#sometimes i torture myself by thinking what an emperor he could have been

[kiranokira]

˚｡⋆❀˖°Martin...

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Honeymoon

AU Reverse Therapy

Summary: Luka gets the chance to spend a whole month with his beloved Malina. A long time ago, he lived for a whole month with a girl he couldn't love. But he could hate.

Pairing: Chaos!Lamenter/fem!OC/Chaos!Flesh Tearer

Characters: Malina (fem!OC), Luka The Angel (OC Chaos Lamenter), Virgil (OC Chaos Flesh Tearer)

Warnings: yandere, stolkhom syndrome, dubcon, noncon, torture, cannibalism

Word count: 8048

Author's note: I thought I'd remind myself and you that as a Chaos Space Marine, Luka can be quite cruel and terrifying. All scenes with an Imperial soldier will be quite unpleasant. Please be careful.

Song: Garbage - #1 Crush (Nellee Hooper Mix; 2015 Remaster)

Tag List: @druidwolf21, @pluvio-tea, @kit-williams

Luka wanted love. He had been dreaming about this wonderful feeling since he had undergone the reverse therapy. Feeling desire again was akin to bliss and torture at the same time. Of course, the Lamenter understood that as a Space Marine he experienced a much wider range of emotions than mere mortals. He could be a little… uncontrollable.

But he would learn. Luka bitterly regretted what the poor cultist and his two captives had gone through. But now he knew that human women were too fragile and he should not have sex with them for several rounds. And although he did not particularly like it, he also should not drink their blood, no matter how delicious it was. There were plenty of no-man's slaves on board that he could eat. The most important thing was not to harm his beloved.

Beloved. How many feelings and emotions were hidden behind this word. Oh, Luka so hoped that the third girl he found would be the last. His true love, whom he would protect from all the dangers of the world. Mortal men are much weaker than Space Marines. With Luka, the beautiful maiden will feel like she's behind a mountain. All of humanity can roll into the warp with a Corpse on the Throne. But for his beloved, Luka will be a true hero. He will try.

And the Lamenter had better find his maiden as soon as possible. He can't stop thinking about love even during combat. Although shooting Imperial soldiers is quite fun, the siege of heretics was too easy. The Astartes was already starting to get bored while mortals were turning into bloody scraps. And quite tasty. When was the last time he ate a human? It seems like a week ago. Quite a while ago.

"The God-Emperor will guide us, burn heretics!"

Stupid mortals again shout equally stupid words just to keep up morale. In the last couple of minutes, they have not shut up at all. Apparently they are desperate. Luka would like to roll his eyes, but he can't. His hearing caught on the one who was shouting these slogans. The soldier was clearly shouting too much, but his voice was still beautiful.

And the woman was pretty in appearance too. Golden hair, gathered in a high ponytail (had she lost her helmet?), green eyes and a straight nose. A beauty in a word. Luka couldn't help but stare at the girl, and she immediately noticed someone else's gaze and shot at the Lamenter.

"Dirty traitor!"

Luka laughed happily. Usually such a nickname irritated him and mortals always regretted the words they had said earlier. But when this girl said "traitor", it even sounded sweet. Just think, the Astartes didn't know that such pretty girls were being recruited into the Imperial Guard. And was she really supposed to be sent to the army as a tithe?

Well, if the Space Marine tries to be careful and gets to the beauty before the brothers, then she can forget about her terrible past as a soldier. After all, she will have Luka, who will gladly take care of such a cute thorn. Soon she will love him.

A month. He will need only a month.

***

Luka went to his quarters in high spirits after the meeting. Mortals and Space Marines who met him on the way immediately retreated, just to avoid running into him. Sometimes the Lamenter was sad that he was so much feared. Of course, in the past he had done a lot of nasty things, but the same Eurydice was not afraid of him at all. But she, like Virgil, played the mean one and refused the title of "friend".

So be it. And screw what others thought of him. Now the Astartes could not think about anything except the results of the meeting. Bakh joined other Red Corsairs as support for the siege of the forge world Dominica VII. While other Huron forces fought in Malestorm, a small part was ordered to ravage Segmentum Obscurus. Not the most prestigious occupation, but additional resource extraction for the forces of Chaos is also important. Well, demoralizing the forces of the Imperium on the other side of the Rift could be fun.

Besides, it was in this segmentum that Malina lived. Luka now did not regret at all that he was not fighting the main fleet of Huron Blackheart. Although he should not have been fighting now. Half of the Space Marines were just right for a siege that should have lasted at least a month. A quick victory. And if Luka did not have a chance to be on the battlefield, then Virgil was preparing to set foot on the ground right now. And that meant only one thing.

He would finally be alone with Malina. Of course, the Lamenter had plenty of time to spend with the girl alone. And the Flesh Tearer, if he wanted to feel a woman's affection, did it at night and when Luka was absent. Whatever you say, but they were a great team. And yet the Astartes could not calm his jealousy and dreamed of being alone with his beloved for at least three days. And here is a whole wagon of time. If earlier Luka was sulking that he would not be able to torment the Imperials, now he was beaming with delight.

The young man, despite his excitement, slowly opens the door, trying not to scare Malina. She was already awake, finishing washing the floors around the room. Luka could not help but smile at such a picture. The girl was such a hard worker, although she might not clean so often due to her situation. But Malina liked to live in cleanliness. Probably because she herself is pure.

“Oh, you're back already.” - the girl leaned the mop against the wall, smiling embarrassedly. - “How good that I just managed to wash everything. Hope you are doing well?”

She always asked if the space marine was fine, how his day went. None of the mortals in the service of the Emperor allowed themselves such antics. None of the heretics were suicidal to ask about such things. Luka didn't think that this was what he would miss in life. Malina treated him like a man. No, not like that, he was above mortal men (women are beautiful as they are). She treated Luka as if he were her husband.

"Everything is wonderful. Right now, half of our people will land on Dominica VII to help our brothers. The operation will last for a whole month." - Luka said evasively before breaking into a smile. - "And even though Virgil was sent to fight, I will remain on the ship. So you will not have to be bored."

"Oh, that's good. Otherwise, I would go crazy from loneliness." - the girl shyly plays with a lock of hair and the Lamenter can't help but look at such a beautiful vision.

It will be a wonderful month.

***

Lucky Luka. He quickly managed to reach the girl and stun her with his own stock. He even managed to take her unconscious body to the ship without incident. And of course, tie her leg to the bed with a chain so that she could not run away. And so that every Space Marine in the room knew who she belonged to. Alas, the Lamenter did not take into account that this beauty would hiss and fight like a wild cat.

“Y-you vile traitors, I will not betray the Emperor! I-I will not become a heretic, I will not become your slave!” - the girl with golden hair spits so hard that drops of saliva get on Luka’s face. He does not like this behavior, but he forgives her. She is scared, she is used to aggression because of her military service. But everything will be fine.

“Do not be afraid, no one will hurt you. I am Luka, I will protect you.” - the young man stretches out his hands, trying to calm the girl like a wild animal. - “I’ll take care of you.”

“That means he’ll fuck you good.” - Folki, sprawled on the bed, cackles vilely and Luka wants to smash his face until it bleeds. - “He’ll spread you out like a whore and scream how much he loves you. That’s the kind of romantic he is.”

“Shut your mouth, you’re in my way.” - Luka grits his teeth, trying not to show the anger on his face. He shouldn’t scare his captive. But, oh, how nice it would be to smash Folki’s face on the floor. To see how his skin cracks like fabric, how his blood spills onto the floor, and his skin turns into a bloody mess. As delicious as a hot stew.

“Really? And I think I’m helping. Look how she’s shaking, it seems like she’s starting to get it.” - the impudent man gets up from the bed, turning to the soldier with a lewd smile. - “Yes, little thing. Chaos Space Marines are such nasty guys that they know what sex is. And if you weren't Luka's pet, I'd fuck you good."

"SHUT UP!" Luka screams with such fury that even the defiant Folki shuts up. The Lamenter can even discern a drop of fear in his eyes. Yes, he likes that. He wish he could squeeze his head so hard that Folki's brains would leak out of every crevice and the fear in his eyes would grow even more. He likes that.

"Shut up, both of you. You're annoying." - the gruff and silent Nerva calls out from his bed, still clutching his personal slave.

The Lamenter only wrinkled his nose. He hated Folki, but his fury was nothing compared to the envy he felt for Nerva. Folki is a rapist, a lover of a good fight and robbery, a vile and disgusting space wolf. He only knows how to test the patience of his brothers.

Nerva was a secretive Raven Guard, a bastard who hid his secret desires. His only weakness was a legless slave he picked up in the lower levels. She was a fragile creature, desperately clinging to her savior. Luka wanted the same. He wanted to be loved.

Bacchus believed that former loyalists should support each other in order to later become full members of the Red Corsairs. Some formed real brotherly bonds, and some a semblance of family with their slaves. Alas, Luka was unlucky with his neighbors. He hated them. The only consolation he wanted was in love, thanks to his newfound feelings.

Unfortunately, his captive did not want to make contact.

“I don’t give a damn, bastards, do you hear me? The Emperor is with me. I will not surrender to you.” - the girl tried to be brave, but tears were desperately flowing down her cheeks. Luka reached out his hand, intending to wipe them away, but the beauty only pushed him away. - “Don’t touch me.”

“How mean you are. I told you that everything will be fine with you. You are just like a thorn.” - The young man grumbled tiredly, leaning towards the captive. - “Hmm, suits you. Now you will be a Thorn.”

“I am not your pet, traitor! My name is Zegentia Gloz, I am a soldier of the 115th regiment of the Imperial Guard. I will not be a slave to heretics.” - pride in her origin smoldered behind the woman’s tongue and she continued to spit at Luka, infuriating him.

She had an ugly name. Mean and rude, unsuitable for a girl. Eurydice Sever was the captain of the ship, a voidborn, ugly woman with dictatorial manners and sadistic tendencies. But she had a beautiful name and that's why Luka liked her, although they had never communicated. And here... no, he would not allow his green-eyed girl to wear such a disgusting name.

"Fine, if not Thorn, then Pet. That's what I'll call you now." - The Astartes does not give the soldier a chance to spew new insults, tying a muzzle on her face. - "It's a very cute name, just right for you. So be a good girl and stop acting so viciously."

Unable to speak or move her limbs, the woman only continued to look angrily at Luka. He only sighed tiredly, remembering "Flower" and "Rain" with pain in his heart. The Lamenter thought that now with experience he would be a better man for beautiful ladies. It turned out that he would have to face other difficulties.

***

“Oh, Luka. I’m so worried about Commissar Cain.” - the girl hugged the book to her chest, looking at Luka with horror. - “He was just surrounded by enemies. I understand that this is only the middle of the book. But some books ended in the middle, and the next 200 pages were devoted to pleading with the Emperor and the hero the book was written about. What if it’s the same here?”

The mourner only pursed his lips, listening to Malina. He was glad that she liked all the books he brought her. Besides, the book about Commissar Cain turned out to be much better than the one about Saint Celestine (he hated it, damn Ignatius). Luka even listened to Malina’s opinion with pleasure.

Although he was not supposed to worry about the hero of the novel, much less a real person. After all, they were fighting on different sides. But seeing the girl’s worries, Luka couldn’t help but worry himself. This commissioner should live a little longer so that Malina doesn't worry in vain!

"Don't worry! You know Commissar Cain and his courage. He got out of so many troubles thanks to his faith in the God-Emperor." - The Lamenter smiled happily at the girl, noting with pleasure how faith in his words appeared on her face. - "He'll get out of this trouble too!"

What is he talking about... if Virgil were here, he would have fallen out of bed laughing. But fortunately, he wasn't here and he has to freeze his ass on the planet while Luka is having fun with Malina. Although reading about Commissar Cain wasn't the best entertainment, the Lamenter still had to admit. He was interested himself.

"You're right, Luka. Of course you're right." - Malina smiled happily and Luka blushed from such praise. - "How could I doubt him. In the end, he dodged a bullet thanks to faith… though.”

The girl moved her fingers and Luka obediently moved closer. To then blush even more from how Malina came closer to his ear. Her whisper and soft voice wrapped around his entire insides. It was so pleasant that the Lamenter almost missed her words.

“Although I’m sure he was just staring at the girl’s ass.”

Luka laughed, amazed by the girl’s words. Malina, embarrassed by her assumption, hid her face in the book, continuing to read. Luckily, a couple of pages later it turned out that Commissar Cain managed to survive. Luka was even happy for this lucky bastard.

***

“Come on, this is very tasty porridge. I bet it’s even tastier than your rations at work.” - Luka holds out a spoon with food to the green-eyed girl’s mouth, waiting for her to finally eat. - “Open your mouth, Pet. You’ll like it.”

But she only turns her head away, hoping that the Lamenter won’t see her tears. But he does. The woman clearly wanted to eat, but for the most part she refused to eat. Only sometimes did she obediently allow herself to be fed, when she couldn’t overcome her hunger. Luka saw in her eyes that at such moments she blamed herself. She was ashamed to eat from the hand of a traitor.

On this day, she apparently wasn’t so hungry.

“Well, please, Pet. You’ll agree anyway later. Why not stop acting like that then. Eat.” - Luka pokes the spoon into the woman's lips and she can't take it anymore, throws the spoon away and spits in his face. Again.

"Traitor!" - the woman hisses, but immediately stops short when she sees Luka's angry face. She, like all domestic animals, hides in a corner and whines quietly, afraid to move.

"Yes. Traitor. And I don't regret it at all. I don't regret betraying my order. I don't regret eating my brothers." - The mourner sits down next to the blonde, gently stroking her back while she whines. - "I don't regret eating your comrades. You know, I could have fed you their meat, I have supplies. But I'm giving you porridge."

The man squeezes the woman's shoulder tightly and she gasps in pain. Saliva and snot freely flowed down her chin. She looked simply disgusting. But Luka even liked it. He liked taking care of her. If only she would let him do it.

“Stop being so bad. Stop it or I’ll eat you alive.” - He doesn’t want to scare her, but the Pet has gotten on his nerves. He has to calm her down. - “And stop praying to the Corpse on the Throne, he won’t help you.”

Luka gets to his feet, kicking the bowl of porridge at the woman whining in the corner and sits down on the bed. How hard it was for him with her. Blue eyes catch on Nerva and Yuna hugging. Seeing the Lamenter’s interest, the slave girl clung tighter to the Space Marine, hiding her face. Luka swallowed, seeing such a picture. It was so cute.

“Nerva, mortal women like to be friends and all that, right?” Luka is awkward talking to the silent Raven Guard, but he, as a good soldier, is used to dealing with difficulties. - “Maybe Yuna should become friends with Pet? They’ll have more fun together. Maybe she’ll even behave better.”

“I won’t let Yuna get one step near your whore.” - the black-clad space marine hugs the legless slave tighter, inhaling the scent of her hair. - “This bitch is mad. You shouldn't have picked her up.”

Luka wanted to say something in response. To protect his beloved, but he couldn’t find the words. In truth, he didn’t like calling Pet “beloved.” The nickname didn’t suit her at all. He was already regretting picking her up. But the Lamenter couldn’t just get rid of this woman, could he? She was his responsibility now. Yes, it was hard now. But everything would get better later. It would.

***

“Oh, Luka, you spoil me. The porridge is delicious as it is, you didn’t have to bring chocolate.” - the girl looks at the Lamenter with embarrassment and gratitude. Luka only smiles in response, unable to take his eyes off those wonderful brown eyes. No one has ever looked at him like that in his life and never will.

“Mortals need variety. And you cleaned the room so well last time. And I thought you needed encouragement.”

Of course, it was just an excuse. He really liked spoiling Malina. Doing nice things for her, taking care of her. Yesterday, she dared to sing him a folk song of Astarte despite her embarrassment. It was so wonderfully homely that Luka simply couldn’t help but do something in response.

He couldn’t sing as beautifully as an Astartes. But he could bring chocolate taken from the governor’s palace. Most of these products were stored in the warehouse, waiting for the next Feast. But being one of Bakh's closest Space Marines, Luka could afford himself small liberties. He had been denied such privileges before.

"Well, if you say so." Malina carefully took a bite of the chocolate, savoring the taste. Before giving Luka a sly look. He felt his ears turn red. "But then you should try it too."

Malina held out the chocolate to him, waiting for Luka to take it. He took it. Only instead of fingers, he used his own teeth. The Lamenter felt his cheeks flush even more at the sight of the girl's embarrassment. They looked more like village lovers than a Chaos Space Marine and a prisoner.

"It is indeed delicious." The man leaned towards the girl to leave one small kiss on the cheek, which, however, turns into a scattering. "But you are tastier."

Malina bursts into laughter and Luka only continues to kiss her face harder, like a bird pecking at food. The mourner squeezes the girl in his arms, pressing himself against the girl's chest. The calm heartbeat and ringing laughter indicated that Malina was not afraid of him. No, today she was not afraid. And Luka was ready to drown the entire Imperium in blood so that this miracle would last forever.

***

The ungrateful bitch decided to kill him. She somehow managed to steal his knife. She waited until he and everyone else in the room fell asleep and then attacked him with her weapon. The idiot forgot that she was a captive of a space marine and one blow would not be enough. But the Pet did not even have time to strike when Luka hit her in the face, knocking out several teeth.

“You bitch have completely lost your mind, if you thought about killing me, huh? Huh?” - the man continued to pound into the yielding hips, ignoring the woman’s tears. He himself was crying while using her dry pussy for his pleasure. - “Why? Why? Why did you do this? I cared about you, everything should have been fine. You ruined everything!”

“Are you seriously crying while raping her?” - Folki, like a pervert, watched the entire process, shamelessly jerking off. - “You’re being so pathetic.”

“Shut up! I’m mourning my relationship. A freak like you wouldn’t understand.” - The Lamenter makes a final move, finally spilling his seed inside the screaming woman. Tears roll freely down his face as he looks at the equally tear-stained face. - “You betrayed me. You betrayed our love.”

“I-I only love the God-Emperor. H-he is my strength and f-faith.” - the woman swallows, unable to move. But she still has the strength and audacity to look at Luka. The Lamenter wants to suck out those green eyes. - “I will never love a m-monster like you!”

Luka howls like a wounded animal so loudly that Folki stops satisfying himself, and Nerva covers Yuna’s ears. The young man stops crying. Even though it hurts, it hurts so much. No weapon or poison could hurt him as much as the Pet did. His real heart beats like crazy in agony.

Something breaks in Luka. He can't stand that condemning look anymore. As if in a fog, the Lamenter immediately pounces on the woman and starts sucking on her right eye. The woman, who was trying to act decently just a few seconds ago, is now screaming in pain, begging him to stop.

"Oh, you're such a sick bastard." - Folki tries to act cheeky, but Luka can catch a glimpse of his disgust. If a bastard like him is terrified, then something is really wrong with Luka. Yuna is quietly crying in Nerva's arms and the boy wants to apologize to her for scaring her. But he can't. All his thoughts and thoughts are focused only on the one who betrayed him.

"If you don't want my care, you won't get it. You will not have my love. Do you hear?" - Luka feels the wonderful taste of mucus and blood on his lips and he involuntarily licks his lips. - "If you are not fit to be my beloved, you will be an appetizer."

The woman cries, begging for mercy. But Luka is no longer listening. He does not care.

***

The siege was going well. The Chaos Space Marines continued to capture more and more outposts and send captured resources to the ships. Including slaves, both for hard work and for pleasure. Luka and Virgil's room was one of the best, and the compartment looked tolerable.

And yet the Lamenter could not understand where his neighbors had so much time and, most importantly, energy for torture. The same Virgil also participated in the torture of imperial soldiers and aristocrats in order to suppress waves of anger. But Luka was alien to this. If you torture and kill, then only on the battlefield. It is much more fun than taking slaves to rooms.

But if before Luka only rolled his eyes, now he was grateful to all the sadists around. He was ready to sing their praises. After all, all these cries and pleas scared his sweet Malina so much that she, having only heard them, immediately rushed to Luka. She lay next to him on the bed, seeking protection.

“I know that they are heretics.” - Navina Malina whispers to the slyly grinning Luka in the shoulder, while he stroked her hair. - “But I still feel sorry for them. It hurts.”

She is very kind and merciful. Kinder than Luka. In the old days, he would have pitied the slaves, but now he does not care. Sometimes the Lamenter wondered if maybe he had not gone crazy on that desert planet where he ate his brothers? Maybe he had always been a bad person? But on the other hand, even before the girl called him Angel, he was already going to save her. As well as the children. Maybe he's not so bad after all...

