Many people died. And if you asked any living member of Hawkins besides a select few; Eddie and yourself were also considered dead.

You stroke the back of his neck—small circles scratching lightly against bare skin, stubborn stubble peeking through showing itself off.

“Honey,” you purr with lips to his back, looking at him in the same mirror he hated more and more everyday that he had been here. “You know what the other option was.”

The town wanted Eddie dead and Owens agreed that having him be just that on paper would be the safest option. A little hush government money, a silly new name— Eddie was cool with that, almost excited.

“I know, I know..” he groans, fingers raking through the thick brown beard on his chin, defeated. “But this—” he says tugging harshly, “itches and.. and fuck—”

His appearance had to change.

Hawkins wasn’t satisfied with the claims that he was dead from the earthquake, they wanted to see a body, churchgoers going medieval, calling for his head on a stake in the middle of town.

Not wearing his rings made him feel like he was naked. He hated the feeling of it at first. But what really put the nail in the coffin was when he had to cut his hair, and “possibly grow a beard if he was able to” per Owen’s requests.

You work your fingers through the tufts of his beard, gently untangling the coarse hair and massaging his chin. “You’re still handsome.”

When Eddie got down on himself he stayed there in the wallowing depths, barely above water for weeks. Finding no joy in things he used to, some days even refusing to eat.

“I’m scarred up…don’t even look like my— I can’t fucking do this.” His frustration gets the best of him, letting a fist fly into the mirror—shattering it into pieces that clank loud in the sink, some tinkering down the drain and across the tiled floor.

He curses loud as blood flows angry and crimson from his knuckles, pit pattering onto the ceramic sink. He watches it slide down into a collecting path, pooling into a mass before it deepens, staining the floor entirely.

Minutes pass, and you haven’t said a word, giving him the space he needs. Eddie cleans himself up, bandaging his hand carelessly as he scrambles trying to piece the mirror back together, maybe if he had some tape he could fix it for you.

��I’m sorry baby,” he mutters around a fresh flock of tears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.. I’m so fucking sorry, please don’t leave me.”

He feels your hands wrap around his waist again. Cold as silk, stinging like a frostbite, comforting him the only way you could.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie hears, feeling your icy hands trace around his heart, “I’m always here.”

Sanity left him long ago, the barred enclosure taking its toll on his mind, his body. The others couldn’t understand—maybe didn’t want to understand why.

Why the inmate talked to his mirror.

a follow up to this story, the raven told me of you, is linked here

[david-talks-sw]

So this was the last qualm I had with the whole "Qui-Gon should've trained Anakin, not Obi-Wan" take or that Qui-Gon is somehow more advanced than the other Jedi.

During, Celebration Anaheim 2022, at the Tales of the Jedi Panel, Dave Filoni had this to say:

“Well, [Qui-Gon's] ego is not there, because Obi-Wan tells him "if you’d just do what the Council said, you’d be on the Council" and he’s [like] "I’ll do what I must." Like, he doesn’t worry about those things, because he’s trying to get to the selfless truth of things, y’know? Everything that Qui-Gon’s trying to do is— he’s not afraid to love because he does not possessively love. And that’s something that the Jedi of the Prequel era have kinda - in their involvement with politics - have forgotten. It’s faded.”

So aside from having already established that George Lucas said multiple times that all Jedi can love without getting possessive, it's not something unique to Qui-Gon...

... be it here or in Disney Gallery: The Mandalorian, Filoni bases the whole premise of this reasoning on a couple of lines from Obi-Wan.

Y'know, Obi-Wan.

The 25-year-old. The Padawan.

Like, of course he's ambitious and putting rules and the Council on a pedestal, he's still just a learner, he's in his friggin' 20s.

To be clear: Obi-Wan is not meant to represent the average Jedi, in The Phantom Menace.

Yes, he's smart and skilled but too prudent, too much of a stickler for protocol and still needing to learn about the Living Force.

And guess what?

He outgrows these flaws by the end of the film.

Obi-Wan thought Anakin was dangerous, and underestimated both Anakin and Jar Jar? Well, Anakin proves him wrong and blows up the Trade Federation ship, and thanks to Jar Jar, the Naboo are able to retake their planet.

We know Obi-Wan learns from this, because skip to Episode II and he's asking other "Guide" archetypes like Dexter Jettster for advice. He's learned to see their value.

He's putting the Council on a pedestal, is strictly by the book? Well, now he's ready to go against the Council's approval, if necessary, to train Anakin.

He still has much to learn about the Living Force, worries too much instead of focusing on the here and now? The only way he's able to beat Maul is by emptying his mind and letting the Force guide him.

Obi-Wan's whole arc in The Phantom Menace is going from being someone that...

dismisses characters emblematic of the Guide mythological archetype (like Anakin or Jar Jar),

needs to think for himself instead of being so by-the-book.

needs to open up and feel the Force instead of getting bogged down in thoughts and logic,

... to someone that:

listens to Guide characters, like Dexxter Jettster,

can stand up to the Council when needed,

can let the Force guide his actions.

As George Lucas puts it:

"In the beginning, Obi-Wan is at odds with Qui-Gon, who rebels against the Jedi rules. But by the end of the film, he has become Qui-Gon by taking on his rebellious personality and responsibilities." - The Making of The Phantom Menace, 1999

And you see this evolution, btw. It's not front and center, but it's there, in Obi-Wan's mannerisms (putting a comforting hand on Anakin's shoulder like Qui-Gon used to)...

... in his longer hair, his beard, the visuals...

Obi-Wan's flaws in TPM are intentional story points, which he grows out of by the end of the narrative.

So to see his arc in Episode I then say "well, Qui-Gon was better suited for Anakin because Obi-Wan said x"... when the whole point is that Obi-Wan starts out having much to learn and ends up becoming a less impulsive version of Qui-Gon... that's just crazy, to me.

For more on the subject:

Obi-Wan and Anakin’s character arcs in Ep. II

Analyzing Qui-Gon Jinn using only Lucas' words

[aquarium-ina-bag]

Where Danger Finds Me, it Follows with Tides - 7

'Cause you live in my day dreams ch. 7

Word count: 2.7k

Relationships: Wednesday x Reader (She/they)

Warnings: Mention of blood, pain, bullets.

A/N: So sorry I took so long had a project anyyywaayyyy, if I do breaks again Im able to do drabbles so ask away. I have an Idea for a side au with Jenna, just confused about how I'm gonna use this character R and actor R (Gasp spoilers, wtv) enjoy, give suggestions yatta yatta.

Small conversations spread among the bar, bottles hitting stained, polished wood and smooth granite countertops, and low music playing. It definitely wasn’t a big bar, but it was the home of drunken souls in the outskirts of Jericho. And tonight it housed hopeful, evil, and grieving souls. 

The door swung open, hitting the bell. A small three-man group raised their heads to see the newcomer as the bartender gave his regular warm smile to the eccentric man. 

"Evenin’ James, usual?" The bartender cleaned a glass, ready to serve. 

"Nah nah, I need somethin’ tougher; I’m ina surprising mood tahnigh’ hit me hard." James was practically jumping and shaking. 

The bartender started to pour him a fireball.

"Well, gee, it seems like you've got something heavy already." He slid the glass across the counter.

James quickly caught it and brought himself to the table of three men. He threw his head back and drank with speed. "Fellas, I got that damn thing that's been killin’ my livestock." He slammed his hands on the wooden table. 

The three of them laughed, and one spoke up. "The fucking big creature you saw, with the big claws and skin like a lagoon?" Dune made gestures to mock James' description. 

"Nah na! It’s real, but this one had wings! My god, the size of them nevah seen before, the tips nosebleed red, and it-it-it got deeper colah at the base." James tossed around his arms to depict this creature of the night "OH! And-and-and when I shot the bitch, the speed it took was incredible! Even though I shot it in the wing, damn it was moving maybay 300 miles?"

The group looked at the man in front of them like he was on shrooms, he sure acted like it. The bigger male chuckled, "So you’re saying some big ass peregrine falcon, has been taking your sheep, and when you shot it, it left at the speed of 300 miles per hour?" 

"No, no, Harlow, it gave me my sheep back! It done dropped the sheep back in the pen, ALIVE! The damn hooves were painted pink! Fuckin pink!" James explained.

The men were invested now. "You got two creatures in your fences now?" Harlow asked. 

"Yes! One is killing them, the other is saving them. Like an angel." James fawned over his findings.

Chuck took a sip of his beer before speaking. "Well, you said it was dark and bloody lookin’, don’t sound like no angel to me." 

"What would I call it then?" James questioned his ideas.

"I say call it a blood hawk, it’s easy to identify," Harlow said as he toyed with the ring of condensation on the wood.  "Also, go buy one of them cameras that videos motion." 

The bartender couldn’t hold his words anymore. "Say, you know what’s known for having creepy abnormalities, that Nevermore school miles away. That lagoon creature you were talking about James, I think it’s been seen there plenty of times." 

The bartender pushed a glass towards a shaggy brown-haired man, his hair long, as were the scars on his face as if he were mauled by a beast. The man’s clothes looked so mismatched and ripped; he had a beard starting to grow; and he looked homeless but still had money to buy a drink. This man couldn’t help but listen to the conversation; he made clear, surprised expressions at the words ‘Nevermore’ ‘Blood hawk’ ‘sheep’ and ‘alive’. All this man could do was hum in acknowledgment. 

"I’ll look into it once I get home." James smiled and continued to change the subject.

—————-

"Wednesday I know you usually don’t regret things, but I honestly feel so awful about hurting Y/n," Enid said with her chin on her school desk, her body droopy.

Sure, that is true Wednesday doesn’t feel regret, but everything she regrets on her mind is rooted in because of you, she regrets ever talking to you, accepting your dual, working on the project with you, letting you see something vulnerable in her—she regrets a lot when it comes to you. 

"They said it was fine." What Wednesday really regretted was letting you leave and trusting that you would take care of yourself. She hasn’t seen you all morning. The thought of you bleeding out that whole night banged on her cranium. 

Enid turned to face the goth, laying her cheek on the cold wood. "You don’t really believe that." Wednesday regrets not smothering her roommate, and Enid started to understand Wednesday’s ‘signs’. The raven stayed silent, keeping it that way the whole period. 

When it was over, she took her free period to confirm that Enid hadn’t murdered you. She checked the gym; you weren’t there. Wednesday looked where you feed birds; no luck. She entered your dorm to find clutters of paper and files scattered around your desk. As if a voice was pulling her into the room, Wednesday walked in and shut the door behind her, making a careful walk across the room to your desk. The floorboards creaking had an unusual pattern as if someone were in the room with her. The raven was on edge but still curious; determined to find out why you were gone. 

The goth inspected the papers on your desk. Pictures of the farm you two went to, papers containing information about the owner of said farm. What really stuck out were documents from the U.S. government. How in the world were you able to access something like this? The thought that you were taken by the FBI could make her chuckle. Wednesday shuffled the small stack, trying to get them back in order. When the order was found, Wednesday couldn’t stop reading.

In brief, the documents explain how an ‘anomaly’ that was captured in December of last year escaped a government vehicle, killing four of the six men in said vehicle. This creature never made it to the lab for testing, questioning, and possible execution. This creature could be conjured by American citizen Tyler Galpin. 

Tyler was out, and that was him; he was still lurking in the towns, waiting for his next victim.  

Wednesday looked around for anything that could reveal she was here, and when she turned to the glass screen door, a shine drew her in like everything else in this room. 

Unlocking it and stepping onto the concrete, she looked down to find a bullet that was almost perfectly clean. Why would you have a perfect bullet here? The casing was gone, so this was fired. 

This curious black cat bent down to pick up the fired bullet. Her head was shot backward, and scenes dashed and flashed across her vision.

Fingers that weren’t yours loading ammunition in a firearm; the bullet flying into feathered flesh, then deeper into warm blood and muscle; with her perspective being the bullet, Wednesday felt layers decompressing her. From what she could guess, it was feathers falling off, then skin, then muscles. The bullet dropped in a pool of blood; something or more of a surplus made a horrific shriek as if it was getting brutally attacked. She couldn’t tell what made it, and the warmth of blood left her after the vision ended.

Once the vision was over, Wednesday moved her head back. It felt as if someone was beating her skull; that never happens with visions, but that aside, what did she just see? Wednesday began to make a hypothesis, clearly, this was past, not future, and this bullet wasn’t yours, but she couldn’t be sure if you fired the weapon, it was shot in some bird, but why was the bullet removed like that, layer by layer? What was that screaming? 

The girl’s head was pounding, and before she left your room, she took the bullet, the papers. She wanted to find some type of DNA in the room, but her head said otherwise. 

—————-

Something was wrong; your brain was triggering some sort of defensive reaction, and you didn’t understand what was triggering it. You’re trained to keep your brain in full control, to know when you’re being psychologically attacked, and currently, the right and left sides of your brain are disagreeing with something. Before you can get the problem fixed, you need to know the problem. That could wait though.

"I really need to train back home again." You muttered to the wind, and it raced past as if responding.

You smiled as you continued to walk along the side of a gravel road. This scenery wasn’t better than the woods with Wednesday; did you even look at the view when you were with Wednesday? What were you focused on? 

This constant questioning of yourself was scaring you. Your family described you as a person, with no limits, but you had to be in control of your whole body, and recently you weren't. Maybe that’s why you're triggering a defensive response.

You stopped at a small home surrounded by flat, crop-growing land, knocking on the door before you looked yourself up and down. With a small smirk, you thought the outfit looked like a hitman in the winter decked out in dark, puffy clothes. Hey, it was close to the beginning of winter.

Once the door opened, a taller man, maybe 2 inches taller than you, greeted you with a grimace.

"Well, who the hell is you? Matrix-looking kid. All these damn new fashion trends." His accent was a deep Southern one.

You chuckled before speaking, "You, James Turner?" Your hands shuffled in that dark, puffy jacket, pulling out a picture of the man in front of you. 

