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lavandula-ipsum · 8 months ago

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The sweet waters of Plegethon

Asphodels ch. 2/2

Tags: dark!Luke x Fem!Reader, force sensitive reader, reader is injured, porn with plot, angst, smut. Like, this is the smut bomb of the series.

Summary: Waiting to be torn apart once again, two lovers find each other under the stars.

Asphodels is a sequel to Pomegranate, a short smut series that has kinda ended up growing a plot. I do think you can enjoy this part without the previous one, since you can infer enough of their dynamic from context if you're just here for the smutty fun. Feel free to check the previous chapters if you feel like it!

Asphodels pt. 1

It was a hard job convincing the rebel survivors that all they needed to do to avoid the mortal threat of the stormtroopers closing in around them was to take refuge in the caves and just wait for them to just leave. Huddled in the tunnels, the children of the Rebellion look up and fear that the promise won’t save them. There is a twinkle of understanding in (Y/N)’s new ally, old Imoviah, when she assures him they will be safe for now.

As soon as it mlike the danger has passed them by, the rebel captain hurries back to the cell where her prisoner awaits. Shame nails her eyes to the floor at first, handing him the comlink as she swallows thickly. She’s forgotten herself again, and now she has to deal with having to manage problems so abysmally different in nature she’d need to split herself in two for it. But she needs to suck it up and be a big girl today. Politics must come first.

After Luke dials in the code, he puts the device back on her palm, his hand lingering for a bit. At least he doesn’t seem resentful for leaving him like she did, bothered and denied. She mentally hushes herself, she needs to focus

“It will be alright, I swear,” he assures. The rebel tries to paint her expression with all of her resolve and hopes the Sith lord can’t choke her through this distance.

Suddenly, the little communicator emits the ambience buzz that indicates there’s someone listening on the other side. Faintly, the dreaded sound of a mechanic breathing echoes.

“Excuse me if I don’t introduce myself properly, lord Vader. I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“I am well aware of who you are. And you will tell me, right now, how you obtained that communicator as well as this code.”

Her blood freezes at the idea that he already knows her. They have never met face to face, apart from a couple of occasions when her ship narrowly avoided capture by his TIE fighters while he looked down on the hunt from the Executor. Even then, his cold ghost managed to freeze the Force around her like a nasty omen. There was also the quick encounter at Bespin, though there wasn’t much time for pleasantries back then. No, he either has gathered intel about her, for whatever chilling reason, or Luke has been talking about her. She suddenly feels out of her own body and shudders at the ridiculous concept of Vader giving ear to the fallen Jedi’s story about a girl he almost came to love.

“That’s the interesting part, my lord. You see, right now I have in my power a certain prized someone you might be interested in getting back.”

Luke rolls his eyes at her, which lightens her heart a little bit. It almost makes her enjoy getting threats in exchange.

“You might think you scored some kind of goal with this, but no matter what you do, even if my troops have been ordered to spare your cowardly rats in hiding for now, the Rebellion is doomed.”

“I’ll keep my prisoner for myself then. Maybe I’ll find some better use for him before we’re all dead at your feet, my lord.”

“Your tone is starting to become cumbersome, girl.” He doesn’t need to raise his filtered voice for her to feel a dreadful cold creeping up the back of her neck. “I demand proof that he is unharmed.”

Luke steps forward, his eyes fixed on the girl at all times, reassuring that she’s navigating this delicate situation successfully but a little fearful it could all fall down with just a wrong word. “I’m here, father. Please, listen to her.”

Silence. For a few moments, only a faint metallic breathing comes out of the comlink. (Y/N) realizes now she’s been squeezing Luke’s hand too hard. She barely dares to even breathe until lord Vader speaks again.

“Alright, go on. And do not test my patience any further, rebel. Consider yourself greatly privileged to be having this conversation.”

(Y/N) is not aware of the dark lord having any tolerance whatsoever so, with a slight triumphant smirk on her lips, she continues. “These are my demands, Lord Vader.”

****

After long hours of packing and preparation to evacuate the refuge under the sanctuary, night has fallen once again over the forest. Right now, somewhere, the survivors must be leaving the surface of Jolah on a brand new Imperial transport. Even though they’ve taken all the precautions available to them to prevent being followed, (Y/N) still fears it might not be enough. However, the only thing she can do now is let them go and trust that her plan will work.

The silence is broken by the beeping in her hands right before Imoviah’s voice comes out of her comlink

“The starbird has taken flight. Good work.”

She sighs. “Thank you, friend. Take care. I hope our paths will meet again soon.”

“Likewise. May the Force be with you, girl.”

(Y/N) tries to answer it back, but the woshrds can’t find their way out before the communication is cut. So all she can do is reduced to just sitting there, her glossy eyes blurring the stars above her, as her fingers tear apart one of the wild flowers growing through the crevices of the stone table they’re sitting on.

“You’ve done it, they’re safe”

At her side sits her only source of warmth in this cold night. It’s Luke’s arm against hers that keeps her feet on the ground now that she feels like she’s inhabiting a stranger’s corpse. Perhaps the sensation has been accompanying her for a while. It’s by his side that she’s finally able to see the tension and constant nausea that’s taken hold of her body the last few hours.

His stun cuffs suddenly come undone and fall to the floor. Luke gives her a confused grin, but she looks away. She trusts him enough to free him. No, it’s way more than that, dangerously so. (Y/N) yearns to give him anything he might ask for. However, the question of why she’s waited this long to do it keeps her tongue tied in a knot.

The rebel also hands him back his lightsaber. The corrupted inner sizzling of the agonizing kyber crystal has been making her sick with the memories of how much time and effort he put into building it, how she clapped and laughed the first time she got to see the emerald blade. I'm proud of you, she had said after kissing his cheek.

And as revolting as its aura echoes in the Force, she feels a little colder after it's no longer in her hands. A cloud lifts in her brain too. It will be a while before Vader’s shuttle appears, a few hours at least. Hours she doesn’t feel like using on running away.

If only there was something that could keep him by her side.

“Your sister still believes in you, you know?”

“She does?” Luke seems surprised at first, but then he shakes his head. “That is too far gone.”

She’s too tired to fight about this again, so she just sighs and sinks down a little.

“Have you thought about how you’re going to get away?” he says.

“I was thinking of stealing your fighter, actually.”

He grimaces, but doesn’t complain further. “I guess that’s fair.”

(Y/N) groans and rubs her forehead on his shoulder. It takes him by surprise, but it prompts him to relax a little and open up his cloak so she can take refuge under it. But she can’t allow herself to rest while she still has homework left to do.

“You can have your questions now.”

A furrow appears on his brow, displeased by her transactional attitude. However, curiosity ends up being more powerful. “Is Leia being trained?”

“Yes.”

“By whom?”

“You don’t know her.” (Y/N) glares at him before standing up to pace around with the help of her walking stick, anxious. Even though she feels the blunt pull of the stitches on her leg, the movement helps clear her head. This is a subject she’s not willing to get into, and every word that slips out could be fatal to someone else. Thankfully, Luke seems willing to drop the issue.

“Where is your lightsaber?”

“I gave it to her.” However, he doesn’t seem satisfied with this vague answer. She thinks of a lie, something like she needed it but, again, Luke is not someone she can lie to. And she’s getting tired of trying to do it. “I did it because I was donafraid of ending up having to fight you.”

“So you’ve given up.”

“I thought you’d be happier about it.”

“I’m not. There’s the chance you’ll see yourself in a bad situation without a way to protect yourself.” His impatient tone also reveals he’s still hurt about what she said earlier, when they fought in the cell. “I never intended to make you weaker.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to either surrender or die if I find myself in a pickle.”

It would be easier to embrace either of those decisions if she took it beforehand, wouldn’t it?

The night is cold and the dark hides them, which is known to work the magic to conjure the words that seem impossible at any other time. The young man in black leaves the stone table to go after her, but stops a couple of steps away. His hand twitches at his side.

“Do you hate it when I touch you?”

(Y/N) thought these questions were going to be utilitarian in nature, so she’s about to complain about it for a second. However, she can just sigh at her lack of an answer. The reason why she freaked out when he touched her earlier is a mystery to her too. She liked it when he caged her between his bound hands and the wall to kiss her. It was sudden and desperate, with a passionate sense of urgency that could’ve been mistaken for roughness if she didn’t know him as well as she does. No, this fear has bloomed from a seed planted way before, that very first night they shared after learning of his betrayal. She steps closer to squeeze his hand, relieved by him reciprocating the gesture.

“I don’t. It’s just- Kark, I’m not sure I can explain it. ”

“Will you try for me?” he asks, need glimmering in his eyes.

“I think it started… the last time we were together. I was so confused. I lost myself and acted like a brat. I gave in to the idea that the pleasure would erase the pain, but then I felt so guilty. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“You don’t have to feel bad about it. I needed you too.”

“That’s why I tried to regain control. I wanted to give you everything, I really did.” She swallows a sob. “But I couldn’t picture myself surviving, or at least the part of me that matters, if I didn’t run away. So I did. And now I’m not even sure if it’s still alive.”

Luke’s fingertips graze the back of her hand on the walking stick, and a shy flutter reaches her through the Force as he gently takes her hand, slowly enough to watch in her expression and feel in her signature that he’s not overstepping, and presses his lips on her knuckles, “I don’t blame you.”

“I didn’t know I was going to react like that earlier. I was so focused on the little time we had I didn’t realize how scared I was.”

“Of me?”

“No, no. Of myself. I was terrified of losing control.” (Y/N) nuzzles his shoulder, every word a struggle. “I’m sorry, I’m a mess. I don't mean to mislead you. Isn't it messed up that I behave like this when I'm supposed to fight you?”

The finger tracing down her cheek melts her worries away until they’re just a bittersweet aftertaste in her mouth. “I’ll gladly take all you're willing to give.”

Grabbing his shirt collar, she gently brings him closer till their lips meet. The kiss is sweet and light, slow as if they had all the time in the world. Clean.

“Such a lovely mess,” he whispers against her mouth. She groans, sensing yet another worry fluttering around his aura.

“How many more questions do you have?”

“Only one. But it’s a bit selfish.”

“I promised I would answer. Shoot.”

“Do you still love me?”

Luke retreats back a little to look at her better, his gloved hand still under her chin. The frail hope trembling behind his eyes breaks her heart a little.

“I do. I love you. But I still hate you too.”

The wind lightly tousles his hair as a watery chuckle escapes his throat. He’s relieved. “I know. Don’t worry. Don’t let it hurt you any more than it needs to.”

This time it’s him who leans down to kiss her, holding her face between his palms as he gently parts her lips. Their invisible bond ripples with a wave of gratitude. Suddenly, she feels a little embarrassed about earlier, when she went straight to shove her hand down his pants.

“Your eyes are wandering, love.”

“I was feeling a bit guilty about something else, that’s all.” As (Y/N) looks down, finding by the tension on his pants that affairs are more or less where she left them. “I’m sorry I had to leave you like that earlier. I thought you would have, I don’t know, done something about it by now.”

His eyelashes flicker as he grows excited and flustered in equal measure with the understanding of what she’s referring to. “I haven’t.”

“Were you waiting for me?”

He nods, his fingers threading her hair, exploring her features in the search for a signal that she’s not out of his grasp yet. “Are you ready to let go a little? Only as much as you want to.”

The rebel delves in for another kiss, a tiny spark catching fire as her hands travel down his torso with a hungry caress. However, before they can reach his belt buckle, he stops her, a sweet smirk across his face. Without ever letting go of her hand, he takes her back to the carved table, where he sits in a purposely open position. However, doubt briefly returns to him just as she curls up in between his legs.

“I told you to take everything the other time, didn’t I?”

“Do you really think this is the place?” he teases, his hands all over her, carefully exploring every little limit each of the curves of her body represents before lovingly conquering the next one.

“What? Are you missing the cell? Or was it the stun cuffs that did the trick for you?”

Luke shakes his head, muffling a chuckle with a kiss under her ear, “I just wished I could give you something better than this rock.”

The rebel briefly thinks of the time she spent in his quarters, of the gigantic bed with silly silk sheets and at least a dozen fluffy pillows to comfortably plop herself on. Yeah, their first time could have been quite comfortable there, in theory. More than on rock and moss, under the cold stars. On the other hand, she doesn’t miss the constant buzz of the imperial cruiser, the many tiny signatures of officers and stormtroopers running around. No, this place feels far more peaceful. It lacks the luxury, but also all those other reminders that she’s already lost him.

Impatient to give herself fully this time, she guides his hands up her waist. Luke barely dares to brush the curve of her breast until she coaxes him to discover the hardness of her nipples through the fabric of her tunic. Watching over her shoulder, burning breath on her skin, his thumbs swivel over them, twisting them subtly between his thumb and middle finger while the index rubs the tip raw until little whines start escaping her throat.

Under her, his hardness grinds against her ass as she unconsciously swivels, anticipating the release of all the pent up heat cruelly repressed all day. The fire has spread to his hands, that turn her around so she faces him, impatiently undoing the laces closing off her dress. His hungry mouth leaves a tingly path of kisses along her collarbone in its way down to her tits, tender and sensitive under the unabashed wet sounds of his suckling. She cries out with that first frenzied attack, making him look up from where he’s devoted to the task of making her lose her mind. As an apology, his tongue becomes gentler, but the girl grabs the back of his hair and brings him closer again, begging for more. After a moaned hum, Luke sucks more intensely again, leaving her weaker by the second and dependent on the support of his arms around her waist.

Unable to bear the insufficient friction any longer, Luke lays her down, spreading his cloak over the carvings to protect her from the cold stone. (Y/N) briefly ponders what could the intended use of this altar have been, the sacred knowledge she should be diligently gathering to study it later, before having to hand this sanctuary over to the enemy. Instead, she’s getting fucked on it. Ravenous hands undo fastenings, take off shoes and outer clothes as their mouths look for each other again. His lips take a detour down the contours of her throat, then her shoulder, setting each centimeter of skin on fire as soon as it’s revealed to the cold night air.

But before Luke can realize his intentions of journeying down her body, she stops him by the collar of his open shirt. Though her anxious hastiness is momentarily driven to his skin as she falls quickly to the allure posed by the mauvish lines of his scars. (Y/N) grips her healthy leg around his waist in order to bring him close enough to kiss them. His heart beats fast under her tongue as she faithfully tends to that darker nest marking his chest, then following the paths of lightning to his neck while her hands caress tingly trails down his hips. Luke curses under his breath.

“Need you,” she begs, rolling her hips upwards against his erection, loving how it grows and throbs following her touches.

“You got me already,” he promises in between kisses, ”you got everything.”

With a quick movement of her fingers, she slips his cock under her panties, rocking her hips against it. “I want you inside.”

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

“I’m serious,” she whines.

“You’re soaking wet.” A note of morbid pride tints his voice, slowly grinding as the movement bulging through her panties teases her lips open. His voice is slipping out already. Their combined dance rubs her swollen clit, each stroke smearing precum on her underwear until the fabric is soaked. “You sure?”

With an excited hum, she captures his mouth again and devours it as his hands tug down on the elastic around her waist to take her panties off, his heated palms always careful to stroke around the bandages on her thigh. She gasps impatiently when she feels the warm pulse of the tip against her, making a nasty wet sound at first contact. Luke strokes her cheek, the gentle caress of his thumb on her lips, gaze locked with hers as they toy with the edge of this one last limit between them. Until, with a dallying thrust, his cock finally delves inside.