As soon as a woman's scream and the men's laughter resounded in the corridor, Malina pressed herself closer to Luka. The mourner only sighed at the behavior of mortal men. Why do they like to rape different women so much? Why don't they want to find the one and only one they will love.

"Angel, I'm scared." - Malina squeaked like a mouse, placing her palms on the man's chest. Luka swallowed, trying to suppress his growing erection. Of course, he could put his beloved to bed, but that would be disrespectful to her. She was scared as it was. So let her sleep.

Alas, but Luka did not close an eye, watching Malina's peaceful face.

***

“When we’re no longer recruits, I’m going to gorge myself on those governors’ food like crazy.” - Folki picked at his porridge with his fork like a child. He was going to steal the mutton and the wine supplies, but the red corsairs had taken everything. Full members of the squad. The three had served for only a short time and had not yet had time to prove themselves on the battlefield.

“Are you going to become the next Bacchus?” - Luka kicks his helmet into the far corner of the room out of boredom. He snaps his fingers, but the helmet is still in the corner of the quarters. The Space Marine rolled his eyes. He was in no mood to torment the stupid creature. - “Pet, have you lost your fear? Go ahead and bring it.”

“And why not, hm? And anyway, you must have noticed that he gives preference to all former loyalists.” - Folki smirked nasally, watching the Lamenter’s captive. - “Especially the likes of me. He was a Space Wolves himself, haven't you heard?"

"Then why is he called Bacchus?" - Nerva notes, carefully combing Yuna's hair. He had already managed to change her into cleaner, neater clothes, which he had managed to steal. - "It doesn't look like a Fenrisian name."

"No idea. Maybe he got himself a new one. How would I even know?" - Folki bristles like an angry dog, but sighs, settling down on the bed. - "They're moving a new guy in with us."

"What? There's not enough room here as it is, and now we have to put up with another mug?!" - Luka throws the helmet into the corner again like a child, watching as the woman hurried to pick it up. A loud cough and the Pet, understanding the hint, immediately dropped to her knees and crawled on her haunches."

"And the main thing is who exactly." - Folki kicks the Pet that came close, forcing it to crawl a different way. - "My old friend Loki. May the warp eat him, he's mad. And an idiot too."

"Stupider and wilder than you?" - Nerva looked at the space wolf with distrust. Having finished combing Yuna's hair, he kissed the girl on the top of her head. She only closed her eyes. She had been very weak lately. - "It would be easier to kill him."

"It would be better if you all died." - a quiet sound was heard and everyone in the room immediately turned to look at the one-eyed woman leaning over her helmet. She looked at everyone with an angry look. - "Traitors."

Luka clenched his teeth in anger. He immediately jumped out of bed and headed towards the woman, noting with pleasure how she cowered in fear. Now not as bold and tongue-tied as before? The young man grabbed the woman by the leg. Hearing the crunch, he only grinned and threw her to the other end of the quarters like a carcass.

“I don’t understand what else she’s hoping for.” - Luka crunched his head in displeasure before wrinkling his nose. The Pet was so scared that she emptied her stomach. The smell of urine rose in the room. - “How disgusting. Now clean up after yourself.”

The woman was about to take it with a rag, but the Lamenter’s clicking stopped him immediately. The Pet looked at him in fear until Luka nodded towards the mess. “Clean up with your mouth, properly.”

The Imperial soldier began to cry in a hunted manner. Her entire body hunched over, making her resemble the slaves from the lowest levels. But she had not yet become as pathetic as them. At least not yet. Overcoming the nausea, Pet nevertheless dropped to her knees and began to lick her own urine.

“And yet you seemed the most normal of us.” - Nerva looked at the woman’s efforts in surprise, hiding Yuna in his arms as she fell asleep. Luka involuntarily shrugged, ashamed of his behavior in front of the legless girl.

“I hardly torture, unlike many. And anyway, she wanted to kill me. And I gave her a chance.”

“Yes, yes, keep making excuses, little sadist.” - Folki turned away from the disgusting picture to the wall in amazement. Luka himself found what was happening disgusting. But he continued to watch. Since he had ordered Pet to do this, he would continue to watch this mess.

***

Luka loved to watch Malina. How she reads, prays, eats, sleeps. And especially the pleasure she experiences when they have sex. But most of all, the Lamenter loved to watch her take a bath. He never thought that this would capture his brain. But even the first time, when Luka first saw Malina in the water, he could not get rid of this image in his head.

Of course, like any other girl, Malina wanted to be alone with herself. Luka did not mind this. Therefore, most often he just opened the door. And watched the girl bask in the water. How her olive skin blushes from the temperature. How she breathes. How gently she spreads soap and other creams on her skin.

Malina is always beautiful, but especially at such moments.

The Lamenter would like to remain unnoticed so that the girl could rest. But he still could not resist and entered the bathroom, wanting to talk to Malina. Tell a little about the siege of the planet, about the successes in commanding the squad. And of course, the most important thing. To complain.

“Eurydice says that I have to justify the title of captain, can you imagine? I already go to their training and plan boarding tactics when I'm not too lazy. What else does she need?!”

“Maybe you should be a little more serious when you're with your squad.” - the girl suggested, hugging her knees to her chest. - “Well, the last time you were just hanging out on the ship instead of training.”

“Yes, it was so much fun.” - the Lamenter sighed dreamily before looking dejectedly at Malina. - “But I don't want to be serious. The squad will stop loving me.”

“Then don't be.” - the girl shrugged.

“But Eurydice will scold me and the squad won't respect me.” - the man leaned his cheek on the railing like a beaten puppy.

“Then be.”

“How complicated it all is.” - Luka stroked the girl’s fluffy hair, glad that he had not spent an entire hour cleaning the aristocrat’s bathroom in vain. Now Malina, in addition to soap, had a whole set of personal care products. - “And what would you do in my place?”

“Have no idea,” - the girl smiled shyly, causing a response from the Lamenter. - “Unfortunately, they didn’t teach us how to manage an entire squad of space marines on the agro-world. So I’m pretty incompetent in such matters. But perhaps you should listen to Eurydice. Try to find a balance. But still, your subordinates should respect you since you are a captain. And only then love you.”

“You are so smart. I am so lucky to have you.” - Luka admired the girl before his gaze caught on the sponge. - “Let me rub your back.”

“If you wish so.” - the girl awkwardly turned her back to the man and he immediately got down to business. Carefully, just so as not to tear off such lovely skin from the body.

There was something especially intimate in this action. Not just trust. But care. Luka tried to use only a soapy sponge, but the temptation was too strong. The mourner soaped the girl's back with his hand, amazed at how pleasant her skin felt to the touch. How soft it was. Luka snuggled up to Malina, tenderly kissing her shoulder blades.

Maybe they should arrange joint water procedures more often? Next time, Malina could soap Luka's back.

***

“Yeah, that’s it. Good. What an obedient Pet, ha.” - Luka laughs lightly, stroking his mate’s hair. No one in their right mind would think that he’s a vile and mean pervert if they heard his laugh. But here he is. Using his slave’s mouth for sexual pleasure.

He’s already had his fill of her female parts. And besides, he’s torn everything there, causing the Pet to bleed constantly. Both from the inside and the outside. Last time, he bit into her tender flesh so hard that he ended up tearing out a couple of pieces of meat, including a cute button. But he didn’t feel sorry. She didn’t deserve to have this pleasure.

“Take it deeper, stupid. Come on.” - Luka pushes his cock further into her mouth, squeezing her short-cropped hair. In some places, it was torn out to the point of baldness. The pet didn't look its best. There were bruises and black eyes everywhere. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her nose was broken in several places. There were open wounds on her arms and legs. Some of them were already starting to fester.

She looked disgusting, but not yet disgusting enough to start smelling like the Death Guard's abode. In addition, her slippery wet mouth pleasantly wrapped around his huge member. And the one-eyed woman crushing him with her size and saliva was so pathetic that the Lamenter only laughed even more at the sight of her. His balls hit her chin pleasantly.

“And yet once upon a time you prayed to your Corpse on the Throne with this very mouth.” - The Astartes stroked the girl's hair almost tenderly.

Perhaps she has not yet broken completely. Perhaps this slave still has faith in the God-Emperor. To her credit, she had tried to maintain her sanity and loyalty to the Imperium to the end. Even in this hell. And yet, Luka was not about to praise her for it, especially when she sank her teeth into his cock.

“You filthy bitch!” Luka grabbed the woman’s hair so hard he heard it crack. It seemed like another bald spot would appear on her head. Great. Even better, the one-eyed animal screamed in pain, opening her mouth wide just like he wanted. “Don’t think you’ll get away from me. I’ll use every hole of yours if I want.”

And right now, he wanted her mouth, and the Lamenter was not about to deny himself that pleasure. Grabbing the woman’s front tooth, he waited a moment until he saw the realization in her eyes, and pulled it out. As easily as if it were a fake. Pet whined, choking on her own blood.

“p-please, noo.” The woman wheezed in pain, but Luka continued to pull out her teeth with a cold gaze. His cock ached with arousal and he wanted to let his pleasure out. He wanted an obedient mouth and he would get it.

“That’s much better.” Luka smirked at the bloody and toothless woman. Now she wouldn’t be able to bite him anymore. Now she wouldn’t be able to insult him like before. “Now open your vile mouth, stupid slave of the Corpse on the Throne before I pull out something else.”

This time, the Pet obediently opened her mouth as wide as she could despite the heartbreaking pain. It became even more intense as Luka shoved his cock inside. The Lamenter moaned loudly from the intoxicating feeling. No more teeth, only metallic, delicious blood covering his cock.

It felt so good that it took him a little while to cum. The woman, like an obedient slave, swallows his sperm along with his blood. And yet, a few drops still fall on the floor. Without looking at Luka, she immediately begins to lick the floor, causing her tormentor to laugh.

“Wow, you’ve become so smart. Did I really have to treat you like an animal from the very beginning?” - Luka watches with unprecedented sadism as the imperial soldier sheds tears on the cold floor. - “You never deserved the honor of becoming my beloved.”

Unhappy creature. That’s what Luka would have thought earlier, seeing this body writhing in agony. But the young man had already managed to get to know this woman well and knew how rotten she was. He hated her.

***

Luka was in paradise. He couldn't call it anything else. But isn't it paradise? Sitting on the bed while a beautiful girl tries to tame your cock. Malina was too soft and weak, so mostly the Lamenter directed her hips up and down. Up and down.

Her natural lubrication helped the penetration wonderfully. The pleasure that engulfed the girl from head to toe squeezed the walls around the cock as hard as possible. The slurping shameless sounds of flesh on flesh, as well as sighs of pleasure filled the dark room. Pure bliss.

Malina settled her head on Luka's shoulder, unable to cope with the whirlwind of emotions. The Lamenter didn't mind. He wanted to see her soft lips and trembling eyelashes. But if the girl was tired, then it was okay. He would enjoy her sight to his heart's content when they fell asleep together.

The girl seemed to hear his thoughts and slowly raised her head, looking straight into Luka's blue eyes. The man's breath caught at the sight of her.

"You saved me." - Malina carefully grasps the man's chin with her small fingers. And Luka moans from her touch and words. - "You saved me. If it weren't for you, I would have died. I am so grateful. I am so grateful, Angel."

It was too much. Too much even for him. Luka could no longer think normally, speeding up the process. The girl moaned again, but this time fear settled in her eyes. She immediately hid her face on his chest. The mourner only laughed loudly at this. Luka felt drool running down his chin. He probably looked like a madman, but he didn't care.

Yes, he is her Angel, her savior, her lover. No one will take Malina away from him. She will be with him forever. He will take care of it. And all those who want to taste her flesh or offend her can roll into the warp. Luka will gnaw off their legs and arms and make them watch their loved ones die. He will turn them into mincemeat and sew a new cloak for Virgil. Because Malina is only his. Only his.

Luka did not notice how he came. He breathed for a long time, trying to cope with the excitement and evil thoughts. For some time he sat like that, still enjoying Malina's inner flesh. But the Astartes returned to reality again, finally hearing the crying.

“Malina? Hey, hey, what's wrong? What happened?” - Luka knew she was crying. He liked the look of her, but still, he had to calm her down.

“S-sorry, I was just so scared.” - the girl looked at Luka and he saw a waterfall of tears rolling down her cheeks. - “You had such a look.”

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just love you so much that I can't hold back. Your words got me going.”

“Alright. Next time I’ll keep quiet.”

“No, no. Don’t. I want you to say all those sweet things to me. They make me happier.” - Luka gently wipes Malina’s face before letting her lie down on his chest. - “You’re going to say them, right?”

The girl whines on his chest, but nods anyway. Luka smiles and gently kisses Malina’s forehead before running his hand through her dark hair. Poor thing. She’s so easily scared. It’s a good thing the Lamenter saved her and now she’s under his protection.

***

Yuna died. Quietly in her sleep. She did not suffer at all. But the inconsolable Nerva suffered. Luka already regretted his envy of the man, looking at how the Raven Guard sniffed the cut lock of the girl's hair. He felt sorry for his brother. Nerva became even more withdrawn and rude. But most importantly, lonely.

He was similar to Luka in some ways. Unlike Folka, the reverse therapy had a very strong effect on them. They craved love. But the conditions in which they lived did not allow them to have mortal girls. They were too fragile, and the space marines had not yet had time to become a real part of the team.

And still, they could not resist their desire every time. Their call of the heart. Nerva, at least, made sure that Yuna was burned, and not eaten or thrown into a corpse pit. Fortunately, the wild Loki did nothing but sleep. So he didn't try to piss Nerva off. Folki sat silently in the room, trying not to stand out. Even he had gotten used to the legless girl. Without her, the room became completely gloomy. Suffocating.

Luka involuntarily glanced at the one-eyed and toothless woman. She looked back at him like an obedient Pet, smiling like an idiot. Waiting for his orders like a dumb animal. The proud soldier, ready to fight for the Imperium and her loved ones, was gone. The woman Luka had liked in that battle was gone. He didn't miss her. But there was no point in torturing the slave either. She had no place in this quarter.

Having put a chain on the Pet's collar, Luka led her out of the room. She was about to go on all fours, but he forbade her with a gesture. The Lamenter hoped to get to the lower levels as quickly as possible. He couldn't stand her smell any longer. Her gaze. Her presence. Her entire existence was poisoned by him. Luka was not going to pity her. He had been waiting too long for the nightmares about his eaten brothers to stop. He did not need another burden of guilt.

“This is your new home now, Pet.” - Luka unhooks the chain from the collar, but the stupid bitch does not go inside the hall where the unfortunate slaves clung to life. The mourner angrily kicks the woman and she falls forward by inertia. - “Don’t be stubborn, you will like it here. There are the same pathetic slaves here as you.”

But Pet tries to grab the man’s leg, begging with her one eye not to let her go. She tries to say something, but without teeth and with a bitten tongue, she is doing poorly. A month ago, Luka would have been happy with such treatment. But this was not love. Not the one he was looking for. This was animal instinct.

“Let go, worthless.” - Luka hits the woman in the jaw again, causing it to break. The woman screams in pain, rolling on her back. But the Lamenter only turns away from the former Imperial soldier and leaves the lower level. His soul has not become any easier.

He has only gotten rid of the trash.

***

“Luka, do you remember anything from your childhood?” - the girl blinked innocently, clinging to the space marine. Screams were heard again and the frightened Malina, of course, hurried to her savior. And although the screams of the captives quickly died down, the girl was in no hurry to return to bed. Although Luka would not have let her go even if she tried. Perhaps she knew it.

“Not really.” - the man hummed thoughtfully. - “I remember that I had parents. They loved me. I think. I remember our homemade stew. It seemed to me the most delicious in the world.”

“If you bring groceries and a small stove with a saucepan, I can try to cook it.”

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” - Luka gently tucked a lock of hair behind the girl’s ear. How lucky he was to have her. - “But most of the memories are lost. Basically, I only remember my training when I was accepted into the ranks of the Lamenters. I was very proud then. I thought I would become a hero.”

He should have continued to play the part, but then again, Malina was naive enough. Luka wasn’t trying too hard, letting the girl believe in the illusion of the loyalist Space Marines. And yet, he felt like he was walking on a dangerous line. He wanted so much to cry on her shoulder.

He could still hear the cries of his brothers at night. He didn’t miss them. He thought they were pathetic. But the Lamenters still wouldn’t let Luka out of their embrace. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t change his armor to the Red Corsairs’?

“But you’re my hero.” - the girl gently strokes Luka’s hair before running her hand down his cheek. Only then did the Space Marine realize he was crying. - “Do you remember the stories your parents told you before bed?”

“No.” - the man looks at the girl, fascinated. Just a couple of seconds ago, he was lamenting the past. Although here it is, the present right before his eyes. Malina is much better than the empty promises and debt that Astartes promised him. That the Imperium promises. Maybe Luka, deep down, regretted that he sided with the traitors. But now, looking at Malina, he understood that he did not.

It was the right decision.

“I can tell you a fairy tale that helped me fall asleep as a child. It is about a little boy who managed to survive in the desert. And all in order to return home. Because a rose was waiting for him there.” - the girl looks closely at Luka and seeing the right answer in his eyes, she finally smiled. - “Well then, listen.”

Malina made a good storyteller. It was as if Luka himself found himself in the desert, overcoming all its difficulties. It was as if he himself was walking on the hot sand, suffering from hunger and heat. And the terrible cold that comes at night. Cruel winds blew on him, and everywhere he could see the corpses of the same weak children like him. Who could not survive the hardships of the radiation desert. Who could not pass the test.

But the boy was able to survive. And despite the curse that came with him. Despite the thirst for blood, he was able to rise to the heights. Only in order to leave this terrible world. To leave behind other children. And return to the rose that had been waiting for him since its birth. Not knowing that such a fragile flower like her needs protection. Needs an Angel.

For the first time in many years, Luka allows himself to fall asleep first. Allows the fairy tale and the wonderful girl's voice to envelop him like a warm blanket. Allows himself to close his eyes and fall asleep. But even in his dreams, Malina is near.

They will always be together.

[indigowallbreaker]

Look sometimes you overflow with feelings and inflict them on your favorite characters so you don't have to feel everything by yourself.

--

Dorothea had just finished readying for bed when there came a knock at her door. She had been expecting this particular knock all evening, and so was not surprised to find Ferdinand looking sheepish in the hallway. Putting on a banal smile, Dorothea said, “Why, Ferdie! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Good evening, Dorothea. Um, could we speak?”

Dorothea stepped aside to let him through. Though she still didn’t feel quite settled into her rooms here in the Enbarr Palace just yet, she at least had a tea table and two chairs set by the bay windows. Said windows were dark now, with only a few scattered dots of torchlight outside, but Ferdinand still took a seat there expectantly. Dorothea sat across from him. 

Without any preamble whatsoever, Ferdinand said, “How did you know I am— that I had feelings— that I felt that way about Hubert?”

“Oh my, how red your cheeks are! You’re just adorable, Ferdie.”

“Dorothea, please.” He looked away, pulling at his collar. “You said you had known for two years. Exactly what is it you noticed?”

Ever since their chat this morning during their usual garden walk, Dorothea had known this conversation was coming. Still— she made a show of running her fingers through her hair, trying to select a handful of incidents from the two or three dozen she had cataloged over the years that Ferdinand would find indisputable. Though a skilled fighter and an exemplary advisor to Emperor Edie, he did wear his heart on his sleeve a fair bit. 

“Well,” she began after she felt her silence had tortured him long enough, “you treat him differently than the rest of the Eagles.”

“In what way?” He sounded almost offended. 

“You talk about different things. You have private rituals together. Have you ever thought to invite me to one of your coffee and tea dates under the oak tree?”

Ferdinand shifted in his seat. “Those are not dates.” He countered. “And anyway, aside from Edelgard I have known Hubert the longest out of all of you. We share the task of keeping the Empire from ruin—it makes sense that we talk about ‘different things’ than I do with the other Eagles.”

“How about when you gave him that expensive coffee?” 

“I give people gifts all the time. I recall making you cookies before we were even properly friends!”

“Yeah, but you weren’t half as nervous to give me the cookies as you were to give him the coffee.” When Ferdinand didn’t deny that, Dorothea chuckled. “How did it take you so long to figure this out for yourself? If you could see the way you look at him, Ferdie, it would have been obvious to you too.”

Ferdinand set his elbows on the table and covered his face with both hands, letting out a truly helpless-sounding groan. It was adorable to see him so flustered. Dorothea almost told him so again but held back. Instead she let her grin widen as Ferdinand peeked at her between his fingers.

“Do you think he knows? If I have been that obvious…”

“I don’t think so. When it comes to love, Hubie can be pretty clueless.”