"Who’s asking?" He got closer to you, and smelled like booze. 

You've shown him the photo now. "There’s a problem if someone did." You murdered someone, sir?" He could have the other night if your thesis was right. 

"I ain’t kill nobody, did I?" Bingo. James started to get a little scared, you could read it off his body language.

"Well, I heard a complaint about some gunfire, and when I asked around for you, I heard you shot something." Part of that was a lie, you didn't really ask, just lots of tabs closing at a bar. 

James looked like a child getting caught with their hand in a cookie jar; he was going to break. "Listen, somethin’ been stealing my animals. I was waiting to shoot it last night, then this big bird-like person dropped a sheep in the pen, and I shot at it."

Your face scrunched in confusion. "Why would you shoot something, dropping your sheep back off? And you said human-looking? You were going to just kill a person like that?" You took steps forward, and James kept backing up until both of you were in the house. 

"I jus wan-tah to catch em’ , Ay I don’t even think that was them! Something else was killing my animals, it was green and-and-and large, eyes like a bug." Tsk tsk James, the hole he dug just kept getting bigger.

You were so close in his space that he tripped into a seat. "So you shot something that you wanted to catch even though it helped you; it wasn’t even the creature that was killing! What were you going to do, James? When you caught it, that is." 

"I I I." He sure does stutter you noted, "I was gonna report it for stealing." 

You gripped the table, did it crunch? James questioned. "What’s the story, Turner? You said it gave back…" 

"You’re right It was, it was." He was sweating badly. 

"Good, so you understand that you committed attempted murder? Correct?" Your voice was deathly low. "It can be a pretty hefty sentence, James." 

He watched you move around his house, preparing a glass of water, before sitting across from him.

"I’m going to jail?" He looked on the verge of tears. 

You paused before speaking, a clicking sound filled your silence. "Yes, if you refuse to comply with me." You took a long sip of water, making Turner wait in anguish. "Heard you’re gonna set up cameras around this place, I want you to set up cameras around the woods, set up baits, get as much footage of this killing creature as you can, and hand all of the footage, pictures, and what you baited with to me. Sound simple?" 

"Course, anything yes, please, I jus don’t wanna go to jail." He nodded like a bobblehead.

"Perfect, and don’t think you can escape this; I've got all the information to make a court session last less than 10 minutes." You smiled and finished the glass. Quickly grabbing a pen and paper, you wrote one of your numbers and labeled it, 'Turn in footage work and info here' 

"Cya round James Turner." And just like that, after scaring this older male, you left, walking back to Nevermore. 

———————

This headache wanted to make Wednesday have a lobotomy or struck like Zeus to get Athena out. She could barely piece together the papers in front of her. Enid watched her struggle to work, pointing it out like always.

"What’s up with you? I feel like this is easy." 

"My head has been in pain since I had that vision, usually that doesn’t happen," Wednesday explained as she moved the sheets and note cards around the board. 

Enid knew that if the pain was really bothering her, this headache was something from hell. "Hm, do you want to take something? Or maybe take a break?" 

"I did; it got worse." Wednesday's face barely scrunched as she spoke. "I don’t need a break either." 

Thumps on the door broke the conversation; they both looked at each other, then Enid went to open it. 

You stood there with a toothy grin and said, "Hey Sinclair, where’s Wednesday?" 

"I don’t know if she would be up for a date, Y/n, she’s got a raging headache." Enid knew Wednesday stole from you, so she had to make somewhat of an excuse. 

You paused for a second. "I, uhm, no, I’m not here for that, she has something I ne-" 

Enid shut the door in your face and said, "They know!" Whisper yelling to the goth. All she did was nod and signal to let you in.

Enid slowly opened the door to let you in; once you did, Wednesday’s now migraine blared. She gripped the side table near her. 

"Evening Addams, I’m guessing you know why I’m here." You walked closer to her, maybe 5 inches away from her now. 

"Why," she paused to take a breath, "why do you have them?" 

You raised a brow and said, "I could ask the same." You whispered, getting closer to her ear. "You can get in trouble if you have them; I know how to take care of them." Also, you have a vision?" 

Wednesday wanted to make sure this wasn’t some fake whispering again, so she clutched the bottom of your shirt. For you, it seemed like desperation. She released you and went to take the papers.  

"Yes." Wednesday handed the papers back. Just like that, the pain was gone, and she could think straight now. 

"Doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?" This no-distance whispering with you was going to kill Wednesday; it made her feel sick again. 

She slowly nodded, and with that, you backed up and said your goodbyes, then left.

So many holes—how did you know about the papers? Where have you been all day? How did the vision connect with the headaches? How did you fix it? What trouble did you mean? Why do you have those papers? What were you going to do with it? Her loud thinking was blocked.

"So no more evidence?" Enid asked. 

"The bullet—I still have it."

"Well, it is like almost 12. Let’s look at it tomorrow. Also, who comes to someone’s door at 11? Also,  what did she tell you? I couldn’t hear, over the sound of you two practically making out with each other's whispering. Wait a minute, you didn’t even whisper; you just nodded. What was that about? Whatever, that's a question for tomorrow. I’m too tired, night Addams." Enid threw herself onto her bed and crashed to sleep. 

Wednesday, on the other hand, couldn’t do the same; she needed to get answers.

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

Want to be on the tag list? Have an idea for next chapter? Clicked the wrong option? Reblog or Comment! New? Check the very bottom for the Ao3 link. Latest chapter is down below the cut!🔥

~King of the Dragonfish Chapter 6~

Kenobi moves in his sleep. A lot. Maul knows this, because the jedi rolls to a new position approximately every twenty minutes. Primarily, the other man seeks the heat of the magma rock, curling around it until he's over heated. Then, he flops away from the heat and over onto Maul.

This provides a series of interesting discoveries.

For one, Kenobi is affectionate when unconscious, pressing his face to the sith's chest, and holding onto him wherever his flopping arm lands. The jedi's warm breath tickles the soft skin of his gills, and his legs keep trying to tangle with another pair that isn't there.

Amused, Maul winds his tail over Kenobi's restless limbs, and finds that it settles the man. The jedi only wiggles closer, like he wants the weight.

This is oddly pleasing.

Another thing is that he mumbles in his sleep, talking to various people. Someone named Ahnahkin needs to clean his room. Someone named Qwin needs to go away. Various others are complained at or dismayed over. This is the first glimpse, however removed, that Maul has heard or seen of the outside world in years. With the gungan fleeing from him on site -as is right and proper- he has simply not had opportunity.

The dragonfish sith takes note of every name and mumbled secret. He puts together stories, hungry for mental stimulation.

The third thing he learns while watching Kenobi is that he can stay unconscious for a very long time. A. Very. Long. Time. Maul waits, unwilling to sleep while exposed, for what feels like twice the time he would normally rest himself. Still the jedi sleeps.

His bruising has faded away over the course of this hibernation, colorshifting until the skin is cream toned again, and the scrapes and abrasions are nothing but faint lines. On one hand, he is disappointed to see the markings fade. On the other, a blank canvas invites new paint…

Eventually, Maul grows too bored to tolerate. Even with a selection of fresh calamari to nibble on. He shakes the other man, calling him back from his endless rest, “Kenobi. Awaken.”

The jedi groans, burrowing closer.

“Jediiii,” Maul hisses, “Wake. Up.”

Kenobi rolls away, batting at the hands which shake him, wiggling to the magma rock instead.

Squinting, Maul pins exactly one hair from his head between two claws, and yanks.

The other man makes a sad noise, ducking his head further under the rock.

He pinches another hair, and yanks-

Kenobi comes half awake with an angry noise, elbowing him, then burrowing into his own arms.

Maul grins, entertained, and gets ahold of a single beard hair, and yanks-

The jedi punches him in the side of the head, making his ear fin sting something fierce.

“RrrraaaaahH!” Maul shrieks, somewhere between rage and glee, and grabs the other man by his tunics to rattle him about.

Finally, Kenobi truly wakes, muzzily batting him off and rolling away with a groan. “Ye gods, you're a monster, and it has very little to do with your career choices.”

Maul preens. “You brought it on yourself, jedi scum. You would not wake.”

“Have you considered that, perhaps, that was because I needed more sleep?” the man snaps in a cranky rasp, kicking him.

Maul wacks him with his tail fin.

Kenobi kicks him again, harder.

It quickly escalates. The jedi yanks on his horns, making Maul gasp as a strange zing runs down his spine. He gut punches Kenobi for the trouble. Maul snaps his many sharp teeth at an offending arm, and tears a hole in his robes that makes the man cry out in dismay.

The dragonfish sith is tossed across the room with the force, and immediately shows the jedi how terrible of an idea that was by springing back at him like a compressed coil.

Both of them are bleeding a bit by the time Maul is satisfied. Not that Kenobi seemed settled, but it is hard to effectively complain with hundreds of pounds of amphibious sith on top of you.

Maul pins the jedi's shoulders as he leans over him. “We are done now.”

“Go kriff yourself, Maul,” the other man says dryly, flat on his back and trapped under the weight. “I haven't done anything, I've been nothing but compliant! Why are you beating me?”

The dragonfish sith grins, all teeth. The jedi may act disdainful, but his body shows interest in the fight. His pulse is fast, he's supressing a grin, he feels excited in the force, and his blood isn't the only thing that's up.

Good. Maul likes to fight. “You would not wake up, and, you kicked me.”

“I was tired and you woke me up by pulling out my hair.” Kenobi says defensively.

“I was bored. You slept for half a day, at least,” Maul returns, “Such weakness.”

Kenobi sighs heavily, scrubbing hands over his face. “Yes yes, weak as a babe.”

The dragonfish sith giggles like water tossed on a campfire, and licks the trail of blood running from the jedi's split lip where it drips down into his beard. He mouths at the bloodied chin, stealing away all the iron taste. Kenobi makes a choking noise, eyes going wide as he freezes in place.

Maul’s grin only grows, broad and sharp and cunning.

“Must you… do that?” the man complains, cheeks turning red and barely managing a scowl as he looks at the ceiling over Maul's shoulder.

“Yesss,” the sith affirms with a spiteful laugh, writhing his tail over the legs pinned beneath him. He moves just so, and Kenobi’s back arches up off the ground, head tilting back as he moans.

Maul's brain empties itself as he sees throat bared to him.

Pale.

Thin skin.

A pulse, a fraction away from the surface, that would font if nicked in the slightest..

His hindbrain gibbers mixed signals at him like a badly tuned radio. The dragonfish in him says ‘food’, the zabrak says ‘submission’ and ‘trust’, the sith lord and trained assassin says ‘opportunity’... and the man that is all of those things and more just stares at that enticing expanse of throat.

He makes a little noise when it goes away.

No no… he… what was that? He…

Maul roils over top of Kenobi again, hoping to elicit that same…

The jedi paws at him, blinking rapidly. He looks confused with himself. "I, ah..."

“Again!” Maul demands.

“Mngh?” the man asks, limp underneath him.

“Your throat! Show me-

Kenobi makes more choking noises, scrambling out from under him in a flail of limbs and putting his back to a wall.

The jedi swallows, but it is so dry his throat clicks loud enough to hear “...force, I am so thirsty. Very thirsty! And hungry. I'm really wasting away here. Aren't you going to feed me? I'm probably losing kidney function as we speak.”

Maul makes a face, slowly rising up and looking towards the water, considering. “You cannot drink salt water…?”

“... no,” the jedi confirms. “That will kill me in hours.”

“Mnngnngn,” the sith replies. Yes... yes he knew that. “There are… fruits I can bring?”

Kenobi perks up, “Fruit sounds wonderful.”

“Mnnn,” he decides, “Fruit it is. First, we must move you to a more secure location. If one gorogoro found you here, more could come.”

The jedi makes a face himself, glances over at the water, then rotates his neck to look around the walls. “Move… how? I don't see any other caves.”

Maul sloughs over toward the water, pulling on the jedi's arm, “Through the tunnels. Come.”

Kenobi scoots away. “Or, consider, we could… not do that.”

A growl of annoyance rolls out of him. “Kenobi.”

Blue eyes flash at him, challenging. “The water is cold. I'm not well. My robes are covered in dried octopus viscera and crunch with salt, and there's no fresh water to bathe in. I don't want to be wet again on top of all that.”

Maul sneers at him, but pulls back, fists clenching and unclenching as he tries to think through what of that was whining pathetic jedi and which parts could actually kill him.

Dehydration… deadly fast.

Cold… deadly fast.

Poor hygiene… deadly eventually.

Maul hisses in annoyance, he did not like those results.

“I will… mnnnh… I will get a new heat stone, first. I will put fruit there. Hnnn… I will make it warm enough that you do not need clothes.”

“What, no,” the man says.

The sith nods. Yes, this will work. Not cold, not unclean, not hungry, and only wet briefly.

“Maul,” Kenobi says, pained, “You're going to the surface for fruit, yes? Please, just, bring me a container of fresh water? Please do not make me walk around naked. Leave me some dignity.”

The sith thunks his fist on his forehead a few times, then discards all of the difficult thoughts in favor of action. “I will consider it, jedi. For now, I will make the safer room… better.”

“Wait!” the other man calls.

“Mnh?” He turns.

Kenobi licks his cracked lips, “What if another octopus comes while you're gone? Leave me a way to defend myself.”

Maul hisses again, leaning forward, “You think I would give you a weapon? You would use it against me!”

“Just! Just think about it,” the jedi pleads. “If one comes, I can only dodge it. One slip up, and I'll be dead on the ground and half eaten before you ever get back.”

The sith shrieks his denial at that result. “No!”

Kenobi approaches him by the water's edge, reaching out to touch fingertips to Maul's left wrist. “I solemnly swear, on the force, if you give me my lightsaber to defend myself, when you return I will relinquish it without complaint or hesitation. Please. That… that pain. I don't want to die that way.”

Maul vibrates in place with displeasure. The jedi had a point. The jedi was certainly lying. What was the worst risk? Which result was less good?