Despite the lubrication and his slow advances, the tension pulls a gasp and then a brittle whimper from within her. She’s already had him in her hand and in her mouth, and still she’s clearly overestimated how quickly she could take him.

“You ok?” he asks in a whisper. (Y/N) nods, fervent to deepen this feeling of being stretched so sweetly by him. Even though she shouldn’t find it pleasurable, he does it so deliciously slow she’s willing to take it all. So she wraps her healthy leg around him and brings him closer, making his cock finally sink all the way down into her. Luke shudders and shoots her an exasperated look, though lust-filled still.

“T-too tight.” However, she grips tighter, taken by the tingly wave of euphoria that just washed over her brain, erasing every other thought or sensation that isn't his body on her, breathing fire on her throat, her hole stuffed. “Don't do that, not yet, f-fuck.”

Oh, so he needs a bit to adjust too. It's probably her fault, for rushing into this without proper preparation. She probably shouldn't have, for both of their sakes, but those little whines he's making are too glorious to think of anything else. So she praises him, you're stretching me so nicely, and then he finally thrusts, his motions flowing at a lazy pace, still shy because of the fear of hitting a tender spot. Don't hold back, she begs. As Luke obliges, she lets out a thankful moan while he’s immersed in the slow plunging inside of her, seemingly spellbound.

“That’s it, love. Just like that,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. Luke pounds into her hard yet slow, deep. And yet, not a single time her wound gets grazed or her thigh handled in a way that makes it hurt more than it already does. She aches to switch places and be on top, but her wounded leg won’t let her, rolling her hips desperately to feel him deeper inside. Her frustrations get interrupted by a kiss.

“Please, let me serve you this time,” he pants against her lips, as if he’s sensed her thoughts dispersing. Fuck, of course he’d say this. He’s tried to hide it, but she knows damn well how he’s been enjoying himself all day, trying to help her covertly. “I’ve been needing you for so long. It’s been s-so long.”

She props herself on her elbows to follow after him, to kiss and nibble under his jawline. His hand at the back of her head keeps her close, the intimate gesture radiating a warm feeling that makes her clench harder involuntarily.

“Been missing you too, Luke. I thought of you every waking moment.”

They didn’t dare reach this step their first time together. There was expectation in the air, a need to wait and see where loyalties and affections lied and what might end up weighing more in the scales. Now (Y/N) knows more about her principles than she would have liked. She has seen the cost of his betrayal, tasted the pain and the bitterness of everything she held dear being twisted and stomped until she couldn’t recognize it anymore. And she hates herself for still loving him through it all.

It would be easier if she could keep her love contained in her chest, but she can’t hide it from him. Neither can he keep his own feelings locked down, even if she finds them so hard to believe. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to give in to the yearning of her flesh.

The tentative taste they had of each other last time now seems like an innocent game. The rebel feels spent and disillusioned enough to recognize the futility in the little hope she kept tucked away that maybe Luke would come to hold her hand and leave the shadow together. Now, pain has ruined her world beyond fixing.

This just feels plain wrong and yet she enjoys it that way.

“That’s it, use me. Please, use me,” he begs, tightly pressing their bodies together so her clit gets that intoxicating friction she’s been chasing. “Use me.”

(Y/N) can’t help but softly whine his name, gripping his hips and steering him deeper into her pleasure before sinking her teeth in his shoulder. The sudden sharpness steals from him a deep moan and makes Luke embrace her even more firmly against him.

“Is it good?” he asks in between hasty exhales, “Please, please, tell me.”

“L-love you inside of me,” she manages to articulate, interrupted by her own voice cracking while trying to repeat it, the word love melting into incoherent whines. Each of those deep thrusts tests the limits of what she’d thought she’d be willing to take.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

She whimpers, unsuccessful at weaving coherent thoughts. There’s only his hands on her skin, that alluring frontier of his open shirt, an ever moving limit she’s burning to mark with her kisses following the lightning scars. His cock plunging desperately into her, making her head feel light and drunk with lust. Oh, her face must be pitiful right now. “F-feels good. More, please, more."

Limbs entangled, bodies hardly pressed and brushing against each other, Luke huffs loudly in her ear, one hand pressing her hips closer, the other cradling the back of her head. The impatient pounding turns to a deep rocking, smearing their combined juices all over where their skins brush together in the addicting chase of release.

He praises her. So good for me. So nice and wet for me. And that seals it for her. In a broken chain of desperate whimpers she begs him to go faster, she grinds her hips harder against him, fingers digging into her flesh, until her legs shake. Every wave of evergrowing pleasure tightens her up, pushing his cock deeper as delight overflows all of her senses. Her head falls to rest weakly on the arm holding her, tingles still clouding her vision.

A mischievous smirk lights up Luke’s face.

“Did you just cum?”

She can just let out a faint moan in response. He gently brushes her messy hair away from her face in search of the flushed bliss across her cheeks, and he licks his lips as he softly caresses hers. It’s cute how he seems so damn proud of himself.

“Stars, you’re beautiful. That just felt so good, it almost-” One of those last waves tenses her up around him and drowns his words.”S-stop, please.”

“But you just made me cum,” she teases, her body coiling around him with the rolling of her hips, “so hard.”

“Please, sweetheart. I wanna fuck you more.”

Luke leans down to taste her mouth once again, so her yes gets melted together with the blazing kiss. Her body, sensitive and vulnerable, screams from the inside when he starts moving again. Ah, it’s almost too much. Luke spreads her legs wide now, a gloved palm on her injured thigh pushing it up with the utmost care, and slowly picks up the pace. This new angle hits a sensitive spot within her, still tender after her orgasm.

“During every damned boring meeting I… I could only think of fucking you on the war room table,” he breathes out, railing into her with every word.

“In front of all those generals?”

“Well, no-” but his answer makes her laugh and clench around him, making his whole body shiver. “Oh, fuck.”

Pent up beyond what he can take, broken pleas loosely woven into his loud whimpers, Luke grabs her hips and ruts into them in a frenzy at a deep angle, the desperate thrusts making all of her thoughts vanish. Take it. Take it, he groans, like in a trance, most of his weight pinning her down while her broken sobs are all she has left to express how amazing it feelsple. For her, everything fades except his name spilling off her tongue like a deranged chant.

“Where should I-?” He manages to string out, “…please, tell me, I can't take it anymore.”

“No, you tell me.” She has a feeling that she already knows the answer, but asks anyway, “Tell me where you're gonna cum.”

“I…” he moans. In his eyes she sees how he’s struggling to not completely lose his mind after a whole day of torture.

“Tell me.”

‘I-inside. Let me cum inside you, please. Please, please, please.”

She closes a fist around his hair to bring him close. Do it. Cum for me, she whispers. And the command finally pushes him over the edge. Luke moans her name in her ear, his fingers digging hard into her hips as he comes undone.

With her limbs warmly tangled around him, they find each other for a breathless kiss. However, she finds herself still rolling her hips, enjoying those last lazy thrusts as he becomes softer inside of her, thick cum starting to drip down onto the carved stone. Luke sinks his head into the crook of her neck and, feeling him shiver as the sweat on his back gets cold in the chill night air, she runs her fingers through his hair in a comforting manner while he struggles to catch his breath. There are tears pooling in his eyes when he finally looks at her. It breaks her heart a little how young he suddenly looks to her.

“I love you, Luke.”

However, playfulness glimmers in his gaze too. “I love you.”

(Y/N) is still trying to figure out this little hunch when his right hand starts stroking down her body, giving a soft squeeze to a tit, then caressing down her waist, finally reaching between her legs. The light stroke of his fingers up the overflowing slit unearths a gasp out of her, caressing the sticky mess until they’re slippery enough to swirl around her swollen clit.

“No, wait, I can’t. I just-”

Luke teases her with a wet kiss under her ear. “But you’re so needy still, love.”

She muffles a moan on the back of her hand, ashamed of how her body is opening up so greedy to the new stimulation. Her legs quiver at the intoxicating rhythm of his fingers; it’s too much, too soon. Gloved fingers go in, filling her lusciously, and her hips grind into them on their own.

“Do you like my fingers that much?”

The rebel whimpers, defeated. “So much better than mine. Mine haven’t been enough since…”

“Since what?” Pumping deeper into her makes her words come out pitiful through lewd pants. But perhaps that’s his goal.

“Since you.”

Luke is all her wandering mind has been able to conjure during those few times when she’s managed to find enough privacy to hopelessly ram two fingers into her loneliness, longing for him. Indulging those fantasies always leaves her feeling empty, like she’d just betrayed herself, but her inability to find pleasure in anything else had her always coming back to her memories of him.

Suddenly, she feels a slight tingle on her inner thigh. A kiss.

“Wait, that’s-”

“What?” he taunts, his lips softly brushing up her leg, his fingers still fucking her at a steady pace. Her voice is barely audible over her flustered gasps.

“Dirty.” She stammers, her back arching with anticipation. "Th- this is so unfair,"

"Is it? Then I'll stop."

She sobs broken complaints, wordlessly begging. And Luke understands perfectly. His hand retreats to make room for his tongue, a flat and slow lick upwards, his icy gaze burning into her mind that delirious image of being eaten out right after he came inside of her. Clumsy in his relative inexperience yet desperate, voracious. His presence grows omnipresent on her skin, his flesh hand now caressing her thighs around him, now cupping a breast, while his gloved fingers pound into her relentlessly, his mouth on her cunt.

"Can I make you cum again? Will you let me?"

She looks down at the way his fingers fuck his seed back into her, obscene sounds escaping through his steamy sighs. And, through this unbearable ascent of her incredulous senses, his eyes always demand her attention. A devilish glint in them tells her that he won't allow her release until she begs for it. He goes back to suck on her clit, overstimulation bringing tears to her eyes. He’s on the verge of ruining her forever.

"I can't. Oh, Luke, please. I can’t."

"I think you can, sweetheart."

She can't muster a sliver of authority by this point, but the adoration in his smile confesses his desire to spoil her.

“F-fuck. Yes, please, make me cum.”

"Thank you, love. Now, let go. Cum for me."

The licks become pointed, harder, faster; lips, tongue and fingers slipping over their combined fluids. When she squirms, his left hand lays on her stomach to keep her in place, closer to his face as she weakly tries to writhe away from the intense stimulation. Her trembling legs fight to close around him, helpless to resist the overwhelming delirium turning her senses into a devoted mush.

And then she floats into that white fire. Even through the piercing bliss, she can feel his satisfaction through his pleased moans when she cries out his name, the broken syllables drowned in whimpers. Ah, she’d walk away from everything if he asked now.

“That’s it,” a loving thumb caresses her lower lip, “love seeing you like this.”

It gently enters past her lips, sliding up and down her tongue suggestively. Leather and musk floods her senses as she blissfully lies there, contemplating this creature with the light of the moon behind him spilling a crown of silver on his head, looking down at her like an angel. She can merely drool on his hand as she pitifully tries to recover her breath.

That’s when something grazes her knee, awakening her. He's hard again. So she sits up, eager to tend to him. However, he shakes his head. “Look at you, sweetheart. You barely-”

With a glistening finger, she teases the sensitive spot behind the flushed head “What?”

A muffled moan escapes him, all concerns defeated.

“My beautiful girl,” Luke sighs just as she brings him closer for a kiss, her hand beating him up and down as she satisfies her own ravenous desire to taste them both on his lips.

“Where do you want it?”

“I’d like to be inside you again. But-”

“Then fuck me again,” she smiles. “Please.”

With a passionate kiss, (Y/N) struggles to climb on his lap, but she’s soon taken back by a painful flare on her wound. The captain whines a little, since she’s really eager to ride him until her legs give out. After Luke checks she isn’t in serious pain, he actually finds her pouting adorable.

His kind hands gently bring her down, her back resting on him as he lies behind her, an arm hugging her waist, the other pushing her injured leg up and out of the way. Inside the warm chest pressed against her back, Luke's heart speeds up as his cock slides into her again. Penetration isn't as deep at this angle, but it rubs just right into that delicious spot.

His lips cover her neck with warm, generous kisses, though she can feel him peeking down to what his hand is doing traveling up from her waist to play with her breasts.

“Enjoy the view?” she teases, receiving a muffled hum in response.

Their mouths seek each other, treasuring each dallying thrust. His fingers come to tease her clit, already tender and slick. (Y/N) sobs quietly at the touch, too spent to complain about the maddening pleasure flooding her mind. And in spite of how much it is, far beyond what she can handle, she wants. She still wants hopelessly. What little remains of her, she’s willing to renounce it.

And she yearns to tell him, she’s about to.

However, Luke silences her with another kiss, leaving her to whimper into his mouth as he gently wipes a tear off her cheek. Why? He could have what he came to this damned system for. Just- why?

It’s hard to think while being relentlessly filled by his thick cock, with his hands around her body pushing her down harder into him as he fucks her slowly.

“That’s it, love. Y-you’re taking me so well.” Though she can tell how much it overwhelms him too, Luke is still making the effort to keep holding her, praising her. Completely enveloped by his embrace, she hasn’t felt this safe in months. “Is this good?”

“Y-yeah, so good. So good for me.”

She shifts a bit to lie on her back so she can reach him better. She craves to look into his gleaming eyes as his fingers pick up the pace. Their hips buck into each other hypnotically, overflowing slick running down their legs. Growing needy as he approaches another climax, Luke moans her name, a tug in the Force sinking down into her chest and pulling desperately towards him, as if she’s going to vanish at any moment.

“I’m here, Luke,” she reassures him, brushing away some dirty blond locks from his sweaty forehead. “Just like that. S-so close again, angel. Keep fucking me like that. K-keep…”

His heavy breaths turn into whimpers as words melt off his tongue onto hers, and his embrace grips her closer with the hastening of his thrusts. She cries out in sweet agony, overcome with the combined stimulation, unable to break eye contact. You're gonna make me lose my mind. Need and desire burn in the blue of his eyes, his fingers threadinglo her hair as his other hand turns her anguish into her last, glorious flare of pleasure.

The orgasm tenses her up tightly around him, the aftershocks bringing him down with her along with the cute breaking of his voice, wretchedly loud. Their foreheads come together with those last few attempts to prolong what’s already over, smearing the dripping fluids into a hot, sticky mess over their thighs as his second load starts spilling out, hot and thick.

Lacing their hands together, Luke’s lashes flutter on her cheek. Love you, he breathes.

Theyb stay there for a few moments, limbs tangled. With tears still streaming down her face, (Y/N) trembles because of the exhaustion as much as the biting cold. It's the perfect circumstance to hide a shuddering heart. A warm hand comes to rest on her face, as tender eyes take in the bliss in her features. Luke drapes his cloak over her, a soft smile on his face, so she can’t help but pull him closer under the cloak and kiss him, greedily holding his blazing cheeks between her palms.

“You’re cold, I’m sorry.” His arms envelop her weakened frame. As she nuzzles his shoulder, he lets out a faint chuckle. “In the end you were able to do both things, rebel. Have the prisoner and fuck him too.”

“Not sure if I’ve been a good rebel, though,” she says, tracing a finger down a lightning scar before giving it a light kiss. Luke cradles her head closer, his cheek pressed on her forehead. The heart under her palm, the point from where the mauvish spiderweb expands, slowly relaxes its beating.

His eyes turn up, caught by a far away tingling in his senses. Their time together is coming to a close.

Dreading the possibility of being found naked by the incoming shuttle and her masked pilot, (Y/N) finally sits up to put on her tunic, which Luke imitates, though not without a whiny puff. When sitting up, she realizes the extent of the mess between her legs, though she has no other option right now than get dressed and let it dry on her skin. However, the euphoria of that third high still persists in her brain too much to find it gross.