“Thank the Goddess.” Ferdinand sat back in his chair. His face was impossibly redder. “The Horsebow Moon ball is in less than a month.”

Dorothea’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t try and change the subject.”

“That is not my intention. I only mean that the ball is the next social event Hubert and I are both required to attend. There is every chance that I will slip and reveal myself.” Ferdinand stood, a determination taking over his expression with the abruptness of cold water. “I shall have to redouble my efforts to move past my affections.”

“Redouble? Ferdie— Ferdinand!”

For he had started marching away towards the door. Jumping to her feet, Dorothea grabbed his arm. “What makes you think you have to get over Hubert?”

Ferdinand looked back, tone stiff as he stated, “It is not worth the risk. We work closely together. If I upset that balance—”

“You might not!” Dorothea put a hand to Ferdinand’s cheek, willing his face to soften again. “He might feel the same way! Or, at worse, you’ll have a few awkward conversations and be done with it. It’s not healthy to bury something like this. The Empire won’t collapse if Hubie finds out!”

“Perhaps not but…” Ferdinand turned his gaze from hers. “Knowing how I feel will put him in an awkward position. It has taken so long for us to get this comfortable with one another— suppose knowing how I feel puts distance between us? I cannot risk our friendship. I cannot put him through such unnecessary turmoil. I… I care about him too much to do that.”  

Dorothea cupped his cheeks with both hands now, forcing Ferdinand’s eyes back to her own, prepared to make every argument against that. But she stopped when those copper eyes met hers. “Oh, Ferdie… You look heartbroken already.” Ferdinand stepped out of her grasp. Dorothea let him, chest tight in sympathy. “You know, you can’t put him through worse than anything that happened during the war,” Dorothea tried one last time.

Ferdinand shook his head. “These things pass. It’s not worth troubling him over. Good night, Dorothea. Thank you for the talk.”

Then Ferdinand stepped through the door, and disappeared into the palace hallways. 

Frustration bubbled up alongside pity inside Dorothea. She strode forward to close and locked the door, far less amused than when she had first opened it. Flopping down on her bed, Dorothea let out a too-long sigh, letting her eyes slip shut. “He’s usually such a brave little bee,” she muttered into the stillness of her room.  

[talesofmetalandmagic]

Azir’s homages

A little soft moment before I go back to whumping him.

Before Azir’s tour begins, the members of his entourage gather together and talk behind his back.

Azir is determined, but also mellow and sad. They should do something to rekindle his spirits.

And since he literally owns NOTHING, since his armor was taken and all he has is rented from his retainers, they decide to start simple and give him gifts.

To keep the famously proud Azir from feeling indebted they present these gifts as an “imperial homage”: something he deserves and should absolutely cherish.

Azir sits from his high seat, the closest thing he has to a throne, and watches in curiosity. He desperately wants to feel like an emperor again, but nothing ever feels… right. Maybe he’ll never be fulfilled again.

Sivir gifts him a splendid medallion, which he can clip to his shoulders to avoid weighing on his neck. She’s plundered it herself in the hope it rekindles some of Azir’s own spirit.

Samira gifts him expensive history books she’s acquired through her connections, so he may catch up with what has happened and feel more at home, as well as rediscovering his love for studies.

Akshan procures him a splendid tea set he can operate on his own, with plenty of fine flavors to chose from. Leisure is valuable, and sometimes even simple pleasures can be of comfort. Plus, it can help with diplomacy.

Then Nasus and Taliyah show up together.

Azir notes they’re both holding packs of fabric – and sure enough, their gifts are both cloaks.

Nasus’ cloak is splendid, heavy and ceremonial. It’s been embroidered by hand, has a border of pearls and the fabric shines like diamonds as he strokes it. It’s something made for exposure, for the public to see. Something befit for the Azir Nasus knows, something of the past.

Taliyah’s on the other hand… there’s some fine embroidery, the wool is nice, but it’s clearly simple and hand-made. It’s something made to be practical, not showy. Nasus has no idea how to even approach her – that’s something she could give her parents, clearly not worthy of an Emperor.

But Taliyah is unfazed.

“I weaved this piece myself, my lord. I supposed you’d have faced the cold, during your time of crisis: may this wool keep you warm, and bring you comfort in times of solitude.”

Azir has indeed faced the cold. He’s spent every night shivering in his cage, unable to hug himself or find a cover. And Taliyah thought of this first and foremost, of his needs as Azir and not something an Emperor of Shurima may need.

Azir gently puts Nasus’ ornate piece to the side and wraps himself in Taliyah’s gentle gift. It’s indeed soft, even softer than his feathers, and it wraps him up like a warm embrace.

“I give you my thanks, sweet girl. It’s comforting, and well-made… and the product of a commendable work.”

Taliyah can weave one of those pieces a day. It’s nothing for her. But to Azir… it truly feels special.

Maybe there’s hope for him, she thinks. Maybe he can learn from this wretched torture… and become a better man.

I hope it for my people, and for him as well.

[jtavington]

Our Own Paths: The way forward

Almost done with this chapter!

There was a part of her that had expected Edelgard’s confession word has heralded equally dramatic physical change: either making her more bestial still or freeing her from her chitinous cage. The woman before her was as Byleth had left her in the deer park. Edelgard perched in the furthest corner of the room, red eyes with well-defined pupils blinking slowly at her. One claw rested on what would have been her knee. Her breath came in huffs but there was nothing animalistic to the sound. A perfectly ordinary Emperor with a skin condition. The thought made Byleth smile despite herself.

“My Regent returns. And cheerful, no less.”

My regent. The words always made Byleth’s throat catch and a funny feeling boom in her chest. Edelgard’s voice caressed those syllables and those syllables alone. At first, Byleth had thought this was Edelgard’s way of taking vengeance, but if she noticed Byleth’s response, she never did anything about it. Byleth was left with flushed cheeks and rapid breathing that she didn’t know what to do with. She had seen other people infatuated, but such things came for humans and not the Ashen Demon. Even after she had learned of love and the rest of the glorious rainbow of emotions, the stammering and blushing of her students was this something she regarded with bemused affections. And now, she understood. Because of a sometime enemy that she had sworn to help die.

Wherever Sothis was now, she was laughing at Byleth.

“I have not seen you since our… discussion.” Her voice was no more capable of smallness or softness than the Flame Emperor’s had been, but something in it seemed vulnerable. “May I assume you have confirmed my story for yourself?”

Byleth swallowed, nodded. “Edelgard, I’m so sorry. If I had known—”

“Don’t.” Her red eyes glittered. “Don’t pity me. I have used that suffering to spur myself to create a world where no one else dies for Crests. A world that will never now exist. Pity those who will come after me. It’s only a matter of time before someone else has a Crest forced on them as I did.”

She thought of how Lavaux had balanced on the edge of the abyss, and trembled. “I swear I will never let this happen again. Dimitri would feel the same if he knew. You’ll be the last, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises that you won’t keep, my regent. Or should I say, Archbishop? It is the church that allows the likes of Arundel and Aegir to thrive. You say Crests are blessings from the Goddess, isolate us from the world, keep us in ignorance, and then you have the gall to act surprised when someone takes all that to their natural conclusion.” She swept a talon over herself. “Behold the fruits of the Church of Seiros.”

“No.” Edelgard did not wish pity, but she could not wallow in delusion either. “That, as you have always said, was your choice. As you made the choice to ally with the very people that tortured you to conquer the continent, not reform your own country.”

“I did.” The red of her irises was brighter still, but the blackness of her sclera that heralded the Hegemon remained nowhere to be seen. And more you don’t even know. I sacrificed the first girl I ever loved to those monsters. No doubt you think that makes me even more depraved. But tell me, enlightened One, my Regent, Archbishop, what other path was open to me?”

“You could have told Dimitri or me! We would have helped you!”

She coughed. “You’re sweet. I can say that now that you aren’t my teacher. Do you think Rhea would have permitted my reform, even if I limited it to Adrestia? Do you think Dimitri as he was at school would have lifted a finger against the likes of Count Galatea for marrying his daughter off against her will?”

Byleth couldn’t answer. Rhea had seemed regretful before she committed suicide, but at Garreg Mach she had been so concerned about the Church’s honor that she had concealed Miklan’s fate. Dimitri had been a good boy, but his need to live up to what the Kingdom’s chivalric culture said he should do had nearly been the ruin of them all. It was the war that had shaken them from their stupor. “There was no other path.” The words were like broken glass in her mouth. “But the way you killed people who merely believed differently from you, stripped a whole country of everything that made it what it was, good along with the bad? I can’t accept that.”

Edelgard glared at her. Byleth heard her as if she had spoken aloud. If there is no other path then mine becomes just by default. She might as well kneel and pledge her loyalty to the Empire that very moment.

But… but the war being necessary, past tense, did not mean that Edelgard’s solution was the only one in the present. The war had cleared away the old world. Rhea was dead. The church could enter an age where it valued all people. Fodlan would no longer need to hide from the rest of the world. All it would take was the sacrifice of one insignificant mercenary. “I propose an alternative. The church will make the truth of the Hresvelgs known. They will no longer twist history for their own purpose or stymie study of the natural world.”

“And how will such a miracle be accomplished?”

One life in exchange for untold thousands, perhaps millions. Her father would have called it a bargain. “I am the Archbishop. I will purify this church from the a’s he cardinals to the lowliest monk.” She knelt before Edelgard. “On the memory of my father I swear to you Edelgard von Hresvelg, that from this day on the Catholic Church of Seiros is your ally. There will be a new world, and I hope with all my heart that you choose to live to see it.”

Edelgard shuddered. Her chitinous shell cracked, reformed, and cracked again. One moment her eyes were almost black, the next Byleth saw a hint of lilac, the next after that they will black again. Byleth sprang to her feet, magic pooling at her fingers. She tried a healing spell. Nothing. “Edelgard. It’s okay. You’re safe. I promise.

“I…know.” Edelgard righted herself. Her eyes were glazed. “To have allies after everything. You. Ferdinand. Almost too much.”

Byleth edged closer and saw a flash of gold. A single button was caked with blood and filth. The shell had not reformed completely. Edelgard’s gaze followed Byleth’s, and she gasped. “It seems,” Byleth managed, “that this is what I must do.”

“Professor. I—thank you.”

“Would you do me a favor, then? Call me by my name. I’m afraid I’ll forgive what it sounds like once I put on that ridiculous headdress.” She stepped back and reached into her cloak to pull out the stuffed dragon. “Jens wanted you to have this. I’ll bring the bear knight to keep him company later.”

Edelgard touched the toy with one finger as if she were afraid it would burst into flames. “A better world for you, Jens. I promise.”

Byleth watched her cradle the stuffed animal to her. There would be speeches to write in decisions to make, but for a little while she could just be Byleth watching the woman who had given her her first crush.

[theoretical-whore]

Easing the Tension (Piter de Vries x F!Reader)

Fandom: Dune 2021 Rating: R (+18 THIS IS SMUT!) Contains: Light nipple play, light dom/sub undertones, PIV, mention of handjobs, choking Words: 1k+

I hate myself I really do. Anyway I saw Dune as soon as I could and fell hard and fast for Piter, which really should be no surprise to anyone. There’s just something so eerily sexy about him. And I’m really into it. Take this garbage.

Piter sighed as he sat on the edge of his bed, lowering his head into his hands. With the Emperor forcing the Harkonnen off Arrakis, the Baron had been nothing short of abysmal to be around. Such stress was taking its toll on the twisted Mentat as well. He lifted his head as he felt hands softly come to rest on his shoulders. With another sigh, he reached up and placed his hand over the one on his left shoulder.

“My darling, you should be asleep.”

“I can’t sleep without you.” She squeezed his shoulder softly. “Knowing the Baron is picking that beautiful brain of yours apart, how am I to sleep soundly?”

He shook his head, turning around to press a kiss to her forehead. He gently traced down her cheek, knowing that the cold metal of his rings against her blanket-warmed skin would cause her to shudder. He felt a flash of pride at the desired reaction. “You worry too much, my darling.”

“Do I?” She leaned her head down to murmur into his neck. “I’ve seen what the Baron is capable of.”

“And you’ve seen what I’m capable of.”

She placed featherlight kisses up his jaw to his ear. “I have. Come to bed, Piter.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “Sleep will likely escape me, my love. With the upcoming exit from Arrakis, and the many demands of the Baron, I am...far too tense.”

She kissed the shell of his ear. “Let me ease your tension, Piter.”

Piter considered his options. He was a logical and methodical, if sometimes calculating, man.  And the proper answer to this, he knew, would be to either give in to sleep’s temptation, or to simply stay awake.

But, much like when they stole away in the night and married in secret, Piter found himself unable to refuse himself of what his heart wanted. And right now, his heart wanted the loving touch of his wife. He was a torturer, a murder, a man most sane beings would consider evil. And yet the only thing he could think of as he removed his mercilessly intricate clothing was how she made his heart flutter.

Stripped down to his underclothes, he returned to the bed they shared. “I suppose you have something…specific in mind?”

Y/N got a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I do. Come, let me help you…unwind.”

Piter sighed as her hands settled themselves on his chest as she straddled him, her fingers dancing their way up his torso, to his neck, and up to cup his jaw. She gave him an almost devilish grin when she felt his cock respond to her touch. She pressed her lips to his, kissing him with all the love and lust in her soul. Her lips tasted sweet, like her favorite wine that she must have had with her dinner. He found her kiss to be far more addicting than any alcohol, however.

“You are a temptress…” he muttered into her mouth as she ground down on him. “A witch. You have me under your spell.”

“Mmm…” she hummed as she pulled her nightdress over her head, baring her breasts to his gaze. “I didn't hear a complaint there.”

“How am I to complain?” One hand went to her breast, his fingers, still clad in cold metal, pinching and tweaking at her nipple as it hardened. His mouth almost watered at the sound of pain that escaped her lips. “I have the most beautiful woman in the universe in my bed. And she’s sworn her loyalty…” She gasped at the sting of his teeth, suddenly scraping against the nape of her neck. “Not to House Harkonnen…” He bit again, pinching her nipple at the same time, and the sound she made was worth more than all the spice in the universe. “But to me. She’s sworn herself to me alone.” The hand not on her chest went to her throat. “Truly, what have I to complain about?” Piter hesitated for a moment before squeezing. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop.”

“I want this,” she said.

He nodded, but still didn’t squeeze, instead releasing her throat. “Take me inside you first.”

She nodded, quickly reaching down and freeing his cock from his underclothes and pulling her own panties to the side. She hovered for merely a moment, giving his cock a few strokes just to make sure it was at full mast, before sinking down onto him with an almost pornographic moan.

“How lewd…” he said, keeping his composure despite the velvet heat surrounding him. His hand returned to her throat, and this time, he didn’t hesitate to squeeze. The gasp that escaped her was nothing short of euphoric and Piter had to suppress a moan of his own. After all, he must always keep dignified.

His cold rings dug into her heated skin as she rode him, his hand never leaving her throat. Piter’s poise gave way to soft grunts as both he and Y/N grew closer and closer to their climaxes. Being as smart as he was, Piter grew bored of things quickly. But he didn’t think he could ever get bored of watching his wife’s breasts bounce as she fucked herself on him, or hearing the positively enchanting sounds that she made, or the taste of her lips against his.

He was sadistic and cruel, but he held nothing but love for the woman who melted the ice around his heart.

His vision blurred as he spilled himself into her, the feel of her climax around him too much to bear.

She went boneless against him, and he was quick to catch her, gently lowering her to the bed beside him. “Are you okay, my love?”

She hummed and gently stroked his cheek. “I’m fine. How are you? Less tense I hope?”

He chuckled softly. “Yes, my love. Much less tense. Thank you.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, curling into his side. “I hope you can sleep now…”

He brushed her hair out of her face. “I’ll sleep soundly, my love.” She hummed again, and her breathing evened out as she fell asleep. Piter couldn’t help but smile. His hand trailed down her bare body and came to rest on her slightly rounded belly. And he swore to himself, as he did so soften, as he too was lulled into sleep, that he would do anything to protect her and the life growing within her. If it killed him, he would keep his wife and child away from the Baron, away from the dangers of Arrakis. Safe. He would keep them safe.

[weepylucifer]

Tosses another dinluke at you. This one’s about caring for each other

Luke awakens from uneasy sleep filled with nightmares, and immediately can tell that today is going to be terrible.

The occasional phantom pain in his wrist, that he can take. The old, flaring ache, the strange feeling that the hand is still there, which somehow makes both wearing and not wearing the prosthetic feel uncomfortable - well, it’s a drag, but it’s only one part of his body. With meditation to aid him, he finds he can usually sequester it off, away from the rest of him, and go through his day more or less like normal. But sometimes, each and every scar caused by the Force lightning clamors in pain, especially when he’s been dreaming about how he got them. This is the worst, because he hasn’t found a good way to cope with it yet. He can’t make the pain stop, and it’s driving him up the walls.

There’s no way he can teach his padawan like this.

Fortunately, Grogu’s father is visiting, and will probably be more than happy to entertain the kid for a day.

Luke hasn’t gotten the measure of the Mandalorian yet. He talks little, projects an aura of intimidation, being covered in armor all over like that, but he seems very attached to his child, so attached that Luke reckoned upon getting Grogu that breaking their bond would do a lot more harm than good. He’s come over for a few visits to far, and he practically curls over Grogu like a loth-cat over its young. But Luke doesn’t exactly know anything about him besides that.

Also, it’s dawned on Luke that he knows nothing about Mandalorians. He knows Boba Fett is one, but that’s pretty much it.

So he’s not exactly comfortable admitting his plight to the man. What if he perceives it as weakness? So when he emerges from his bedroom to greet him, he is brief, almost curt, making himself speak through the pain.

“I’m sorry, but there’ll be no lesson today. Can you just watch Grogu for me? I’m... something else has come up.”

The Mandalorian looks... like an expressionless helmet on a suit of armor. But his voice betrays some surprise when he says, “Um, yeah. Sure. Not a problem.”

He’s justified in his surprise; Luke has never cancelled Grogu’s lessons before. “Thanks,” Luke says and repeats, “Sorry this is on such short notice.”

The last thing he sees before beating his retreat back to his room is Grogu cooing and reaching a little hand out towards him in concern, doubtlessly feeling in the Force that something is amiss with Luke. He closes the door but can still hear the Mandalorian reassuring the kid to the best of his ability, “Sorry, buddy, your bajuri seems to be busy. No floating stuff today.”

Grogu emits the sad coo again.

“Hey, it’s okay. Wanna go to the pond and look for frogs?”

...

“We can take the Phoenix over there.”

A happy squeak tells Luke that the plan has met approval.

“You like flying with the jetpack, huh? Yeah, me too.”

Their voices recede, Grogu babbling happily and his father talking back pretending to understand him, and then the temple is silent. It dawns on Luke that the Mandalorian is attractive, the juxtaposition between the gleaming armored fighter and the father so gentle with his kid intriguing. The thought is brutally cut short by another sharp flash of searing pain.

He whines and flings himself onto his bed, curling up and tugging at his hair with both hands, hoping beyond reason that the pain in his scalp will distract him from the pain in his everywhere else.

--

Luke has been trying on and off to meditate or at least nap for several hours, when he hears a knock at the door. It can only be Mando.

“Um. Master Jedi?”

The Mandalorian has never asked Luke’s name, maybe he reckons Luke goes by his self-assumed title, just like he seems perfectly comfortable going by Mando. Yes?, Luke wants to ask, but he’s scared it’ll come out an undignified whimper.

“I made some dinner for the kid,” the Mandalorian continues. Is it dinner already? “I thought maybe you’d want some, so I’ll leave it out here.”

Luke blinks at the door. He wasn’t expecting this.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it, it’s, ah. Aruetiise usually find our cooking too spicy. So I made some bread to go with it, it. Helps. With the spice. I used some stuff from your storage for it, hope that’s okay.”

The silence persists.

“Putting it down now. Okay. Good luck with your... Jedi business.”

There’s a sound of, indeed, something being placed on the floor, then footsteps walking away.

Luke opens the door. There is a tray of food waiting for him. An amazingly delicious smell wafts from it and his stomach growls loudly, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten today.

So this man can cook. This man baked bread for him. Luke tries to imagine him, in the kitchen, doing that. Maybe he put Luke’s apron on over the armor. The thought makes him giggle for the first time today. Truly Grogu’s father is full of surprises.

--

It’s already getting dark out when Luke carries his empty plate back to the temple’s little kitchen. He finds Mando there with Grogu on his lap, as always in complete armor, simply watching as Grogu plays with a small silver ball.

Luke clears his throat. “Hi,” he says eloquently and carries his plate to the sink.