…

… he would not lose his revenge to a mollusk.

“Fine,” he snaps, “stay here.”

The sith takes to the water with no small amount of aggravation. Down and through the warren of caves, he goes quickly to the distant nook where he had buried the blade and rebreather. Quick as he can, Maul returns to the unsecure prison cave.

He emerges just enough to check that a gorogoro has not appeared in the interim minutes. Seeing nothing but a pacing Kenobi, he rises up enough to catch the man's attention, and then tosses the hilt at him before quickly diving again before he can attack.

They can fight again, later, after there is food and water and warmth waiting for his fragile prisoner. A place for the jedi to recover after he is beaten for his lies.

The dragonfish sith gathers another magma ball, rolling it up and carrying it back in the force. The new cave is a little smaller, and does not have the under-floor water ways that the original one did -which Maul had intended to use to harass the jedi- but, it is much more defensible. Two ways in and out, plenty of oxygen and bioluminescent plants, various boulders, and a relatively flat floor. Also, none of it is splattered in blue blood.

He takes a brief moment to check on the jedi, who is curled up by his heat source, before taking off for the surface. It is not a short trip to the islands with the fruit trees, so he plans to take many.

The sith also steals the laundry off the line of a fishing boat, and uses a sheet to bundle all the things together, but then he has to stop scavenging and descend. It is too bright up here, and the air feels wrong in his lungs. Too thin.

Maul dives for the depths again, eyes scanning the water for escaped jedi, or, conspicuous corpses floating upward. To his surprise, pleasure, and suspicion Kenobi is still in the cave where Maul had left him. He makes a lap to drop off his finds, and returns for their fight.

“Kenobi~” the sith sings, “I am back. Will you kneel before me and hand over your saber?”

The jedi master turns towards him, then looks down at his unlit blade.

-Tag list- (Comment if you want added!)

@obimaulartfire @savageopressbignaturals @icequeen8043

New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽

🔥🔥 don't forget to reblog tysm! 🔥🔥

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Solar Monsters Scene: “He is a Fucking Animal!” (for @avaveevo and @crazychanuwu77)

As Human Korvo drives the gang to the other side of town, he is horrified over the sight Terry has done in his Mundane Terry as they drive by the horrific, messy, bloody, injured and destroyed parts of the town.

Human Yumyulack: Holy shit.

Human Jesse: Terry… why?

Human Pupa: gasp

Cherie: Oh my God. What the fuck happened here?

Pezlie: whimpering

Cherie: soothing Pezlie It’s okay Pezlie. Mommy’s here.

Montez: Terry did this?

Miss Frankie: Oh my God. I think I

Human Korvo: I’m afraid that’s not Terry, but someone who is losing themselves to the darkness. Out of fear. Anger. Terry’s mind must’ve been consumed by so many terrible thoughts for a long time back in Shlorp. to himself Poor thing. He must’ve been so scared to tell me. Back to his family and friends I just hope we’re not too late. They might form an angry mob. Nova! You think you can find on an article on your news app about-

Suddenly, an notification of the news app pop out on Nova’s phone as she opens it and reads it.

Nova: Uh, hold on there. I just got a shocking text.

Mia: What does it say?

Nova: It says… “Local Maid of Rich Lady Disappeared After Her Master Was Knocked Out by Mysterious Bearded Man”… she becomes horrified as she reads down the article Oh my God.

Human Yumyulack: What?! What is it Nova?!

Nova: It says her, “Forty-Two Year Old Maid of Rich Billionaire Brandine, Alice Gingerwood, disappeared six hours ago right before police found Brandine knocked unconscious. She told the police that a beard man, that might be FBI’s most wanted escapee criminal, knocked her right before Alice disappeared. The only evidence that could find was a broken vile and the maid’s maid hat.”…

Horror and shock dawn on the gang’s faces as they began to wonder about something.

Human Yumyulack: Holy fuck. That must be the FBI Most Wanted Terry was talking about with Beverly the other day.

Human Jesse: Yay! That means Terry is innocent and… suddenly grows disgusted that selfish slut!

Cherie: What?! What happened?!

Human Jesse: So that’s why Terry left! Because, Beverly didn’t believe in him when he was talking about a criminal and he must’ve been so stressed, that he is scared of losing his mind and must’ve ran away to control it! All that stress and overwhelming anxiety must’ve been responsible for causing his rampage!

All: What?!

Human Korvo: Beverly… didn’t believe in… my sweet Terry? clenched his fist on the wheel furiously while shaded finger tips are shown

Miss Frankie: I knew it! I knew there was a reason to hate that fucking bitch! She’s a total jerk!

Principal Cooke: Oh shit! That guy must’ve been the reason behind the whole attacks for the past few days. Even the hellhounds!

All: gasp

Darcy: Oh fuck! Korvo?! What do we do?! We need to… suddenly Korvo doesn’t hear as siren lights are shown Korvo?

Human Korvo: … Oh shit!

A few seconds later, the child that Terry injured is taken away in an ambulance as the child’s parents scold Korvo for letting Terry attack the poor child while the kids and their friends and family friends watch.

Child’s Mother: I cannot fucking believe, you would let your goddamn husband do this!

Child’s Father: Do you fucking understand what he did to my boy, huh?

Child’s Parents: talking at once

Human Korvo: I am so sorry. He’s never done anything like that before.

Child’s Father: I don’t want to hear your apology!

Child’s Mother: He is a FUCKING ANIMAL!

Child’s Father: Alright! Monster is not here! Everyone go home!

As the Child’s father shut the door, Sonya notices a glowing light figure and runs to the pier to find out what it is.

Human Korvo: Aw man. This is not what Terry would do. H-he would never do any of this! voice breaking That is not the Terry I know!

Montez: Korvo?

Human Korvo: starting to cry We would never hurt a child, or maul a crook or-or even…

Cherie: Oh honey. It’ll be okay.

Human Korvo: M-my husband! H-he would never hu- gets hug by Nova as he cries in her chest

Nova: It's okay Korvo. We'll-

Human Korvo: You don’t understand! cries even more as Nova continues to comfort him, despite his outburst

Nova: I know I don’t.

Montez: notices Sonya not here Wait! Where’s Sonya?!

Human Korvo: dries his tears away S-Sonya?!

Everyone started look around.

Cherie: Where is she? Sonya!

Principal Cooke: Sonya!

Montez: Where are you?!

Sherbet: Sonya!

Human Yumyulack: sees Sonya heading to the pier Oh shit! points to Sonya I know where!

All: gasp in horror

Sherbet: Oh fuck! Sonya! Wait!

Nova: grabs Sherbet Don’t worry, we’ll go after her!

Principal Cooke: But guys! Terry is still in his monster form! He’s down there!

Jaime: Oh fuck!

Human Jesse: crying I want my daddy back! Human Yumyulack hugs her to comfort her

Miss Frankie: Korvo! We have to get down there and help!

Human Korvo: Right! Solars, roll out!

Everyone head back in the bus as Korvo starts the engines and drives the bus to the pier.

Human Jesse: Aw man, I hope Sonya’s okay!

Human Yumyulack: Me too!

Human Pupa and Pezlie hug each other as they both whimper and Sherbet sisterly strokes their hair softly.

Human Korvo then sees the glowing orange light, and with a determinants look on his face, steps on it and drives the bus as fast as it could.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Conquered - (6)

<<<Prev Next>>>

Uneasy. That was what I felt as I walked back to my suite. The looming dread. The kingdom’s future. This infamous warlord’s sudden change of heart. The ability to choose my knight now that he had won the duel. It all hung in the air. But the feeling of his finger trailing my corset made my chest grow tighter making it harder to breathe. I needed to be rid of it. The very picture of his fingers on this dress. It needed the fabric to be burned. I had to indulge my mind with something else if I wanted to sleep peacefully tonight, if not it was going to go back to the fire in his eyes.

I didn’t want to acknowledge it or give any form but there was a sense of understanding, when the warlord held me in his gaze. It was as if we knew our secrets but that was all. He pitied me and I abhorred him, there was no changing that. I desired pleasant company tonight and my mind yearned for Obi wan but the very thought of him keeping me in the dark about his history with Maul made me feel I would be better off spending the night alone.

But opening the doors revealed a beautiful dinner set for two within my indoor garden and obi wan was the one waiting for me to come. My arrival caught his attention as he put away the cutlery he fiddled with and his eyes lit up. Mine did too. That was something that never changed over the years.

“Are you faring well?”, I asked my eyes slipping down to see his bandaged abdomen and chest.

“These are merely scratches, my love. It wounds me to think you fret about such tiny matters.”, he jests but my smile faltered as I peeled away my gloves.

“Obiwan, I watched you get hurt.”, I found his gaze.

“You cannot expect me to just forget it.”, I fumbled with my words but he was on his feet.

“The mere sight”, I looked away, flashes of the event flooding my mind.

“The sound of your agony.”, I couldn’t form sentences, he drew closer to me.

“I was afraid.”, I admitted finally and his hands found my waist.

“Forgive me, it was foolish of me to make fun of your worry.”, he said softly as I placed my chin on his shoulder.

“And to make up for it, I have brought you lamb stew straight from Gregor’s hands.”, he whispered and it got me to smile.

“Ah Gregor, does he still hold it against us for stealing his pastries.”, I laugh my heart easing at the mere recollection of simpler times.

“He does, that’s why he packed a few for us today.”, he kissed my cheek and it all felt rather sweet.

I could stand here and dream of a future. But with the present threatened by the emperor’s plans, my dream shattered like a mirror in my mind. I pulled away from his embrace and he pursued his lips.

“How did it go with the warlord?”, he asked scratching the edge of his beard, his mannerisms appearing casual and yet his eyes betrayed him.

So he wasn’t going to admit he had known him before or that they shared a past, one I was kept in the dark even after he convinced me that the need for Maul’s cooperation was vital.

I pushed away the chair to take my seat, the food somehow still warm, the stew was just what I needed. It was easy to trust him with my likes and dislikes, he knew me best. He looked distracted now, his eyes distant.

“Did you know him?”, I stalk around the question which brought his attention back to me.

“Briefly.”, he gave a curt response while I waited for him to elaborate, he didn’t.

Why was he being so stubborn?

“He seemed to remember you well.”, I tried again but his lips turned into a thin line as he pulled away his spoon from his mouth.

“Did he?”, now there was a trace of anger to his tone.

“I’ve been called away to inspect an incident. Do you know anything about it?”, he changed the subject and he kept his eyes pinned to his bowl.

“It hasn’t approached my ears yet.”, I indulged him, giving him seam to come back to my questions.

“Have you done something to anger Maul?”, I edged closer on the topic to find I had hit a nerve, he inhaled sharply and gripped his cutlery tightly.

“Didn’t know you were on first name basis with each other.”, he cocked his eyebrow while I huffed.

“Why are you being difficult?”, I asked to which he ignored my question entirely.

He was throwing a fuss over what?

“Fine, I’m not dancing around the topic anymore. What did you do to his legs?”, and that’s when his eyes found mine. Filled with surprise and fury.

“So he meets you for the first time and now you know of his sad stories?”

Another question another tantrum.

“You forget your place.”, I combated his raised voice.

“You remind me often.”, he glared and a second later his eyes softened.

“I’m sorry.”, he apologized and I eased him but it was different to see something get under his skin.

My whole life, he was impervious, as much as he reassured me of his feelings, his heart was always guarded. Nothing could bother him, in any state he was level headed, he made a stellar knight but a difficult lover.

“I am not proud of it.”, he said softly and I continued with my dinner allowing him to explain.

“It was when I was a squire, my master and I were taken away to provide protection to another monarch when I encountered him.”, he paused unsure of how he needed to proceed.

“He was the emperor’s favorite then, and when the security of the ward I was protecting, was compromised. I bought into his call for a fight.”, he looked distressed. I held his hand and his fingers wrapped around mine.

“He ran his sword right through my master and I succumbed to anger. I wanted to hurt him, defeat him and in the heat of the moment I drove my blade into his knees, shattering them to a point they could not be fixed.”, he exhaled.

I knew he was lethal on the ground but this was new. The uneasiness grew. I knew of his quests and his victories but never his losses. I hummed, his actions had birthed an enemy that would trail him his whole life, till this was settled and until then, the warlord would be on my trail too.

I had no answer to give him. The version of him in my mind always remained untainted by his actions but right this instant it locked into place. That he would do anything for the ones he loved and there were moments where he lost himself in it. That if he wished, he had the power to be cruel in order for justice.

“His scream plays in my head and sometimes,”, he sighed as he ran his hand through his hair.

“it brings me comfort while it haunts me simultaneously.”, he admitted, I pushed away a pea pod around in my bowl, contemplating a question.

“Have you thought of apologizing?”, I asked, hesitant to encroach on this further.

“When he’s sorry for the person he took from me.”, he seethed and I could tell this ran much stronger between them. I wanted to believe him, to choose his side but the image of his flesh fused with the metal flashed in my mind and I wanted to throw up.

“Why are you being called away?”, I needed to move away from this issue between them.

“Reports of unheard beasts terrorizing a village, along with the case of missing people.”, he shrugged his shoulders, the underside of his eyes were dark, his bandage held his wounds tight but it bonded us together. Our lives were meant to be of service to a cause. He was tired of it, just as I was and yet we would not admit to it.

“Will you be alright?”, he asked softly when his eyes finally found mine.

“I have plenty of work to deal with.”, I gave him a tired smile with a pinch of truth.

“Ah so you won’t miss me.”, he huffed a smile, his attempt to joke held a bit of pain in it. But my mind was preparing for tomorrow, for the council meeting and this warlord’s presence. He unnerved me, and yet it was intoxicating, that there was an unsaid pull I had never witnessed before.

“He has a commanding air about him.”, I mumbled which had caught his attention.

“Does he?”, the question seemed rhetoric and I didn’t want to fuel it. It was my mistake, I cannot share my musings of Maul with him now that I know of their story.