When looking for the rest of her clothes, a certain item seems to be eluding her. It isn’t long till she spots it in Luke’s hand.

“I kept the other pair. Would you mind…?”

“Starting up quite the collection, Skywalker.”

“Keep the cloak in exchange. You’re gonna need it.” She laughs and nods, after which he puts the ruined panties in his pocket, not without his ears turning red. “There’s something more. When you go find my starfighter, look for the compartment under the pilot seat. What’s in there is yours.”

“Like the rest of the fighter, you mean.”

Luke snorts as he welcomes her on his lap, covering them both with his cloak again. “I’ll let you steal the ship if the idea thrills you so much, but this other thing is a gift. Way better than a hickey, I think.”

She raises an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, did I get you into an uncomfortable situation last time?”

“You hadn’t striked me as someone who’s into that, that’s all. But I did like it.”

Well, that’s a thing she didn’t know about herself until then. Until she left his side and spent the next two days blushing at any sensitive grazing of that tender, violet spot that her demands to be marked resulted in, finding a sick excitement in it. She did her best to keep it hidden, but she wasn’t all that successful this one time her clothes moved accidentally while trying to help her friend run away from imperial blasters. She didn't realize until later, when she was putting staples into Leia’s arm and saw reflected in the princess’ face her exact thoughts about the hickey. She seemed more disappointed than angry. Even shut off from the Force, (Y/N) could sense how sad it made her, alongside the complete lack of strength to scold her about it.

Luke seems lost in his own thoughts too, his fingertips drawing circles on her shoulder. “Remember when we used to teach each other? We could do that again.”

There’s nothing she’d love most. Exchanging the little knowledge they acquired from each of their masters, trying to puzzle together a whole that made sense. It seems they never were all that successful, or they wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

Her voice comes out tiny, fearful. “Earlier, I almost…”

“I know, love. Don’t worry.”

In the heat of passion, for a moment she was about to give in. However, it was Luke himself who kept her from falling. It wouldn’t have satisfied him if she didn’t commit to him clear headed, and he certainly isn’t pressuring her for an explanation no. She combs some hair pieces off his brow and brushes their noses together, thinking about that world he’s about to leave her for.

“Will you be alright with him?”

“Of course.” His hand down her hair offers a comfort she can’t bring herself to believe in fully. “It’s not like you think. He’s… kind to me.”

The word comes out crooked, but she knows he’s telling the truth. Or some version of it. She squeezes his artificial hand, now uncovered as the ruined glove lies on the rock. Her fingertips stumbling on all the telltale signs of worn out synthetic skin, she can think of a few dozen reasons why things are indeed like she suspects, because she can imagine Vader committing a thousand atrocities, and none of them close to being kind. The fact that Luke’s fall happened while she was gone instills a painful jab of guilt. There’s something she must have missed, something vital that changed his world forever and can’t just be explained with words.

Sensing her concerns, Luke sighs. “He likes you better than he’s willing to admit, I know it.”

“Great, just what I wanted to know. Allow me to harbor some doubt, though.” The idea of him talking of her to Vader seems taken out of a fever dream, even in the weird reality she lives now, where everything has been flipped upside down. “You love him, don’t you?”

Luke’s gaze turns to the stars, and in the silence (Y/N) hears all she needs. Even if she’s been trying her best to ignore it, the bond between father and son is almost visible to her, like a thick echo, resounding on everything around them and turning it back into a signal pointed in the other direction. She tries not to wonder how much of what’s happened on Jolah was projected onto it. However, the freezing note characteristic of the Sith lord’s signature still pervades, like a stench that can’t be washed off.

The rebel senses how one of her worst nightmares hovers over her head as the buzzing approaches.

Tears fall on Luke’s knuckles as she kisses them goodbye. Unable to do or say anything of weight, he sweetly takes her flaming cheeks between his hands and seeks her mouth one last time with a mortal hunger written on his lips. She surrenders to his warmth, her tongue deep into the kiss. Their lips dance with a purposely slow passion, an underlying anxiety over the approaching moment of separation looming over them. An open, warm kiss is all they can attempt to sooth each other. It tastes salty. (Y/N) opens her eyes to find that he’s crying too, teardrops caught in his lashes falling to tickle her cheeks.

Looking up at the landing shuttle burns like putting a hand on a hot stove. She prefers to spend these precious last seconds memorizing his eyes, taking advantage of the lights falling from the starship that illuminate his face. As the kiss dies, she registers every single little fleck and threads of blue, that tiny speck of golden brown, how those irises glimmer with bittersweet adoration for her.

She wouldn’t remember the moment his body was torn from hers, only the dark shape of his shoulders walking away from her.

The rebel’s exhausted mind goes to those treasured details as the shuttle flies away. But it isn’t like last time, when she ran off and closed herself to the Force; fearing the pain too much just resulted in this dull void she’s been living in. No, now she can see the shapes of that unbreakable thread weaving their signatures together. It pulls when he jumps to hyperspace, so brutally she’s scared it might tear her apart. However, after the initial shock, it remains there, irremediably binding her to Luke.

(Y/N) awaits for the aftershocks of that ghost pain to subdue a little before standing from the engraved altar.

****

Under the compartment Luke indicated (Y/N) finds a book. An actual book, made out of paper. The captain blinks, astonished to find what she’s sure is poetry written in Huttese, even if she can’t read it. He never mentioned an interest for that sort of thing, even though it’s true that they didn’t have time for almost any kind of leisure at all back in the Rebellion, nor was it something he had access to at home. Right now, this is just another reminder of everything she’s missed in his life.

She flips the yellowed pages, filling her nose with their old aroma. However, there’s another note to it, deep and sweet. Another object lies pressed inside the book. A single Malreaux rose, its darkened petals flattened in between the pages. Her fingertips stroke lightly the stains left by dark pigment, remembering the night she gave herself to Luke for the first time among spilled flowers, their scent mixing with his skin. After this little indulgence, she carefully hides the book in her clothes.

As she quickly does the basic flight checks and maneuvers the starfighter to leave the forest planet of Jolah behind, her hand doubts over the communications panel. She should contact the Rebellion. In a matter of minutes, Han’s voice would fill the cockpit, and she’d be shown the way home. However, she enters a different code, one she isn’t supposed to use except in case of a true emergency, unsure of what she’s even going to say during those dreadful seconds it takes to establish the transmission.

“You got some nerve.”

“Hey, princess.”

Leia sighs, “Already heard of your little feat. If it wasn’t for what you’ve done for the survivors of Jolah, I wouldn’t be picking up.”

“Did they get there safely?”

“Yeah, Han called to tell me.”

Since Leia has been gone from the front to devote herself to the Jedi path, the ex-smuggler has stepped up as a general for the dwindling Alliance. Most of the few that still fight out there answer to him nowadays. Maybe it’s seeing what once was a powerful fleet turned into a guerrilla of a few stubborn rats, but something about the current arrangement doesn’t feel quite right. An inert buzz takes over for a few seconds as both women sit wordless.

“I think I have an idea of how you pulled it off.”

“It’s ok if you’re pissed at me.”

“I am. But I also can’t find the strength to blame you. I’m too damn exhausted. Some people that could be dead lived, that’s what’s important.” Her tone softens a little. “Good job.”

“My pleasure. How have you been?”

“Exhausted. Artoo keeps me company, but he’s spending a lot of time switched off these days. Not that he’s missing anything, just me belly flopping into the mud.”

“And the training?”

“I didn’t think learning to kill would be so awful.” To kill him, is what she doesn’t say.

“Do you think it’ll come down to that?”

“Master Tano thinks so.”

(Y/N) clicks her tongue. “It should be me over there, the Rebellion needs you.”

“No. That’s not your path. I still got your lightsaber and you know I’m of the opinion it should be with its owner. But I don’t think that’s what you should use it for.”

“Why? You’re so confident I’d lose?” They both know the cockiness is fake, but she needs it. Even if she tried with all she’s got, there’s no way she’d win, no matter how much she got to train with an actual master.

“No. I just don’t feel like losing you too. You keep trying to find another way, ok?”

When they say goodbye and the transmission ends, (Y/N)’s not sure how she could have cleared that one out better. She isn’t trying anything, she’s just selfishly stumbling into her desires every time she encounters Luke. Truth is, she’s abandoned Leia to carry everything on her shoulders, a role she’s too eager to fill, even if it breaks her.

(Y/N) pinches her nose. She’s done running. These are words her friend deserves to hear. So the rebel captain sets course, hoping it’s not too late to speak the truth.

****

This transmission with the commander in charge of the division assigned to Jolah is testing the last remains of Luke’s patience. He doesn’t ever enjoy having to mingle with Imperial officers, but today every single second paying attention to this man feels like an unforgivable waste of his time. He’d much rather be left alone with his thoughts.

“Make it effective right now,” he orders. The commander immediately straightens his posture and salutes, feeling how much of a nuisance he’s becoming.

“It will be done, sir. The whole squadron will be sent to Thediyo.”

Those men he’s condemning to the cruel cold of the inhospitable Thediyo aren’t but flies, so the fact that they’re able to do so much harm feels wrong. Absurd. They deserve to be destroyed. He made it well karking clear that they were to make prisoners without harming them, didn’t he? And they just hounded (Y/N) like she was a prey animal, which almost killed her. If they just listened to their orders this wouldn’t have happened to them. And still, they should be thankful for his mercy. It would be so easy for him to crush their puny rib cages and skulls until their eyes pop out.

But something keeps him from giving in to unchained wrath, and it’s the possibility of her finding out. (Y/N) doesn’t deserve to have that in her conscience, and he’s sure she’d blame herself for their deaths. Because she’s actually good. And clean. Way more than she gives herself credit for. No, those men will suffer worse learning to listen to their orders by holding their blasters in the middle of an eternal snow storm until their fingers freeze off.

Luke can sense with distaste his own dark machinations vibrating into the bond next to him, like an insect trapped in a spider web. If his father thinks he’s weak for not just murdering the bastards, he can choke in his disappointment. The same with his thoughts of his whole ordeal. They’re close to winning, right? The Alliance will soon be no more, and he has had an important hand in that. He doesn’t have the right to reproach him about anything. Vader won’t chastise him directly, he rarely does, but the young apprentice knows training sessions are going to become hell from now on, even more of what it’s been. He doesn’t care.

His father’s tutelage has been tough. Back in the day, Yoda’s training had put his mind and body to the test far beyond what he thought possible. But his father’s can’t even begin to compare. Now that he’s endured it long enough, Luke is starting to see the seams that reveal the structure, the reasons behind every exerting challenge. Some things within himself had to be broken in order to build a new kind of power, a lot had to be torn down before his new master deemed the results satisfactory. And he came out of it more powerful than he could have imagined.

It had never been easy. After going to his father, to his family, he looked back and saw all the things he regretted leaving behind. Luke hadn’t held real hope of being followed to this side, except for her. Maybe it was self indulgent, wishful thinking on his part.

(Y/N) knows what he’s done in the frontlines and she’s still managed to look him in the eye. To love him. However, he can’t help but torture himself with the thought that if she knew the ways he’s used to delve deeper into the dark side, she’d immediately go retrieve her lightsaber and end his life with it.

But that selfish little voice wonders why, even after all the sacrifices, all the loses, she can’t see how close the fight is to its end, just as they both wished together in the past. If he could just be made to see…

Shit. That’s an ugly thought. He shouldn't forget he once thought of things in stark white and black terms. Once, falling to the dark side meant the destruction of a person’s soul, left as a hollow husk with no salvation other than slaughter. He'd be lying if he said he doesn't feel empty and beyond help sometimes, often on the battlefield. Killing isn't all that different now than when he did it for the other side, just the same fire and ash, burnt skin. The feeling that he’ll never be able to inhabit his own skin again after staining his hands with so much blood. The only difference lies in the lack of that wretched self righteousness he used to brandish to justify his actions. During the day, at least. At night come the ghosts of screaming, agonizing souls through the Force, right before the void of death. The hole in the fabric of the universe left by the annihilation of the Death Star, hundreds of thousands erased with a movement of his finger. It’s lingered ever since, always in the last nightmare before waking up, always in the corner of his vision and the faint ringing in his ears.

However, he pushed forward. Because it was all supposed to matter, because there was a plan. And then it turned out he’d been lied to. Soon after, (Y/N) was taken. He lost her because he was too soft and undecided. Too weak. He dragged on for a good while that he'd never see her again, that she was gone and it was his fault.

If she had been there that one time he encountered Vader again, after Bespin. It turns out the death mask held more than just the monster. When the lines between life and death, friend and enemy, were blurred, a kind hand capable of kindness was extended to him. It felt like family. There, consumed by shame and impotence, Luke became convinced that he'd never get to feel that again. So when it came down to the decision of killing it along with his father, he found an unexpected comfort in the realization that he'd already made his choice

However, Luke doesn’t appreciate the impatient silence building up next to him, on the pilot seat. One thing that surprised him at first is that his father was a quiet listener, always pacing around the shapes of his thoughts. He also didn't expect not minding it at all, but also missing it when it was gone.

“Go on. Blame me.”

“I do not care. Some worthless flies just escaped for another day. Now matter how hard they wriggle, their downfall is inevitable now.”

“I thought you'd dislike my weakness.”

A discordant note rings through their bond, a bitter echo. It dissolves quickly, leaving the accusation unanswered.

Yeah, he's definitely saving payback for later. He can try all he wants, torture him even. Of all the things Luke regrets, this will not be one of them.

He shakes his head in distaste. The vertigo he felt when he made that jump of faith for his father still echoes sometimes. Even if it was his choice, he sometimes struggles to see if he really had any say in it. It all happened so fast, it was pure instinct.

No, he won't fall to suspicion and start resenting him, that path ends up with an inevitable betrayal. That's the Emperor’s way and, with him gone, his ways must die too, for everyone's sake. Luke has found a new power in the dark side, and he's sworn to use it for good. Until now, he's been successful at keeping that intoxicating darkness at hand, that scarlet rush that tingles through his whole body with the temptation to let go all the way into blind, destructive rage. However, he’s found he can control his passions, harness them into a tool, as much as it hurts.

Luke doesn't care about power, it's just a means to an end. He loathes it. He just wants all this to end

His fingers instinctively go to the inner pocket of his tabard where, kept close to his chest, he put a stem of those little white flowers that grew through the window of his cell. The delicate petals look reasonably intact, though a little sadder than this morning. He better press them soon.

His father subtly turns his head, but he doesn’t say anything. However, the exasperation travels all the way through their bond.

“I don’t blame you. However, this bond… You need to be prepared to be hurt if you keep it.

“You're saying she won't understand.” Luke runs a hand through his hair, feeling the fleeting warmth of her body leave his skin. “You've prepared me for pain, haven't you?”

“I’ve trained you to understand pain. To harness anger into power.”

Only the artificially aided breathing echoes while Lord Vader’s thoughts float far away, somewhere close to those white blooms in his son’s hand. Luke sighs.

“Then it's fine. I'll be hurt for it.”