The Mandalorian nods in greeting. “All done in there?”

“Not exactly.” Somehow, Luke can feel Mando refocus on him, even through the helmet. He knows he must look rumpled, his hair mussed, his face drawn, and using one of his robes as a shawl. He wishes he had the ability to suffer more attractively, or at least the energy to make himself up a bit.

He sighs and sits down at the table with them. Somehow he feels like, as fair payment for the meal, the Mandalorian deserves his honesty in return. “Full disclosure, I wasn’t doing... Jedi stuff in my room. I just... I’m unwell.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Mando’s head tilts towards Grogu. It becomes apparent why when he asks, “Anything catching?”

“No. No, Grogu will be fine.” Luke folds his hands on the tabletop. Well, he’s already at it being honest. “Do you ever get the feeling of... old scars, hurting again? Like they’re new?”

“Your hand?” the Mandalorian asks. Ah, of course, he’s perceptive, he’s noticed the fake hand.

“Not just the hand. Everywhere. All over.” Luke grits his teeth as his nerves alight again along the lightning patterns. Maker, he hates this. It’s like the shrivelled old prune continues to torture him from beyond the grave.

“All over?” Mando repeats. The helmet’s modulator dulls emotion, but Luke guesses it’s concern he hears.

“Yeah. Look.” Following a sudden impulse, he gets up and shucks his robe, unbuttons his shirt and slips that off too. “Here, see?” He turns himself this way and that, catching the warm lamplight. “And yes, they go all the way down.”

Helmet or no, he can hear the Mandalorian’s breath catch. His hand, the one that’s not keeping Grogu from tumbling off his lap, twitches... rises... reaches out... Luke keeps himself very still. For a breath or two, he thinks that if the Mandalorian were to touch him, trace the lightning bolts on his torso with his gloved hand, then he might feel better. Might be soothed.

The hand is lowered to the table again as if embarrassed. Luke lets out his breath and tries not to slump in disappointment. “I’ve never seen scarring like that before,” the Mandalorian says. “And I’ve seen my fair share.”

“Force lightning,” Luke explains, before remembering that his companion knows nothing about the Force. “A Sith torture technique.”

“You were tortured?” Mando asks, then amends, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Luke sits back down, hugging his knees to his chest. “Pffft. It’s not like I’m not already thinking about it.” He rubs his hands down his arms at another shiver of pain. “The Emperor did this. When I went to confront him on the second Death Star.”

“It was you on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks.

“Yeah. The Emperor wanted me to join the dark side. I refused. I had no idea he’d just start frying me with lightning. I had no idea this was something the Force could even do.”

“But then you... killed the Emperor?” The Mandalorian is clearly guessing, and Luke finds himself astonished that there’s someone out there still who doesn’t know the whole Luke Skywalker Saga.

“I did not,” he says. “My father killed the Emperor. All I did was lie on the ground and be tortured.” He picks at his wrist where the synthetic skin joins the organic. “I’m not even bitter about that. It ended up saving my father’s soul. But sometimes, I have nightmares about it, you know? And in those dreams, my father... doesn’t help me. He just stands and stares at me and that’s worse than the pain. Because, when it actually happened, there was... a moment when I thought he wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t care and he’d watch me die. For a moment there, I lost hope, and that’s the worst of it really, knowing that about myself.”

“Why was... your father on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks, and huh, apparently he hasn’t heard about the Luke-and-Vader-connection either.

“It’s a long story,” Luke says, because it is, and he’s tired. His scars still hurt, not in these sudden flashes anymore, but as a pulsing, bone-deep, constant ache. But his chest feels a bit lighter for having talked about it.

The Mandalorian now gestures at said chest, instead of asking for the story again. “Can you take painkillers for those?”

Luke shakes his head. “They don’t help much. The pain’s in here.” He taps his temple. “I’ve just been trying to sleep it off, but it hurts too much to get to sleep.”

Mando hisses out a breath, and Luke is by this point fairly certain he’s commiserating. “Phew. Sounds like you need a drink.”

This makes Luke laugh, and he appreciates that. “You know, I’d love a drink, actually.”

After Grogu is put to bed, Luke gets a glass of spotchka and Mando’s company (he tilts the helmet off just far enough to free his mouth in quick, almost furtive gestures and takes tiny sips). His head’s starting to feel pleasantly swimmy when he says, “You know, I’ve just bared all my troubles to you - well, not all, but some, and pretty hefty ones - and yet I know... three facts about you, maybe.”

“Hmm. Yeah, that doesn’t seem fair,” the Mandalorian says amusedly. “What would you like to know?”

“Your name would be a good start,” Luke suggests.

The way the Mandalorian fidgets with his glass, he looks almost flustered. “Ah... Din. Din Djarin.”

“Luke Skywalker.” Luke grins and reaches across the table, ignoring the pinpricks of pain up his arm, to grip Mando’s - Din’s - hand. “It’s nice to have met you, Din Djarin.”

-----

In the following months, these flare-ups return occasionally, but none in such intensity. Luke knows that it’s only a matter of time, though. He’s beginning to suspect that this might stay with him forever. But he’s not as horrified at the prospect as he once was, after talking about it to Din and being neither judged nor pitied. After Din didn’t look at him worried like Leia, or attempted clumsily to walk on eggshells around the topic like Han, and didn’t think less of Luke, and didn’t act like Luke’s admittance to his issues tarnished some sort of larger-than-life image of the glowing Jedi hero. How odd it is to think of a future that has someone in it he can rely on in such an uncomplicated manner. He hasn’t had anyone in his life to rely on - or dared to think of himself as needing this - since... well, since Aunt Beru, probably.

During these months, Grogu has steadily progressed in his studies. Din has visited the temple with some regularity, but Luke has yet to get used to him. How could he, when there’s so much new and exciting to discover about Din still? He finds himself looking forward to these visits, and missing Din when absent, almost as much as Grogu does. Din can only ever stay a few days at once, and Departure Day is a sad one for all two inhabitants of the makeshift Jedi school. (Luke’s not sure what Din does when he’s not here. It can’t be so important, right? Surely not more important than spending time with Grogu? Than talking to Luke?)

This time, though, when Din shows up at the agreed-upon time, it’s weird. He speaks even less than usual, he seems to retreat into his armor even more, he opts to sleep in his ship instead of one of the many empty bedrooms in the temple that Luke has yet to fill with more students. And he barely holds or even touches Grogu, and that tips Luke off. These other observations he could chalk up to paranoia and his own desire to coax Din out of his (figurative!) shell. But that last one tells him that something is off.

Grogu can feel it too, and confusion and worry is seeping off of him into the Force. Luke tries to calm him and get him to sleep, but in the morning, Grogu’s still a bit anxious, and their collective worry mounts when breakfast passes by and Din fails to emerge from his ship. The two of them are reflecting their worry back off each other, and it’s getting aggravating, so Luke gets up and resolves to investigate.

“Okay, Grogu, can you go in the garden and play with Artoo? I’ll go look what’s up with your dad.”

Grogu immediately calms now that he knows the matter is being taken care of, and it warms Luke’s heart to see how much the kid has grown to trust him.

He gains entrance to the ship - it’s not the same one that Grogu has shared memories of with him, but similar enough in layout. The cockpit is empty, so he descends down a narrow ladder into what probably passes for crew quarters here. Peering around a corner, he finds Din hunkered down with his back against the durasteel wall, his threadbare cape wrapped around him as a blanket. He hasn’t noticed Luke come in yet, and that’s wrong in and of itself, and he’s shivering so hard it makes his beskar rattle slightly. As Luke lays eyes on him, he breaks into a horrid wet cough beneath the helmet, the modulator rendering it rasping and metallic.

Okay, something must be done.

“Din?” Luke asks, peeking his head out into open view. “It’s Luke, I’m in here now. You sound like my dad, kriffing-- how long has it been like this?”

Din’s head whips around in Luke’s direction, and he probably only doesn’t flinch because he’s trained to not flinch at things. “I’m fine,” he claims - outrageously lying - and tries to drag himself to his feet, hands bracing against the wall behind him.

Luke is already rushing to his side. “No, no, just stay down. There, that’s right, just sit. Are you wounded? Sick?”

Din tilts his head back against the wall. “Not wounded.”

“Well, that’s... good.” Luke squats next to him, unsure how to proceed. In the Force, he can feel exhaustion and pain radiating off of Din, but that doesn’t tell him what exactly is wrong. He tries to touch his wrist and, of course, meets beskar.

“Din, I realize this might be a... big ask, but can you remove your helmet so I can check your temperature?”

A stuttering sigh comes out through the modulator. “I don’t...”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Luke hurries to add. “It’ll just be for a few seconds. Oh, oh I have a blindfold back at the temple! I can run back and get it.”

Din shakes his head. “It’s okay. You’ve seen it before.” He reaches a shaking hand up and with a hiss, the locks on the helmet disengage. He slides it up and off and Luke takes in his face. It’s flushed, his hair matted and sweaty, his eyes bleary, and yet. It’s as attractive as Luke remembers.

Shaking these thoughts off, because there certainly are more important things now, Luke reaches out and puts his ungloved hand on Din’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he hisses. “I’m taking you back to the temple, I have medicine there.”

He’s already in the process of wrapping an arm around Din’s torso to help him up when Din shakes his head. “No. Gotta stay here.” His speech is washed out, his eyes glassy, and Luke’s concerned he’s not talking sense.

“You’ll be more comfortable at the temple.”

Din tries to brush him off with alarmingly feeble hands. “No. The kid.”

Ah. “I don’t think Grogu can catch anything off of you. Different species and all that.”

“You don’t know.”

Well, strictly speaking, Luke doesn’t. Yoda never mentioned anything like that. For a moment, Luke looks around the room, but his old mentor’s ghost is unhelpfully absent. He settles for promising, “I’ll make sure he keeps his distance.”

Din shakes his head again. “Kid’s going to...” He’s interrupted by another coughing fit. “...try to heal me. Don’t want him to overdo it.”

Even miserably sick, Din’s first concern is for the child. It makes something warm swell in Luke’s chest, and he realizes with no small start that Oh, this might be something a lot more than attraction he’s dealing with.

It doesn’t matter now. “I’ll make sure Grogu doesn’t overtax himself then. I’m his teacher, it’s what I’m here for.” Not at home to any more protests, Luke uses the Force to help him lift Din up in his arms. “Try to have a little faith in me, okay?”

“I’m fine here on my own,” Din insists.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Luke says distractedly as he starts off towards the exit ramp, bridal-carrying a whole Mandalorian warrior.

Din is not cooperative, doing his damndest to make himself a dead weight. “I’m Mand’alor,” he mutters, eyes half-closed. “I don’t have to take that tone from you.”

Luke doesn’t know what that word means. Maybe it’s a special type of Mandalorian. He’ll ask later, if he remembers. “Right now, you’re sick, that’s all,” he says, taking them at a brisk pace back to the temple. “You need attention.”

Din’s answer is a displeased groan. “My own damn fault for taking off the helmet.”

In the moment, Luke wonders if he means that in a metaphysical sort of way, like he’s being punished by the ancient Mando gods for his heresy. He’ll later discover that it’s much more prosaic than that: Din has worn the helmet since he was a child, and it’s protected him amiably against any airborne diseases. Now that he’s decided to start taking if off occasionally amongst other people, his immune system is being thrown into a panic by all these new unfiltered things to be breathed in, and he has prompty caught some kind of space flu.

For now, he gets Din into bed, armor and all, and heads for the ‘fresher and the aid kit he stashed there.

--

Din is burning.

Din is glacier-cold.

He sleeps irregularly in this soft bed he doesn’t recognize, and wakes himself with fits of coughing. He gropes for lucidity and gives up on it again in intervals. At some point, someone took his helmet - no, he remembers taking it off, or was that a dream? He has a memory of being carried in somebody’s arms, but who would carry him in full beskar? Who would care to? He’s not on his ship and he’s not alone and this is wrong. He’s been sick before, even with the helmet: from infected wounds or bad food or bad water or being out in harsh weather too long during a job. He’s always ridden it out by himself, if he was too far off to stumble his way back to the covert. But this isn’t the covert - that’s long gone, isn’t it? - and someone is here.

The person, at some point, helps him sit up and removes his armor, and Din would panic - does - but the person’s hands on him are gentle, and there’s some voice telling him that “It’s just to make you more comfortable, I’m putting it right next to the bed, I’m not taking it away, see? It’s right here waiting for you” and he’s too exhausted to put up a fight, and why would they lie? If they wanted the beskar for themselves they would’ve killed him already. But the person doesn’t. The person gives him water when he’s coughed his throat raw. The person drapes a blanket over him, which he shucks off during the hot spells only to grope for it again during the cold ones. The person puts a hand on his forehead and it’s even more cool and soothing than the damp cloth they also provide.

At some point, the person puts something in the bed with him - some alive thing, some small and fussy thing, some important thing with small green claws and wide moon eyes and large ears that are the softest thing that Din’s ever touched. He reaches out for it on instinct, just to pet the downy white hairs on its little head, and the person’s voice says from somewhere far above, “Okay, Grogu, I promised your father to take this slow. We’ll do this gradually, so you don’t tire yourself. You understand? Small healing. Easy.”

The small and precious thing makes a displeased sound, and Din wants to soothe it again. The voice replies, “I know how you feel, I know you want to fix it all right now, but I promised, okay? Your father will be very disappointed in me if we don’t do this just like he’d have it. And we don’t want that, hm?”

Din hears a coo close to his ear, feels a tiny, three-clawed hand touching him, and then there’s a sudden warmth spreading in his chest, not like the clammy heat of the fever but different, pleasant. Suddenly it seems easier to lie back and get some real, truly restful sleep, and this he does.

This instance repeats several more times, over days, until there is a point at which Din wakes - still sore, shaky, and with his muscles aching from having trembled so much - but with the fever broken and his head clear enough to string a coherent thought together.

He’s vaguely aware of a warbling voice a short distance away that he can’t quite yet discern. The room is dim, with only a singular lamp by his bedside spreading a warm light. There is a window above the bed but no light is coming in. It must be late in the evening - Grogu’s bedtime, is what Din’s inner alarm clock tells him without fail. And indeed, when he raises his head, he spots a small crib across the room that can only be Grogu’s, and Luke is there, rocking it in gentle motions. It is him who’s doing the crooning - singing Grogu to sleep, Din realizes abruptly. As he focuses, the lullaby slowly starts to make some sense: it’s in Bocce, which Din is about as conversant in as Tusken. He’s actually heard the tune before; it’s a nonsensical little ditty that settlers on Tatooine sing to their children.

He stretches out an arm and points a shaky finger at Luke.

“Hick,” he accuses, his voice gritty like he gargled a mouthful of sand.

Luke spins around, his blue eyes widening. “If you’re trying to insinuate that only sand-encrusted, desert-dwelling hicks speak Bocce,” he says, “then you are correct.” He smiles. “It’s good to see you back with us.”

“You’re from Tatooine,” Din says, and wonders why this is so important to him. Maybe it’s because learning things about Luke is like putting a puzzle together. There’s somehow a whole bunch of people that Luke is - he’s fascinating, he’s vexing, he’s confusing, and Din has no idea why he’s this interested in the first place. Well, he does have some clue, but it’s best not dwelled upon. Luke has his Creed and his life, Din has his wholly different Creed and life, and it’s not like the interest can be mutual anyway.

Or can it? Luke seems to have been here for days, watching him heal. Din’s mind veers away from phrases like “nursing” and “caring for” because, well, it implies a needing and a being needed that’s not usually extant for him. He takes care of himself, mostly, that is how it’s been for years. Decades...

Luke nods. “Anchorhead represent. Go Womp Rats.”

Din wrinkles his nose. “Anchorhead? There’s nothing there.”

“You’re telling me! Come talk to me about it when you’ve lived there for nineteen years.” He crosses the room to come perch on the edge of Din’s bed. “Which you won’t, you’re the king of Mandalore.”

Oh, shit. Yeah. He’s probably missing a council meeting right now. Wait. “Who told you?”

“You talked a lot when you were feverish.” Luke passes a hand over Din’s brow. He’s done that before, but it’s very different now that Din is awake for it. “It seems to have broken.”

“You had the kid heal me,” Din surmises. He can’t waste breath right now on wondering what else he said to Luke, when the fever had him. “I told you not to do that.”

“I had him heal you slowly, step by step, so he wouldn’t exhaust himself. Just a little every day,” Luke explains.

“He okay now?”

“He’s-” Luke begins to answer, then stops himself. A truly mischievous smile spreads on his lips. “Prince Grogu is resting, your highness. But yes, your majesty, he’s perfectly fine and healthy.”

“Stop.” Din swats a hand at him. “Not... ‘majesty’. We don’t even do that. It’s just ‘Alor. Actually, it’s just Din.”

Luke dodges his hand and almost falls back onto the bed, laughing. “Oh, dear. Please, your worship, accept this humble Jedi’s apology--”

“I mean it, stop--” He probably sounds petulant. He can’t bring himself to care.

Luke’s smile gentles. So do his eyes, impossibly blue. Huh. He’s beautiful. “I’m just teasing you,” he says, beautifully. “I know this doesn’t change anything here. Just another facet of the man I’ve been getting to know.”

“Ah. So you’ve been.” Din clears his throat. That feels awful, as it is still very dry. “Getting to know me. Huh?”

Does this qualify as flirting? This is probably awful. Din’s not good at this. And anyway, it’s still unclear if Luke is actually--???

The softest pair of lips in the galaxy (the galaxy!!!) is on his forehead. Din’s chest implodes. He can feel Luke’s smile on his skin. He’s never felt anything like it before. How is this happening? He’s most likely still sick, and this is a fever dream.

“I’d like to get to know much more of you,” Luke says, withdrawing, still smiling, his eyes like sun-streaked oceans. Din has no breath in his chest.

He delays his reaction two seconds too long, and Luke’s expression begins to falter. “I’m... sorry, you’ve just recovered, and here I am putting... this on you.” He gestures broadly at himself in his entirety. “I... hold on, I’ll go get you, um, a glass of water or something...”

Din would like a glass of water. He would not like Luke to leave. The latter wins out. “Wait.” He grasps Luke’s wrist before he can get up. “I didn’t mean... I would, um. Like to get to know you also.”

Luke stills, his face a turmoil of emotion. How is this the same man who looked so utterly serene to the point of expressionlessness when they first met?

Din figures it’s way past time he made a move. Luke’s already gone and bared himself so much. It’s only fair that he meet him halfway, Din thinks and kisses him.

[sergeantsporks]

Whatever It Takes

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

TW: Self-harm, attempted suicide, emotional manipulation

“While I’ve got you here, want to hear the complete history of wild magic? I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting, considering that you’re old enough to have lived through it.”

“I am not, you little brat. Shut your mouth, I don’t want to listen to your voice.” 

“Yeah? What if I don’t want to shut up? What if I feel like singing?"

Hunter is a difficult prisoner to keep, and Lilith and Eda are about to find that out the hard way.

Ao3

Ch 4/4: Set Free (to fly into another cage)

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3

“… Lilith? Do… do you really hate me?”

Lilith jumped at Hunter’s slurred voice, twisting to look at him. His eyes were only half-open—the sleeping potion hadn’t quite worn off yet. Still, she reached for her staff, just in case. He was still white as a sheet, and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. “You’re still in shock—I’m going to go get more—”

“Do you?” he pressed, wincing at every word. His palisman stared at her judgmentally, protectively wiggling down further into Hunter’s hair.

Lilith twisted her hands in her lap. “I… I hate what you represent. Emperor Belos. The coven I served faithfully for thirty years of my life that threw me out like trash. My replacement, my failure, the fact that there’s always someone better than me, someone more favored, someone born better than me in some way that I can never catch up to with hard work.” She sighed. “But… the weight of being coven head will crush you. I hate what you do for the emperor, but at the end of the day… You can be annoying, but I can’t hate you—in another reality where I didn’t have Edalyn, I would be you.”

The barest ghost of a smile crossed his face. “You… wish you could be me…”

Lilith snorted. “Yeah, right, brat.” She took in a deep breath. “Let me ask you something: why does it matter?”

“…huh?”

“Why does it matter if I hate you or not? You’re a loyal coven member, right? And I’m a traitor. By all rights and purposes, we should hate each other. You have Belos—why do you need my love?”

She got up, going back to the kitchen and grabbing another bottle of sleeping potion. “I don’t know why I’m bothering. You probably won’t even remember this,” she murmured, uncorking the bottle, “Alright, sleep for you until your nerves settle. You look awful.”