“How long will you be gone?”, I asked and he gave me an impatient laugh.

“You seem eager to be rid of me.”, he looked rattled again as though he was on edge.

“What has gotten into you?”, He was never like this and so it disturbed me.

“Nothing.”, he said looking away from me when the dots connected and it made sense.

He stood up, slung his shirt over his shoulders and prepared to leave while I drew up my conclusions.

“You’re jealous.”, I said and he stopped. I was quite sure that was the reason for his mannerisms so I threw it into the void for validation.

“Can you blame me?”, he asked fiddling with his cuff, his back facing me.

“You have the queen’s ear and it is not enough?”, I asked softly, trailing to him so I could face him.

“No, I want your heart.”, he said, tilting my chin to meet his gaze and I wanted to forget who I was.

“When you keep yours locked away?”, I leaned into his hold, he closed his eyes finally at ease.

“Tell me your mine.”, he whispered but it held a certain power to it, one that made my heart skip a beat, one that made me forget the weight of the world.

“Ease my mind before I go away.”, he held me, rooted me to where I stood as his request brought forth a hunger I never acknowledged.

“Are you mine?”, I asked. He reminded me of my past and all that I had lost. With him I felt like my old self.

“Always.”, he said it with an assurance that could never be bought and that was why he was making me feel insane. Whatever he gave me, he gave it without a price.

“Share your pastry with me then.”, I smiled, a joke that was constant in our friendship but he brushed past it.

“Tell me.”, now it was an order, a desperation that I could see in his eyes.

I broke away from him to place my crown on the table, before I told him I’m his. My dealings with him were my own.

“Return to me soon.”, I said and he took a deep breath. His golden hair now in the dark had turned bronze. His eyes narrowed, he looked like a fox that was a nymph as though it was about to give me my desires.

But there was a hesitancy in his step, his eyes turning me over like a coin in his head as he approached me

“I can’t lose you to him”, he confided his fear. I wasn’t sure if this was a contract that was to be signed, that was some sort of proof but now was not a time to inspect the details. With my crown put away, I was the girl in the woods.

Love was a stupid game to play and in this moment it brought to light that I was indeed a pawn that swung between him and the warlord. But even though my station granted me the power, at some moments in my life I was incapable of using it, to hone it. Because the admiration in his eyes, I craved it. His touch and soft words, I would give it all up for him to draw me close and that was the flaw in my system. That I loved him mindlessly. So I couldn’t exercise caution, I couldn’t worry about anything else when he questioned my need for him, because it grew every passing moment.

So I took him with me as I hit the soft blankets, chocolate on his lips tasted much better and I unraveled, that as his fingers roamed my body, I was cleansed from the encounter from before with the warlord.

I had never loved anyone else and the high was great thrill when it came with the comfort of his presence, that he saw me beyond what I carried or who I was. Maybe many would say this was foolishness, that I was dancing with danger but he felt good against my frame and what could counter that. There were many things I could acquire and buy but nothing could replace the feeling of his lips on my neck and the thrum of his heart in my palm.

I wanted it beyond my own self control, as he drew me closer, to hold me like I mattered, that the world could hate me and yet he would tell me he loved me. So as the layers slipped away, I forgot about tomorrow and I wanted him to forget about his quest. All that mattered was now. I wanted to feel like the girl I once was and only he could remind me.

[paperanddice]

Korred and Krenshar

Korred are ancient fey beings who inhabit rocky forests. Small humanoids, their heads are thickly covered extremely thick hair and beards that coils up in dense braids and dreadlocks. This hair is prehensile and under the korred's control, and it can uncoil to reach out and grasp at adjacent creatures to hold them in place and foul up their movement. This hair can grow up to an inch a day, and the korred will trim sections that get too unruly, saving the trimmings to weave into animated ropes that will tie themselves in place at the korred's direction.

They rarely engage with non-fey, staying deep in the forest and trying to drive off those who find them, though they will party with fey whenever the opportunity arises. Dancing and drinking are both sources of relaxation and competition between korreds, and when offered both they may even accept the presence of non-fey, though when hungover after they'll be less so.

Korred 3rd level blocker [humanoid] Initiative: +6 Walking Stick Club +8 vs. AC – 10 damage. R: Thrown Rock +6 vs. AC (one nearby enemy, or one far-away enemy at -2 atk) – 10 damage. Animated Hair +8 vs. PD – The target takes a -5 penalty to disengage checks and can’t be popped free from the korred until the end of the korred’s next turn. Quick Use: 1/turn, as a quick action. [Group Ability] C: Stunning Laugh +8 vs. PD (1d3 nearby enemies) – The target is stunned until the end of its next turn. Group Ability: For every two korred in the battle (round up), one of them can use stunning laugh once during the battle. Stone Stride: 1/battle, as a move action, the korred can step into one piece of rock larger than it, and step out of another nearby rock. AC 18 PD 17 MD 13 HP 48

Krenshar are large, earless hunting cats with a special and unique hunting method. They can pull back the skin on their face, and in conjunction with a loud screech the krenshar startles and terrifies its prey, causing it to freeze up or run into ambushes. The withdrawn skin also functions to help the krenshar avoid infection while feeding on carrion, as the gore and vermin don't mat up in the krenshar's fur and are instead scrapped off when it returns its skin to the normal position. Male krenshar challenge each other by peeling back their skin, with the male that backs down first losing.

The intelligence of the krenshar is unusual. They're clearly more intelligent than regular big cats, but have no culture or language that would indicate such. Their behaviour is almost identical to basic animals, even occasionally befriending rangers or druids. On occasion the deeper intelligence of them shines through, in particular with how they hunt and manipulate prey.

Krenshar Creature 1 Medium, Beast Perception +6; low-light vision, scent (imprecise) 30 feet Languages Fey (can't speak) Skills Acrobatics +7, Intimidation +6 (+8 to demoralize with Skullface), Stealth +7 Str +0, Dex +2, Con +1, Int -2, Wis +1, Cha +1 AC 15; Fort +6, Ref +7, Will +4 HP 18 Speed 40 feet Melee jaws +7 (finesse), Damage 1d6+2 piercing Melee claw +7 (agile, finesse), Damage 1d4+2 slashing Skullface [1 action] The krenshar pulls the skin back from its face to expose the raw musculature and skull below, and releases a horrific screech. It attempts to Demoralize one enemy it can see within 100 feet. Its Demoralize check gains the visual as well as auditory trait, and it doesn't take a penalty if the target doesn't understand its language. If the target is immune to either the auditory or visual trait (but not both), the krenshar can still attempt to Demoralize it, but it uses the outcome one degree of success worse as the result of its check.

Krenshar 1st level spoiler [beast] Initiative: +3 Mauling Claws +6 vs. AC – 4 damage. [Group Ability] C: Skull Face +5 vs. MD (1d3 nearby enemies) – The target is dazed and doesn’t add the escalation die to its attacks as long as it’s engaged with an enemy and has 9 or fewer hp (save ends). Group Ability: For every two krenshar in the battle (round up), one of them can use skull face once. AC 17 PD 15 MD 11 HP 22

Inspired by the Tome of Beasts 1. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

[daystar-by-jacqui-natla]

1. FALLOUT

EVERYTHING WAS CHAOTIC. THERE WAS NO denying it anymore. We went back to the Cullens' residence and waited for what felt like eternity. The living area was filled with the family, except for Bella, Edward, and Renesmee who were tucked away in their own sanctuary. Carlisle was in the other room, tending to Leah's wound - on her right arm where the Quileute tribe tattoo was mauled by Paul in his wolf form - trying to stitch her up. I sat on the windowsill, gazing out into the abyss, attempting to block out the chaos that had ensued.

Someone walked over to me and a tall shadow was standing over me. I looked over, realising that it was Ingram, my now mate. He was so beautiful, another thing I couldn't deny. His perfect oblong face, his thick dark hair, and the beard that covered his neck and face. His deep red eyes fixed on me with great concern while wearing a dark burgundy suit jacket with a dark purple waistcoat, black suit trousers and tie.

"You okay, flower?" Ingram said, sitting beside me.

I tried to muster a smile, but it felt weak and insincere. "I'm fine," I lied.

The conversation I had with Billy Black just afterward was still fresh in my mind. And I never thought it would made me feel like... well, made me question myself more than I should...

"You need to understand," Billy began, his voice steady. "This isn't just about us. It's about the laws that have kept our people safe for generations."

I could feel my anger rising again, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Laws change," I said through gritted teeth. "This isn't the way things should be."

Billy sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "Change doesn't come easy, and it never comes without a cost. Leah and Ethan's relationship has cost us dearly. It's torn the pack apart."

I glanced at Ingram, who still stood beside me, his expression unreadable. "What about Leah?" I asked, my voice softer now. "She didn't ask for this. She didn't choose to imprint on Ethan."

Billy's eyes softened for a moment, a flicker of empathy breaking through. "You're right," he admitted. "But the laws are clear. Imprinting on a vampire... it's something we've never faced before. It's a challenge to everything we believe."

I scoffed. "So exile is the only solution?"

Billy looked at me with a mixture of resignation and sorrow. "Exile isn't a solution, it's a necessity. It's to protect the integrity of the pack, the tribe, and the future generations. If we bend the laws for Leah, where do we draw the line?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes told me it was futile. I felt a wave of frustration wash over me, the unfairness of it all weighing down on my shoulders. "And what about Leah's happiness? Doesn't that matter?"

"Of course, it matters," Billy replied softly. "But sometimes, individual happiness must be sacrificed for the greater good. Leah knew the risks."

"What risks? Over something she has no control over?!" I shouted at him. Then, my voice then became desperate as I stepped closer to him, changing the subject entirely. "Billy, you know me. You saw me grow up. You saw me at my lowest. You helped me when I needed it most. You know who I am. I'm Violet."

Billy stared at me and took a long breath in. His dark eyes lowered to the ground and his head shook. "I know Violet the human—," he rose his head to face me again. "But I don't know Violet the vampire."

I shook my head. "I'm the same person."

His head shook again. "Not anymore," was all he said to me and told Jacob to pushed him inside.

Ingram reached out, gently cupping my cheek, freeing me from that pained memory. "You don't have to pretend with me," he said softly. "I can feel your anxiety."

I sighed, leaning into his touch. "I just... I couldn't get that conversation out of my head."

Ingram nodded sympathetically, his touch comforting against my cheek. "I understand. It's a lot to process."

I glanced back out the window, watching the starry night through the glass. "When I said I'm Violet... when he said that he knows Violet the human, not the vampire. And apparently I'm not the same person to him." My voice wavered with a mix of sadness and frustration.

Ingram wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. "Violet," he said softly, "people fear what they don't understand. This man has known you in a different light, a different life. But that doesn't change who you are inside."

I leaned into his embrace, grateful for his calming presence amidst the storm raging both outside and within me. "I just wish they could see... see beyond what they think they know about us."

Ingram pressed a kiss to my temple, his touch tender. "Give them time. Change takes time, understanding takes time. But we have each other, and that's what matters now."

I nodded, finding solace in his words. "Thank you, Ingram. For being here."

He smiled faintly, his eyes warm with affection. "Always, Violet. Always."

As we sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, watching the night sky slowly give way to the first light of dawn, I couldn't help but overhear the other conversation amidst the chaos.

"What happened to her?" Esme's tone was laced with concern, and her eyes were filled with worry.

Emmett chuckled, "She probably got attacked by a bear."

"Leah got banished by the wolf pack," Gabriel interjected, recalling the meeting. Or trial, whatever they want to call it.

It was weird to think that hours ago, the wolves were on our side to defend Renesmee and stood by us. And now, they banished her for associated with vampires — Cold Ones — the same ones who were standing side-by-side against the Volturi.

They thought that Renesmee was an immortal child, informed by Irina from the Denali Coven. The Cullens asked for witnesses to testify before the Volturi, including us. After proofing about Renesmee, Irina paid the price: death. And in addition, Alice and Jasper arrived with two more witnesses — the hybrid Nahuel and his vampire aunt Huilen — proving that hybrids weren't a threat to both humans and vampires; they also mentioned his father creating a hybrid super race to which the Volturi needed to take a look at. And afterward, my family and I were at another trial where Leah was questioned by her imprinting on Ethan and her loyalty to the wolf packs and the Quileutes.

I thought that we were past this. But clearly, they still didn't trust us enough.

"Banished?" I heard Esme gasping, shocked by the topic of discussion. "Why?"

"Is she really that bad at being a wolf?" Rosalie asked, sounding smug at the thought of Leah.

Ethan sighed, obviously getting agitated. "She's not rubbish," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Emmett chuckled. "Maybe they just can't handle her awesomeness," he quipped.

"There has to be a reason why they're treating her like this," Alice said, her tone laced with concern and yet contorted in frustration.

Jasper interjected, his calming presence diffusing the tension in the room. "Let's not jump to conclusions. This isn't helping anyone."

"Why, Jasper?" Alice demanded, her voice rising in pitch. "Why won't anyone tell us what's going on?"

Ethan's sudden outburst caught us all off guard. "It's because of me," he yelled out in anger. "Leah got disowned because she imprinted on me. It's all my fault."

The room fell silent, the weight of Ethan's words hanging heavily in the air. I watched as he stormed out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls. Jasper and Alice then followed him.

"Relax," Joseph reassured, his voice calm and collected. "He's only going to see Leah. He believes it'll do her some good."

Rhona's voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke, her words heavy with emotion. "I can't believe what we witnessed. Watching Leah being cast out by the very people she considered family. It's heart-wrenching, especially when you know what it feels like."

As they conversed, my mind couldn't help but wander to Seth, Ayla, Sue, Charlie, and Jacob. Seth, who was undoubtedly devastated by his sister's banishment. Ayla, who had witnessed something that would leave a lasting scar on her psyche. Sue, who was caught in the middle of her family and the council's decision. Charlie, who was left bewildered and confused by the events that had transpired. And Jacob, who had done nothing to prevent it.