#the glove stays on #getting plowed in the sacred jedi sanctuary #star wars fanfiction #my writing #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker/reader #luke skywalker smut #dark luke skywalker #sith luke skywalker #dad vader

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annoyinglandmagazine · 6 months ago

Text

Once and for all, what does that mean? It's a promise I'm making that I don't actually believe

Read on Ao3 here Once And For All, What Does That Mean? It’s A Promise I’m Making That I Don’t Actually Believe (2015 words) by Caranthirwasalesbian

‘Ar- Artanis,’ the voice was brittle and faint, barely travelling over the hauntingly lifeless halls, softer than the echoing sound of near silent feet on the flagstones. The halls of Menegroth shone bright with jewels as they always had but now the glittering was accompanied by that of fresh blood, trickling and dripping from silver blades and breastplates.

This was now in truth the tomb she had likened it to when she saw the entrance, slabs of stone burrowed far below the sun soaked forest into the depths of the earth.

She knew that voice, however much she struggled to comprehend the ill fate that could bring it to her ears, of all ears; perhaps the doom of her people had not let her slip its grasp so easily. Millenia later she would finder herself replaying this moment, a regular uninvited fixture in her mirror for reasons that perplexed her more often than not.

There were no lack of instances for her to dwell on where an action of hers had had a longstanding impact on things of consequence, many losses more severe to torment her over. Was it even a loss at all? She felt disinclined to classify it as so on balance. Yet something in her held onto this one brief moment as of a greater significance than she felt generous enough to give it.

What could really be extrapolated of the inner workings of her heart from a moment’s hesitance? It took until the third time the image appeared to her in the glassy surface of the basin for her to realise that it was unusual for her to have halted at that voice, rather than turn on her heel and sink into her husband’s waiting arms, be rid of this place of death, of this gaping reminder of the worst night of her long, long life.

She ached to distance herself from all to do with that voice, the insignias strewn across the floor, the golden sand soaked with red, for centuries of her life and yet she’d lingered. It took her until the third time seeing it again to realise that she’d had a choice in the matter.

It hadn’t felt like a decision in the moment. She hadn’t been trapped nor threatened; they held no threat to her and certainly she wouldn’t grace them with even a trace of wariness.

It hadn’t felt like a decision, however she wondered later what exactly had compelled her so to seek out the speaker, knowing well what she would find.

She’d known, she’d expected it, yet still some small part of her recoiled at the spear rammed into her cousin’s gut, despite the countless more deserving of her time strewn around him bearing similar wounds, many no doubt inflicted by him.

For scarcely a second she moved to remove her cloak, thinking to staunch the bleeding, before she caught up with herself and released it again. This was Celegorm, slayer of her kin of which he was no longer a part in any way that mattered. He’d ensured that.

He hacked out a violent cough, blood spurting over his pale face, nearly translucent by now, and she found herself hastily kneeling to pull him upright, delay the inevitable. She did not know how she felt about this, though she most likely should have, but she knew well enough that she did not want to watch anyone else choke on their own blood if she could help it.

‘Pl- Please,’ he rasped. No- begged, Celegorm was begging, desperately pleading with her for something; he must know she had nothing to offer him even if he could delude himself into thinking she’d give him aught.

She had no mercy to give and he was in no place to receive any were it offered. He must know there was no hope for his life, he’d seen enough dying animals to know when one was too far gone to save. He’d killed enough people to know when there was no point wasting an arrow on one who would be dead in the hour. What would he beg of her?

‘Stay. Nelyo won’t find me in time.’ He gasped for air while clawing for her hand; he squeezed his bloodstained, sticky hand around her smooth fingers quite painfully- she was too shocked to extricate them. The moment dragged on, punctuated only by dripping and ragged breaths.

He’d taught her to ride. Those hands had still held the callouses but none of the scars or burns as they guided her through the movements of the reins; with his natural aptitude she doubted he would make a patient teacher but she proved a fast learner so the arrangement worked out amiably enough.

He clapped her jovially on the back with a wide grin when she started to get the hang of it, raking his much larger hand through her crown of braids in a way that she thought infuriatingly condescending at first but grew gradually more touched by when she saw him do the same to Curufin.

They would occasionally spend days hunting together over the years though less and less as the bitterness began to set in at court and her father began to favour withdrawing them from Tirion to spend their time with her Ammë’s kin in Alqualonde more frequently.

Her Nolofinwean cousins had visited on occasion but even with them things were not as they once were however much they tried to ignore it, or at least shelter her from it. The Feanorian’s didn’t visit at all and at that stage she had rarely missed their company.

His head of shining silver tossed back in rumbling laughter, joyous and light as he galloped with unchecked abandon through the sun flecked forests, lost in his exhilaration and often forgetting he was accompanied at all; that was unless his company was Aredhel in which case the two of them were in a world of their own, riding abreast.

She had not known then what he would become, the callousness that would infect him like a disease, the cruelty that would twist his grin into something entirely other; if she had she would have driven her dagger into his throat right then and saved them all much suffering. But he hadn’t known then either.

Would he be as appalled and shocked as she was by the monster he’d become? No, she wouldn’t use that word, it was too simple, far too easy to dismiss what he was now as something entirely other than the cousin she’d known. That cousin had chosen of his own free will to forsake every standard of basic morality in favour of this indiscriminate bloodshed.

They all had, even Maglor who she could still remember as so sweet and gentle, all the family gatherings she could recall accompanied by beautiful music and a voice so pure that many believed it to be a gift from the gods, something intrinsically sacred and good. That beautiful voice had thrummed in the grounds of battle fields, the dreaded crescendoes building until they crashed down and wreaked destruction; any god that had gifted it would have turned away in horror.

Of course that was the gods’ way, to turn their backs in disgust at the world they had brought into being, at those whose lives and minds they had shaped until they realised they no longer liked what they saw.

She should have warned these people who had allowed her into their home, begrudgingly or not, that you couldn’t rely on a god’s protection forever. However beloved of them you were, however blessed and devout, however much irresistible grace and benevolence was showered upon you the path to destruction was paved with misplaced complacency and there was no complacency more misplaced than faith.

The gods may love you but their love was a fickle thing that could not be trusted or invoked, only given in a flight of whimsy and taken just as quickly. She had seen the beauty of this kingdom, the protection it enjoyed as a safe harbour from all the troubles of the world and the indescribable being that was Melian and she had wanted it to be different. She had known in her heart of hearts that it wouldn’t be.

If she had said this it would have dismissed as the cynical blasphemy of a family who had been rightfully forsaken for those very sentiments, spiteful fear-mongering. She hadn’t and look where it got them; when you rebel you are cursed as punishment and when you are faithful death is your reward.

She believed that she could see a little of the blind despair, the doubt creeping in at whether there was any victory on the cards to begin with, that had driven her cousins to their course of action. For the first time in all the years since that fateful night she could muster up little else than pity for them.

She looked down into his eyes, not yet glassed over and still brimming with some sort of emotion. He was both more and less familiar to her than he’d ever been in that moment, moments from death and asking only for a recognisable face to be with him before- before what?

Did he know what awaited him, seen glimpses of it as he inched closer? The everlasting darkness? Suddenly it begun to make sense to her, his desperation, his clinging to her hand and begging her to stay in the stead of his brothers; he was scared, scared of what unknown fate awaited him. He was scared that these might be the very last things he ever saw, the very last thoughts he ever had and he didn’t want to pass into the darkness completely alone and unheeded.

If he couldn’t have the arms of a weeping Maedhros cradling and soothing him with what would certainly be uncomplicated love in the face of losing him when all was said done, he would at least want someone that could be associated with something other than what he’d become, someone other than those whose deaths he’d caused lying mere inches away.

Her voice was calm and steady as she spoke to him in a daze of confusion that he was in no state to pick up on.

‘I’ll stay.’

She did not think she imagined the gratitude in his grimace and when he squeezed her fingers once again to express it she finally found herself gently squeezing back. Stay she did and though no more words passed between them she very briefly carded a hand though his straggly silver hair.

She thought he understood that though nothing was forgiven and never would be he would not disappear entirely unnoticed by all but his brothers, for all he deserved it. However many horrific things she had wished upon them all while on the Grinding Ice, when she heard of his role in her brother’s death, in Luthien’s abduction, when finally faced with his death she was painfully aware that at no point would he have truly have gone unmourned by her.

She may detest the ties that bound them with all her being but she was incapable of freeing herself of them and always would be; some part of her would always be his cousin. She felt that in that moment they understood each other better than they had even before any strife had come between them.

When he finally stilled and left her kneeling on the floor alone she did not quite know what to feel. She rose and continued on to find Celeborn, to leave this place of sorrow behind and find somewhere else. She could start anew tomorrow but Celegorm never could; he had no tomorrow. Alive though they might be she was on a certain level aware that neither could his brothers.

She shed no tears for him on that day. That came many weeks later and though she let them slip on to Celeborn’s shoulder and his hands stroked reassuringly over her back his soft, concerned questions were met with silence.

#silmarillion #tolkien #galadriel #celegorm #celeborn x galadriel

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bloodredfountainpen · 7 months ago

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Humanity, Friends Yeah!

Hi there randos who may or may not ever see this, I quit reddit so guess who’s reposting some of their writing to tumblr? It’s me. If I’ve broken some ancient tumblr law, please tell me. Without further ado, here’s Humanity, Friends Yeah!

——————————————————————————

Well, it was going to end eventually.

For the past two years, I’d lived covertly among the humans of the cargo ship Big Berta. For two years, I was one of them, Engineer David Jackson, as generic as they come. My job was to maintain the various robots on the ship, in essence, to make sure that the routine of the ship kept chugging along. It wasn’t difficult work, nor was it boring, in fact I enjoyed it very much. I wasn’t a daring pilot like Ito, a genius doctor like Hernandez, or a courageous leader like Captain Frasier, but I was appreciated nonetheless. Yes, the humans liked me. They befriended me, rather than leaving me to stew in the shadows. My mistake was letting them do that, that and getting so damn attached. That was the reason it was doomed to end.

It happened so fast, one minute I was inspecting a cleaning droid that Hernandez had taped a kitchen knife to for some reason, the next I was being lead to the bridge at gunpoint by pirates. The pirates demanded our cargo and all of our money, and the Captain was prepared to give it in exchange for our lives, but then Ito tried to be a hero and take down the pirate leader, but the pirates were quicker. Instead of shooting Ito, they gave the captain a choice; to spare the crew with her own life as payment, or save herself and the rest of us would be gunned down. Either way, our haul wasn’t enough to pay for our release anymore. They wanted blood. Captain Frasier, the selfless bastard that she is, chose to spare us.

The pirate leader raised his side arm, ready to send the Captain into the next iteration. Ready to take away my best friend my commanding officer.

I shifted before I could think, choosing the form of a Tanurian Warbeast. Those pirates never stood a chance against my plasma proof scales and razor sharp claws and fangs. By the time my awareness returned, the rest of the crew was staring at me. I searched their eyes for the fear, then recognition, and finally disgust that Others always have when they find out what I am. I briefly contemplated violence as a means of escape, but rejected the notion because we were in the middle of space, and furthermore, I couldn’t bring myself to hurt them.

I shifted again, returning to my true form. I hadn’t been like this in some time, this form felt unfamiliar after all this time. The last time I’d been like this, I was young, with my mother. I hadn’t been able to shift from form to form directly then, and I needed to take another form so we could board a transport out of the sector. That was the last time I ever saw her…

In truth, I’d always known it would come to this. My time on the Big Berta had been too good for me, too nice. Nice things never last very long for my kind, I was honestly surprised it went on for as long as it had. Still, these humans had liked me well enough, I thought that maybe I could convince them to let me off. I’d just saved their entire haul and lives after all, and they didn’t strike me as the greedy type. None of them needed the money from the bounty on my kind, maybe if I begged they’d have mercy.

I knelt, long thin legs folding beneath me as I put my head down. I willed myself to speak, and after a moment, the words emerged, crackling and shaky.

“Please, I’m still the same Jackson you know. I know I’m not who you thought I was, but we’ve spent two years on the same sh-ship, as friends. Please, don’t turn me in. You know what they do to my kind. I won’t be in the way, you won’t e-even have to see me! I can be a small rodent, I won’t even eat! Please, please…”

I looked up for a moment to see if I had a whispered prayer of swaying them, though I didn’t dare to meet their eyes. I saw in their faces… amusement?

I’m done for

I had to change tactics, I refused to give up, it didn’t matter that I knew I had already been lost.

“No-no wait! I can… I can become a beast of burden! Or an att-tractive female of your species! O-or a male! Or whatever you wish me to be! Just please spare me, I am at your disposal! And your mercy…”

I’d run out of steam, all that I could do was hope against all odds that something I’d said had swayed them. I kept my head down as I let out a hiccuping sob, a habit I’d picked up from the humans no less, which is why tears refused to come forth, no matter how I wished they would.

Over the ringing in my ears, I heard Ito burst out in laughter.

“Ha! I told you he was a shifter! You idiots owe me fifty creds each! Haha!”

In an instant, the other two began to laugh as well, and I slowly raised my head to look at them, utterly baffled.

“No way, I could’ve sworn he was a Culi spy,” said Hernandez in shock.

“And I really thought he was a synth! Swear to god Ito, your instincts are on point,” the Captain chuckled as she took out her cred stick.

After paying Ito, she approached me, and I again ducked down, trying to look humble and meek. All I could muster was a pitiful “Please…” as I froze in place.

She knelt down to my level, “Jackson… did you really think we’d turn you in?”

I cautiously met her eyes. I didn’t quite believe what I had heard, and so I had to ask, “Do you mean to say that you’re not?” and when the Captain nodded, and I released the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Relief overcame me, “Thank you so much, I swear on my life you won’t regret it.”

“Now why in the world would I regret not turning my friend in to the bastards who want him dead? You do know we care about you, right?” She queried, and I found myself internally chuckling with mirth. She had no idea how quickly friends turn to foes when money of that magnitude is involved.

“Yes I know, but my kind don’t…” I paused to think of the best way to phrase it, “People usually stop caring for us once they find out. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but, may… may I stay on the ship?”

Captain Frasier sighed and smiled at me, “Of course, dumbass.”

All the tension I’d been holding evaporated, and without thinking I shifted back to my human form, and immediately tears welled in my eyes.

The Captain beckoned me to rise from my prostrated position. At once, the crew battered me with a barrage of questions, most regarding my capabilities as a shapeshifter. Of course, I answered them all with bewildered honesty, waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. I doubt they’re letting me stay for nothing, my rational side kicked in, just wait, I’ll see how safe I am once they decide how they’ll use me. Finally, Ito asked me for a demonstration, and I felt the tension return as she made up her mind as to what form she’d like to see. Finally, she made her decision. “Can you shift into a dinosaur?” she asked with a certain child like enthusiasm in her voice.

Immediately, Hernandez socked her in the arm and laughed, “Now how would he know what a dino looks like huh? Do you think before you open your big mouth?”

The Captain rolled her eyes at the two as I just stood there in disbelief at their levity. “How ‘bout we start with something simple, yeah?” she asked, “can you do a dog?”

I nodded, then held the picture of the dog, a friendly golden retriever, steady in my mind as I shifted. The transformation complete, I looked up to the Captain through my now limited color perception, as the other two quit their bickering to look at me. She let out a long whistle which, based on my research of human vocal expressions, was meant to convey that she was impressed.

“Ain’t any less amazing the second time ‘round,” she paused as she studied my form. I felt as though she was scrutinizing my very soul and judging my worth. I sent up a silent prayer that I’d been good enough. After what was only a few moments, but felt to me as a thousand years, she seemed to remember herself and said “you can, uh, go back to normal now.”