Hunter’s hand twitched, like he was trying to grab her hand, and his palisman fluttered down to his shoulder, chirping comfortingly. “I didn’t try to kill myself because I failed,” he mumbled. His dazed eyes stared into hers desperately, like he needed her to understand what he was talking about. “It was just that I was more useful to Belos dead.”

A chill ran down her spine, and Lilith’s hands shook as she held the sleeping potion to his mouth, tilting it back. He fell back asleep as his palisman nuzzled his face, and she tossed the empty bottle down onto the table, her hands still shaking. She tucked them into her lap, willing herself to be still.

Still, she couldn’t forget his magenta eyes locked onto hers, and how desperate they looked.

Titan, that had been freaky.

Lilith could imagine being so scared of Belos’ disappointment, so scared of the punishment he would met out that she could despair and take her own life.

But the idea of willingly tying the noose around her neck because she thought it was what Belos would want-!

That was a level of loyalty—really more border-lining on blind adoration and worship—that she couldn’t understand.

Lilith briefly thought about calling Eda and telling her about this disturbing new development, but she shut her mouth before she actually made a sound.

“Hootcifer?” she called faintly.

The house demon was at her side in a moment. “I heard, Lulu.”

Lilith rubbed her temples. “Can you just… keep an eye on him for a bit? I’m going for a walk. I need to clear my head.”

“You can count on me!”

Lilith patted her friend’s face absentmindedly and wandered outside.

She’d always known how Belos was, she told herself, she’d always known how good he was at manipulating people.

She’d just… never quite considered the ramifications of only having Belos as an influence. Coven training, and old self-preservation habits still kicked in on her sometimes. But at least she’d had a different upbringing. She could take a step back and remind herself what was right and wrong.

No, she realized with sudden clarity, she didn’t hate Hunter at all.

She just pitied him.

Xxx

Eda traipsed down the stairs to see Hooty rocking a passed-out Hunter back and forth, singing some demon lullaby about eating bugs to him while Hunter’s palisman flew frantically around him, pecking at her house demon. She had to stop and stare at that for a moment, just trying to figure out what was going on.

“Do I want to know?”

“Lulu asked me to watch him! I think he likes my singing, he hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s because he’s drugged, Hooty.”

“Oh.” Hooty dumped Hunter back on the couch unceremoniously, and his palisman fluttered down, warbling angrily. “I guess drugging your kids to go to sleep isn’t a parenting choice I’d considered.”

“Drugging my—Hooty, he’s our prisoner, not a new kid! Are you kidding me? He’s the Golden Guard!”

“Tell that to Lulu.”

Eda pinched the bridge of her nose. Oh, no. “Explain that statement right now.”

“She feels bad for him.”

“’Bout time. Of course she feels bad for him, everyone feels bad for him, he’s a tragic-faced little angst-ball, that doesn’t mean we’re going to adopt him! He’s tried to kill us several times, for titan’s sake!”

Hooty flopped down over Hunter, earning more angry tweets and pecks from his palisman. “I think he’s fun. He reminds me of Lulu. You keep him prisoner, I’m going to be his friend!”

“Hooty, that’s very nice of you to offer, but we already established that we’re not going to torture him. Get off of him before his bird has an aneurism.”

Eda heard a knock on the door, and she gestured frantically to Hooty. “Hide the kid!” she hissed.

Hooty swallowed Hunter whole.

“Oh—okay, that happened. You are going to spit him back up, Hooty.”

He nodded unconvincingly while Hunter’s palisman went ballistic, flying up and down the length of Hooty’s neck, chirping anxiously. Eda ignored them, opening the door to see Darius standing outside. “Coven head. How nice.” She stepped outside, closing the door behind her, hiding the Hooty situation. “Get off of my lawn.”

“Oh, I’m not here to pick a fight!” Darius said, his voice oozing with fake sincerity, “I came to inform you that I’m relatively certain I saw the owl beast! And it attacked me!”

“Aw, really? Shame. Well, you know how it is! That thing’s a wild animal, can’t control it!”

Darius sniffed. “Disgusting creature. Yes. But I believe that someone else may have been controlling it.”

It took every ounce of Eda’s very limited self-control not to haul off and punch him in the face. The owl beast inside her snapped angrily at the insult. “Ohhhhh is that so?”

“Yes. One question for you. Where. Is. Your. Sister?”

Xxx

Lilith turned on the path back towards the Owl House. She shouldn’t leave Hunter alone with Hooty for too long—she adored her friend, but he could be a little much to some people.

She froze in her tracks as she saw Darius, talking to Eda. Eda gave her a go away look.

“NO, Darius, my sister has NOT been controlling my owl beast form,” she said loudly, “I don’t know WHY you’d think that, and I CERTAINLY don’t know where she is!”

Lilith ducked around the back of the house, coming in the kitchen door. If Darius found Hunter—it was all over. She ran into the living room, but Hunter wasn’t there anymore.

Then she spotted Hunter’s palisman fluttering around Hooty’s face, tweeting angrily. She pointed one finger at the ground. “Spit him up, Hootcifer.”

“Eda told me to hide him.”

“I’ll take care of that now. Spit him up.”

Hooty retched, and coughed up a roughly Hunter-sized owl pellet. Lilith tore it apart while Hunter’s palisman perched on her shoulder, watching anxiously.

“There, see, he’s fine,” she told the bird, lifting Hunter up, “He didn’t even wake up.”

The cardinal settled down on its witch, warbling softly.

There was a loud bang from outside, and a lot of yelling. “GET OFF OF MY PROPERTY!” Eda yelled, her voice rising to the shriek of her harpy form.

Hunter’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at Lilith. She promptly dropped him.

“Ack! Sorry.”

Hunter blinked, disoriented. “Wha—what’s going o—”

Lilith drew a plant glyph, vines tangling up Hunter’s hands before he could grab his palisman. “Darius is here,” she whispered, “He’s looking for me—and by extension, probably you.”

Hunter’s face, surprisingly, paled at that. “Eda won’t beat him—you only beat us last time through the element of surprise. This time, he’s made the first move.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you’re quite pleased with that.”

He shook his head, white as a sheet. “Don’t let him find me,” he begged.

Lilith’s heart thudded in her chest, barely daring to hope… “What? Why not? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To go back?”

“No! Not like this! If Darius finds me, then Belos will know I was captured, and—I have to get out of here!”

“And go where? I’d love some suggestions as to where I can stash you.”

Hunter bit his lip. “We can help each other,” he said suddenly, “I’ll make a deal with you—let me go. Emperor Belos won’t be as angry if I’m just late.”

“Yeah, I see how that helps you. But I’m still dead meat.”

Hunter shook his head. “If Darius doesn’t find me here, he won’t know what you did. If you let me go, Lilith, I promise that I won’t tell the emperor what happened. I don’t want him knowing that you captured me any more than you do, trust me.”

“Ugh—yes, yes, I know how it is. I trust you on that, at least.”

“Okay. It’s settled, then. You let me go, and I pretend like this whole thing never happened. Eda might get in a little bit of hot water for fighting a coven head out there, but everyone gets off scot-free, more or less.”

“It is not settled! You’re really going to go back?! You’re so scared of him finding out you got captured that you’re going to lie for the rest of your life about what happened, but you’re still going to go back to him?”

“Of course I am—Belos sent Darius to rescue me. He wants me back, Lilith, he didn’t give up on me!”

Lilith thought her heart might just snap in two. Just when maybe she’d gotten close—this really was the worst time for Darius to show up looking for him. “Ah—titan, Hunter, he doesn’t actually care about you! He doesn’t care about any of us! He’s just using you!”

“Well—maybe that’s enough. To be needed, useful. Please, Lilith.”

Lilith looked down at his pleading eyes. What would happen if she said no? He’d keep trying to escape, only for her to drag him back? What if she wasn’t watching as closely one day, and he succeeded at killing himself? Could she live with herself if that happened? And that was assuming they even got out of this situation. She sighed, untying his hands and grabbing his coven staff from Eda’s weapon room. “Let’s go.”

They snuck around the fighting Darius and Eda, soaring up into the sky on their staffs. Lilith touched down with him outside the keep, holding out his staff. “How are you going to explain what took you so long? And why you look like…” she gestured to his blood-stained clothes. “…that.”

Hunter dropped his palisman staff, and his bird transformed back into its live form, perching on his shoulder. “…You’re right, I need something believable.” He looked at her, then down at his feet. “Lilith… you know how it works… Eda could never…”

Nausea swirled in Lilith’s stomach. “Oh, no. Hunter—”

“The healers will take care of it, I’ll be fine, I just need an excuse.”

“I—I don’t want to… Titan, Hunter, Belos is not worth this.”

“Do it quick. Before I change my mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, putting his hand in his mouth.

“Are you—”

“Just do it!” he growled around his glove.

Lilith sucked in a deep breath, and brought her staff whirling around into the side of his knee with a crack. He bit down on his hand with a strangled scream, and she caught him by the arms, lowering him gently to the ground while his palisman warbled comfortingly to him. “It’s not too late to come back. We can figure out something for Darius—you don’t have to go back.” Please don’t go back.

His eyes shined with that same weird, uncomfortable light that they had when he’d told her that killing himself was what Belos would want. “He—needs—me. I want to go back.”

Lilith sighed, and gently scooped Hunter’s palisman up in her hands, straightening up. “Hey,” she said softly to it, “Take care of him, okay? Make sure he has a voice other than Belos’. I’m sorry that I can’t get through to him. Maybe you can.”

The cardinal nodded and gave her wrist an affectionate peck before turning into solid wood. Lilith tucked the palisman into Hunter’s cloak and mussed up his hair, tucking a twig into it. “There. So you look the part.”

He smiled weakly. “Thank you, Lilith.”

Lilith squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then sat back on her staff. “Don’t thank me, Hunter. Not for this. Never for this. If I really cared, I’d take you far, far away from here.”

“This is where I belong.”

Lilith shook her head, flying back towards the owl house and trying in vain to forget about the injured boy she’d just left behind.

No one belongs here. Certainly not you.

Xxx

 Eda growled, twisting and straining against the abomination goop pinning her to her own wall. Darius tore through the house, holding Hooty at bay by sticking his mouth shut with more goo. Eventually, the abomination-man slimed his way back. “She’s really not here.”

“Of course not,” Eda snapped, “Get out of my house.”

He snarled at her. “You seem to have an awful lot of control for just a dumb beast. You’d better hope that I forget about this, Edalyn.”

And then he was gone, his slime following him. Eda let out a sigh of relief, switching back to her regular body. “Alright, Hooty, cough up the kid—hey, where’d his palisman go?”

“Lilith already took the golden guard!”

As if he’d summoned her, Lilith touched down from the sky.

Notably without Hunter.

“Liiiiliiii,” Eda singsonged in a you’re-in-trouble voice, “What did you do with my prisoner?”

Lilith clutched her staff tightly, looking down to the side. “I let him go,” she said softly.

“You did WHAT?!”

“He won’t rat us out, don’t worry.” To Eda’s surprise, her sister’s shoulders started to shake. “I forgot how alone you feel in the coven,” she murmured, “Like no one can help you, and it’s all you can do to survive.”

Almost all of Eda’s anger immediately dissipated, and she wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Ohhh, okay. Okay. He’ll be alright, Lilith.”

“I wanted to protect you, and I was worried he’d keep trying to kill himself if we kept him, so I left him, but he won’t be okay, Eda, no one there is okay, and I just left him there to protect my own stupid skin!”

Eda rubbed her sister’s arm. “Hey, you did what you thought was the best of a lot of bad options. There wasn’t a scenario where everyone got out okay. He can hold out for a while, Lilith. He has his palisman. And if you want, we can kidnap him again some other time, okay? Better yet, we can send Luz, she’s very good at making people like her and rebel for her.”

Lilith snorted a little bit at that. “Thank you, Edalyn.”

“Send me where?”

Eda whirled around to see her apprentice standing on the path, King behind her. “Oh! Hey, you’re back! Uh, on some errands, of course! Lilith ran out of elixir!”

Luz nodded to Lilith. “Oh, hey! What have you two been up to?”

Eda and Lilith glanced at each other. “Nothing,” they said in unison.

Xxx

“Ah, Hunter. You’ve returned.”

Belos watched his nephew struggle to kneel, biting his lip so hard it bled. “Emperor Belos—I apologize for the delay in my return.”

“Darius said he left you behind fighting the assassins.”

Hunter nodded.

“And?”

“A couple of low-life thugs—no one important.” Hunter made a vague gesture at his bloody clothes. “I took care of them.”

A lie. Belos knew that the owl lady and her sister had been behind this, and he also knew that they were still alive. Which meant it wasn’t their blood staining his guard’s clothes. Interesting. He’d let the boy get away with it for now, but if Hunter started to make a habit of lying to him, he’d have to find a way to quash it. “And your injury?”

“Sustained in the fight. Again, I apologize for the delay it caused. It won’t happen again.”

“No. It won’t. See yourself to the healers. I need you healthy.” Belos watched him haul himself up, leaning on his staff for support. “I’m glad you’ve returned, Hunter.”

Xxx

Hunter limped to his bed with a sigh, collapsing on it and rubbing his knee. The healers had mended most of the damage, but it was still sore. His palisman fluttered out of his pocket, chiding him.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad. I’m okay, I promise.”

A disgusted chirp.

“Don’t talk about him like that! He’s the emperor, there’s appearances to keep up—even if you get hurt.” Hunter held out a hand for the bird to perch on. “Hey—he was happy to see me. Lilith doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

His palisman gave his hand a disdainful look, and fluttered up to his shelf, fluffing up its feathers.

“Well, fine! Be that way.” Hunter flopped backwards on his bed. Somehow, the room seemed emptier than it had when he’d left.

Why do I need Lilith to like me?

He shook himself.

Forget her. You’re home. Belos needs you. And that’s all that matters.

[fettsvette]

Never Worn White (Part Two)

Cloud City, Bespin. Boba Fett is on the hunt for a casual fuck before he cashes in on Han Solo’s bounty. You’re a naïve virgin, saving yourself for an adolescent fantasy… and it just so happens that he’s in town. Upon encountering the object of your infatuation though, you didn’t expect he’d be so willing to help you out.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 6.8k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Loss of virginity and unprotected sex

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology

 vaar’ika - little runt

  nehutyc’ika - feisty one

 cyar’tomade - fans

   -

  “Your boyfriend’s at the Atrium.”

  The words were like a lightning strike through the very fiber of your being, your whole body vibrating, no matter how teasingly and sarcastically they were meant. Your head jerked up so fast from the holopad screen you’d been gazing at that you felt as if you had just given yourself whiplash, and your blood pressure instantly skyrocketed, leaving you feeling light-headed and dizzy. Your roommate grinned lecherously at you, their eyes glinting mischievously. They were one of the few people to know about your feelings for Boba Fett, and it was obvious now that they were torturing you, feeding you false information and getting your hopes up just to watch you fluster and squirm like a giddy schoolgirl. Of course, they didn’t know the extent of your infatuation, and what you were planning if you ever happened to cross paths with the infamous bounty hunter during his unprecedented stay in Cloud City. You didn’t intend to allow them to find out, either.

  “...What are you talking about? Stop it...” You replied faintly, gazing up at them dumbly from your perch on the couch, uncrossing your legs and attempting to knead the life back into the prickling muscles. Your gaze drifted to your hands as you did so, trying futilely to get them to stop shaking just so your flatmate didn’t have something else to rib you over, and then skirted over to the wide window looking out over the city. Neat rows of transports crisscrossing in every direction lined the nighttime sky, carrying Cloud City’s citizens and tourists alike to where they needed to go. You couldn’t help but direct your vision towards the vicinity of the entertainment district, its bright lights plainly visible from your apartment. The Paradise Atrium was only a short distance away from your apartment on Figg Avenue, even closer than the landing bay where the Slave I was still docked. There was no way. It was too good to be true, simply meant to be. He was coming closer and closer to you.

  “I’m not kidding. Boba Fett’s at the Paradise Atrium, right now . I had to stop there on my way home to drop off a couple containers of glitterstim my boss owed the slimeball that owns that place, y’know? I walked in and he was literally right there in the cantina, just sitting at one of the booths in the corner… the ones they always reserve for the really top-tier VIPs.” They explained seriously, and you envisioned the layout of the lounge in your mind, an establishment you had visited quite often. Your thoughts brought you to the very rear of the adjacent and aptly-named Paradise Cantina... into the recesses of a shadowy booth, where sat an imposing figure in a battle-worn suit of Mandalorian armor, reclined against the plush backing of the stall, legs spread almost obscenely wide. His codpiece was mysteriously absent, and you could see everything . He beckoned you closer with the twitch of a gloved finger ...and you shook yourself from your reverie, acutely aware that a cold sweat had started collecting on the back of your neck. You fought the urge to slap yourself across the face, the imagined mercenary still calling to you from your subconscious.

  “Okay, okay… crik. Are you absolutely sure it was him?” You pleaded desperately, and your roommate openly rolled their eyes in your direction, shaking their head incredulously. You needed to be sure . You’d heard of the Fett imposter Jodo Kast, and even though the presence of the Slave I on-world was an immediate indication that the visitor was the real deal himself, there was still a niggling disbelief in your mind. This just could not be happening right now.

 “Of course I’m sure! Kriff, how many Mandos do you think are just walking around Cloud City? Beefy-looking buckethead wearing green scrap metal, more weapons on him than stars in the sky. Poor kid they had serving him was terrified, the guy was shaking so bad he almost dropped a whole tray of brinebrew on the graysuits that were in the booth with him. And - okay, are we just going to ignore the fact that I called Boba kriffing Fett your boyfriend and you didn’t even blink? Honestly, I really can’t believe you sometimes…”

  You didn’t even wait for them to finish. The fact that there were apparently high-ranking Imperial officers meeting with this mystery man was all the information you needed for any seed of doubt in your mind to be crushed. The holopad fell from your hands to land screen-down on the floor, entirely forgotten. Leaping up from the couch and power-walking towards your bedroom on tremulous legs, you flung the door closed behind you and hurriedly began rooting through your closet, looking for something halfway presentable to change into. You stripped yourself of your sweatpants and ripped t-shirt, having instantly settled on a glittering shimmersilk dress that you’d impulsively bought as a present to yourself after your last pay raise. You paused as you pulled the thin material over your head, debating whether or not to put on a bra before you dressed any further. With a curt sigh at yourself, you continued to slip your arms through the straps, smoothing the bunched fabric over the swell of your breasts. There was no point in bothering with one of those itchy, lacy garments you owned, that only you had ever laid eyes on - if all went according to plan tonight, your bra would just be coming off sooner rather than later anyway. You bent to slip your bare feet into a pair of plain black flats - you’d considered heels for a brief moment, but decided against them on the off-chance you had to make a quick getaway - when you were interrupted by the bedroom door colliding with the wall as it was unceremoniously flung open.

  “...And just where the frozz do you think you’re going wearing that ?” A disbelieving voice intoned harshly from the doorway, and you looked up to see your roommate blocking the light flooding in from the living area, a panic-stricken expression written across their features. You paused, your arms hanging limply at your sides, staring determinedly back at your roommate, whose face was beginning to reflect a dawning sense of horror and understanding. 

  “ Out. ” You answered in a bland monotone, snatching your handbag off the bed and peeking inside of it, making sure that the keycard to your apartment door, as well as your credit chip and a healthy pouch of physical Imperial credit coins, were tucked away safely inside. Your roommate strode forward, grabbing your forearm and squeezing tightly, causing you to wince as they forced you to look them in the eye.

  “Out where ?”

  You didn’t reply, your plans already dangerously close to unraveling. Your roommate’s grip tightened to the point of pain, and you were stunned to see that their eyes had filled with tears of fright. You knew you should feel guilty for putting them through this sort of duress, for worrying them to the point of weeping over your safety, but the only thing you found yourself feeling was a sort of grim pleasure. The fact that someone you had grown so close to in your years of living in Cloud City, a creature you considered to be one of your closest friends, could be frightened to this level by the thought of you becoming somehow entangled with the notorious Boba Fett, did nothing but give you a sick sense of satisfaction deep in your gut. It heightened the swirling arousal that was already building deep in the pit of your belly, fantastical images of what this night’s adventure could possibly bring already brewing in your mind. Your roommate finally loosened their vice grip on your arm and shook their head unbelievingly, backing away from you as if you were tainted.

  “Oh, stars … I know what you’re thinking. Please don’t do this. This isn’t some game of Droids and Guards, you fool, he’s dangerous .” They begged, seeming nearer and nearer to tears with every word. 