I loathed him. I despised him. I hated Jacob Black with every fibre of my being. And to think, we had mended our friendship.

I stood up from the windowsill, the weight of my frustration and anger pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. Ingram's hand slipped from my shoulder as I moved, but he didn't try to stop me. Instead, he watched me with understanding and patience. A gentle touch on my shoulder jolted me out of my thoughts. I lifted my gaze and found Helena's concerned face looming over me like a guardian angel.

"Are you alright, dear?" Her voice was soft and soothing, like a lullaby.

I let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of the world crashing down on me. "I don't know, Mum," I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. "Everything just feels so... wrong."

She nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "I know it's hard, Violet. But we'll get through this together."

I tried to smile, but it felt as hollow as it did at that moment. "I hope you're right."

Helena gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and my eyes wandered to the window, where I spotted Jacob, the traitor, lurking outside. My whole cold body was boiled over by anger and betrayal.

"That prick," I muttered under my breath, my fists clenching in fury.

Without a second thought, I stormed out of the room, leaving Helena's voice calling after me like a distant echo.

The night air was cold, but my anger was a fire that burned within me. Jacob was standing near the edge of the clearing, his back to me, as if he could sense my approach. I didn't bother hiding the rage in my footsteps as I marched toward him.

"Jacob Black!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the stillness like a knife.

He turned slowly, his face a mask of weariness and guilt. "Violet," he said, his voice low and resigned.

"Why the hell are you here?!" I bellowed, shoving him with all my might. He stumbled, but managed to keep his balance. "Why are you here?!"

"I want to talk to Leah," he replied, his hands raised in surrender.

I let out a bitter laugh, clapping my hands in disbelief. "Why? You didn't even lift a finger to help her when Paul was tearing her apart! How could you?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of fury and hurt. "How could you just stand there and let them banish Leah? She's your friend, Jacob! She's family!"

Jacob sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You think I wanted this? You think I didn't fight for her? It's not that simple, Violet. The pack has rules, traditions. They see her imprinting on Ethan as a betrayal."

"Betrayal?" I scoffed, stepping closer. "The only betrayal here is you not standing up for her when she needed you the most."

He met my gaze, his eyes filled with sorrow. "I tried, Violet. But the council... they were unanimous. There was nothing more I could do."

"There's always something more you can do!" I shouted, my voice breaking. "You could have fought harder. You could have refused to accept their decision."

"Refused?" Jacob's voice rose, his frustration matching mine. "And then what? Be cast out too? Leave the pack without a leader? It's not that simple. It's never that simple."

I shook my head, feeling anger and frustration welling up inside me. "You should have done something. Anything."

"Violet," Jacob said softly, stepping closer. "I'm sorry. Truly, I am. But this is the reality we live in. The pack's laws are there for a reason, to protect us all. Sometimes that means making hard decisions, decisions that hurt."

"She's suffering, Jacob. Leah is suffering because of these so-called laws." I looked away, trying to compose myself. "And Ethan blames himself. This isn't fair to anyone."

"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But we're trying to find a way to make this right. To bring her back."

"How?" I demanded, turning back to him. "How can you fix this? The damage is done."

"We're working on it," he insisted. "Seth and I... we're not giving up on her. We'll find a way to convince the council to reconsider."

I searched his face for any sign of deceit, but all I saw was a man caught between duty and loyalty, torn apart by the choices he had to make.

"Please, Violet," Jacob said, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. "Trust me. We're not abandoning her. We're doing everything we can."

I clenched my fists, feeling the tension radiating through my body. "Trust you? After everything that's happened?" My voice was a low, dangerous whisper. "Don't you remember what your dad said to me. He doesn't know me anymore because I'm a vampire now!"

Jacob's face paled as my words hit him. He looked down, his eyes filled with a sadness I hadn't seen before. "I know," he said softly. "And I'm sorry. For everything."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. "Sorry isn't going to fix this, Jacob. Leah's been exiled. The pack is divided. And now you're here, acting like you can just make it all go away."

"I'm not here to make it go away," he replied, his voice steady. "I'm here to try and make it right."

"How?" I demanded, my voice trembling with anger and sorrow. "How can you possibly make this right?"

He looked at me, his expression earnest. "By not giving up. By fighting for Leah, for what's right. By proving that the laws can change, that we can adapt."

I shook my head, not willing to let go of my anger just yet. "Words are cheap, Jacob. Actions are what matter."

He nodded, accepting my words.

I folded my arms, moved back slightly. "Not that it matters anymore, what do you want to say to Leah?" I spat at Jacob, my voice laced with bitterness.

Jacob sighed, taking a step closer. "I want to tell her that I'm sorry. That I failed her, and I'm going to do everything in my power to fix this."

I stared at him, the anger in my chest slowly giving way to a dull ache. "She doesn't need your apologies. She needs action. She needs you to stand up for her, to show the council that she's worth fighting for."

"I know," Jacob said, his voice heavy with guilt. "And I will. I promise you, Violet, I will."

I turned away, unable to look at him any longer. "You better, Jacob. Because if you don't, you'll lose more than just Leah. You'll lose all of us. Now, if you excuse me, I'll be going back to the bloodsuckers. As you like to call us."

I heard the sound of clothes tearing and a pained whimper. I knew without looking back that Jacob had transformed into his wolf form and was running off into the woods.

At that moment, I realised that our friendship was well and truly dead. And then, my anger was replaced with a sense of determination, hardening within me. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

Inside, the atmosphere was still tense. Ingram stood where I had left him, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

I nodded, though I didn't entirely feel it.

Then, Carlisle came out of the room. We all looked at him with great concern for Leah.

"How's Leah?" Gabriel asked.

"I've done stitching her wounds," Carlisle started. "Although, there's a high chance of scarring but with her healing factor, I'm expecting her to make a full recovery."

"So, she's going to be okay?" Simon asked.

"Physically, yes. But it's the mental state I'm concerned about," Carlisle replied sadly. "She's been through so much already. This exile might be the breaking point. She's strong, that we know, but everyone has their limits."

The room was silent for a moment, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The weight of recent events pressed down on us, a reminder of how fragile our existence was, even with our supernatural abilities.

"I'll stay with her," Ethan said, his voice firm. "She shouldn't be alone right now."

Alana clapped her son on the shoulder, a gesture of solidarity. "We'll all be here for her, Ethan. She's part of this family now.”

The resolve in Alana's voice sparked a flicker of hope in the otherwise bleak room. Despite the weight of our circumstances, the idea of family provided a semblance of stability.

"Thanks, Mother," Ethan said, his eyes filled with gratitude. "It means a lot."

Alana nodded, her gold eyes shimmering from the ceiling lights as if there were tears in them. "Family is everything, Ethan. We don't abandon our own."

The room fell silent once more, each of us lost in our thoughts. Despite the chaos and uncertainty, there was a sense of unity forming among us—a shared determination to support Leah through this trial.

Ingram's arm wrapped around my shoulders again, pulling me closer. "We'll get through this," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "Together."

I nodded, leaning into his embrace. "Together."

As the first rays of dawn began to filter through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room, a renewed sense of purpose settled over us. We might have been a disparate group of vampires and werewolves, but in that moment, we were united by a common cause.

For Leah. For our future.

And as I looked around at the faces of those who had become my new family, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together. We would fight for each other, protect each other, and—most importantly—stand by each other, no matter the cost.

In the face of uncertainty, we found strength in our unity. And as the dawn broke, a new resolve took root in our hearts: to change the old laws, to heal the wounds of the past, and to forge a new path forward.

Together.

[cagemasterfantasy]

Dnd explained Frost Giants

Gigantic reavers from the freezing lands beyond civilization Frost giants are fierce hardy warriors that survive on the spoils of their raids and pillaging. They respect only brute strength and skill in battle demonstrating both with their scars and the grisly trophies they take from their enemies.

Frost giants are creatures of ice and snow. Their hair and beards are pale white or light blue matted with frost and clattering with icicles. Their flesh is as blue as glacial ice.

Frost giants dwell in high peaks and glacial rifts where the sun hides its golden head by winter. Crops don't grow in their and they keep little livestock beyond what they capture in their raids against civilized lands. They hunt the wild game of the tundra and mountains but don't cook it since meat from a fresh kill tastes sufficiently hot to their palate.

The war horns of the Frost giants howl as they march from their ice fortresses and glacial rifts amid the howling blizzard. When that storm clears villages and steadings lay in ruins ravens descending to feed on the corpses of any creatures foolish or unlucky enough to stand in the giants path.

Inns and taverns suffer the brunt of the damage their cellars gutted and their casks of ale and mead gone. Smithies are likewise toppled their iron and steel claimed. Curiously undisturbed are the houses of moneylenders and wealthy citizens for the reavers have little use for coins or baubles. Frost giants prize gems and jewelry large enough to be worn and noticed. However even those treasures are most often saved for trading opportunities with other giants more adept at crafting metal weapons and armor.

Frost giants respect brute strength above all else and a Frost giants place in the ordning depends on evidence of physical might such as superior musculature scars from the bodies of slain enemies. Tasks such as hunting childbearing and crafting are given to giants based on their physical strength and hardiness.

When Frost giants of different clans meet and their status is unclear they wrestle for dominance. Such meetings are might resemble festivals where giants cheer on their champions making bold boasts and challenges. At other times the informal ceremony can become a chaotic free for all where both clans rush into a melee that fells trees shatters the ice on frozen lakes and causes avalanches on the snowy mountainsides.

Though Frost giants consider the menial crafting of goods beneath them carving and leatherwork are valued skills. They make their clothing from the skins and bones of beasts and carve bone or ivory into jewelry and the handles of weapons and tools. They reuse the weapons and armor of their smaller foes stringing shields into scale armor and lashing sword blades to wooden hafts to make giant sized spears. The greatest battle trophies come from conquered dragons and the greatest Frost giant jarls wear armor of Dragon scales or wield picks and mauls made of a Dragon's teeth and claws.

[dancinbandit]

Yeah! That's my second fursona, Nero the space pirate!

Once Nero was the guard of a cruel king who ruled over the ursine constellation. After being a witness of the brutal slaughter of an innocent, non-ursine civilization that wanted to maintain their independence, Nero realized that he has to stop his master. He mauled the king and had to flee his home constellation. Since then, the ursine people perceive him as an ice cold and brute killer who has to be hunted down.

In contrast to the stories told by the Ursines, Nero is known as a very caring captain. His crew means everything to him and he would protect them with his life.

He also owns a purple fuzzy dragon called Zwetsche who can turn into a huge one at will :) (they're based on a jellycat dragon I own)

I also made a cocaine bear themed armour for Halloween this year. He should become a character too.

I'm so proud of the mask (made out of EVA foam) and I should continue working on that costume (knee protectors and shoulder plates incoming). Hopefully HRT kicks in and I can grow a fitting beard for the bearbarian fit!

do any of yall have bear or bear-related ocs? feel free to talk about them in the tags/reblogs!

[meandmyechoes]

am thinking about the nanometre-paced phantoms theatrics multi-chap (comedy portion) and all i come up with is shitty toku plots

the drama part has them meeting people from the old show like Ventress and Barriss (because i want to) they're on an unfruitful sisyphean quest to find Ahsoka's dads, and about the two of them having polarized perspectives of what's essentially the same (…cocnept?)

At one point penultimate to their own eventful departure which i have no vision yet, Maul fights Vader and Ahsoka fights (?) Tarkin, and none of the four participants recount to their "partner" in anything more than elusive metaphors (and dramatic monologues, of course)

i'm thinking when they eventually leave each other, it'd be because Ahsoka has moved on to a new place and Maul was still stuck (still vague as hell, and not unlike with Anakin) It is before Maul ever realize it, or willing to admit it, that the "student" has bested the "teacher"

oh and they be making new lightsabers (maybe a dagger too and yes yellow + monkey boots for Ahsoka) first idk how that'll went down but they need to do weird force shit together

[halfagonyandhope]

when the skies catch fire │ch. 26

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Together, they haul Obi-Wan’s unconscious form to the lift, and Satine speaks to Bo-Katan over her helmet comm. “I’ve got him.”

“On my way.”

The words are eerie, the way they hang in the air like they did months ago.

Obi-Wan had come after Satine then. She won’t fail him now.

She’s suddenly all too aware of the heavy weight of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber on her hip. Though she’s been training, she knows any meager saber skills she possesses won’t help her here. But she also knows what Obi-Wan would say if he were conscious:

You can’t win, but there are alternatives to fighting.

Satine breathes deeply. Sweat beads on her neck, running down from under her helmet. Ahsoka, however, seems unfazed; her breathing is regular and slow. Satine glances over at Obi-Wan’s grand-padawan. She’s wearing new Mandalorian attire - a sleeveless blue tunic and silver vambraces, gifted to her by Bo-Katan - and it suits her.

So does her confidence. Satine can’t help but think Obi-Wan would be proud of her.

The lift slows as they reach the lower levels.

“Maul knows Obi-Wan is missing,” says Ahsoka as the door hisses open. They lunge forward, moving as quickly as they can despite Obi-Wan’s weight. “I sense his anger.”

Satine is too busy concentrating on keeping up the stealth shield around them to try to sense Maul’s whereabouts. “Where is he?” The shield can obscure their Force signatures, but it’ll be next to useless against blaster fire or - worse - a lightsaber.

“Near,” says Ahsoka simply. “That shield of yours should buy us time, though.”

“Let us hope it is enough,” says Satine under her breath.

She glances at Obi-Wan’s limp form between them. His hair and beard are matted with blood, and he looks far too thin - and too pale.

They hurry down a deserted corridor. Though it’s dark, Satine navigates them without a misstep. She knows these halls like the veins underneath her own skin.

They round a corner and the throne room appears before them. As they move into the center of the room, Satine sends the guided munitions from her left vambrace into the imposing windows.  The munitions crash into the glass, smashing it into oblivion.