Following my Captain’s command, I returned to my human form. “Jackson,” she began, taking a serious tone, a harsh departure from the joviality that perturbed me so, “I don’t know who you are, or where you came from, and frankly, we’ve all been through too much this evening for me to give a flying fuck about any of that. However, I’ve seen how you act; you’re jumpy and nervous all the time, you’re a recluse, and you’re the best damn droid mechanic I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.” She stuck out her hand, “I want you to stay, and clearly you want to stay, but to make that work, you have to trust us. I know that’s hard, but can you try?”

I took her hand, shook it firmly as was human custom. My mind was racing, but one thought echoed clear. This is my home, and these humans are the closest thing I have to a family. I can trust them, in spite of everything, I know I can. Then, another, quieter thought made itself known. A thought all too familiar, that nonetheless made the whole affair bittersweet.

I hope it lasts.

#humanity fuck yeah #writing #original story

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lilis-doodle-dome · 1 year ago

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I have so many questions about every dynamic you can think of for this au im so interested in hearing more about the tenma siblings (toya included) and nene + emu's relationship with tsukasa

im also interested to hear how the dynamic between ena and mafuyu, emu and mafuyu, + rui and mizuki changes.

There is not enough space in these charts for any real information aughh, sorry for the weird text sizing. Also I didn’t put that much effort into editing Kasa/Mafu in these images haha

But relationship charts between the group! Sorry it doesn’t answer every question, but hopefully it’s enough? Feel free to ask more if anything needs clarification!

Here’s a transcript:

Tsukasa- Emu: Always tries to make me smile, but should she really waste her energy on me?…Sometimes she reminds me of Saki when she was younger

Tsukasa-Nene: Stronger than she seems. The least chaotic of the others, when we’re together she doesn’t expect anything. It’s…nice, although it might not be good.

Tsukasa-Rui: Always has something new to try, but I think it’s more for his own curiosity than for my self discovery. He knows a lot, could be more helpful if he ever shared it.

Emu-Tsukasa: Someone important to me that I’ll help find the smile of, no matter what! You’re no oohm doom villain Tsukasa-kun!

Emu-Nene: The most wonderhoy singer! Thank you for helping me see what it means to be a leader, I promise to never lose sight of my troupe again.

Emu-Rui: He always has the best, most fun ideas! I really appreciate his support, we always do best with his directing!

Nene-Tsukasa: He can seem pretty intimidating, but he’s actually rather clueless. I hope he can figure himself out, just not at the expense of others.

Nene-Emu: You’ve grown into a person deserving of the title of leader and I’m grateful you brought us together. I know you’re determined about your goal, but don’t forget we’re here too.

Nene-Rui: I’ll get stronger, I won’t turn a blind eye to you ever again.

Rui-Tsukasa: He tests anything I ask of him without complaint, I wish I could say that was a good thing. Let’s keep using each other until we’ve found what we’re really looking for, okay?

Rui-Nene: I’m glad she’s standing up for herself more, but I hope she knows there’s nothing she needs to make up for. It’s just nice to perform with her again.

Rui-Emu: A truly admirable person, she’s dedicated herself wholeheartedly to other’s smiles. Your smile is something precious as well though, don’t forget that.

—

Mafuyu-Kanade: A musical genius to match my lyrical! Her soft mannerisms belie her unmatched stubbornness, she’ll ever so gently, tell me I’m doing too much, all while she neglects herself! How confounding!

Mafuyu-Ena: She reminds me of those small dogs that get a poor reputation for being aggressive, despite it being people ignoring their fear signals that cause those reactions. That being said, it’s rather entertaining how differently she responds to Kanade versus Mizuki.

Mafuyu-Mizuki: They’ve introduced me to many new styles I’ve never experienced before. It’s amazing how they can make the most intimidating outings seem approachable. I enjoy any and all time spent with them!

Kanade-Mafuyu: She can’t see how she’s hurting herself for the sake of others. I need to help her, someone who can actually save others- shouldn’t have to suffer for it.

Kanade-Ena: Her art is still filled with hurt, but I’m glad she’s found some peace in our group. If only I could do more for her…

Kanade-Mizuki: They always have the frankest opinions of everyone else and seem to speak their mind freely, yet rarely say anything about themself. Their perspective is always appreciated though.

Ena-Mafuyu: Aren’t the big headed types supposed to not actually be good at everything? How is that fair at all, and she’s even got the nerve to be a nice person! I’ll show her-

Ena-Kanade: She’s wonderful. The soft, patient voice-of-reason needed to reign in the group, listening to her music is like a miracle cure for bad days.

Ena-Mizuki: They’re an insistent pest, that won’t leave me in peace. I guess I don’t hate the company though and they are good at putting together outfits for photos.

Mizuki-Mafuyu: A willing dress-up doll, she’s pretty enough to be one too! Kinda reminds me of an old friend with how many questions she asks about everything, guess geniuses have that in common.

Mizuki-Kanade: Always makes sure everyone feels comfortable and safe. It’s really nice to have a space I won’t be judged…

Mizuki-Ena: She’s way too funny not to tease, but she’s just as capable as the rest of the group. It’s kinda scary how easy she is to talk to, wouldn’t want to say anything I regret.

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zuppizup · 1 year ago

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Water

Previous - End of the world

“Do not ask how the ocean’s blue, or why the tides their time do keep. To love is to simply know this: The tides are true as the ocean is deep”

Rayla begins to come to as the sun is setting, the moon hanging on the horizon. She looks around the clearing, as she pushes herself up on her elbows and Callum hurries over to her. He’s been unsuccessfully trying to light the fire, but their tinder is still damp.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he helps her sit up. The colour has return to her cheeks somewhat and her breathing finally sounds normal.

“Where are we?” she asks, looking around her.

“Not far from where we ran into Claudia,” he offers her his water skin, but she doesn’t even seem to notice it as she begins to gather her things.

“How far have you tracked them?” Her hands move to her back and he can see a little of the tension leave her shoulders when she finds her blades securely holstered.

“Tracked them?” he tries to urge her to relax. It’s almost night and she’s been unconscious for hours. They’ve no idea what the spell Claudia performed on her did and the last thing she needs to do is to go stumbling through a dark forest.

“How much of a head start do they have?” Pushing herself to her feet, she stumbles a little and he rushes to catch her.

“Too much.” He tries to urge her to sit, but she ignores him. “Rayla, you need to rest. You were out for hours.”

“We don’t have time!” She grits her teeth, eyes glistening. “The Cube-”

“Yeah, they have it now, and we have no chance of getting it back with you like this!” He takes a deep breath, attempting to keep his temper under control.

“Oh, so it’s my fault?!” She attempts to glare at him, the look undercut by the tears on her cheeks.

He huffs, balling his fists. “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.”

Turning away from him, she begins walking to the edge of the clearing.

“Rayla, stop!” He hurries after her, grabbing her wrist. “We need a plan. We can’t just go blindly chasing after them!”

She pulls her hand back, turning to glare at him. “Callum, we know what they’re going to do with it!” Tears well up in her eyes again. “How could you?”

“How could I?” He scoffs. “What other options did I have?!”

“They’re going to restore Aaravos and we gave them the last piece of the puzzle!” Her tears are angry now. “What were you thinking?!”

“I obviously wasn’t thinking!” He spits, and it seems to momentarily shock her into silence. “Of course I gave up the Cube to save your life! I love you!"

Taking a breath, he shakes his head, some of the fire leaving him. It’s the first time he’s said it since she’s come back...

She wipes her eyes, her shoulders slumped now. “Callum, you can’t-”

“What, you just expected me to watch? To stand idly by while Claudia suffocated you or slit your throat or... or...?” He blinks his own tears from his eyes now. “Do you think I could do that?”

This seems to get through to her somewhat and she falls silent again.

“If it came down to it, could you do it? If Aaravos possessed me again, could you kill me?” He takes her hand. “Even though it might have stopped this.”

Her breath catches and she closes her eyes, reaching for him. He takes her in his arms, holding her close.

“Callum, what if we’ve doomed the world?” She whispers into his neck, her voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t reply. Not because he doesn’t have an answer but because he knows she won’t like it. That it would weigh heavy on her, be another burden that’s not hers to carry but that she would all the same.

Because he doesn’t care.

He knows if presented with the choice again, he’d choose her. That he would always choose her. That there would never be an eventuality where he’d be able to hold onto the Cube and let her die.

#the dragon prince #tdp #rayllum #rayllum fanfic #rayla #callum #the dragon prince fanfic #tdp fanfic #zuppi fanfic #zup tumblr ficlets #rayllum's bad vibes rodeo #rayllum week 2023

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the-cookie-of-doom · 11 months ago

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sooooo..... thoughts on Mike/Peem from He She It? 👀👀👀

So. Mike and Peem. First thing’s first: Mike is a terrible person. I don’t care. I’m 100% a Mike apologist, and to that end, Peem is not entirely innocent. He’s the one sleeping with the guy who’s already in a public relationship. Now, the responsibility for that lies solely with Mike!! Peem doesn’t owe Pear any loyalty. However, going after someone in a relationship is a sleazy thing to do. Though there is that interesting moral gray area of, “Yeah he’s cheating on his girlfriend, but only because he’s super repressed and closeted, so it doesn’t count if he’s exploring his sexuality,” which is usually used to make an otherwise shitty character more sympathetic. Your mileage may vary here. Cheating is cheating; if Mike was worried about anyone finding out, he could have broken up with Pear and just kept seeing Peem in secret. He had options. But personally, I do think it’s an interesting character motive; it’s messy! All of them are! The only person in this entire cast who isn’t a fucking disaster, is Pear herself. Girl did not deserve all of that.

So, all of that aside, I love Mike and Peem’s mutually assured destruction thing they’ve got going on. Because Peem knows/believes Mike doesn’t love him, but loves Mike anyway, and Mike has to know they were always going to be caught eventually. There’s no way to hide the fact you’re sleeping with your best friend forever. And because he refused to just break up with Pear, there was always going to be incredible fallout from the eventual discovery.

The acting teacher at the beginning aid: “In the real world, we don’t know who is acting. Sometimes, in the world of performing, we don’t know who’s real. Sometimes we can’t tell them apart at all.”

Combine the fact that when Mike pulled Peem into the pool the first time, he started to drown. Mike immediately jumped in to save him, and when pressed, Peem says he was just acting. Implied: trying to get attention. He’s hurt; he’s feeling rejected by Mike, then they had a heart to heart where Mike gives in to him a little, and Mike literally saved his life. Peem is feeling vulnerable. It’s easier to let Mike believe he just wanted attention in a superficial kind of way, than to face the deeper emotions he’s feeling in this scene. Probably because he knows Mike won’t be able to meet him halfway, but he knows Mike likes feeling wanted. He can handle Peem being sad and rejected—he can’t handle Peem’s heartbreak, or any implication that Peem is in this for more than easy sex. Which is likely what Mike is telling himself he wants; he’s in complete denial of both his sexuality and his feelings for Peem.

So: we have already established that Peem told Mike he faked the drowning. What was a funny/cute moment between them becomes tragic when Mike pushes Peem into the pool again, remembers this incident, and decides to walk away rather than save Peem again. They’re in the middle of a heated fight, Mike feels like his world is ending, and he sees this as Peem’s attempt to keep him from leaving, which only pisses him off more. But he truly believes Peem can swim; this was an accident, not a murder. As horrible as Mike’s actions are, he’s a scared kid at heart; if he had any idea Peem was going to die that night, as angry as he was, I think he would have saved him. As much as he was denying his feelings, Peem was still his lover, and before that, his best friend. He wouldn’t have intentionally left him to die. That’s what makes it so tragic. Things didn’t have to happen this way, but a domino effect from the very beginning meant they were doomed to end up here.

I'm just. So !!! About these two. I've had a fic idea rolling in the back of my mind ever since I saw it with a Bad Ending where Mike drowns, wrapping the story up where it starts. Peem is there, and it's left ambiguous whether Mike drowns himself, or Peem does, or if it was just another tragic accident. But whatever happens, Peem is there. He forgives him. It's going to be okay. Mike has already lost everything, now they can finally be together, without anything or anyone else standing in between them.

#cookie speaks #he she it #i loved fucked up characters #this is also not the meta #i've got 4 posts coming in a minute #just editing #bc i finished writing at like 330am lol

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articroses · 1 year ago

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I felt very underwhelmed by the Fionna and Cake Ending. Idk, after how episode 7 and 8 were so great and left us on an exciting cliffhanger and there were so many expectations for it to be an incredibly emotional experience and it was so hyped up—and then it just … fell flat for me.

I somewhat predicted what would happen in the finale and I was kinda fine with it (the unhealthy dynamics with Petrigrof, Fionna having to accept her unmagical world) but the execution really sucked in my opinion.

But putting my thoughts and how I would have executed it under a read more~

I liked their final goodbye in Simon’s memories but I think everything that led up to it could have been done better. Simon and (Gol)Betty’s reunion was one of the biggest things fans were looking forward to in the series. I felt that while seeing Shermy and Beth was interesting, it wasn’t a good move to bring them into the plot at this point of the conflict. Plus, the Casper and Nova’s metaphor, while necessary for someone as dense as Simon, was pretty much spoon feeding information the audience could already tell, so it felt like it was pulling more time away from that confrontation.

I felt like they could have pushed Simon’s self-sacrificial (suicidal) tendencies and emotions. We’re coming in from the heels of an episode that had Ice King dying sobbing in his last moments. Simon, when confronting Golbetty was very somber, so to speak. As a viewer, I wanted an explosion between them. With Simon finally getting out all the misery he felt in a world that he doesn’t understand / doesn’t understand him, living in the shadow of your crazed self that was embroiled in sadness and madness and magic for a 1000 years, and having no self-worth and when he (thinks) can finally escape this misery by becoming the Ice King, being useful and saving Fiona’s world too, she—the woman that he loved and who left him—won’t let him die. We see this frustration when Simon's mind is projected in Shermy but it isn’t as fulfilling since it presented as more comedic.

Maybe, even with Simon realizing how much Betty sacrificed for him and gave herself up, he’ll ask why, why she would do any of that in the first place for him (maybe digging more into Betty’s obsessive nature in the first place because it’s obvious she was obsessed with him from the start).

Also, having more of Betty’s voice! While we can tell Betty made the choices she made and that she has agency, I wish there was more showing of how Betty feels being a cosmic deity. Based on the posts on Tumblr, I feel like there’s some confusion on whether Betty is Golb, if they’re fused, or if she’s piloting him(?) like some messed up mech. It doesn’t even have to be a long scene. Maybe, a simple scene of Simon wondering if he had doomed Betty and Betty showing him like a slight sliver of the universe and she experiences it, and of course Simon can’t comprehend it , but she can and she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Immortality already seems so lonely, so I wish it was more explicit that Betty was going off on an adventure that she would very much enjoy.

Having to bring in a simple metaphor (Casper and Nova) to explain the unhealthy dynamics of Petrigrof’s relationship (which the audience could already tell) but not explaining enough the ultimately positive experience Betty will have makes me think the writers swung towards one extreme in a pendulum.

I also think Fionna could have been fleshed out a lot more. While I understand she’s a regular human, in comparison to how Finn was fighting in the original show, She’s not really as active (though I understand they are different). It seemed more like plot things just happened to her and all she could do was react instead of acting. I understand they were going for an emotional character development with her with how the fantasy world isn’t as fun as it looks, but I would have liked more actiony scenes of her kicking butt that wasn’t innocent civilians and maybe villains yet still realizing this isn’t the life / fantasy that she wanted. Idk I felt Fiona’s development could have been handled better.