  “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to get myself into a situation I can’t handle, I just… I just want to see him.” You adjusted the strap of your handbag on your shoulder and heard the childish, lovestruck pleading in your voice. You hated yourself for it, for letting yourself get this much in a tizzy over a mere man - but this truly wasn’t just a man, was it? You could very possibly wind up in bed with none other than Boba Fett by the end of the night, if the galaxy was kind to you. He was going to be the first to ever claim you - as you pushed past your roommate and headed for the door, you were certain of it. This was your darkest, deepest fantasy come true, something you had been pining for and secretly dreaming about since you were old enough to even fathom the concept of sex, of virginity. Boba Fett was the only man you’d ever thought about giving yourself to for years now, and this was quite possibly your only chance. There was no turning back now.

  “Didn’t you hear me say that he was surrounded by Imps?! High-ranking Imps ! He kills people for money! He’s here working for the Emperor, I know it, and that big brute Vader’s still lurking around -” You held up one hand to silence them, and to your surprise, they immediately stopped, wild-eyed and staring at you imploriously, hands raised above their head. You had never seen your friend this keyed up, this stricken by concern for your wellbeing. It felt strange to say, but other than mynocks in your stomach from thinking about how the rest of the night could go, you didn’t understand just what this panic was all about. You weren’t stupid enough to interrupt important Imperial business, and it wasn’t like Lord Vader himself was going to be sitting at the bar, nursing a drink - right?

  “Just… don’t wait up for me tonight. Okay?” You quietly begged your friend, your voice sweetly soft and as neutral as you could manage. A long moment passed between the two of you, no words spoken, just gazing into each other’s eyes. Several beats passed in silence, only the traffic outside interrupting the heavy tension that filled the room. Your roommate was the first to break, their shoulders sinking, defeated. You felt a new burst of energy and smug satisfaction, but couldn’t help but feel somewhat remorseful at your reaction towards their obvious distress. The feeling passed quickly, however, when your roommate bowed their head, the ghost of a smile on their lips as they clucked their tongue and shook their head at you.

 “Dank farrik… you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that? ...But okay. You win.” They sighed. You kept your expression even, although you were screaming with joy on the inside, and were about to reach out to embrace them, when they took a step back and pointed in your face. You felt yourself going slightly cross-eyed, following their finger down the bridge of your nose, and had to stifle an ill-timed giggle. “But if you’re not back by sunrise, I’m contacting the Wing Guard and reporting you missing, and I’m going to tell them who you were trying to meet up with. I’ll get Baron Calrissian and the Alliance involved. Don’t think I won’t.” They continued, and your heart skipped a beat. You certainly weren’t expecting that turn of events, but weren’t exactly surprised either. With how sympathetic your roommate was to the Rebel Alliance, especially concerning the events of the past week and the installation of what the locals were beginning to call the ‘Iron Blockade,’ it made sense that they would threaten you with action involving the Rebellion, even if it was just out of concern for your safe return. It wasn’t that you didn’t support the Rebels yourself - their crushing blow to the Empire in the form of the destruction of the Death Star had reinvigorated your hope in their cause, especially after the horrific obliteration of Alderaan - but the purely selfish, immature side of you wondered what would happen to Boba Fett if the Rebellion were to come out the victors of this current Galactic Civil War. He was one of Vader’s most loyal hunters, and you had a feeling that the Rebels wouldn’t smile kindly upon his transgressions against them. Especially since one of their most famous generals, Han Solo, currently had a bounty on his head large enough to buy an entire spice mine, and it had been speculated on the HoloNet that Fett was one of the many mercenaries attempting to cash in on this coveted prize.

  You walked past your roommate without another word, slipping past them in the doorway of your bedroom, and padded easily across the living area carpet, knowing now that they’d had put their last word in and would no longer attempt to stop you. Settling your hand upon the doorknob leading into the hall, you were about to let yourself out into the night when you heard the Aruzan softly call your name, and you turned. They stood in the center of the room, smiling sadly, arms folded across their chest, a look of intense worry upon their face as they watched you exit, hoping they would find you back home in the morning. Their last words to you rang in your ears as you made your way across the night sky in the space taxi that would deposit you right on the steps of the Atrium.

  “Good luck.”

  -

  You stepped into the main lounge of the Paradise Atrium and instantly felt incredibly out of place, and exorbitantly underdressed despite the expensive shimmersilk you had draped yourself in for this special occasion.

  The room was filled with regal-looking creatures from all over the galaxy - a large group of Twi’leks sat on a couch in the far corner, smoking from a hookah and emitting large columns of purple and green smoke through their nostrils in between bouts of gay laughter, and a company of important-looking Nothoiin congregated around the elaborate carbonite sculpture placed in the center of the room. You’d attended gatherings at the Atrium many times before, but you’d never been in the presence of so many upper-class individuals. You wouldn’t be surprised if just one of these creatures was currently carrying more credits in their pockets than you would ever see in your entire lifetime. Not to mention, there were several armored stormtroopers, their white plastoid suits gleaming in the artificial light, holding sentinel near the staff entrance at the rear of the room, a sight you’d never seen here before. Something was definitely going down in Cloud City, and you had walked right into it. That realization alone made you want to sink into the floor, and what made it even worse was the fact that there was no sign of Boba Fett.

  You had crept into the Atrium as discreetly as you could, almost on tiptoe, and in hindsight you weren’t exactly sure what you had been expecting. Had you thought that you’d walk in and Fett himself would have been standing there, awaiting your entrance like a prince from ancient myth, on call for his princess’s arrival at the ball? Heart hammering wildly, leaning against the wall for support, you had scanned the room twice, then thrice over, looking for a flash of green, a swirl of cape, any indication that he was present, only to come up empty. He simply wasn’t here; at least he wasn’t anymore, if he ever had been in the first place. As much as you loved your roommate, and despite their almost violent reaction they’d had to the knowledge that you were - at the very least - trying to meet Boba Fett, it wouldn’t terribly surprise you if they had been pulling your leg all along. You’d trudge back into your shared apartment, dejected, and your roommate would be there, grinning smugly, lecturing that the moral of this story was to never seek company with strange men.

  Gazing around the room once more and seeing no sign of Fett, or at the very least, the Imperial graysuits that he’d apparently been here meeting with, you found yourself almost embarrassingly heartbroken. You’d banked so much on tonight, only for it to wind up being a missed chance, if not a complete fake-out. You refused to give your roommate the satisfaction of heading straight back home, though, so you figured now was as good a time as any to drink your sorrows away at the bar. The Paradise Cantina was adjacent to the Atrium and contained a half-moon bar as well as several comfortable private booths, and you sidled onto one of the stools at the center of the console, directly in front of the bartender, a distinguished-looking Bothan who eyed you dubiously.

  “Anything I can get for you, kid?” He asked gruffly, polishing a glass and looking you up and down, feeling you out. Although you had lounged with friends at the Atrium, even attended a few workplace parties there, you’d never really been a patron of the bar, and you felt the clientele ogling you suspiciously. It obviously wasn’t an ordinary occurrence, to see a scantily clad young woman sitting alone at a high-class bar, and the various eyes on you made your skin crawl, although you did your best to ignore the unwanted attention.

  “Just a Jedi Mind Trick, please. Make it a double” You replied softly, keeping your eyes down, tracing your fingernail against the wood grain of the bar. You heard the Bothan snort, probably amused at your choice of such a strong drink right off the bat, doubting you could hold your liquor. The way you saw it, though, you’d rather spend the rest of the evening getting shit-faced here than simply slinking off home alone, to wallow in bed self-despairingly. 

  The bartender had just set the triangular container full of bright blue liquid on the counter in front of you when a door you hadn’t noticed on the far side of the room slid open, and a figure stepped out. A hush immediately fell over the room, which had previously been filled with glasses clinking, quiet conversation and laughter, and a holographic jizz band being broadcast. You didn’t bother to look over at first, too absorbed in your own self-pity to care, picking up the glass and knocking the entire drink back in one gulp, leaving the edges of your mind slightly blurred.

  That’s when you heard the spurs.

  Kshnk. Kshnk. Kshnk.

  At first you assumed it was solely a figment of your imagination, an effect of the alcohol being absorbed into your system, until you realized that the room had gone silent, that even the hologram of the band had ceased playing. You looked up at the bartender, but he was staring over the top of your head, paused in the act of refilling another guest’s stein. The jangling sound filled your ears until you could hear nothing else, not even the sound of your own breathing, and a chill went down your spine. You were clenching your empty cup so tight that you were surprised it didn’t shatter in your hand. Gingerly, you turned around to acknowledge the cantina’s newest arrival, your stomach rolling with anticipation, your blood singing in your veins, your heart pounding like a gigantic drum sitting in your chest cavity. You looked up.

  And there he was.

  Boba Fett.  

  He was shorter than you expected.

  You felt a near-hysterical giggle rise in your throat as the realization crossed your mind, that this was your very first thought upon seeing the man you’d envisioned fucking you time and time again - in person, finally. The laughter died in your throat as he turned to cross the room, only several meters away from you, and you got your first real look at him.

  Stars, he was beautiful .

  Boba Fett walked slowly, methodically, with more purpose than you had ever seen another creature move, even though it seemed his only motive at the moment was to find a place to sit down. The dented helmet that concealed his features didn’t break its steady gaze straight ahead even once as Fett crossed the room, even though every eye in the cantina was locked to him. There was no way the man didn’t know that he was currently the center of attention, the reason for the palatable silence in the air, and it was quite obvious that he didn’t care one parsec. The green armor he wore was littered with scrapes and scars and dents, but still shone in the low light of the bar, as if it had only just been waxed, and you shivered at the thought of getting to press your bare chest against the battle-flecked breastplate. A ragged cape was tossed over one shoulder, and your eyes were drawn to the string of inexplicable numbers glowing out from an interface on the right-hand side of his armor, and to the strange symbol mirroring its position, a stalk of grain framed by a bright red drop of blood and what looked to be lettering in a language you didn’t recognize, directly above his heart. There were several long braids of multi-colored and variously textured hair thrown over the opposite side of his shoulder plate, the sight of which sent another delicious chill up your spine. You knew you should be repulsed by the sight of those trophies of war alone, but it served as a confirmation of something you already knew - this man was dangerous . There was debate on the HoloNet as to the origin of those braids - some who’d been following Fett’s career, as you did, were adamant that they were made of the scalps of Wookiees he’d killed; yet others claimed they were the braids of Jedi Padawans he’d hunted down at the request of Lord Vader himself. Your eyes flitted downwards to below his waist, heat flushing through your system. The greenish codpiece was just as battered as the rest of the armor - even more so, upon a closer look. Judging by the craggy yet shallow indentation located almost in the dead-center of it, some unfortunate soul had made a last ditch effort to save themselves by taking a shot at what they must have thought was the most vulnerable area on Fett’s body. They had obviously been wrong, and you were grateful for it. 

  Almost seeming to move in slow motion, the bounty hunter passed directly by the bar, and you could have sworn you could sense his body heat even from several meters away, could smell blaster smoke and blood on him. As repulsive as those scents should have been, reminiscent of battlefields and death and suffering, you felt almost soothed by the thought of being able to press your face to the rough cloth that held the Mandalorian armor together, breathe in those aromas as deeply as you wished, a smell that was so distinctly him . You focused your gaze on Boba Fett once more just in time to see him settle himself at a raised table in the corner, reclining back casually. He seemed to finally notice that all other movement and conversation in the cantina had ceased upon his arrival, and his helmet swiveled first to the left, then to the right, making direct eye contact with several goggling patrons, who uneasily turned away under his gaze. Fett’s visor then turned in your direction and your heart walloped frantically in your chest - ‘ has he noticed me?’ - but it became obvious quite quickly that he was looking past you, straight at the Bothan behind the bar, who regarded Fett for a long moment before offering him a grudging nod. Almost as if this were some sort of cue, the holographic band started up again with a lively rendition of ‘Sugaan Essena,’ and the muttered discussions, tinkling of glasses, and laughter resumed. The clients of the Paradise Atrium and Cantina seemed eager to forget that the deadliest bounty hunter in the known galaxy was seated in their midst. Fett, however, had cast his gaze to the city outside, watching the rows of traffic track across the nighttime sky, gloved hands resting firmly on his knees, deep in thought. 

  You watched out of the corner of your eye as three young Zabrak women wearing matching skin-tight baffleweave bodysuits made a beeline for Fett’s table as soon as the atmosphere had settled down, obviously over-eager for their chance to flirt with danger. You sniggered when the armored figure sent them away with a wave of his hand before they even had a chance to close in on him, watched them turn tail with their heads down almost as quickly as they had first come. You tried to ignore the coiling pit of unease in your belly as you considered moving forward with your plan, despite the fact that it seemed for all intents and purposes that Fett did not want to be bothered. You continued to watch the man as his attention was drawn back to the outside world. ‘ Oh, hell. You only live once, right? What’s the worst that could happen, he tells you to kark off?’

  “Hey… would you send a drink over to that table in the corner? Whatever he usually orders when he comes here.” You waved the bartender over, pointing a thumb over your shoulder at Boba Fett, jerking your chin in his direction as well for emphasis. You were trying to play it cool, sending a drink to the table of one of the most bloodthirsty men in the galaxy, but you were sure that the bartender could see your hand shaking as you made the request. The tall Bothan looked at you as if you had asked him for a diamond-encrusted barrel of Coruscanti bitters, straight from the Emperor’s private reserve.

  “...You sure about that, kid? You do know who that is, right? Boba Fett’s one tough customer. You’d be better off not messing around with that barve.” He leaned down towards you, warning you off as if you were a child, trying to play with the older kids who would only include you in their games if it meant beating you within an inch of your life. You nodded, looking back with what you hoped was a steely determination.

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  The Bothan looked at you for a moment with great pity, as if he were gazing upon a creature that had just consigned itself to its doom. Heaving a sigh that quivered the fur lining his muzzle, the bartender turned and started preparing another drink.

  You couldn’t even look as the liquor was brought across the room by one of the ornate serving droids that wandered the cantina. You kept your head low, jiggling one leg on the stool beneath you, digging your fingernails into the glossy wood that encompassed the top of the bar. The minutes seemed to tick by excruciatingly, and you were overcome by the notion that maybe you should leave, get up and bolt when you still could, escape before Fett was aware of what fool had sent him the drink, go home to bed and forget any of this had ever happened. But too late - just as you were beginning to shift in your seat, to lean in the direction of the doorway and gather up the momentum to run, the bartender cleared his throat, causing your head to pop up at the sudden noise. The Bothan looked you in the eyes and did nothing but give you a subtle bob of his head, watching a point across the room. You followed his eyes, and stopped dead in your tracks.

  Boba Fett was staring at you.

  Openly leering at you was a better term for it, his entire body turned in your direction, lazily slumped in his seat, his legs spread comfortably wide. Kriff, this was just like your daydream. As soon as he was sure that he had your attention, and as if he had read your mind, one hand rose from its spot resting against the ample meat of his thigh, and two deft fingers hidden under an off-white glove of bantha leather beckoned you closer with a quick curling motion. It was an action that whispered, ‘ Come hither, my dear. Let’s play.’

  Your stomach lurched and your vision suddenly filled with black spots, and you bit down hard on your lower lip, the quick pain bringing you back from the brink of passing out. Your eyes refocused, the dark points fading away, and there he still sat, his position unchanged. He was waiting for you to come over. You looked back at the bartender for guidance - by now you were sure he had seen this song and dance played out here many times before - and the Bothan gave you a roll of his deep-set dark eyes, and a noncommittal shrug. He’d already written you off as another casualty, the sad result of human naïveté in the face of the galaxy’s bloodthirstiness.

  You rose from your stool on legs that felt as if they were made of bacta, your feet seeming to glide across the floor of the Atrium, bringing you ever closer to Boba Fett. The cantina patrons seemed to part like a sea for you, and you didn’t give a womp rat’s ass if they were staring, whispering about you. Your eyes and thoughts belonged only to the helmeted man who had beckoned you closer, and whose parted legs you were standing almost directly between when your long walk ended. You were so close that you could see yourself reflected in his blackened visor, dumbfounded. You were visibly trembling, and you could feel Fett’s body heat rolling off him, soaking into your own legs as you stood before him. It took you a moment to comprehend that he was waiting for you to speak, for you to make the first move.

  “...You’re here for Han Solo, aren’t you? Everyone knows you two have a rivalry and that you’ve been after him for ages now, and he’s here, and you’re here, and that can’t be a coincidence, right? It’s like -” The words rushed from your mouth in an excited torrent, and you were fully aware that you were babbling at him, but you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. Every nerve-ending in your body felt sparked with the fire of a planet’s core, you were absolutely thrumming, and you didn’t care whether you sounded like an idiot in front of this man who you’d lusted after for ages, just as long as you were talking to him, that you had his attention. Mercifully, Fett’s palm came up, the same move he had used on the Zabraks earlier in the night. You stopped mid-sentence, your mouth still hanging upon, your eyes wide.

  “I’m here on business. What exactly that pertains to is none of your concern.” The reply was smooth and unhurried, and he didn’t even look at you. Boba Fett seemed much more concerned with what was going on outside the Atrium’s walls, his line of sight falling past you, towards the lights of the Administrator's Palace. Where Han Solo probably was, if the rumors of him being Leia Organa’s consort were true. So you were right. Even if he wouldn’t admit it in words, it was almost like the bounty hunter was showing you. At least, that’s how you chose to take it.

  “...Oh. Okay. ...Fair enough, I guess.” You cautiously replied, unsure of how to proceed when he offered no further conversation, and cringed inwardly. Stars , you were truly awful at small talk, especially with handsome men. No wonder you’d never gotten laid. Fett’s helmet snapped towards you like a sharp cut with a blade, his restraint with your dallying almost nonexistent, and you felt yourself flush hotly as you realized you’d just been staring blankly at him the entire time, drinking him up just as greedily as any Hutt would look upon a dancer. There was no way he couldn’t tell your intentions, and your confidence and excitability wavered. 

  “So what exactly is it that you want from me, girl? I don’t have the time nor the patience to be followed around and gifted tokens at bars by starry-eyed brats. Say what you will, or I’ll have you removed from my sight. Now .”

  There was ice in his voice, and you found yourself slightly afraid for the first time. The idea of Boba Fett growing angry with you was not something you wanted to experience. You had to say your piece now, or risk losing what you wanted forever. You balled your fists so hard that you were sure your nails were cutting through the skin of your palms, but you stood your ground. You weren’t going to let Fett intimidate you away from what you wanted of him, not now. You were too close.

  So you told him, blunt and straight to the point.

  “I’ve never been fucked. I want you to be my first.”

  Fett’s form stiffened in his seat, the gloved hand that had been nonchalantly resting on his thigh almost imperceptibly gripping the hard muscle beneath. You didn’t notice, nor were you able to sense the fact that he was holding his breath. 

  Despite the extraordinary self-control Boba Fett had cultivated over every aspect of his functions during his decades of bounty hunting, he felt his cock twitch involuntarily within the confines of his flight pants. He’d encountered plenty of cyar’tomade across the galaxy over the years, desperate creatures of all types looking to spend a night in his company just for the later bragging rights, others looking to fulfill some sort of bizarre erotic fantasy - he’d taken up plenty of those offers, and turned down even more. Boba Fett was a man who enjoyed sex, and he made no secret of the fact that he had been scoping the lounge for a prospective bedpartner after the meeting with Lieutenant Sheckil and his graysuits. That wretched smuggler Solo had a date with a carbonite chamber tomorrow evening after he and Vader’s planned ambush at the Administrator’s Palace in the morning, and Fett fully intended to vent some excess energy tonight before finally collecting on the barve’s hefty bounty. It was back to Jabba’s afterwards, and more bounties to collect on, and even less downtime. Fett enjoyed his life of solitude, practically thrived on it, but still… he was only human, and he had his needs. 

 What he hadn’t expected was being cornered and propositioned by a willing and eager virgin. And such a pretty thing, too. This was a first, and he had to admit he was already getting hard at the thought of teaching this naïf how to please a man, to be the one to take her like nobody had before, to show her just who exactly she was dealing with.

  “ Well … aren’t you a bold one.” He finally exhaled, still avoiding any semblance of eye contact with you, his focus seeming to be on stirring the cubes around his drink. You swallowed thickly, watching Fett’s index finger push the straw back and forth. He hadn’t touched the drink at all, but you didn’t care. You wanted that finger in your mouth, down your throat, glove and all, but shook yourself from the daydream when it occurred to you that Fett was watching, waiting for a response. 