Ahsoka lifts a brow and glances at Satine, who sighs. “The rendezvous point was Bo’s idea,” she says. “When presented with options, she tends to pick the most dramatic.”

“I heard that,” says an irate voice over the comm.

“Where are you?” Satine says, growing annoyed - no doubt Maul will know where they are now, and Bo-Katan should have been waiting for them.

“We had to take the long route,” says Bo-Katan. “An extra rotation of guards we didn’t anticipate. We’ll be there soon.”

“You better.” Satine gestures to Ahsoka, and they pull Obi-Wan toward what remains of the far wall. They kick aside the glass and lay him down on his side. Satine tries to catch her breath.

“Duchess.”

The voice, coming from behind them, sounds as though its speaker has fought through fire, his tone warped, discordant.

Satine freezes. Ahsoka reacts more quickly, positioning herself to defend Obi-Wan and Satine, igniting both her sabers. 

Satine pivots. Her hand rests on Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, knowing all the good it won’t do her.

She’s no warrior.

Maul sneers at the trio, his face lit by the yellow and green glow of Ahsoka’s blades. In his hand is his duel-bladed lightsaber; attached to his belt is the Darksaber. Behind him are three Mandalorians, all in the red armor of Maul’s splinter group.

Satine’s muscles ache. She takes a step back, standing over Obi-Wan, and Maul ignites first one end of his saber and then the other.

“I find your continued presence on Mandalore to be irksome,” Maul hisses.

Ahsoka moves forward, drawing Maul’s attention away from Obi-Wan and Satine. “You’ll find she and I have many qualities for you to dislike,” she spits out, and their blades collide as she lunges toward him.

Just as the three Mandalorians behind Maul move to Satine and Obi-Wan,  Satine drops her hand from her hip and reaches out into the Force. It surrounds her, guides her - like water down a stream.

And the Darksaber soars into her hand before Maul or his flanking Mandalorians can react.

Maul missteps, thrown by Satine’s unanticipated use of the Force, barely managing to parry Ahsoka’s attack. 

There are alternatives to fighting, indeed.

Satine ignites the Darksaber.

She may be no warrior, but she knows the true power of the Darksaber is its ability to end fights before they commence. She raises the saber in front of her in a defensive stance, and the three Mandos skid to a halt. Ahsoka, still attacking relentlessly, pushes Maul further away from the broken windows - and away from Obi-Wan and Satine.

“He is no longer your Mand’alor,” Satine says firmly.

The Mandos don’t move.

And suddenly, Bo-Katan and her splinter group arrive, jumping from the shuttle that hovers just outside the throne room. The group covers Satine with blaster fire, and Satine deactivates the Darksaber and lunges for Obi-Wan, pulling him into the shuttle. A woman in blue Mandalorian armor assists her.

Satine sets Obi-Wan down gently, careful not to further injure his back, and turns back to the throne room. She watches, transfixed, as Ahsoka gathers the shards of glass with the Force and sends them at Maul. 

The shards pierce his skin, and he makes a sound that is part groan, part scream, part agonized roar. He clutches at his face, dropping his saber, and falls to one knee. One of the red-armored Mandos runs to escape the throne room. With a simple gesture, Ahsoka sends the other two into the large portrait of Satine behind the throne. They crumble at the base of the wall, unmoving, and the portrait falls upon them. Bo-Katan lands beside Satine, and they are joined by the other members of her group.

Unperturbed by her audience, Ahsoka steps forward, deftly hooking her shoto saber on her hip and snatching up Maul’s lightsaber in one smooth motion. She moves the green blade to hover at his throat.

“Leave this planet,” she orders. “If you ever return to this system, I will destroy you.” She moves the blade closer to his skin. “If I so much as hear your name, I will hunt you down.”

Maul glares at her. “Understood,” he says, clearly forcing each syllable out against his will.

Ahsoka nods tersely then rushes to the shuttle, leaping over the remaining glass shards and landing neatly.

“I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again,” she says, and Bo-Katan pilots the shuttle away from the throne room.

---

Obi-Wan spends days in the bacta tank. Motionless. The medical team feeds him through a tube. Satine spends as much time as possible by the tank, loath to imagine he would finally wake without her by his side.

After a standard week, he has gained enough weight that he no longer resembles a corpse. But the other maladies that ail him prove trickier to address.

The cell’s new doctor, a surgeon from Hosnian Prime, sits with Satine beside the tank one afternoon. Satine rocks Soléa gently, encouraging her to sleep.

“The smoke inhalation from Mustafar is concerning,” says Yona, a female of Yoda’s species. “As far as I know, there are no human settlements there, and for good reason.”

“Is that why Ahsoka seems to be doing better?”

Yona nods. “The lung tissue of Togrutas is not nearly as sensitive. I’ll give Obi-Wan some breathing exercises that should help once we take him out of his coma.”

Soléa must feel her mother’s arms tense because she stirs. Satine soothes her.

“When will that be?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.

Yona sighs. “The wounds on his back are not healing, even with the bacta. I have never seen anything like it.”

Obi-Wan’s words echo through Satine’s bones.

The corrupted saber leaves scars that are immune to bacta. The only thing that will heal them is time.

“He had a theory,” says Satine quietly, “that wounds caused by a Sith lightsaber could not be helped by bacta. That only time could do what bacta could not.”

Yona looks puzzled but open to the suggestion. “I cannot say I have experience dealing with Sith lightsaber wounds. But I would not be surprised.” She sighs. “Let him have one more night within the tank. I think seeing you would do him more good than the bacta is.”

Satine nods, grateful, and moves to step away to return to the conference room.

“Duchess,” says Yona, and Satine freezes. “There is evidence of…of other wounds, fractures along his spine that have healed.”

“He was a war general.”

Yona shakes her head. “These are not battle wounds. I’ve seen healed scars like these before…” She hesitates before continuing. “...in populations who were enslaved. Whatever happened to him then, and knowing what happened to him these past few months…his recovery will not be easy.”

Satine holds Soléa closer.

[mayxthexforce]

Being called a good, obedient Jedi sends a fresh surge of warmth through his body and straight down to the pit of his stomach where it curls like a snake waiting to strike. Obi-Wan bites his lip and instantly regrets it, having momentarily forgotten about his bottom lip's state but being quickly reminded by the taste of blood and the spark of pain that makes him promptly release it from between his teeth. If he wasn't so turned on, he would probably be embarrassed by the fact he was so turned on that he forgot about the pain until he worsened it himself– an ironic and very paradoxical situation to be in.

Obi-Wan's eyes go lidded as Maul's mouth grows closer to his, the hand that's not gripping the Zabrak's shirt grips rock, bracing himself for more of what they'd had on the floor. He almost chases after Maul's lips when they move away from his own without touching them, but stops himself when Maul instead kisses his jaw and down his neck to nip at his yugular– a dangerous spot, and yet Obi-Wan feels nothing but excitement as that spot is teased. His thighs tremble, pants growing progressively tighter as he feels himself throb with need. Maul would never let him live this down, Obi-Wan knows that. Yet, that's another thing he cannot bring himself to care about, not when his body is repurposing a lot of blood to fuel his arousal, not his rationality.

Which he was grateful for because, unlike his arousal, his rationality wouldn't have let him tilt his head, further baring his throat to Maul.

His gaze follows Maul as he moves down his body, goosebumps erupting across Obi-Wan's skin as Maul's touch threatens to drive him mad. It takes him longer than he'll ever admit to realize what having Maul on his knees in front of him means– more specifically, it takes him until Maul's fingers hook on the waistband of his pants and his lips are wrapped around the outline of his cock, to realize what's in store for him. Once again, his thighs tremble, this time from the effort of preventing them from closing when all Obi-Wan wants to do is see what Maul looks like framed by his thighs. But those horns are a successful deterrent.

Obi-Wan's brows arch as he watched Maul rest his chin on his hip, momentarily wondering what he's about to do before he feels it, the vibrations of Maul's purring right against his clothed cock. It makes his eyes roll back and doubles the willpower he needs to keep himself from ramming his own thighs into Maul's horns.

"Dank farrik," he half moans, half growls, tries to grit his teeth to hold the sound back but his jaw is slack.

By the time he can focus on Maul again, Obi-Wan's eyes are dark with list, face turning a shade of pink that makes him all too aware of the fact his beard has yet to recover from being shaven off completely for his undercover mission, but he's also aware that not even the usual length of his beard could have hidden the blush. He can feel the heat all the way to his ears, feels it down his throat like a fire lapping at damp wood. His eyes only darken as he hears the lustful tremble in Maul's voice. It makes Obi-Wan smirk. He's not the only one being torn apart by his need.

Before he can think about what he's doing, his hand moves to the side of Maul's face, fingers part to fit one of those horns near his temple between them, the pads of his fingers applying pressure on the base of it.

"I want to see your face framed by my bare thighs, but horns placement isn't on our side," he breathed out, voice sultry and raspy with desire. Still, he lets his thighs give Maul's head a little squeeze as he drags his thumb over Maul's bottom lip. "So I will conform with seeing how well you can take my cock..."

Maul's eyes pin him in place as the Zabrak approaches him. If Obi-Wan had to compare the way he feels right now to any previous experience, he'd compare it to the feeling of emerging from being underwater after holding his breath for a little too long. His heart hammers inside his chest, his ears feel stuffed and the world around him has been reduced to a fish lens that can only focus on Maul– any other time, he'd blame that focus on the fact Maul is, more often than not, trying to kill him. But Obi-Wan is not the best liar, not even to himself. He's already done enough lying this past week by faking his death to last him a lifetime. So, he doesn't really try that hard to lie to himself about this.

Then Maul's hand —singular, the most torturous of all singulars he's ever had to deal with— is on him again. It brings him a relief Obi-Wan didn't even know he needed. The touch starts surprisingly– or more like suspiciously, because Obi-Wan doesn't let his guard down completely that easily, gentle. It leaves him expecting something rougher– hoping for something rougher.

There, another thing to add to the list of things he's not supposed to want that he finds himself wanting. How could such a list grow so long in a matter of an evening?

Obi-Wan's breath catches in his throat when his chin is grabbed. He has to remind himself how to breathe as Maul's face grows closer and completely encompasses his field of vision. He focuses on the feeling of Maul's thumb dragging over his bloody chin, and groans when his lip is messed with again– there it is, the roughness he was hoping for, reminding him he's still alive and that this is real. Obi-Wan watches Maul tilt his head and his lips part, wanting to welcome that venturous tongue again. Deep down, he knows he's being tempted but that is yet another thing he cannot bring himself to care about, he's done so much for the Order, has upheld and preached their code for over a decade now, a little temptation should be allowed to slide so long as he comes out of this stronger, more willful.

His hand goes up and grabs a fistful of Maul's shirt, because it's not fair for him to be the only one exposed and, for once in his life, he's allowing himself to indulge in feeding his curiosity about Maul's tattoos. No other situation they'd ever been in together allowed him to be this close without being attacked, and their fights didn't leave room for Obi-Wan to study the pattern– or search for a pattern, the way he wanted to. So, as he's moving to sit, he keeps his grip on the fabric, tugging it down, exposing more of Maul's skin while he does as told.

[kimageddon]

Sins of the Father - 2:3

-|- Page header by space-b33 -|- Masterlist -|-Prince of Dathomir Masterlist -|- Sins of the Father Masterlist -|- Art Masterlist -|- Check out my : Ko-fi / AO3-|-Prompt Challenges-|- Art Attack Weekly Challenge -|- Join my tag list -|-

Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Modern/Crime AU - Sins of the Father Masterlist

Word count: Approx 2300 Contains/Warnings: n/a Chapter Summary: Zaiya encounters someone she was not prepared for Notes: (at the end!)

Run Rabbit Run

It was some days after the break-in that Zaiya found herself outside the rear exits to the Town Hall, her phone in her hand as though she were talking on it, though it was recording video of two men in suits standing near a car on the street. 

One man she didn’t know, though she intended to follow him. The second man however; tall white hair and beard and a noble bearing, could only be Commissioner Serenno. She had heard many things about him, and not just from Fives’ ranting accusations and articles, but there was a rumour of corruption that could not be proven. Fox too had alluded that the murder he had been demoted for investigating; the order had come from the Commissioner himself. Zaiya couldn’t be sure of the depth of the allegations, nor how they connected to him, but she intended to find out. She watched him leave out of the corner of her eye and then turned her attention back to her phone, having pretended to say goodbye. 

She tapped away, saving the file in a hidden folder when she heard a voice, smooth and soft, interrupt her thoughts.

“You’re here quite often.” Zaiya looked up. A second later her blood ran cold to see Vice Mayor Ruodo standing before her. His scarlet eyes fixed on hers, his face as impassive as she had ever seen it. He wore a pale charcoal suit this time, and held a disposable coffee cup in one hand, the other in his pocket.

“Am I?” she asked, her voice casual though surprised. She covered her initial shock well. 

“This is not the first time I have seen you,” he replied with a small smile. 

“You’re sure it’s me you saw?” Zaiya asked, slowly rising to her feet. She matched his smile, a mask of politeness. His eyes slid down then back up as he surveyed her from boots to hat.

“You definitely stand out in a crowd.” The way he said it was utterly factual, no hint of flattery. “One might start to wonder, seeing the same individual lingering in the same places regularly.” 

“I was just taking a call,” she said with a shrug, “it was close to my work and it’s private.” There was a tingling feeling on the back of her neck that grew stronger the longer she stood there. It felt like danger. 

“It is private… isn’t it?” There was a look in his eyes that sent shivers up her spine. “What is your name?” he asked and Zaiya felt the sensation grow stronger. 

“Lia,” she said without hesitation. “What’s yours?” His smile grew and he tilted his head as if to say ‘really?’ but Zaiya stuck to it.

“My name is Thrawn Ruodo.” He said it so kindly, offering his hand with a gentle squeeze. She might have been swayed if not for the cold calculation in his eyes. “Come to lunch with me,” he said suddenly. 