I don’t like scarab as a villain but I understand his necessity. However, dropping off Lil Destiny, Jay and all the others into Fionna’s verse was completely unnecessary. Especially, since they really didn’t contribute that much to the final fight. I would have rather they stayed in their respective universes but have been included in the final montage with showing how their worlds became better due to Fiona’s showing up.

Really, this is my idea with the final montage:

Simon coming back from his adventures and going into his weird room garage museum or whatever, just to see Finn, Marcy and PB worried and waiting there. Simon says something about almost becoming Ice King again. Everyone flips out before embracing him in a tearful hug

More gumlee, they were amazing

I think everything going on in Fionna’s world was pretty good in the original montage

For the whole world that was created with the Lich’s wish, maybe show scenes of the other Mos roaming around. Maybe they become more advanced somehow. Either way, life begins again.

For the vampire world, maybe a group of humans running away from another group of vampires. Suddenly, all the vampires are ran over by the peppermint tank and out pops Baby Finn. The humans surround the tank and see all the weapons to fight off the vamps. Someone picks up baby Finn—it’s Minerva (I can dream)

With the whole world with the Winter King, the ice starts to thaw out from that winter kingdom. There’s more grasslands and forests. We see PB fixing and giving prosthetics to candy citizens. Life keeps going.

With farm world, we see Jay introducing Lil Destiny to Finn over dinner. Finn, with bandages over his head and bear hat still in place drops a bowl of hunter’s stew on the dinner table and stares menancingly at Lil Destiny. All of his kids stare too. The mood is tense as Lil Destiny holds her spoon to take a sip of her stew, only to really like it and grab the bowl and gulp it down. Finn ends up cracking a smile and all the kids laugh now that she’s officially been approved.

In Ooo, more montage of Simon hanging out with loved ones. Since everyone has gotten a tattoo (or at least tried to), it’s Simon’s time to go with the whole crew, except he’s so indecisive with what he wants and nervous about the pain that he keeps jumping off and coming back to the tattoo table, only to end up irritating the spider tattoo artist anyways. Everyone laughs about it

We see that glowing blue being that GolBetty turned into looking over the cosmos, looking excited about what’s to come Also, having all the finns interact would have been very math...

#These things seem better drawn than written but i feel too burnt out for that #I don't even want to touch upon the whole glitching thing that was never explained #I feel like these problems could have been remediated if the show had more episodes- aka the problem is capitalism #Really I think the finale was okay but they should have pushed the emotions and drama more #But also these are my opinions too haha #the finns all have a monthly facetime conference in my head no i dont know how it works but it does #fionna and cake #adventure time #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna and cake meta #adventure time meta

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aparticularbandit · 1 month ago

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The Emperor's New World

Summary: When the feeling's gone, and you can't go on,

It's *******

When the morning cries, and you don't know why,

It's hard to bear--

For DR WLWeek 2024: Prompt Five: The Tragedy.

Also for @yabashiri, who prompted Enonami for something else but is getting this one, too. :)

Fic Rating: M because this is the Tragedy and there's some gruesome imagery.

AO3

The great Tragedy of the world is how easily it falls apart.

The stitching is imperfect, the fabrics mismatched, the pieces laid incorrectly together. Its sleeves are two different lengths, the seat of its pants is missing, its beanie has a hole at the top so large that it might as well be an old school monk’s haircut. The collar is too small for anyone to poke their head through, the buttons don’t match its holes, the zipper is stuck. Junko doesn’t even need to take scissors to it; she could rip the flimsy thing apart with her bare hands. She doesn’t need a stitch ripper either when the seams are so loosely done that she can unthread them with her fingernails. Admittedly, her fingernails have been molded into a sharp point – into bear claws – which makes all of that easier, but that’s not the point.

The point is that the world at large needs a better tailor, and who better to try her hands at it than the Ultimate Fashionista herself?

Even if all she does is tear the current fit to shreds.

Look, sometimes you have to rip the old shit off before you put the emperor in his new clothes, got it?

(Build the suit and leave it for them to find later. She’ll be dead before they put it on. Doesn’t mean it’s not still her design.)

Junko sits on a rooftop far from Hope’s Peak Academy and lets her legs dangle over the edge.

Across from her, a cathedral burns.

Fire swirls, illuminating the sharp shattered glass from within and sending a kaleidoscope of colors along the street, along each person fighting, attacking, defending, murdering. It’s an odd spot of beauty among everything else, those sharp pinks and blues and golds, even if it clashes horribly with the blood red sky overhead.

No matter what Junko does, she can’t escape that color. She was born drenched in it, reflecting it in her eyes, as though it is the only thing she could ever be. Her destiny: blood, blood, and more blood. She tastes it rusty on her lips.

Disgusting.

Across the street, a girl grabs a shard of stained glass from the concrete and wields it like a knife.

Beautiful.

Poetry in motion.

Of course, this does not save her. Who brings a knife to a gun fight? She throws it like a star, and the sparkling pink glare hits Junko’s eyes. When she can see again, the girl has already fallen to the ground, the light gone from her eyes. It sucks – to miss that moment. Maybe she wouldn’t have been able to see it from this far away anyway, but she would have liked to see the despair overwhelming that girl the way it overwhelmed her once, so long ago.

Maybe it’ll taste better to her.

Junko hears her shoes shuffling across the rooftop towards her before she even sees her, and she doesn’t ask how she found her here. She could find her anywhere. Will find her anywhere. Junko looks up as she sits next to her. “It’s been a while.”

“It hasn’t been that long, I think.”

Chiaki doesn’t look up from the gaming device in her hands as she kicks her heels against the brick wall beneath her. She never looks up at Junko anymore; she always has her Game Girl with her, and she’s always looking at it.

Junko scoots over to her, just brushing against her arm, and leans over her shoulder. Familiar. Warm. “Did I do it?” she asks, glancing at the game on her screen. “Did I make it right?”

The story Junko tells – The Emperor’s New World – unravels on Chiaki’s screen. Doom and gloom and a villain wrapped in a fantastic, iconic look. Not that anyone knows what the true villain looks like, not yet. (And even then, they won’t. Junko makes herself a villain because it’s easier to fight one that has a physical form than it is to fight theories and philosophies and ideas.)

Right now, the only thing anyone knows is the bear – half black and half white with that singular blazing red eye torn into his skull and half a smile, like he’s always excited and always ready to rip someone’s throat out. (Yours, if you aren’t careful.) He looks just as cool as a character framed in 8-bit as he does in real life, although Junko’s sure he’s not nearly as cuddly in the game as the version Kaz and Gundham created for her. The video game version doesn’t have real fur, after all.

(The plushies won’t either, but no one really cares about that. It’s all marketing.)

“Will it have a good ending?”

Junko doesn’t say anything. She goes through every possible scenario again and again and again, and she doesn’t say anything. It will have a fitting ending, one handcrafted specifically for this story. One that fits like a second skin.

In the silence, Chiaki continues. “It’s okay if there’s a lot of suffering, I think.”

“It’s okay if people die?”

Because people are dying. So many people are dying. And it’s Junko’s fault.

It doesn’t matter that she knows they would have died anyway, that more people would have died if she didn’t act; it doesn’t matter, because they’re dying now and it’s still her fault, and it hurts.

Of course, the way she is now, that pain and despair only fuels her, only brings her joy.

(It still hurts.)

“I died, Ryo-chan.” Chiaki still doesn’t look up. The silence between them fills with screams and thunder and above all of that the background music of Chiaki’s game, the beeps and boops of each button she clicks (and the clacking of them, too). The cathedral in front of them quivers, and another stained glass window explodes outward, its shards staining the ground. Finally, into the silence, she asks, “Did you give it a happy ending?”

Ryoko nods, solemn. “The happiest ending I could, Chicharin. The happiest ending I could.”

“Then that’s okay, I think.” Chiaki glances over to her; eyes the shade of Junko’s hair meet hers and frown. “Hey, hey,” she says, reaching up and brushing her fingers along Junko’s cheek, bringing their tips away wet. “What’s wrong?”

“You know,” Ryoko says, with a shake of her head. “Why are you asking when you already know?”

Chiaki smiles and leans up just enough to kiss her cheek. “You’ll see me soon.” When she fades into nothing, Ryoko thinks she can imagine what the press of Chiaki’s lips on her skin might have felt like. Unfortunately, she’ll never know. Then she stretches her lips into Junko’s horrible, terrific grin and beams down on the world below her, propping her hands on her hips as the cathedral glass stains blood pink.

#bandit fic #danganwlweek2024 #danganronpa #enonami #otonami #junko enoshima #ryoko otonashi #chiaki nanami #I KNOW YOU ASKED FOR ENONAMI #BUT JUNKO AND RYOKO ARE LIKE #IT'S BOTH #SORRY

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yukiwrites · 7 months ago

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Sharing Burdens

THIS IS SO LATE... so so late. BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WAITING AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH @spacesmilodon i hope you LIKE ITT ToT)

Summary: Iduun had joined the Companions after a past at the Thieves' Guild. Even if she was the Dragonborn, it did not feel right, to Vilkas, to accept someone with her history in their ranks. However, as they got to know one another, perhaps Vilkas ought to rethink on how he saw those around him...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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The air was thick with the stench of rotting flesh. Ash, debris and blood rained down from the sky, as explosions above and below shook the very core of the earth.

No matter how fast she ran, there was no escape.

She was out of breath, but there was no end in sight. The sky crumbled above, and the earth squelched with decay beneath her — there was no escape.

With her weapons in hand, she tried to reach the end, to reach the house, to reach him—

But she never made it.

No matter how many times she relived that moment, no matter how many times she went over it in her head, the outcome was always the same.

She never made it.

The sad smile on his lips as putrid blood gurgled his throat.

“No…!” She tried to speak, but her voice never came out. She tried to touch him, but the inherent disgust against what was consuming him stopped her hands. What a fool!

His voice sounded so distant. He said something, but in her ears there were only explosions. Unknown monsters shifted, encircling her. She was trapped. They were trapped.

Dread filled her. The air grew colder, her heart raced, and a sense of impending doom consumed her.

As she turned around —

“Ah!” Iduun woke up in cold sweat, panting. She sat on the bed with a startle, reaching for her weapons by instinct.

For a few seconds, as her eyes shook, she tried to place herself in reality.

“Huff…” She breathed heavily, still getting adjusted to where she was. Seeing in the dark was a meager bonus from her contract with Nocturnal, so it wasn’t as though she didn’t actually know.

She simply had to shove the memories back to where they belonged.

It was over; she had failed. She saved some, but lost so many more.

With each step she thought she gave in the right direction, the world seemed to disagree with her. The more she tried, the harder it became; it was too much to bear, too much to carry.

Too much… too much.

“Hahh…” Iduun sighed, shaking her head to snap out of it, her flowy, bright red hair following like streaks of fire. “I won’t gain anything by berating myself here,” she whispered, since only thinking had been too hard. Careful so as not to wake up any of the other Companions in the room, she got up, finally noticing the weapons in her hands.

An axe and a sword. Her lips trembled and her shoulders hardened as she looked at that combination, once again resorting to shaking her head to do away with the memories.

She left the room as if running away, sheathing back her weapons while not sparing a glance back at the bed. As she went out of the room, she took a few bottles of mead on the way to the mead hall, intent on welcoming the day early.

She embraced the cold embrace of Whiterun in the middle of the night, feeling more awake and grounded as she went up the stairs.

To her surprise, there was someone else still (or already?) awake in the middle of the mead hall, close to the fire, buried in a book.

It was Vilkas.

She didn’t notice, but her shoulders sagged visibly once she realized it was him, her chest feeling slightly less burdened than a moment ago.

Although he had heightened senses as a werewolf, it was still hard for him to feel the presence of one blessed by Nocturnal unless she wanted to be found, so it took until she was close to the table for Vilkas to finally look up from his book to where she was.

Surprise was visible in his eyes, and he almost hid his book on instinct, but managed to control himself and simply closed it as she approached. “Dragonborn,” he said somberly, shifting his weight on the chair, suddenly conscious of his posture.

“Doing some hard reading, I see,” she placed a tuft of hair behind her ear as she sat one chair away from him, placing the bottles she had brought between them. “These are always a great company for a difficult book,” she said, tilting her head to the half-empty bottle beside him.

“Indeed,” he chuckled stiffly, his throat parched for some reason. He wet it down with some mead, feeling a bit of clarity return to the back of his eyes.

Iduun.

A beautiful woman with fiery hair, reserved personality, a strong sense of justice and of self. The last Dragonborn; Former member of the Thieves’ Guild; and also… bearer of Nocturnal’s blessing — or rather, curse — a fact Vilkas recently learned about by pure coincidence.

He had always felt scorn towards her despite her strong arm. A former thief? What was the Companions turning to, if they could resort to allowing anyone to join? Even if Kodlak had approved of her — and even if her strength preceded her — Vilkas was still skeptical of her presence in their leagues.

So he had no right to say that they got along well, not after the way he trained her harder than the others; not when he watched her movements closer than the others… Not when he judged her before getting to know her circumstances.

Thus, they were often seen bickering high and low, no matter the time of the day or where they were. He always found faults in her, and she wasn’t one to take it lying down either, so they always had something to say to one another.

Some, like his brother and Iduun’s friend, Rannah, would say that they actually got along really well, but that couldn’t possibly be the case. Not when he treated her like that.

And yet, she approached him with a weary face but a friendly smile, as if it was actually true.

Vilkas bobbed his head to her, then to the bottles. “Hard night?” He dared to ask, wondering if he was prying too much.

Iduun popped one bottle open, gulping half of it down at once, making Vilkas flinch and wave his hands apprehensively. After she put it down, she dried her lips with the back of her hand and sighed. “Yeah.”

He hardened his jaw at the regret dripping from her voice.

She, too, had a past he did not know about. She, too, carried burdens he couldn’t possibly imagine.

She, too, was the bearer of a curse she wanted to escape from, though had no way of knowing how.

It was unfair that she was going to help them with their own curse with Hircine, while still bearing her own against Nocturnal.

Therefore, Vilkas wanted to do at least some research on how to help her with her own woes; the book he had been reading was regarding Nocturnal, though it was worded more like a fairy tale rather than anything concrete.

Still, if he kept it up — if they worked together, perhaps — he was sure they would find a way. Kodlak found some clues after years of searching alone, but if she and Vilkas were of a mind to do it together, then…

Noticing Vilkas’ hesitation, Iduun glanced at the book under his hand.

“Ahh, so you know,” she said simply, leaning back against the chair.

As if caught in the act after trying to play it cool, Vilkas flinched, lowering his head. “I… apologize. I did not mean to intrude; I came upon it by coincidence,” his voice was hoarse, but his tone was firm. “I’ve no right to have treated you the way I did…”

“Oh? Whatever might you be referring to?” Her lips went up at his attitude. He had always been a principled man who was hard on her due to her sketchy background. And yet, still, he was sincere in his praises and did not hesitate to give out the proper rewards to any of the jobs she had taken. It was natural that he would look at her with scorn, but Iduun could see where he was coming from, so she was not affected by it. “I thought we were getting along just fine, weren’t we?” her smile was weak, as her mind was still reveling from the nightmare, but the feelings were true.

Looking at his surprise and seeing his countenance relax to the point of leaning back to the chair made her appreciate the moment even more. It felt like a new memory was being created; a new moment was painting over the terrible happenings of her past, allowing her to look forward instead of inward.

He chuckled, perhaps remembering something or the other about how Rannah and Farkas were always teasing them about that very subject, setting her off as well.