  “I’ve found that fortune favors the bold.” You pushed yourself into the chair opposite him, trying to conceal how badly your legs were wobbling. You had waded chest-deep into completely unknown territory, and you felt as if you were going to faint at any moment if you didn’t take a seat. To emphasize your point, you reached out and grasped the drink you had sent to his table just minutes ago, tipping your head back and draining half of it in one swig. Your head swimming from the sudden rush of hard liquor, you settled the container back on the polished wood and steadied your gaze on the bounty hunter. Fett cocked his helmet at you, an amused snort emanating from underneath, a static edge to it thanks to the vocoder that helped conceal his voice. He laid his forearms on the table, leaning his upper body forward towards you, the posture of a gossiping schoolboy, mocking and insolent.

  “And what makes you think I’d want to be the one to break you in, vaar’ika ?”

  He almost purred the question, sickly sweet. There was no outright malice there, no, but he was teasing you; you could hear the laughter in his voice. You could tell he thought you were nothing but a stupid little girl who didn’t know what she was getting herself into, and it shamed you into silence. You felt your throat tightening, your eyes starting to burn, and you begged yourself, ‘ Don’t you dare start crying and prove him right. You know what you came here for. Don’t you dare. ’ But it was much easier said than done, and your attempt to coax yourself out of this panic only seemed to deepen it. You came this close to fulfilling your fantasy, you could have practically reached out and touched it, but it all had to fall to pieces because you were really nothing but a blubbering baby. You weren’t worthy of being with Boba Fett, and it had been a pipedream to think so even for a moment. 

  “I… I-I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking , coming here. I’ve made an ass of myself and I’ve completely wasted your time, I’m so sorry -”

  Your eyes brimming with embarrassed tears, hot and heavy on your lashes and threatening to spill over at any moment, you ducked your head and pushed the chair out as quickly as you could, moving to brush past the still-seated bounty hunter and make a break for it out into the cool night air. With a harsh gasp, you felt yourself suddenly being jerked back by the elbow, almost stumbling with the force of the pull. Boba Fett’s gauntleted hand was gripping your arm in an iron hold, the black void of his visor locked onto your face. There was no way to tell, of course, and you couldn’t say how you knew, but you could have sworn he was smiling at you.

  “ I didn’t say no , little one . Tell me again what you want of me.” Fett intoned evenly, but not unkindly, releasing his hold on you. To your shock, he ran his hand down your arm as he let you go, and it almost felt - of all things - reassuring . Arousal pooled to your core so quickly at Fett’s surprisingly soft touch and tone that it took you a few extra moments to even register what he had said.

 ‘He didn’t say no. It wasn’t possible. Does he actually want to? ...And he called me ‘little one.’

  You could have died then and there, on the plush carpeted floor of the Paradise Atrium, but your words found you, every ounce of courage in your frame flooding through your veins at once.

  “Take me back to your ship. Let me give myself to you. I want to be yours tonight… only yours. Please .” You laid a trembling hand on his wrist, still expecting to be violently brushed away, told to back off and go home if you knew what was good for you, threatened with disintegration or a blaster shot to the chest or something . But the harsh gesture or violent threat never came. The scarred green helmet tilted downwards to regard your fingers clutching at the armor, and after a quiet beat, Boba Fett’s gaze returned yours. Although you couldn’t see the eyes hidden behind that dark, T-shaped visor, you could feel them burrowing into your very soul, sweeping over you greedily, like a prize to be taken. Shivers rippled up your arms and your stomach rolled, but you weren’t afraid. Not anymore. Silently, you withdrew your fingers, letting your hands fall limply to your sides, and Fett nodded, seemingly satisfied with your plea. 

  “As you wish, nehutyc’ika. Come, then.” With that, Boba Fett stood in one swift motion, and held one palm out for you to take, open and inviting.

  You felt as if you’d been kicked in the chest. You were instantly sober, any trace of alcohol from the night’s earlier wallowing fully flushed from your system by the influx of adrenaline currently screaming through your body. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and for a brief moment you wondered if he was playing with you, if this were some sort of sick joke, but you knew in the deepest recess of your heart that it wasn’t. He was serious. He’d made a career out of not backing down on deals. Boba Fett was a man of his word. 

  So you took his hand and let yourself be spirited away into the night by a figure from your best daydreams, and from other creatures’ worst nightmares.

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet ugly prompts, 20 seems like it'd make a good ot4 nsfw..

Here you go!

20: you’re the town’s super villain and you take me hostage because you saw the super hero talking to me but I’m new in town and was asking them for directions

“I do not see what is so difficult about this.” Indrid leans against the console in his hideout, “simply agree that you will not, under any circumstances, go after Ursa Major, and I will let you go.”

“For the last time” the villain (oh, excuse him, the ‘writer who is new in town’) strapped to his chair stares him down with convincing confusion in his blue eyes, “I just needed directions, and he was the nearest person. I’m not a super villain, I swear. I don’t even know where you’re getting this idea.”

Indrid taps his temple, though the answer is really his SmartGlasses, “When I scanned you, the information was minimal, the kind of life that suggests you appear as mundane as possible to avoid detection. More importantly” he leans into “Josephs” space, ice in his grin and menace on his tongue, “I saw instances of you and him in combat, both costumed.”

His captive raises an eyebrow, but Indrid gives him nothing; he’s not about to just tell some upstart the crux of his powers.

Joseph sighs, “Alright, I think I understand. I’m really not a super villain.” He flashes a movie star grin, “but I am a superhero.”

The chair tips backwards, smashing when it hits the ground. Indrid curses, lunges at him and narrowly avoids an elbow to the chest.

“That changes th--ohno” he braces as his feet leave the ground without his permission and he flies backwards, slamming into a wall. He’s up before his enemy can ready another attack, hurls a destabilizer at him as he makes for the door. It catches his neck and he shudders, stumbling as he turns the nod.

“I’ll see myself out, Emperor Moth. Ugh” he holds his head, rips the device from his neck, “nasty stuff.”

“Thank you.” Indrid grins, “and don’t bother putting that little monitor strip on my door. I’ll be vacating this hide-out immediately.”

Joseph frowns, still having trouble with balance as he steps outside.

“I did tell you not to underestimate me.” Indrid waves, slams the door, and initiates the scrubbing sequence.

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

“It is just humiliating. I was so concerned with keeping him away from Duck, I didn’t bother to check why he might be interested in him.” Indrid grumbles, then hisses when Barclay touches the back of his head.

“It doesn’t sound like he was. I mean, maybe they’ll team up eventually, but if he’s so new none of us knew there was another hero in town, he probably needed directions.” The other villain finishes checking the bruise Indrid got when Joseph launched him into the console, “and hey, thanks to you we got an even earlier warning about him than we might have otherwise.”

Indrid stares at the floor, still wrongfooted by errors being met with kindness instead of punishment, “I should never have let that bear become so valued a nemesis. It is making me weak.”

Barclay bends, kissing the top of his head, “It’s okay, baby, you’re not the first villain to get territorial.”

“You never do.”

“Guess I just haven’t met the right hero.”

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

“Got a decent arm on you, blue eyes.” Barclay cracks his neck, standing from the crumple dumpster Joseph (AKA Roswell) punched him into when the trashcan he launched with telekinesis missed it’s mark.

“Same to you, but given your name I’m not surprised. Now hand over that remote and come quietly.”

“Not a chance.” He grabs Joseph when he swipes at the remote, Barclay strong enough to keep a hold on it even when Joseph tugs with his powers. Up close, he can see what Indrid meant when he said the hero had a face it would be a shame to damage.

Joseph flashes him a stunning smile as the remote begins getting hot. Fuck. Time for a new plan.

“You wanna know why they call me Bigfoot?”

“Wh--SHIT!” Joseph fights to free himself as Barclay shifts into his other form and hoists him over his head.

By the time Joseph pulls himself out of the dumpster, he’s no more than a disgruntled image in Barclay’s rearview mirror.

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

“Thanks for helpin me out, Joe.” Duck scans the Capitol Square for signs of trouble.

“Any time.” Joe studies the readouts on his communicator in case something elsewhere needs their attention.

Duck, like the rest of the Pine Guard, was skeptical when a new hero by the name of Roswell approached them and asked if they wanted his help protecting Kepopolis. Ned pointed out the distinct air of government about him, and Duck wondered why he’d chosen a city with a solid population of supers. But he’s helped them enough times in the last two months that Duck considers him an honorary member. Even more so since he started training with them.

Fuck, the guy’s got abs, looks so good doing his practice circuits that Duck has to face the other way to avoid whacking himself in the face with his whips. No one’s held his attention since…

No. No thinking of Emperor Moth that way. He promised himself that after the last jerk-off session about the villain. And the one before that. And the one before that one.

Even Joe’s backstory is hot; rule-following government man, stationed at a secret desert base, refuses to to help his fellow agents use confiscated, alien tech for weapons research. In the process of smuggling it out, it goes off. Everyone thinks he’s dead, but instead he receives heightened reflexes, increases intelligence, and telekinesis. How is Duck supposed to resist that?

“Um, Ursa? Is that who I think it is at your two? Right by the churro cart at the farmer’s market.”

“Holy fuck. Yep, that’s Indrid and Barclay all right. Huh. Guess even villains like local produce.”

“And Sunday dates. Look” Joe, now shoulder to shoulder with him, gently tugs his chin a little lower so he sees where the pair are holding hands.

“I’ll be damned.” Duck murmurs. Indrid is the same; same silvery hair, same wide smile, same face of enchanting angles and lithe, wiry limbs. He just looks lighter. Softer.

Happier.

Barclay holds out a doughnut and Indrid bites it, powdered sugar dusting his face. The bearded villain laughs, and kisses a spot of sweetness away. Duck’s confusion over why he’s glad Indrid has someone to do that for him is dwarfed only by his bafflement at why he wishes it were him.

Better to distract from those disastrous daydreams with doable ones.

“Hey, uh, Joe? You ever use your powers for more than restrainin’ villains?”

“Sometimes.” Joe turns so they’re chest to chest, smile downright mischievous, “are you hoping for a demonstration?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Then when we’re off the clock, I say we go back to my place for a drink and some, um, hands on illustrations of what I can do.”

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

“What are they playing at?” Indrid peers from the rooftop into the Fun Center.

“I think they’re literally just bowling.” His boyfriend’s voice comes through his earpiece from where he’s stationed at their shared base

“But we could be plotting, be about to wreck havoc, and they’d never know.”

“Are you dropping hints?” Barclay sounds perplexed.

“No. I just do not understand why my hero wishes to waste time with yours.”

“He’s not mine.” Barclay mumbles, but Indrid can hear his blush.

“Wait, they have finished their game.” He watches Duck and Joseph stroll to the latters car. Before he can open the door, Duck taps him so he’ll turn. When he does, the shorter hero shoves him against the black vehicle, kissing him ferociously. Indrid stabs the bubble of jealousy in his chest before it even inflates, finds it unhelpfully replaced by the wish to be in the car, close enough to hear whatever Duck is whispering against Joseph’s neck. Close enough that instead of driving off to finish their tryst in private, they crowd into the back seat with him and render him speechless.

“Shall I come home early?” He murmurs, knowing full Barclay is seeing through his glasses.

Barclay’s response is a promising growl, “yeah, little moth, think you’d better.”

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

“Give it up, moth, you know damn well I’m strongerOWow, fuck” Duck grits his teeth as Indrid claws his face. He could deploy the knife in the palm of the right glove, but most futures show him escaping without that.

“Yes, but you lack imagination, my ursine nemesis. Now get off of me so I can collect my prize and go home.”

“No can doFUCK.” Duck curses again as Indrid flips them, making it the heroes turn to slam his back into the concrete floor of the Reconcore Warehouse.

“Ta-taAH! Release me at once!” Indrid writhes as the SmarWhip tightens across his back, knowing his InstaPicks are trapped between their bodies. He’s not about to meet the humiliation of defeat while literally wrapped up with his enemy. There’s only one thing for it.

He means to headbutt the hero, he swears it, would do so even under the worst tortures of his past. But instead he brings their lips together with enough force to crack the teeth of a non-super. He pulls back a beat later, so surprised at himself he can’t track the futures.

Duck licks his lips, “About fuckin time.”

Indrid rolls to his side without a fight, the whips going slack and clattering on the concrete as Duck holds tight to the front of his suit, sucking his bottom lip as the villain flails his legs to wrap around sturdy thighs. He wiggles his hips in a plea he doesn’t trust his mouth to form, and Duck slots his knee between them.

“That’s it sugar, c’mon” Duck kisses him messily as he weaves his fingers into dark hair, “this why you’re always runnin around and makin me chase you? So needy you’ll give it up on the goddamn floor.”

“Yes, yesyes.” Indrid groans as kisses find his throat.

“Don’t bother me none. Think it’s kinda cute, and real fuckin flatterin.”

“Duck” he holds tighter; Barclay tends to take things slow, so he hasn’t cum this fast in months, “Duck please.”

“S’okay, sugar, you can cum.” The kiss is softer this time, “been wonderin’ what you look like when you do.”

Indrid gasps as pleasure spikes through his system. He doesn’t want to think of what comes next, what happens when he raises his head and sees Duck’s face return to its usual determined set.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go.” Duck hastily stands, then kneels and kisses him once on the forehead. He’s gone before Indrid can even offer to return the favor.

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

It’s supposed to be a minor mission, the two of them scrambling the city’s traffic grid from the office near Kepler Dam.

“Oh no.” Indrid bursts from the car he entered a moment before, sprinting back towards the device they planted at one of the power boxes, “ohnohnono.”

“What-”

“Someone remotely tampered with my device!” He rips off the back, “and they still are! If, if it goes how they have programmed it to, it will take out the dam, it, it will, so many people-”

“Can we break it manually?”

“You could switch each command wire to the color that precedes it on the spectrum, but that would still make an explosion large enough to kill anyone within fifty feet, with no time to run. All, all those people, all my fault, again, I cannot, not again, I have to-”

Barclay understands two things; he won’t let Indrid live with any more disasters on his conscience. He didn’t throw off his past for that. And he can’t bear the thought of Indrid dying.

He sets a hand on each narrow shoulder, “Fly home, little moth.”

“No, I, you cannot do this-”

“We always promised each other that if it came down to it, we’d save ourselves and not the other.”

“Yes, which you are expressly contradicting!”

Barclay kisses him one last time, “I love you, Indrid.”

Then he hits the emergency autopilot button on Indrid’s suit, his wings carrying him up and away before he has a chance to protest.

Re-ordering the wires is fast and easy; as the explosion hits the air, he hopes dying will be the same.

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

“How is he?” Duck pokes his head into the med room; because Joseph lacked a formal base during his travels, he has a procedure for adapting wherever he lives to superhero needs. Thank the lord for that, because when they found Barclay, singed and barely alive at the sight of an explosion, he knew he wasn’t handing him off to anyone else.

It took them five hours to get him stable, and Joseph’s heart twists every time he looks at his battered face; Barclay is careful and Indrid’s engineering is impeccable. What went wrong? Was Indrid there in the smoke and rubble and they didn’t see him?

One of his windows--his triple reinforced, alarmed, bullet-proof windows--shatters in the other room. He and Duck hit the living room at the same instant to find Indrid in his full villain apparel, nightsticks drawn.

“Where is he?” The villain demands, unyielding ice in every word.

“He’s in my med room. You can’t see him yet, he’s still in very bad shape-”

“I am taking him back with me.”

“Nuh uh, you move him now he’s liable to die.” Duck steps forward and Indrid hisses.

“Liars. You will keep him here, hand him over to the police when he is well. I am not going to lose him.”

“Indrid, we’re not going to do that, I swear.” Joseph’s never seen Indrid look this way, hardened and dangerous. Like he could kill them.

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

Indrid attacks him, is knocked off course mid-way there as Duck tackles him to the couch.

“‘Drid, for fuck’s” Duck holds the villain down, wincing as he slams his shoulders with his weapons, “we ain’t gonna hurt him or turn him in. You know I can’t lie, so calm the fuck down.”

“I, I will not, if I lose him I, I do not know what I will do with myself, he always takes care of me, I cannot fail him again, cannot leave him without care.”

“You ain’t” Duck’s voice is so gentle Joseph could melt. Indrid does, going limp as Duck eases them into a sitting position, “he’s bein cared for here, I give you my goddamn word.”

“If that’s not enough” Joseph steps behind the couch, setting his hands on the recently vacuumed cushions, “you can stay here while he recovers. To make sure we take care of him the right way.”

A strange, high noise fills the air. It’s only when Indrid hides his face in Duck’s shoulder that he understands it’s coming from the villain.

“Shhh, s’okay ‘Drid, he’s okay. We’ll look after you.”

“I, hic, I do , hic, not need-”

“We both know that ain’t true.” Duck hugs him. When Joseph strokes his hair, Indrid sobs harder. In the dark living room, he wonders when was the last time Indrid allowed himself such emotions. It must have been with Barclay; he might be a villain by name, but Joseph sees the gentleness within the giant.

“I’m going to go check on him; I need to monitor his vitals and make a few adjustments so he’s comfortable.”

Indrid simply nods. Duck lifts Joseph’s hand and kisses it, “I got this one.”

As he checks the villain over, cleans dirt from his cheeks and combs his hair, he understands how Indrid must feel. He confessed to his crush on his nemesis the night Duck came home, radiating guilty arousal, and told him what happened in the warehouse. Joseph never held it against him; for starters, Indrid is quite the catch himself. More importantly, his territorialism around Duck long ago crossed from keeping other villains from his target to simply saving Duck’s life.

By the time he returns to the living room, Indrid is asleep atop Duck on the couch. Joseph slips onto the far end, and guides Duck’s head into his lap, petting his hair until he too drops into dreaming.

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

“Thought the whole ‘writer’ thing was just cover.” Barclay says softly. He’s still bedridden, which is why Joseph moved his work station into the med room.

“No, I’ve always wanted to write about the paranormal.”

“Any favorite cryptids?”

“Bigfoot, of course.” Joseph winks just to watch Barclay blush. It’s a new sight, one he’ll never tire of. Truthfully, having Barclay in his house is something he never wants to end; his recovery gives them ample time to talk, rather than banter, and lord help him is Barclay his type. The two of them are locked in a game of romantic chicken. Which is very different from-

“Sugar, I gotta go to work.”

“Nonsense, call them at once and tell them you are needed here. For...spring cleaning?” Indrid hangs off Duck, glasses slipping down his nose as he nuzzles him.

“Nice try.” Duck kisses him, slips free and kisses Joseph too, “I gotta patrol after work, so I’ll be in kinda late.”

“Be safe.” Joseph kisses him one more time, squeezes his ass when he turns around. Is it his fault his boyfriend has the nicest ass in the state?

Indrid waves goodbye as Duck leaves the room, then begins making his usual nest in the beanbag chair he brought from his own home a week ago.

“Y’know, I’m glad he came to you guys. And that he and Duck are kinda working things out.” Barclay opens his mouth as Joseph feeds him the nicest pudding that he’s also able to keep down. When Barclay first woke up, Indrid alternated between being livid at him for sacrificing himself (“I am far worse than you, the world needs you more you horrible, brave man”) and cuddling him as much as his recovery allowed.

“Me too.”

“He uh, he pretty much never talks about his past, but it doesn’t take super smarts to work out it was fucked up. Showing weakness, accepting affection...it’s hard for him. Which made things rough for us early on, because all I wanna do is take care of him. Got no idea how he’s gonna react to having two more people who want to look after him.”

The answers include: sleep in Duck’s arms, read with his head in Joseph's lap, kiss Barclay whenever he can, and generally seek out any kind of touches the others will give him.

“You wanna order lunch later today?”

“Is this just an excuse to show off how good you are at picking food for each of us?”

Barclay blushes again, “Maybe.”

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

“I see your evil plot now, Emperor Moth; you suggested we do a movie night so you could steal all my body heat with your fuckin icicle fingers.”

“Nonsense, I am not just stealing your body heat. I am also stealing Joseph’s body heat.” Indrid preens.

“Hmm, how shall we deal with such a cunning villain?”

“I got a few ideas.” Duck drags Indrid into a kiss while Joseph loops his arms around his waist to tease his inner thighs.

“Got a few myself.” A soft voice rumbles from behind them. Indrid sits straight, all his attention on Barclay.

“On your knees, little moth.”

Indrid drops to the floor, blanket tangled around him. Joseph and Duck trade an intrigued look; Indrid leans towards the submissive, but this is a new form of it.

“Head in Duck’s lap.”

Indrid obeys. Duck strokes his cheek, “good boy.”

Barclay circles the couch as Duck pulls down his sweatpants. Indrid licks his lips, then looks up at the hero.

“You can touch, sugar. Suck too, if you want.”

“So very much. Oh” he sighs as Barclay cups the back of his head, “h-hello dearest.”