She was thrown for a moment. The request seemed so out of the blue and she was unsure what his play was. He had an ulterior motive, she was certain. If she said no, it might make her seem more suspicious… if she agreed… it might open an opportunity for information gathering. The young woman tilted her head and a slow smile crossed her black lips. 

“I think I would like that,” she replied and took a step toward him and offered her arm to him with a cheeky grin. If she could somehow convince him she had some kind of attraction to him, hopefully he would underestimate her and lower his guard. She had heard he was an intelligent fellow, though, how smart could he be? Most men seemed to find it easy to believe that a woman would find them attractive, so if she stroked his ego enough, she might be able to get some info about Palpatine from him. 

He took her to a place that was rather upper class, and not an establishment she would usually pick. There was something about Thrawn that unnerved her. She wasn’t sure why, but his eyes had a look about them that suggested he saw everything and was constantly thinking or assessing. The other most prominent thing she noticed was how awfully polite he was. He walked on the street side of the pavement, he guided her over a step, held the door and pushed in her chair. Zaiya had never experienced such a thing before… It was weird. But even more strangely, it felt rather nice. She felt a little like a Princess. 

Though of course it was only a ploy to lower her own guard. He was a sly one. She would have to keep her focus. 

“This is very lovely,” she smiled and tilted her head. 

“Feel free to have whatever you like, I will be glad to cover it,” he returned her smile, though she saw nothing but cold in his eyes. 

“For a woman you barely know?” 

“For such an interesting woman, it is polite, is it not? I was the one who asked,” he said simply and picked up the wine menu. He was logical and polite first and foremost it seemed.

“Mister Ruodo, talk like that will have me blushing like a schoolgirl.” She flashed a grin at him and watched him for a moment. 

“It is merely an observation, Miss Lia, but as this is our first encounter, I will have to observe you closely.” She was sure he was watching her in his periphery and she did not drop her slight flirtatious expression even once. It was perfect, if he kept it up, he would have no doubt believing that she was becoming interested in him, she’d have him eating out of her hand whilst he would think it was the other way around. 

They ordered and he picked a wine, not that she knew much about them, and she chose something light to eat. No doubt this entire meal would give her indigestion. 

“So, you know who I am?” he asked with a glance in her direction. She met his gaze and there was a brief moment of silence. She could lie to him, sure, but the way his eyes bored into hers, she began to realise that might not be a good idea. 

“I’ve seen your picture around,” she admitted, “I know your name.” It was the truth, though not all of it. That sense of danger on the back of her neck began to increase. 

“Very good,” he replied, folding his hands on top of each other on the table in front of them. He waited for a moment and she fought the urge to say more. 

If you leave a silence, people are often compelled to fill it, and offer you more information. Adaji had taught her. Was Thrawn doing the same?

“Was it me you were waiting for?” he questioned, his tone was light but Zaiya had the distinct feeling she was being interrogated. Was the possibility of information worth it? Or should she leave now while she could? If she did… would it just bring her more attention? 

“What makes you think I was waiting for someone?” She chuckled, as though confused, not wanting to offer him any information at all. He just looked at her impassively, his crimson eyes narrowed slightly. He seemed to change tactics and the Chiss man shrugged, though the movement seemed far too casual and out of place for someone like him. 

“You have been in the City a short time?” Thrawn asked, taking a sip of his wine. It was a question but a presumptuous one. Did he know who she really was? Had Palpatine been keeping tabs on her? Did he know she was here? Perhaps Maul had figured it out with what she had done and warned his father. 

The urge to run had never been stronger. 

“I am, how did you guess?” she grinned a false smile and tilted her head. 

Thrawn gestured to her bag, leaning against her chair. “You have a city map peeking out from your bag,” he said. Zaiya looked down, sure enough, there was a corner of the brochure poking out from the main pocket. She’d only grabbed it from the front desk the first time she visited the Town Hall out of habit. So… the rumours of his observational skills weren’t just conjecture. 

He continued to ask seemingly innocuous questions, general ones, what she did, where she was from. All questions she had a carefully crafted answer to. She couldn’t have him coming to find her, and she hoped her relatively dull answers would not rouse suspicion and make the Vice Mayor lose interest in her. Even if he was being very gentlemanly now, and she might be dressed differently but he would likely forget her as soon as he left the restaurant. 

The questions she found interesting were the ones about art and culture, both generally and specific. It was not her speciality though she did have extensive knowledge of the topic due to her time on a few cases with Adaji as a teenager, chasing down stolen artefacts and gallery pieces. He seemed further interested by her answers and for a while it felt dangerously close to a normal conversation.

Towards the end of the meal he laid down his utensils and gave her an intense stare that sent a shiver up her spine. 

“You have been a delight to speak to, Miss Lia,” he said with a smile, and laced his fingers together in front of his chin.

“That’s very kind of you,” she started to respond but he continued.

“It’s such a pity that you’ve been lying to me.” Zaiya froze. He’d said it so pleasantly and yet there was a coldness that filled the room so prevalent that she was sure the other restaurant patrons would be able to feel it. 

“Have I?” she asked with a tilt of her head. Thrawn smirked, he looked rather amused. 

“While I have enjoyed the game of ours, I think it is time to forego the pleasantries. I am confident both you and I find them tedious.” He fixed her with an impassive stare and her smile faded. Well, he was right about that. There was no point in pretending any longer. Her body language changed from a gentle differential manner to one more natural to her. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. Thrawn’s crimson eyes looked her over, as though he was seeing something new. She rather felt like she was some sort of animal he’d found curious rather than a person. 

“So what do you want?” she asked, her voice was far less lilted and more direct. He leaned forward slightly. 

“Your real name might be a good place to start.” 

“That’s far too personal,” she retorted and he laughed. A quiet sound, though not unpleasant. 

“Not to worry, I will find it out eventually, and I am sure there is much to learn about you.” Zaiya didn’t like the sound of that. 

“I’m no one of consequence,” she shrugged.

“Then why lie?” He always spoke like he had the answers already, but there was no way he could know everything. 

“Old habit,” she replied with another half-shrug. “I learned it from my father.” Part of her wished Adaji were here right now, he was always better at turning a conversation around than she was. The Chiss man inclined his head slightly. 

“He doesn’t sound like the best role model,” he said with an almost sympathetic tone. Her mouth opened to protest but she caught herself -- he was probing, baiting her for answers. Pale brows furrowed and she stared at the man before her and her hands shifted to the table, trying to make herself seem less defensive with her body language.

“Perhaps,” she said finally, “perhaps not.” The look he gave her was intense and after a very long minute, he rose. 

“I am sure this is not the last time that we shall see each other, and since you have been most intriguing, I would offer you this one piece of advice.” As he spoke he reached out to grasp one soft pale hand, and drew it upward. “Don’t put yourself in business that does not concern you, for your sake.” With that he brushed his blue lips across her knuckles, his eyes flicked up to her stunned expression. 

He left with a smirk, making Zaiya wonder just how close she came to being eaten alive by the snake that had just slithered away. She witnessed him speak to the staff at the counter and they nodded. A waitress approached a moment later telling her that she could order anything further and the bill was taken care of. Though Zaiya was hardly hungry. She felt nauseous, her meal only picked at rather than actually devoured. 

The white haired woman  waited until he was out of sight before she too stood and departed, fighting the urge to rack up a huge bill in his name. She had learned a few things, but decided she wanted to be far from here before sorting it all out. The most prominent of those things was that she was entirely wrong about Thrawn Ruodo. He did not have that same arrogance she had seen in so many others with power. He watched and waited. Moreover, she could not figure him out. How much did he know? How much had he seen of her in their little interaction? Safe to say her “charms” had not worked on him at all, it gave him a sliver of respect but it also terrified her. If anyone could uncover her plan… it would be him. 

She needed to avoid him entirely.

Notes: Hello friends!

I released this on Thursday instead of Wednesday on purpose this time! I thought I would let Andor have it's own day -- so I may change the release days but I'll see.

I had to edit this chapter quite a bit as I had written Thrawn pretty wrong. I had to rewrite a few of those lines, I am still learning about his character so bear with me!

As always I love comments and feedback and all that, so please please send me some love if you liked it! It helps me to know what you like or enjoy about the chapter so I can hone my skills. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and I shall see you all in a fortnight!

----

The List of Tags: (If your name is crossed out then check your settings! Tumblr is not letting me tag you!) @two-black-leviathans @fallenrepublick @eyecandyeoz @ashotofspotchka @littlepossss @octupus-on-the-moon @justalittletomato @mach-opress @mustluvecho @nahoney22 @leotatombs @eloquentmoon @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @maulslittlemeowmeow @misogirl828 @alwayssnivellus @stardustbee @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @bacarasbabe @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius

Wanna be notified when I post my next work? Join my tag list

[lambourngb]

a skeleton of something more [3/7]

previously here. malex wip based on the trailer for season 3, some spoilers and my own speculation. I’m failing at the daily serial because keeping to 2K is impossible, but hoping to have it finished by next week.

Warnings: NSFW content, not forrest long friendly

*** NOW **** 

Alex shut off the streaming hot water reluctantly, and shifted back on the new shower bench to lean his head against the tile. 

His fingertips were pruned from the long shower, his attempt at using the scalding water to try to wash away the dirt he felt covered in after being away from Roswell for so long. Pointless endeavour, when he knew the filth was more than skin deep at this point. It was in his bones. It was in his blood, the way the Manes name still opened the worst doors. Alex touched the corners of his smile with his hands, looking for the edge of the mask he wore around Deep Sky and finding only the bristle of his beard growing in, a very late five o’clock shadow.

The steam of the shower was slowly fading, bringing back the visual details of his naked body. His stump was slightly swollen, the marks of wearing his prosthesis for too long, but it was hard to feel safe without it on, doing the work he was doing around even more paranoid men than he was. Three years past his injury, the scars were still ugly to his eyes as he cupped his fingers over the end of his right leg, but time had faded the lines from an angry red to a wizened white. 

Alex hoped that time would do the same to his soul. 

He moved his hand from his stump, over to his thighs to stretch the lingering soreness from his legs. He ignored where his cock laid, half-full of blood from the simple pleasure of a hot shower; the desire to let himself feel good was far from his mind. Instead he focused on returning functionality to his body after the long, cramped ride on that bus. That was the physical challenge, the emotional one would be trickier. 

It helped that he knew Michael was still there, in his house, probably fixing something else that had been neglected during Alex’s time away. Finding something that was broken or damaged, and then making it whole just with his touch, that was what Michael did naturally. Alex was no exception to that.

Every muscle was loose finally, thanks to the improved water pressure beating on the knots of tension until they turned into putty. Beyond the simple improvement of the plumbing, Michael had also relocated the shower taps to the wall next to the bench, so he could sit safely and turn on the water without balancing on one foot in the front of the stall. 

New grab bars lined the bathroom walls as well. Alex had worried about the expense until he recognized the chrome and black rails from the boxes he had bought a while ago, before shuttling them off to the garage. Michael had apparently found the abandoned project and had finished it for him. The longer the trips he made away from Roswell were, the more involved the upgrades Michael made in his absence. He would need to prepare a cover story in case Forrest noticed the changes, a renovated bathroom went far beyond changing out bulbs in a light fixture.

He was getting closer to ending the sham relationship with Forrest, but he wasn’t there quite yet. His first night back in Roswell he had managed to steer Forrest away from his house and more importantly, his bed, but that was only a temporary reprieve. Tomorrow it would all begin again, playing the role of a grieving son looking to ‘understand’ his father, docilely following Forrest’s lead in ‘discovering’ the alien threat, letting the other man comfort him, but this time, that would all happen in front of Michael. 

Michael knocked on the half-open bathroom door to get his attention, before stepping inside carrying a bath towel. “Are you still alive in there?”

“I am, but I want to marry this shower,” and you, he finished silently. Michael looked pleased by the comment as he stood outside the glass doors, waiting patiently as Alex pulled himself up from the bench and carefully hopped toward him. As he drew closer, the proud expression changed to one of open hunger as Michael took in his nakedness, cataloging the changes on his body. Downtime while he had been away from Roswell had often been filled with trips to the gym, exercising to work through his frustration at the slow pace of developments regarding Deep Sky. Weight lifting and core training had kept his hands away from his phone when the desire to check in with Michael took hold.

There was only so many times he could pass off a call to Michael about his mail or paying a bill for his house.

Alex held out his hand for the towel, while Michael stared at him, his gaze almost physical as he lingered over the swells of muscle. He snapped his fingers at Michael to break the hypnosis.

At the sound, Michael blinked, but then avoided his hand to wrap the towel around Alex himself. Warmth from the soft linen enveloped Alex, a sign the towel was fresh from the drier. He closed his eyes under Michael’s safe hold, enjoying the blatant pampering as Michael gently patted Alex’s wet skin dry. “I don’t mind sharing you with the shower, especially if it means you’re not wearing clothes,” he murmured in Alex’s ear, nosing the lock of wet hair away.

Shivering under the ghost of Michael’s lips, Alex felt something start to knit and heal inside him, blanketed by more than just the towel. Love. Feeling more like himself, Alex teased Michael back, “You could have joined me.”

“It was tempting, very tempting, but then who would have made dinner if I had taken you up on that offer?” Michael tucked the towel around Alex, and then offered his arm as a support while Alex hopped toward the pile of folded sweats to wear. 

“I have a lot of appetites, Michael, food is barely in the top five. And I can eat later, after you leave,-” Alex held his clothes in his hand, not moving to get dressed just yet. 

“You can, but you won’t eat. As soon as I walk out that door, I know you’re going to park yourself in front of your computer and spend the rest of the night hacking, just like you’ve done nearly every night since this started.” Michael waited with a raised eyebrow for Alex to deny it. 