“We were, were we not? We were… we do…” he breathed out, picking up his bottle and raising it to her. In turn, she lifted hers, clinking them together in a toast. “To breaking our curses.”

“To breaking our curses,” she repeated in a lower voice, her chest filling with warmth even as she downed the rest of the chilled bottle. She sighed after the last sip, placing the now empty bottle amidst the full ones. “There are many more where that came from, will you join me?”

“Anytime, Shield-Sister,” he answered promptly, moving to the chair that was empty between them. As they drew closer, so did their whispers.

Iduun smiled more brightly this time, exhaustion slowly being lifted from her countenance in the face of pleasant company, while Vilkas’s perpetual scowl easened as they grew closer.

“Would it be too bold of me to ask regarding your… situation?” He tried to be as mindful as possible, but although he had a good head on his shoulders, he was no minstrel. There was only so much a man who had been raised a warrior from infancy could accomplish, especially regarding interpersonal relationships.

Noticing the awkward sincerity in his expression, Iduun closed her eyes as the smile that did not seem to go away grew in her lips. Even though she was about to talk about the unspeakable things she did not dare utter in the past, she felt that it would be okay, if it was him.

She shared details she left out even when she opened up to Kodlak, a few days ago.

Back then, he had asked her to go find the Glenmoril witches and behead them in the name of the Companions, so as to lift their curse laid by Hircine. Feeling a bond of trust between them, Iduun told him that her own soul was also snared by a Daedric Prince, one whose hold she also hoped to break free of.

To Vilkas, she whispered more details regarding the contract and the happenings within the Thieves’ Guild, under the ever-constant cracking of fire and the slow break of dawn.

He listened to her closely, at times patting her shoulder in solace, other times keeping silent in a way to allow her to continue at her own pace.

She spoke of things no other soul had ever known, but still, he listened with great care, chipping in with his own experiences regarding Hircine’s curse. He, too, was plagued by nightmares.

Nightmares of hunting; of tearing flesh apart, of destroying any and everything he ever cared about only to return to his senses and see their blood dripping from his own hands.

The madness of the Wolfblood, the inability to ever feel rested after a night’s sleep; the bloodthirsty need to butcher one’s enemy and— and the herculean control one needs to suppress these urges.

They found solace in each other’s experiences, drawing closer with each tale. Their whispers were barely audible to anyone but themselves, as the mead around them ran dry and their lips loosened.

Topics that started somber and, quite frankly, rather depressing, turned brighter as their moods lightened. After a while, they were speaking of amusing or befuddling memories, dissolving into quiet laughter together.

Most of Vilkas’s stories referred to times Farkas had put his fist where his mouth was, or times he had to save his brother from near-death experiences — which turned out to be funny in the end; while most of Iduun’s stories were about her failing some perception checks and having to run away in the most impossibly embarrassing ways possible.

The change of pace was gradual, yet so very welcome. They had never spent so much time talking together before.

It was, perhaps, their first positive interaction ever since Iduun joined the Companions.

Truth be told, it was a wonder they hadn’t hit off sooner.

Under the cover of night and the warm embrace of the fire, with the pleasant atmosphere of the twilight… it was as if Jorrvaskr was their secret place.

For those few hours, there were only the two of them.

“This may be the first time we’ve discussed something other than the Companions — or related matters,” Vilkas confessed as light started to filter in through the gaps under the doors. “To be honest, I appreciate it.”

The Dragonborn leaned on her arm over the table, looking at him with a warm gaze and a fond smile. “We should spend more time together,” she said slowly, sizing him up for his reaction.

Vilkas’s eyes perked up and his shoulders rose slightly, making him appear bigger. A smile could barely be contained upon his lips as he nodded, turning away to take another sip of mead. “You said that.”

As Iduun opened her mouth to say, “so I did,” the door to the dorms downstairs swung open, ever so quietly, but it was loud enough to break the idyllic bubble the duo had clustered themselves in, being suddenly thrown back into reality.

The steps going up the stairs were swift and quiet, fit for a hunter, and sure enough, the one who graced them with her presence was none other than the altmer hunter, Rannah.

“Oh, I thought I was the first one awake,” she scratched her cheek as Vilkas stretched himself to appear farther away from the Dragonborn than he really was. “Did I come at a bad time? I can juuuuust slip away,” she openly showed motions of sneaking, making Iduun giggle.

“Nonsense,” the Dragonborn replied, getting up from her seat, under no shortage of creaking from being in the same position for so long. “We were just about to leave as well, weren’t we?”

Vilkas cleared his throat, mechanically getting up. “Indeed we were. Yes. Just about.” He nodded, quite proud for playing it cool as he turned around to tidy up the empty bottles.

Rannah lifted one eyebrow in doubt, looking from him to her friend. Iduun winked with a smirk, then turned back to the stairs, making Rannah cover her mouth so as not to guffaw.

“If you’re going out to hunt, may I come along? I feel a bit stiff,” she asked, not waiting for the reply as she went down the steps.

The altmer bit her lower lip, still trying to contain her laughter, and a weird sound came out when she tried to say, “sure.”

However, after she cleared her throat to give a proper response, the door opened even before Iduun could touch the handle, revealing none other than Farkas.

“Ah,” they said in unison, almost colliding.

“My bad,” he said as she nodded and made way for him to pass. “Thanks.”

Seeing how he barely looked at her, almost too anxious to go up the stairs as if he was after a certain someone, it was Iduun’s turn to bite her lower lip to avoid laughing. “No problem. Hey, Rannah?” She raised her voice on purpose, making not only Farkas but Rannah flinch all the way up there. “I think I’m passing the hunt for today, I’ll go back to bed for a bit.”

“Oh? Sure, good night, then.” Rannah’s voice replied from above, and Iduun saw how Farkas got a spring in his step as he went up. Just before Iduun closed the door, she heard Rannah’s tone sweeten considerably as she let out an exclamation of surprise. “Oh, Farkas… I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Yeah, I usually wake up at this time to train,” he scratched his head, his hands sweaty for some reason.

Iduun closed the door behind her, still hearing a bit of their conversation through the gaps.

She slowly made her way back to the communal room, enjoying each step she took through the hard wood floors, taking in even the slightest smell.

It was striking the difference of her mood between when she had left earlier that night to how she came back at dawn. Then, she could barely place herself in reality, let alone realize where she was stepping; now, she vividly saw each book, each misplaced sweet roll, each scratch on the wood.

By sharing her burdens, they had lightened their weight on her shoulders so much she felt on cloud nine. Her steps bore no sound at all and her chest was light as a feather.

Truly, they should spend more time together.

Even she was surprised at how well that meeting had gone, in spite of all that had happened between them.

Vilkas was a good man; a man with a good head on his shoulders, with a great sense of responsibility and a strong arm to have around in battle.

She looked up to him, as a person, as a Shield-Sibling, as a warrior and as a woman.

Not even realizing she was smiling as she sat back on bed, Iduun lay back down and closed her eyes thinking only that yes, they should spend more time together.

#skyrim #vilkas x dragonborn #vilkas #farkas #my writings #yuki's commissions

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twtd11 · 1 year ago

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After watching Hegemony, I no longer think that Batel is going to die. They’ve made her Gorn egg infection a Challenge for Starfleet and a Referendum on Pike’s Decision Making. If she doesn’t live, Pike looks like he made the wrong decision. And it looks like Starfleet can’t solve this problem. If it was only the Startfleet part, I’d say she was still possibly doomed. Starfleet can’t fix everything. But because it’s about both of those things, I think she has to live.

If someone does die, and I think someone will, my bet is either La’an or Erica, though I’m leaning more towards Erica. Flying that shuttle was basically one of the best days of Erica’s life. How does she grow beyond that? My bet is she conquers her fear and dies by doing something brave. Also, we really haven’t gotten to know her as well as the other characters. It’s, well, easier to kill her without massive backlash.

Also, we’ve already seen La’an sacrifice herself to save someone from the Gorn. I doubt we get the 2.0 version of that. Just like we probably won’t see Pelia die because how often can you really kill your chief engineer?

And I don’t see M’Benga dying, though I don’t have a great rational for why.

I think everyone else is safe by virtue of being on TOS.

Anyway, this is my theory. I’m happy being wrong though.

#strange new worlds spoilers #snw spoilers #strange new worlds #st: snw

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mysticstarlightduck · 1 year ago

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Find the Word Tag!

I was tagged by @tabswrites for this one! Thanks for the tag!

My words were: gently, fold, near, and glow

Snippets from Tales of Wilted Flowers.

Gently -

[...] His hand gently brushed against hers as they walked into the ballroom, a touch soft like a feather, trembling, almost unnoticed. She noticed. Eiralis held his hand in hers, turning to face him.

"What happened? Is everything alright?" She asked. It was most unlike him to seek comfort like this, and while not unwelcome, it was clear from how his pallor turned paper white that he was not okay - even though Rylisan was desperately trying to look the part.

He looked torn for a moment as if battling between telling her something and regretting his decision. Rylisan shook his head ever so slightly and gestured with it across the room, holding her hand a tad tighter than he intended to. His once soft eyes looked filled to the brim with hatred.

"No. They're here.... she's here."

Eiralis whirled around, looking in the direction he'd pointed to. And sure enough, there they were. Maeve Deinyra and Kallas Verehn - the worst wretched excuses for nobility on this side of the land, and the people who had gotten her love exiled. They certainly had mastered this game, and had she not known the full extent of their cruelty, she might've mistaken them for any common noble. Her narrowed eyes focused on the former.

The woman clad in crimson silk strutted into the room with more confidence than the princesses themselves, and there was something decidedly wolfish about the way she smiled as the elite gathered to shake hands with her gold-covered ones. Gold stolen by her scheming-bethothed, wandering hands Eiralis wanted nothing more than to break. Knowing what she did, Eiralis was glad to not be holding a glass, or she might've thrown it at Maeve herself.

"Don't worry, love," Eiralis said, forcing herself to look away from the vile couple. She'd never been more sure of something in her life. "We're going to kill them." [...]

Near -

[...] Faellyn frowned, half cringing as she realized how majorly screwed she was as those hurried footsteps echoed down the wooden staircase and a familiar face appeared shortly after, fuming with worry and anger. She opened her mouth to explain, but time had run out.

“What were you thinking?!” Her guardian demands. “You were nearly caught. Do you realize that, if that King gets his hands on you, he will have you executed by sundown? How many times do I have to tell you: we will be clever about this. But no, you have to be just like your Father, don’t you? Is stupid heroics in your blood, or are you just trying to get us all killed?”

Faellyn sighs. Ahren’s paranoia was truly something else since she was little. Shadows on the wall turned to phantoms ready to suck their souls out, and doing what is right was just another way to die. This was no way to live and she was tired of running away every day. So she stepped up - even if stepping up meant undermining the treasonous fool who called himself king.

This wasn't really about her getting caught, Faellyn suspected. This was about Ahren's delusions of power - the plan that he had so carefully crafted for ten years to achieve a greatness that, for all his sacrifices, he wasn't so worthy of.

"You talk about my blood. My father was your uncle, you know. Do you forget that, cousin?"

Ahren paused, seemingly thinking about it, before continuing his rant with the same stubborn fury as he had moments prior.

“Not by blood, most certainly not," Ahren said, scoffing with an angry smile. He looked slightly childish. "I was his ward, I made a vow. I do what I have to do. And I’m not breaking that vow because you and the bunch of weirdos you call friends want to be the hero to save everyone. I don't care about everyone. That never did him any good, and it certainly won’t do to us. I won’t throw away my only chance to get what I want for once, just because you insist on following his doomed footsteps.” [...]

Fold -

Caladin folded his arms over his chest, leaning back against the inn's stony wall, amused.

"So what do you suggest?" He asked, leisurely, stretching his legs so that they rest upon the table before them. Micah and Lorelai looked at each other, mischief written in their smiles, as they moved to explain their plan.

"If the journal is correct, and it has been so far, Lord Eldryc is tracing the location of those strange jewels. From what I am guessing, they used to be an ancient artifact. He wants something, and if the monsters we saw down those woods are any indication, it's nothing good." Lorelai explained, laying down the journal on the table and pointing to the scattered notes that matched her suspicion. Caladin shuddered at a specific drawing of what looked like a living corpse, nodding swiftly for her to carry on.

"The last time an artifact like that was seen it was in the hands of Meridian Grimshail's navy, also known as the Scourge of Lydean Seas. We find where the artifact came from, we may - emphasis on that - find out what the High Sorcerer is up to."

Caladin scrambled into a straightened position, interrupting her explanation with a doubtful look. "Wait, wait, wait. Hold on, how can you be so sure? Meridian disappeared from the map years ago, and most of what is left is pure myth. I'm not risking my neck if our best plan is based on a storybook tale. Do we even know if that guy even had that thing?"

Lorelai smirked, gesturing towards Micah, who started rifling through his bag. He pulled out a small pouch and pulled out a handful of the contents. A small, broken shard shimmered like starlight on his tan skin. He quickly pocketed it before anyone else saw it.

"...I'll be damned." That was all Caladin could say. [...]

Glow -

Something glowed in the woods above like two bright golden eyes floating in the darkness. The forests went silent. No bird sang, no leaf fell. The living trees stopped whispering, and that was even more terrifying. Holding up their flickering lantern, Lorelai saw Xarian pull out his daggers. Behind them, Eiralis piped up.

"No, you shouldn't do tha - "

Vines shot up from the ground, as large as tree trunks, as fast as striking snakes. The earth beneath them crumpled as roots turned sharp and braided themselves onto more vines, wrapping around their boots and legs, immobilizing them. Except for Eiralis, around whom the attacking vines never wrapped, leaving a clearing beneath her. She bit her lip, awkwardly.

Then it all stopped. There was a gush of wind, and something blocked what dim light streaked from the trees above. Whatever or whoever it was seemed to have wings, like a hawk or an eagle, but much, much larger. She saw figures move on the corner of her eyes, from all directions. By the way the vines were constricting her, and how the thorns poked dangerously at her skin, she decided to stay still.

A second barely passed by, and the next time she blinked, someone was standing right in front of them. Someone who looked like a faery, but not quite - more wild, more bird-like. A dryad, she recognized them from the stories. Human-killers, defenders of forests. A pair of glowing golden eyes scrutinized her and the party behind her with ruthless precision, as the other figures - more dryads - disarmed them all.

Lorelai noted that one of his horns was broken.

"You shouldn't have brought them here, Eira. You know the rules about their kind, about this. They're monsters, assassins - disgusting filth that should not step foot on these grounds. Why would you put yourself in such company?"

He spoke in a language Lorelai couldn't understand. It wasn't Elvish and certainly wasn't common Faetongue. But from the way they spoke and looked at them all with such disdain, she knew it was nothing good. It felt like the words they were saying had a venom they needed to spit out.

Behind her, Lorelai saw Eiralis move, walking up to the figure. It was clear, somehow, that they knew each other. This exchange felt oddly familiar, in a way. Her suspicions were confirmed when her friend answered in the same sharp, unknown language.

"Let them go, Kaellel. There's a dangerous human approaching, a dark Sorcerer. He'll come back and this time he'll burn down our lands if we don't stop him. He'll kill you. He'll kill our clan. Please, let them help. Lord Eldryc is the one you should hunt down - you know him. Let them go."

The young man glared, silent. For a moment, Lorelai feared he would order his soldiers to kill them right then and there. But he didn't. The vines slithered away, back into the earth where they came from, called by him. Without saying a word, his soldiers disappeared back into the forest.

"You must prove what you say is true. For now, I'll let them go, and they stand an audience with the Elders. But they are your responsibility." For the first time, he spoke in their language, very fluently despite a sharp accent. Clearly, he intended for them to understand, but did not address them.

"The humans have their chance, sister. Don't prove me right, or I will slit their throats."

With that, he flew off into the darkness, leaving them in stunned silence. The party turned to Eiralis in unison, trying to make sense of all they'd just witnessed and heard. She rubbed the back of her neck, awkwardly twirling her hair in her fingers.

"... Um," She started, tentatively, with a soft, out-of-place laugh. "At least you're meeting my family?" [...]

Tagging: @oh-no-another-idea , @gummybugg, @sm-writes-chaos, @unstablewifiaccess, @lassiesandiego, @cabbojage , @the-mindless , @clairelsonao3 , @rickie-the-storyteller , @writernopal @thewardenofwinter, @lassiesandiego and @elshells

(Your words are: screech, treat, fight and loath)

#writeblr #writers #writerblr #writing #my wips #character writing #my characters #my writing #writers on tumblr #tag games #find the word tag #wip - tales of wilted flowers

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too-many-pockets · 9 months ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE GUYS!!!

I hope you enjoy my life’s work 😘

I’m sorta proud :)

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Chapter One

Nyx Yasuhiro was a hero. It was in her name. That was her role, and she was okay with that. In fact, she was quite happy. She loved the cheering crowds, the happy people, saving lives, all that stuff. But it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, there were downsides too. She couldn’t save everyone. And it tore her apart. She hated hearing the news, the articles, the horrified look on people’s faces when she couldn’t help their loved ones. The worst was when the ones she couldn’t save, were the ones she had to fight in the end. A sound comes from her living room, so she quickly heads over to check it out. Her TV was on. Of course, what else would it be? She chided herself for the little bit of anxiety she felt. She walked over and plopped down on the couch, watching the TV intently.

“News flash!” The TV sounded, “50 important officials have been burned alive while at an important meeting! The culprit is still at large, though it is theorized to be the infamous villain, whose identity has still not been confirmed.” She turned the TV off. That was enough. She threw herself into action, changing into her usual outfit. It was nothing special, a loose, long sleeve shirt with a chestplate like piece of metal on top, along with baggy cargo pants with lots of pockets and metal knee pads. She pulled on her combat boots; they were expensive but they were metal toed so they were worth it. She also had a mask on, so she pulled it up to hide her face. Finally, she tied some of her black hair into a small ponytail, leaving the rest to hang. She rushed out the door to get to the scene.

When she finally got there, the fire was all but extinguished. She flashed her face at the guards and they frantically let her through. She slowly walked around the building, taking in every detail. She noticed a pair of ash black footprints leading around the corner, so of course, she followed them.

She reached the end of the footsteps but there was… nothing. No, there had to be something, someone, here. There had to be. She frantically whipped her head around.

“So what are we looking for, little dove?” Nyx felt herself being pulled by the waist toward someone. No. Not someone. Her arch nemesis. The villain. Her enemy. Her… well she doesn’t actually know her name. Nobody did. She was just called ‘the villain’, or ‘villain’ by the public.

“I don’t like to be ignored, darling.”

Nyx refused to turn around.

“Shut up. You did this, didn’t you?” She demanded. The villain’s response was to softly grab her chin with one gloved hand and force her to turn around and face her.

“Now now my dear, you know I don’t leave my works of art like this~” She replied. As much as she hated it, Nyx knew she was right. Obviously, she wouldn’t call them works of art, but the scenes were never this sloppy. She had spent way too much time analyzing every detail.

“See? You believe me dove.” The other woman smirked.

“Stop calling me that.” Nyx responded with a scowl.

“Then tell me your name.”

“You know I won’t do that.”

That was the rule. She didn’t know Nyx's name, Nyx didn’t know hers.

The woman sighed. “Then what will you call me? I don’t think ‘villain’ is going to stick for as long as we’ll be together.” She said. As long as they’ll be together? What did she mean by that? She decided to let it go for now, instead trying to focus on a name. Nyx actually didn’t know what to call her. She went through a list of possible names before deciding on…

“Siren. I’ll call you Siren.” The name felt right on her tongue. After all, a Siren was a seductively beautiful or charming woman, especially one who beguiles men, and in Greek mythology the siren's song would lure men to their doom often causing shipwrecks and chaos. Fitting, she was a villain after all. Even as much as she hated to admit it, Siren was quite attractive. Nyx stepped out of Siren's grasp, pulling her arms off her waist. She looked at her closely. Her skin was suspiciously pale, some kind of skin condition probably, but Nyx didn't, or rather never cared to, ask. She was wearing a black sleeveless turtleneck shirt and a black jacket with large sleeves hung loosely below her shoulders. Two long pieces of fabric hung off the back of her jacket almost reaching the floor. She also wore sleek black leggings that hugged her figure. Her outfit was completed by her own combat boots which were, of course, black.

“Siren? Hm~ I like that. It has a nice ring to it.” Her voice was smooth, like the coo of a dove, it just made you want to hear more. Nyx hated it. She hated everything about that cocky asshole. She hated her white hair that she just left in a messy wolf cut. She hated how it glowed in the moonlight. She hated how sometimes, she just couldn’t look away. How she felt a small part of her melt whenever Siren grabbed her. She pushed those feelings to the back of her mind, focusing on her mission for the time being.

“So. If you didn’t do this, who did?” Nyx’s tone was flat and unamused.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that love~” Siren pouted.

“Who. Did. It.” Nyx asked again, her voice gaining a bit of an edge.

“Oh you’re so cute when you’re angry~” Siren smirked. Nyx felt her blood boil. “Buttt~ I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, you’ve always been the smart one.”

“Then what do I need you for?” A small smile grew on Nyx’s face. She could end this conversation and turn this villain in right now. Throw her in jail for the rest of her life and solve this crime herself.

“Isn’t it obvious…?~” Siren smirks. Her hand snakes itself around Nyx’s waist once more and she brings her face to the other woman’s neck. Nyx’s face flushed a bit as she felt her hot breath against her skin. Siren looked up at her through her lashes, those big red eyes with a pinch of purple sucked her in like an endless void. “My pretty face~” Her voice was soft and she said it in this, way. As if she was teasing someone. Nyx’s brain was moving a mile a minute, her heart was beating out of her chest, her face felt on fire and it was taking everything to keep herself together. It wasn’t like she liked this, as if she liked her, it was just the proximity! She would be like this no matter the person! She pushed Siren, who was now laughing uncontrollably, away.

“I can solve this myself!” She yelled louder than she meant to.

“No, you can’t. And you know it.” Siren sighed. Nyx knew she was right.

“Well it doesn’t need to be you.” Nyx also knew that was probably not true. Siren sighed again.

“Fine. I’ll be back though, and you will accept my help, won’t you?” She said the last question in a voice so persuasive, she felt like she could never say no to her again.

“Yes.” She hated how small her voice sounded at that moment.

“Yes what?” Siren smirked, she knew exactly what she was doing. Exactly how she sounded.

“You know what-”

“Yes what, darling?” Siren interrupted, grabbing Nyx’s face again, swiping her thumb across her cheek.

“Yes you can help me.” She said again. She hated how quickly and eagerly she answered. “But right after I’m going to arrest you!” She quickly added.

“Good girl.’’ Siren smirked, then disappeared.

Nyx inwardly groaned. Why did she give in everytime? Whatever. She just needed to get this done. Probably some escaped convict or whatever.

***

She looked around, taking in her surroundings. I’m just looking for clues, not for her, she tried to convince herself. She spotted a young girl with strawberry blonde hair in a pair of pigtails alone on a step. She had a puffy polka-dotted dress on, she looked no older than 6. She was rocking slightly, her knees were as close to her chest as she could get them with her feet having to be on a different step.

“Hello.” Nyx spoke in a soft voice as she approached the child. She understood how scary it could be to witness or even lose someone this way. “What’s your name sweetie?”

The girl looked up. Her eyes were red and puffy, she’d probably been crying. She sniffled.

“Hello Ms. Lady…” Her voice was quiet and quivering. She was hiccuping as well. “My name is Amara”

Nyx leaned down to meet the girl's eyes and smiled softly. The girl didn’t look at her in turn, instead staring just slightly over her shoulder. She quickly checked to see if anyone was in earshot, then she replied. “My name is Nyx.” She put a finger to her lips. “But my name is a big big secret, so you have to pinky promise not to tell anyone, alright?” The girl's eyes met hers for just a moment and lit up before she quickly looked away once more. Nyx extended her pinky, it seemed like she liked promises. Amara hesitantly stuck her pinky out and they intertwined, marking a promise.

“Ms Nyx, are you here to find the bad person?” Amara asked. Nyx chuckled.

“Yeah, I am. Can you tell me what you’re doing here?”

“My daddy was going to this place, so me and mommy went to surprise him when he came outside but…” The girl's voice trailed off. Nyx didn't need to hear the rest. “Mommy says he’s in this place called the hospital. She's really worried and she's crying.” Nyx’s heart broke for the poor woman. Imagine going to surprise your husband with your young daughter and then the whole building just bursts into flames with your husband still inside. She must have been rushed to the hospital with her husband, but then, why is Amara here? Why not with her mother?

“Can you tell me where your mother is, Amara?” She tried to sound as calm as possible, but if this child was just left here with nothing and no one, what would happen? “Who are you here with?”

“Uhm, Mommy is with Daddy in the big white car that flashes, and I'm here with my uncle because I hate that car. It's too loud.” Amara flapped her hands, as if even recalling the memory of the ambulance was painful. Still, Nyx breathed a sigh of relief. Her uncle, that was good, but where was he? She looked around.

“Where is he?” She couldn't see anyone near them…

“He’s over there, I think.” Amara pointed around a corner. “He said he was going for a ‘smoke break’ but I don't know what that means.” For some reason, this angered Nyx. This little girl just probably lost her father, and her mother was in despair, trusting this man, her ‘uncle’, to take care of her, and he was gone without a thought to even explain to her where he was! She’d have a word with him, that was for sure.

“Thank you, you’ve been a big help. I’m going to go for a bit,” She paused. She didn't want Amara to leave while she was gone, or be left alone… “In the meantime, my friend here is gonna keep you company, alright?” She handed the girl a small teddy bear. To anyone else, it would be a completely wholesome moment, but the teddy bear actually had a camera and she could hear sound through it. Some creep sent it to her a while ago and she had hacked into it and repurposed it. Now, it connected to a pair of earrings she wore. In short, she could hear whatever Amara could. She hadn't thought of what to do with the visual though, so she just turned it off.

Nyx then left the girl and went to see this uncle of hers. She turned the corner, looking for anyone who looked out of the ordinary, when she saw a man in a polished black suit. He had half circle gold rimmed glasses with slicked back grayish black hair and brown eyes. He looked, for lack of a better word, old. All was normal, except for the fact he was slumped over on the ground with a masked person and another person she could not see standing over him.

Nyx immediately hid around the corner, trying to overhear their conversation. She strained her ears, but could only hear Amara’s childish babbles. She turned off her earrings for the moment, hoping nothing would happen while she couldn’t hear, and the extra sounds disappeared. “Her…end…kid…here?...yes…” No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't tell who was speaking when. The other person looked her way and she dove behind some boxes, praying they didn't see her. Her prayers were quickly discarded when she heard footsteps coming her way. She peered around the wall. It looked like the figure had sent the masked man after her while he was leaving with Amara’s uncle. She silently cursed, but she didn't have time to worry about that right now, as she was being hunted by a big meaty monster! A sweaty fist landed directly beside her hiding spot, crushing a box. Quickly, another punch landed close enough to graze her face. She touched her cheek. There was blood on her fingers.

She barely avoided another hit when she decided that it was time to hit back. Nyx swung at the man's nose and it broke with a satisfying crunch. He was knocked back and she took the chance to punch him square in between the eyes. Blood splattered onto her knuckles as the man fell to the ground, dazed. She straddled him and continued to punch him in the face. Once he was thoroughly roughed up, she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled his face to her own and ripped his mask off his face. He looked as one would expect, tan skin, shaggy messed up hair, missing a tooth or two from Nyx’s beating. She suppressed her glint of pride.

“Who do you work for? What are you doing here? What do you want with that man?” She questioned.

A look of horror crossed the man’s face. “I-” Suddenly, the man's face erupted with blood, spraying all over Nyx’s clothes and face. She froze. The man slumped onto her, his cold body resting on hers, dead. He was dead. She looked up. The figure she saw before was staring directly at her, gun in hand. They were warning her. This wasn’t the simple case she first thought it was. She didn't know what to think. She looked at the body that had now fallen off her to the floor. Its dead eyes were glassy and empty. They stared back at her, expressionless. When she looked back up, the figure was gone.

She got up. Amara. She needed to go check on her. Nyx ran over to where she had left the girl. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized she was still there.

“Ms Nyx!” Amara smiled. She had the teddy safely coddled in her arms. “What's that red stuff on your face?” Nyx’s eyes widened. She realized she hadn't taken the time to clean herself up, she was so caught up with Amara she didn't even think about it. Now that she did, the reality of the situation crushed her like a boulder. This little girl was left alone now, both her parents were in the hospital and her uncle was who knows where. There was no choice, she couldn't leave this child here alone. She would have to take her in.

Suddenly she was struck by a wave of nausea, so aggressive it almost knocked her over. She fell to her knees, her head was pounding and her heart crashed against her chest. She realized she was bleeding much worse than before, but she didn't know why. Before she knew it, it all went black.

***

Siren picked up her hero’s unconscious body. What a silly girl~ She always pushes herself too hard. Look at where that got her. Siren couldn’t be too harsh, after all the girl was a hero.

“What are you doing with Ms Nyx?” A small voice asked. Siren turned. Behind her stood a small, shivering girl who looked on the verge of tears. Ms Nyx? Was that her wonderful hero's name?

“Don’t worry dear, I'm simply taking her home. Where is your guardian?” Siren hated to admit it, and she never would, but she had a soft spot for children. They were so innocent, not at all like her. She didn't want any child to have to go through what she did.

“Ms Nyx went looking for my uncle because I didn't know where he was and he wasn't coming back and now she's like this and-” The child broke down into tears, flapping her arms aggressively and rocking as if to regulate herself. Siren carried Nyx over to her. Obviously if Nyx went looking for this man and she came back like this…

“Would you like to come with me to make sure she's okay?” This way she could keep the child in her sights, keep her safe. The child gave a small nod. “Then come, follow me and let's go.” She carried the hero, whose head was unknowingly resting on her enemy's shoulder. Siren smiled. Nyx would never live this down, she’d make sure of it.

***

Later in the night, after she had gotten Nyx in her bed and patched up, she left Amara to sleep in the spare room with that teddy bear, you know, the one with the camera and audio device? Yeah, Siren knew. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. She was only upset because some creep had attempted to see her love. She made a mental note to deal with it later. She was about to leave the room after sitting by Nyx’s bed for a while, when she felt a hand grab her wrist. Nyx sleepily muttered a few words, but all Siren could interpret was “Stay.” Siren smirked. This was just getting better and better, she thought. She climbed into the small twin sized bed beside Nyx, pressing against her to avoid falling off. Nyx snuggled into her embrace, grabbing Sirens arms and wrapping them around herself. Eventually, after plenty of staring and smirking, Siren fell asleep beside her.

***

#author #first book #pride #gay #herovillainthingy #hero x villain #I love them so much you don’t understand

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