Caught by both the frustration that Michael was right and by the ticking clock in his head that counted down the end of this precious time together, Alex conceded. He pulled his sweatshirt down over his head grumpily, “I didn’t spend every night hacking.”

“Just the nights when you weren’t with Forrest Long.” Michael said it quietly, turning away to hang up the wet towel. 

Alex tucked his crutches under his arms, before reaching out to catch Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, it doesn’t mean anything, you know that, right? It’s just…friction.” He studied Michael’s face, worried that perhaps his patience with everything was wearing thin. 

Over the last year, as he moved deeper and deeper into the circle of men that made up Deep Sky, Michael had been his lifeline to his real identity. A voice on the line, late at night, warm and beloved, reminding Alex what was important and keeping him grounded. During the day, his resolve had felt less certain. He had forced himself to echo the words of Jesse Manes to curry favor, ducking his reflection in the mirror when the hateful words started to come easier and easier to him. Then there was the feeling he had, when he had to accept Forrest’s offers to visit him in Los Alamos, the way he had felt weirdly relieved to see a familiar face, even if it was someone he couldn’t trust. 

Hearing Michael’s voice led him back to himself, and then little by little, the updates were less mission-related and more personal. It had led them back to each other. By the second month, Michael had stopped dancing around things, admitting to Alex just how much he missed him and by the third month, Alex was slipping away to meet with him at half-way destinations to seal his words with actions.

It was reminiscent of his early days in the Air Force, finding Michael in out-of-the-way places where no one knew them. Back then, Alex had DADT and military physicals to dodge. Michael had to take care in leaving no marks on Alex’s body, while Alex had had no such restriction. Michael would leave those encounters, mauled with love bites and fucked thoroughly, while Alex stayed as pristine as his neatly pressed uniform. Eleven, twelve years on, the need for discretion had changed, from the military to Forrest Long. 

That was the elephant in the room. Alex was still having sex with Forrest, mostly when he couldn’t avoid it with a trip out of town, like when he accompanied Forrest to Deep Sky owned properties. It was just friction, putting his body in motion to do a job, much like he had when he had deployed abroad. He had lost any amount of shame for what he was doing to the other man after the first time, when he had found a detailed write-up about his own visit to the Long Farm that Forrest had filed and sent to the mysterious leader of Deep Sky.

“I know.” Michael replied, his smile weak but real as Alex brought him closer for a slow, thorough kiss. 

Alex inhaled the scent of rain into his nose as Michael melted in his arms and the kiss deepened between them. This was the opposite of friction, as they slid easily together in the doorway of the bathroom, until Alex’s stomach betrayed him thoroughly and growled. Michael broke away with a laugh, and Alex noted with relief that his earlier fragility had completely vanished from his eyes, as he headed toward the kitchen, “Come on, I made you your favorite for dinner, spicy tomato soup.”

“With strips of cheese toast?”

Michael looked offended at the question. “Of course.”

That was proof that Michael had been listening to him closely during their late night conversations, the way the subject migrated from business to the personal, until Alex had flat out whined over how terrible the food was at one of the Deep Sky outfits. “Forget looking for aliens, they should look for a new chef.”  And then they were off and running about comfort food, with Michael sharing his fondness for canned spaghettios, they tasted fine cold. Sharing his own fond memory from childhood of his mother making soup as a rare show of maternal care. Melted cheese dripped over cut up toast, then dipped in the tomato soup.

The clock was still ticking in his head, counting down the end of this brief interlude of happiness. Alex laid back on his couch with a tray of soup on his lap and tried to soak in every minute. The thrill of sharing a meal together, sitting side by side on his couch with the evening news droning on in the background. It was a type of domesticity that he never thought he had wanted until Michael. His thoughts turned away from the wholesome toward the carnal as he watched Michael pucker his lips together to blow on the steaming bowl. 

The food was delicious, but that was a distracting sight for anyone, let alone someone who knew just what Michael’s mouth was capable of doing. 

Michael flashed a wicked smile when he caught Alex staring, picking up his strip of toast to dip in his soup and then licked it indecently clean. The perfect bow of his mouth around his food, his tongue chasing his lips for every drop of spilled soup had Alex shifting on the couch. The production lasted until Michael hit a hot place in his bowl, squeaking in shock, sending Alex into a peal of laughter at the affronted look on his face.

“Fuck, that’s hot!”

“Yes it was.”

“Asshole, I meant the soup!”

Alex laughed long and hard, his head tipped back against the couch, and after a moment, Michael joined him. Tears came to his eyes, the laughter set off each time they looked at each other. There was a point, where Alex realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that, at least not in the last year outside of talking to Michael on the phone. 

It was worth it. All of it. Infiltrating Deep Sky, spending half of his time around people who would cheerfully murder an alien, even using sex to get information, the price was not too steep to pay if it meant he could protect this moment, preserve it and repeat it forever. To see laugh lines around Michael’s mouth, instead of the press of fear, he would fuck the Devil himself if it meant Michael was safe.

He slowly sobered on the couch, his laughter gone at the thought of losing this. Michael placed their empty dishes in the kitchen and then drew Alex’s foot into his lap to rub. “I can practically see the gears turning now. Relax, okay? Watching the clock doesn’t help.”

“I know,” Alex agreed quietly, pressing his foot into Michael’s grip. “I’m feeling a little guilty here, with all this pampering.” 

Michael dug his thumbs into Alex’s instep, drawing a loud groan of appreciation as he worked on releasing the knots of stress. Too much time in combat boots, the calluses were thick and tough under Michael’s hands but he kept rubbing regardless. 

“If that guilt motivates you into taking better care of yourself-”

“I know, I am trying. But what about you?” Alex gestured toward Michael’s face with his own look of judgment, “are you sleeping enough? Eating enough?”

“I’m also trying. It will be better once this is over. Once you get to meet the head of Deep Sky, and hack him, we’ll both sleep better.”

“If it’s ever over. I’m starting to think the leader of Deep Sky is like the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

Instead of pulling on the threads of pessimism, Michael tugged on Alex’s ankle as he crawled closer to him on the couch. As a subject change, it was a welcome one to Alex. Why dwell on the future, it was better to enjoy the present. Michael’s hands smoothed over the soft fleece of the sweatpants, sending a thrill of excitement through Alex. He slipped down on the seat to allow Michael room. 

“Is it okay to pamper you a little more?” Michael asked, his eyes dark as his fingers slipped inside the waistband of Alex’s sweats. He teased at the taut muscles, stroking his fingers over the soft rasp of hair trailing downward. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“When’s the last time someone’s sucked this big dick of yours?”

There was a dark hint of teasing in Michael’s voice, he was daring Alex to say a name. Forrest’s name. It was the type of playful provocation they could use with each other now, safely, the result of their late night phone calls to each other. When time was valued, what was the point of secrets between them? 

Alex licked his lips absently, giving Michael a thorough head to toe look of consideration, before answering honestly, “It was in Santa Fe. At the Silver Saddle Motel. A very hot cowboy sucked me until I was hard, and then rode my dick all night long.” 

Michael blinked, not expecting that answer, but pinked in pleasure. “Oh…well then, you’ve been deprived because that was months ago.” He pulled down on Alex’s sweats, letting the band of elastic tuck neatly under his balls and sat back to admire the view. Alex shifted under his eyes, his cock straining upward as Michael bent his head down. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s a short guy, all of this probably doesn’t fit in his mouth,” Michael commented, wrapping his palm around Alex’s cock firmly.

“Yeah,” Alex gasped, hitching up into Michael’s grip, “small mouth, it’s hard to even kiss, impossible to fuck-” His voice gave out as Michael licked the bead of pre-cum with tip of his tongue before stretching his mouth wide. There was a way that Michael approached cock-sucking that Alex could never get over. The look of hunger and that deep breath he always took, as if he had to hold himself back to keep from gorging himself on Alex’s cock. 

Alex had been deprived. Very deprived.

Slowly Michael slid his lips down on Alex’s cock, taking him deep into his mouth. His tongue, warm and firm, dragged downward. Alex cried out in pleasure, it felt so good, his hips rocking upward imperceptibly as his iron-strong control was rocked by Michael. He kept his eyes trained on Michael’s mouth, the reddening stretch of his lips wrapped tightly around his cock. Michael looked up, catching his eye and then bobbed his mouth downward.

Reaching downward, Alex placed his hand against Michael’s jaw and traced his thumb around the edge of his mouth. “So good, you take me so well, Michael.”

The praise had Michael blinking in pleasure before he redoubled his efforts in sucking. Alex gasped again, sinking deeper into Michael’s throat until his lips were kissing the sparse hair, down to the root. Fuck. He was ready to come already. Worse than the clock sweeping toward the end of the evening, was his body ready to end it now.

“Close, I’m gonna-” Alex warned, his hands going to Michael’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull Michael off of him, or keep Michael in place to feed him his cock in case he backed away as Alex teetered on the edge of orgasm. His grip clutched uselessly on him, but Michael showed no signs of stopping his efforts. 

Kicking at the couch cushion, he lost the fight to hold back, as he felt his cock hit the back of Michael’s throat. There was a tightening around him, throat muscles working hard to swallow, and then Michael wrapped his hand back around the base of Alex’s cock to stroke him in time with his sucking. His free hand gently squeezed Alex, before rubbing a knuckle along the seam of his balls to his perineum. The outside touch against his prostate was enough to have Alex coming hard down Michael’s throat.

God it was so good. Michael knew every place to touch him. He knew to keep his mouth on Alex as he came, swallowing his release sloppily, until come and saliva leaked from his lips. It was over far too fast, but Michael held on until Alex felt the tears of overstimulation burn in his eyes. Slowly Michael softened his lips, letting Alex’s spent cock slip lazily from his messy mouth and then met Alex’s gaze with a knowing glint.

Michael knew exactly how depraved he looked. 

It was too soon to get hard again, but Alex felt the twinge of it as he stared at Michael. His hands were greedy, cupping Michael’s face between them before wiping up the spill from Michael’s lips with his thumb. Two could play at that game, he thought as he brought it to his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Michael swore softly, “Look at you, tasting yourself.”

“I’d rather taste you,” Alex patted the couch he was laying down on and straightened his disheveled sweatpants. “Take off those jeans and wrap those great thighs of yours around my head and let me suck you.”

“Actually, I’d rather take you to bed.”

Alex glanced at the clock behind Michael. It was close to midnight. He knew based on experience that Forrest would be by in the morning with coffee, before Alex was fully awake. It was a transparent way of trying to catch him off guard, to see if Alex would slip up with news about Michael, or any other alien. After every short trip back to Roswell, the other man had made sure to find an excuse to be in Alex’s house. 

“I know I can’t stay, but I don’t want to leave.”

“I never want you to leave either.” Alex chewed on his lower lip, as Michael waited. Sensing his advantage, he tilted his head seductively, spilling his curls over one eye and then made a transparent pleading face at Alex. Laughing, Alex conceded, “Okay, okay, you can stay for a little while. Help me to bed, and set an alarm.”

*** 

[fallenrepublick]

you wrote these wonderful headcanons for the nightbrothers and their babygirls. I was wondering if you could write some about them as uncles?

ADORABLE

As an uncle, Maul is the fun one. Somehow, he manages to be the person that the children all want to become like, ending up looking more like a mother and her ducklings walking about the palace than an authority figure. But you know what? He likes that.

As babies, the little things are subject to a whole lot of doting, as he's absolutely certain that they'll want to train under him. He's the master storyteller, the one they all come to as soon as they're able to crawl, just to hear one of his dramatic retellings (and definitely over-exaggerated) stories of his battles and adventures. Where other children grow up with bedtime stories of Jedi and princesses, these ones grow up with their uncle narrowly escaping the clutches of hooded monsters with croaky voices and corrupted villains with blue laser swords and auburn beards. Truly horrifying.

And if they're force sensitive? Well, there's no question that they'll be begging to be trained, wanting to be a "hero" just like their uncle, wanting to fight evil enemies just like him. He calls them his Tiny Apprentices, training with fancy blunt swords of beskar, and learning to wield the force by lifting little wooden blocks. They become chaotic little things and proudly show their father everything they learn each day, barely able to contain their excitement at the thought of becoming just like Maul.

And Savage is the protective uncle, always the extra pair of eyes looking out for them when they go off to play around. Used to being the older sibling, he's consistently concerned for the young ones' well being, even if where they are is safe. He isn't willing to take a chance if one of them gets hurt.

When they're infants, he lends a hand to care for them, often taking up the role as a caretaker when both you and his brother is exhausted. He urges the both of you to rest, promising that he'll take care of everything for the day. He has quite a way with children, and the babies take to him very well no matter the age. He has no shortage of lullabies in his head, and he's the best person to come to when nothing seems to put them to sleep.

As they age, this is something that remains true. They're not afraid to come to him for comfort or help if something goes wrong, and they feel particularly safe when he's around, knowing that it won't take much for him to be able to protect them. Still, it's a curious thing to him. They trust him so much and often look to him for guidance, regardless of how frightening others may find him, and more than once they've admitted how much they enjoy spending time in his presence. It's not something he ever gets used to, but it's something he's grateful for.

Feral is the young-souled, exciting uncle. From a young age, the children have always said how much fun it is to be around him, how often they want to see and play with him. He's got a younger heart, despite being much older, and it resonates with the children more than the other two brothers.

He cared for them when they were babies, yes, but as they grew up and began doing more interactive activities, he spent more time with them, enjoying the childish antics, seeming as if he related to them more than he did other adults. It's sort of the way you see lions playing with young cubs, not only games and toys involved, but also mini-wrestling, and "lessons" on how to be a true Nightbrother (even if the children are girls), and a lot of fake collapsing to prove that they've bested him in combat and are ready to lead a group of warriors.

There's mild chaos that comes with the territory, perhaps a few small explosions here and there as they kick around bottles that really shouldn't be shaken, or windows to Maul's throne room breaking when Feral someone throws a ball off the correct course. But he's the one that encourages childhood and a playful nature, and they love him for it.