“Hey, baby. C’mon, show Duck just how good at this you are.” He nudges Indrid’s head forward, keeping his hold on it until Indrid hims and Duck makes a deeply undignified noise.

“Fuuuuck, thanks for sharin man.”

“Any time” Barclay strokes Indrid’s head, “my baby deserves to suck whoever’s dick he wants.”

Barclay steps back, Duck’s hand instantly sliding to replace it, holding Indrid tenderly in place while he blows him. Barclay eases himself onto Joseph’s right side as the hero contemplates whether he should start jerking off now or wait to see where this goes.

“Joseph?” Barclay suddenly sounds shy, “Can I, uh, can I kiss you?”

He climbs into his lap in reply, beard scratching his palms as Barclay moans down his throat.

“Took you two long enough.”

“Agreed” Indrid kisses Duck’s belly before returning to his task.

“Hey, we don’t all get lucky and get our wires crossed in a fight in a good way.” Barclay busies himself making beard-burn on Joseph’s neck.

“But you do get lucky enough to recover ahead of schedule.” Joseph nips the corner of his mouth.

“Uh, not sure I’m all the way there. But I felt good enough to get up and wander around. Glad I did.”

“Me too. Although, I’m not sure how much you should exert yourself.”

“I’m pretty tough, babe.”

“I know. Just to be safe…” Joseph kisses his nose, “is this position comfortable?”

“Very. Oh, oh fuck” brown eyes widen beautifully as he finds he can’t move, “fucking-A that’s so hot, Joseph, babe, shoulda asked you to use these one me like this the first time we met.”

“Would that have kept me out of the dumpster?”

“....Okay maybe not. Point is, please use your fucking powers on me whenever you want from now on.”

“You like being put in your place, big guy?” Joseph slowly grinds on him as he undoes Barclay’s bathrobe.

“By you? Yeah, I really fucking do.”

“Good. Stay there while I slip into something more comfortable.”

“Cornball” Duck chuckles fondly, then moans as Indrid slips a hand down to join his mouth.

Barclay’s eyes darken as Joseph strips down. By the time he’s naked, the other man is growling and his teeth and fingers are sharper than they were.

“No shifting tonight; I’m not sure how it will interact with your recovery.”

“The, the futures suggest it could reopen some wounds.” Indrid grins, “but you should try it at a later date; it is very fun to ride him in that form.”

“Someone better start riding me now or I’m gonna rip the couch in half--uh, wait. I, do we need-”

“The accident made me infertile and unable to catch all known illnesses.”

“Nice.” Barclay grabs his hips and yanks him down, the two of them moaning together as he sinks onto his cock. He rolls and rocks, Barclay grunting in time with his movements, mouth going slack after only a few bounces.

“Sensitive, big guy?”

“Uh huh, fuck, Joseph” his hold is terrifyingly strong and Joseph loves it, “babe, you feel so good.”

“Look it too.” Duck blows him a kiss. Indrid gives a little “mmhmm” and bobs his head.

“Fuck, I’m, fuck this is gonna be really embarassing, fuck, you’re so fucking good, feel so good.” He yips, pleased, when Joseph bears down harder. A sharp “fuck” bursts from beside them; he turns to watch Duck cumming on Indrid’s face. The villain doesn’t miss a beat, scrambling into his lap to kiss him before turning his red eyes on Barclay.

“The next time I pick things up from the hideout, I shall get your cockring.”

“A cockcage might be better for this, nnhff, beast.”

“Yes” Barclay growls, holding him down so hard he can’t get free. He gives him back the use of his hips and he bucks up violently, “yes, yes, put me in one, make me wear it all day, but you better put that one in one too, you, fuck, you’ve seen how he gets.”

“Nah.” Duck kisses Indrid slowly, “think I’ll tie him up and wring as many orgasms outta him as I can.”

Indrid gives a high, trilling moan and dives in for another kiss.

“Good plan.” Joseph can see it now; he even knows which rope Duck will likely use. Then he can’t see anything at all, his vision blurry as Barclay bounces him on his cock. There’s a howlgrowlpurr and then he’s cumming, growling even louder when Joseph clenches around him for fun.

“Fuck that was hot.” Barclay plants kisses down his brow, “how, how do you wanna get off, babe?”

“May I suggest sitting on my face?” Indrid says hopefully.

“Like mike cum so much you’ll lick it outta someone else, little moth?”

“No. Well, yes, but my offer comes from both a desire to know the feeling of blowing each of you, and because the position allows Duck to use his fingers on me while you, dearest, work my cock.”

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin smart sugar.” Duck hops up to retrieve the lube while the other two join Indrid on the floor. Joseph settles into position and immediately learns why Duck was being so loud.

“Lordalmighty, Indrid, you’re incredible.”

“‘Ank ‘ou.” Indrid closes his lips around his dick, humming until his toes curl. Barclay kisses him lazily, snickering when Indrid occasionally turns his head to lap at his softening cock.

“This is the best part.” Barclay murmurs as Duck pushes Indrid’s legs apart.

A muffled moan signals the other hero working his fingers in, Indrid twitching and whimpering as he fucks him. Joseph glances back to see Duck thoroughly entranced by the sight of his fingers opening that very cute ass up.

“You’re right, big guy, he sucks cock better when he’s screaming.”

“Learned that by putting a vibrating ring on his dick and making him cockwarm me.”

“Holy fuck.” Duck groans, “add that to the fuckin to-do list.”

Joseph lets himself be drawn into another kiss, stays there for a long, long time as Indrid’s cries coax his orgasm closer.

“Tell me when you’re close. Don’t want him cumming until you’re done.” Barclay whispers. Below them, Indrid whines. Barclay wipes cum from his boyfriend’s cheek, “you want to cum soon, better get Joseph off.”

“Shit” Joseph braces his hands on the floor, grinding his hips and dragging slick across Indrid’s chin, “shit, that’s it.”

“MMPPPHHHHH” Indrid thrashes as Barclay begins rapidly jerking him off. The villain even bends to lick the head once or twice, and Duck does his best to thrust harder whenever he does.

“Cannot fuckin wait to see you cum again, sugar. You looked so fuckin perfect last time.”

Cum splatters Joseph’s lower back, his own climax buzzing through his veins and bursting across his neurons, more intoxicating and invigorating than the neon green shock all those years ago.

He climbs off Indrid, flops back into what turn out to be Duck’s arms. Indrid shifts onto his side, curling his arms around Ducks leg and bumping Barclays knee with his thigh, “We are going to need a bigger house.”

Joseph believes in prudence and caution, in not rushing into relationships (especially with men who were once your enemies). But as he takes in the scene around him, the love flooding his chest, he knows Indrid is right.

He start researching listings in the morning.

[lotusjwy]

“Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them.” jiang cheng and wwx - @gremlinmetawin

hello hello again, so! i decided that this prompt fit.. very well with the last xicheng on (which i will link in the notes, bc i’ve heard links break tags? in case u haven’t read it yet), and so this is a continuation of that 😬  and i was 100% meant to finish this earlier today, but i ended up being out of the house until like 9pm OOPS, but i finished it and here it is! also gonna tag u so u see @gremlinmetawin 💜

Wei Wuxian narrowed his eyes in confusion as he watched Jiang Cheng stalk away from the Hanshi, very obviously distressed. Well. Obvious to anyone who had grown up with Jiang Cheng. It was uncommon for Jiang Cheng to leave Lan Xichen’s company in anything less than a good mood, yet here he was storming away as if he couldn’t escape fast enough. 

Suddenly, a thought popped into his head. A thought of his Lan Zhan walking into the Jingshi with pain in his eyes, pain that even with all the embraces and kisses in the world, Wei Wuxian hadn’t been able to fix. A pain that was caused by his love’s own brother, because it would seem that the events of Guanyin Temple had affected him more severely than they had originally thought. 

He tended to be uniquely cold in these moods, knowing exactly how to stab someone exactly where it would hurt the most. He’d once told Wei Wuxian that he was the cause of the fall of the Jiang Sect, which was something he’d never told even Lan Zhan.

Everyone residing at Cloud Recesses knew to avoid the Hanshi on mornings they didn’t hear a flute sound from the dwelling. However, Jiang Cheng didn’t reside in Cloud Recesses. He didn’t know of this unspoken law of the land; how could he have known? Of course, he hadn’t known, and thus Lan Xichen must have said something that had severely hurt the other.

Quickly turning to Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian tugged on the other’s robes to get his attention. “Did Xichen-ge play the flute this morning?” Wuxian wasn’t awake at the time Lan Xichen usually played, he rarely was awake that early, relying on Lan Zhan to tell him when he should avoid the elder.

Lan Wangji thought about the question for a moment, before shaking his head. “He did not. If you wish to see him, you should go tomorrow, instead.” He was unwilling to let his husband go through the ordeal of his brother in one of his moods again. He still didn’t know what his brother had said, but it had haunted Wei Ying for weeks afterwards.

“That’s not why. Didn’t you see what I did?!” Wei Wuxian was growing frustrated at the situation, his eyes frantically searching after where he had seen Jiang Cheng stalk off towards, realising that he was no longer there. Without waiting for the other to respond, he continued, “someone let Jiang Cheng go see him, fuck.”

Lan Wangji actually hadn’t seen Jiang Wanyin, but he wasn’t about to question his husbands’ words. However, he didn’t exactly see what the problem was, and voiced as much, “I’m sure xiongzhang would have said nothing that Jiang Wanyin hasn’t heard about himself before. Would he not be fine?”

Wei Wuxian rounded on his husband and glared him for his words, “Lan Zhan, we are going to have a serious talk about this later. But for now, I have to go find my idiot brother who’s probably about to shut himself away from everyone he cares about, again.” Without listening for another word from his husband, Wuxian quickly sped off – ensuring not to run lest he piss off Lan Qiren again.

He made his way through Cloud Recesses, realising that Jiang Cheng would have wanted to leave, immediately. He was hoping that instead of flying back to Yunmeng he’d stay in Caiyi for the day. If he had gone to Caiyi, Wuxian could catch up with, Yunmeng, however, would take a lot more time.

It would seem that he wouldn’t have to worry about either journey, as he had found Jiang Cheng, who was stood frozen not too far from the gates to Cloud Recesses. As Wuxian quickly made his way towards the other, he heard not so hushed whispers coming from the various Lan disciples surrounding them.

“Sect Leader Jiang just got here and he’s already leaving in a fit? You’d think years of being a sect leader would have calmed this infamous tempter.”

“He’s always so angry, it’s no wonder he has no wife.”

“Wife? It’s no wonder all of his disciples are terrified of doing him wrong.”

“Have you heard how many times he threatens to dismember and maim Sect Leader Jin?”

“He used to torture demonic cultivators in the past, so what difference would it make? He killed his own brother after all.”

It seemed that the gossiping would never end, each comment growing worse than the last, Jiang Cheng’s fists clenching even tighter with each spoken word, his entire body beginning to shake. Wei Wuxian had had enough of people belittling his brother.  

“If I recall correctly, and trust me, I do, gossiping is forbidden in Cloud Recesses. Scatter before I stop being nice and get Hanguang-jun to hand out your punishments.” Wuxian watched with a cold expression on his face, as the disciples scattered off into various directions, faces flushed with the shock of having been caught.

He approached Jiang Cheng as one would approach an injured, wild animal. With caution. “Jiang Cheng? Are you okay?” When he got no response, he sighed and moved closer to the other, gently placing a hand on the other’s arm. “A-Cheng? Shidi?”

“Who the fuck are you calling shidi?” Jiang Cheng’s voice was rough, as if he was holding back from either crying or screaming, he couldn’t tell yet.

Giving his brother a grin, Wei Wuxian wrapped an arm lightly across the Jiang Cheng’s shoulders, “he speaks!”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t.” He let out a pained sigh and turned to look off into the distance, not wanting to face his brother right now.

Fuck, Xichen-ge had definitely said something bad to him. “No! Speaking is good, speaking is wanted! In fact, let’s go down to Caiyi, have some Emperor’s Smile and have a nice long talk.”

“I’m not great company right now.” He risked a glance at the other, his eyes slightly narrowed, “you just want me to pay for your drinks, don’t you?”

“Hmm? Really? You’re no more different than usual, I’d say. But you’re right, I do, so let’s go!” Wei Wuxian let out a laugh, smiling as he spoke, dragging Jiang Cheng down the path.

Somehow, they had found themselves in the corner of a tavern in Caiyi. Once they had been served, Wei Wuxian turned to his brother tapping lightly on the table to catch his attention, knowing that he needed to say this now rather than later. He couldn’t let Jiang Cheng be stuck in his head for much longer.

“Don’t listen to them, Jiang Cheng.” Wei Wuxian situated himself directly in front of his brother, making sure the other could see how serious his words were, “don’t you ever listen to them!”

“What are you talking about?”

“What those disciples said, earlier. They don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. They don’t know you.” He hesitated for a second, before letting out a sigh, “As well as whatever Zewu-jun said to you when you visited him today. Whatever he said, it wasn’t true.”

Jiang Cheng froze, “how did you know I saw him today?” Had he been that obvious? Could everyone tell what Lan Xichen had said to him?

With a shrug, he responded. “I saw you leaving the Hanshi.”

“How do you know he said anything?”

“He- uh. I don’t know how much I’m really allowed to say, so I’ll only say my own observations?” He waited for Jiang Cheng to nod, before continuing, “ever since Guanyin Temple he… hasn’t been okay. Sometimes, and It really is very rare, he gets into these foul moods, where he picks at our biggest insecurities to get us to leave. We should have warned you; someone should have warned you. I’m so sorry.”

Wei Wuxian had said ‘us’, that means that Lan Xichen had said something horrible to him as well. Jiang Cheng was curious what Lan Xichen had to say about his brother’s husband, and so he asked, “what did he say to you?”

He shifted uncomfortably for a moment, before letting out a sigh. He couldn’t get Jiang Cheng to talk, if he himself was unwilling. “That I’m the reason yo- our sect burnt to the ground. He told me that if I had minded my own business that the Yunmeng Jiang Sect would have survived, and all those disciples, your parents,  would still be alive to this day.” His voice barely above a whisper, the words still piercing through his heard.

Jiang Cheng froze and sucked in a sharp breath. The man really was ruthlessly cruel, wasn’t he? Why did Jiang Cheng get vilified for his angry disposition, yet Lan Xichen was getting away with saying such horrendous things?

Not willing to speak anymore on the issue, as it had passed, and Wei Wuxian had already made his peace with Lan Xichen over it. They were here to talk about Jiang Cheng, not him. “I shared, now it’s your turn. What did he say to you?”

“What didn’t he say? His words more or less mirrored everything those disciples was saying. That I’m a cruel man, who should have shut myself off from the cultivation world.” He took a shaky breath, willing himself to not break down right here. Once he had calmed down a little, he continued to speak, “that all I do is torture innocent people, who I should have given a chance. That there’s a reason I’ve been alone all these years and it’s not just because my entire fucking family died.”

“He’s wrong,” Wei Wuxian had never been more confident than in the fact that his brother was a good man. How many of Jiang Cheng’s insecurities did Lan Xichen have to bring up? Why couldn’t he be done with just one?

Jiang Cheng let out a short, humourless laugh, “is he?”

Grabbing his brother’s hands, Wei Wuxian looked at Jiang Cheng desperately, “yes. Jiang Cheng, please tell me you don’t believe him.” He searched Jiang Cheng’s eyes, shocked as he realised just why the other’s words had hurt as much as they did.

“Who am I to disagree with the great Zewu-jun?” He turned his face away from Wei Wuxian’s, not liking the look on the other’s face, knowing that he had figured it out.

“You have feelings for him.” It was as if a pin had dropped, silence falling upon them for a few moments, as both took in Wuxian’s words.

With a heavy sigh, Jiang Cheng pulled his hands away from Wei Wuxian’s, placing them on his lap, to play with his clarity bell, hoping to find some peace. “I did. Now I’m unsure. This… has taught me some things, I suppose.” He didn’t know if he could try to pursue anything with someone who had dragged his every insecurity through the mud as if it were nothing. Who had brushed him off as if he were nothing.

Wei Wuxian looked at his brother sorrowfully, wishing that he could make it better, that he could take back the words Lan Xichen had said to him. “A-Cheng…”

“It is what it is, Wei Wuxian. It’s not as if my personality is a secret to the world.”

“But it is. Everyone thinks you’re this hateful person, but you love so fucking much, Jiang Cheng. Anybody unwilling to learn that about you isn’t worthy of your love.” He would die on this fucking hill if he had to, Jiang Cheng was and always would be the most loving of the three of them, both in what he gave and needed, yet never seemed to receive.

“Wei Wuxian…” Jiang Cheng looked at Wei Wuxian with confusion in his eyes, unwilling to believe that the other had this opinion of him. Surely after everything that had happened, even his brother wouldn’t believe he was capable of love.

“No! I refuse to let you or anyone else badmouth you. That’s my job and Jin Ling’s fucking job, that’s it. That’s all that’s allowed. No one else.” He would spend the rest of his life making sure Jiang Cheng knew that he was loved, and he knew Jin Ling would, as well.

“Alright, alright, I’ll… try not to let it get to me. Can we fucking eat now?” He had had enough of talking about himself, about his feelings, he wanted to pretend that the first half of this day hadn’t happened.

Pursing his lips, Wei Wuxian surveyed the other, before giving him a nod, “fine, but say the word, and I’ll yell at Zewu-jun for you.” He could always start this conversation another time, when Jiang Cheng was less likely to walk away from him and just fly off because he had gotten overwhelmed again.

Jiang Cheng snorted a laugh in response, choosing to take a bite of chicken,  knowing he didn’t require any other form of response.

[ailuronymy]

Book Club: Tallstar’s Revenge, chpt. 37-45 overview.

Two highly professional gravediggers observe the job ahead of them:

“I'd like to congratulate us both on finishing this godawful book! A whole super edition in five weeks. They said it couldn't be done, but we showed them. “ - S

“Yes! It's truly miraculous that our brains are intact still.” - K

“So glad it's over, though.” - S

“Should I grab the shovel?” - K

“Yes, it's time. Let's bury this corpse.” - S

In this final week of reading Tallstar’s Revenge, we will be thinking about these final nine questions. Well done for making it this far! We hope you’ve enjoyed the ride. 

When you’re ready, consider sharing your thoughts with #ailuronymy book club and see what other readers are thinking!

1. First impressions?

K: It's bad! It's bad. It's all bad and I'm not surprised by any of it. K: I was actually expecting there to be more bullshit in the end, but I was almost... let down? By how underwhelming it was? S: Some moments surprised me a little but like... these did not spark joy. K: It was so boring. S: I have that same note: huge anticlimactic fuckery at the end. K:  If you're going to torture me, you might as well make it interesting, Erin. K: Throw in a wild plot twist or something. K: Get me going. K: Make me feel alive.

2. How did you feel reading this section? K:  Mind numb, head empty. For like, at least three chapters I read them and then failed to register anything important for the notes. It just dragged on. S:  More bored than I expected to be! I thought it'd at least ramp up a little, but it very much did not in any meaningful way and really petered out with a sad little "wuh-wuh."

3. What chapter did you find most interesting/moving/effective, and why? K: Chapter Forty, seeing all of the clanmates that I'd been missing for half the book felt so satisfying. I missed Dawnstripe, Heatherstar, Barkface, and Hopkit all so much. The only good bit. S:  I feel that. S:  For me, I think in terms of sheer pleasure, it has to be the echoes I saw from turn to dust all that I adore in Talltail swimming in a time of crisis. K: Yes! S: It made that passage I wrote feel retroactively so much more intense and significant, which I love.

4. What chapter did you find least interesting/effective/most frustrating, and why?

K:  The final chapter, Chapter Forty-Seven. That leader ceremony was so bad and I hated all of it. K: The Shadowclan battle was also mind-numbing. S: I think it's got to be the jump from first apprentice to leader ceremony. That's so much life we don't see, which given how goddamn long the book took for the rest of his very boring life is a travesty. S:  I tend to take some umbrage with Starclan whenever it shows up in canon, but in this particular case, the way that his leader ceremony is handled--especially by Palebird and Sandgorse--is horrific. S:  I also think it's appalling that Sandgorse offers a life of forgiveness, but never once asks for it from Talltail, unless I'm mistaken? S: He thinks he can embody forgiveness, but doesn't have the humility to admit to the things that he had done wrong by Talltail. Egregious.

5. Is there a passage that stuck in your mind–for good, or not-so-good reasons? What is it, and why did it stand out? S:  I think for me, this is Sandgorse's everything in the leader ceremony. I think I'll just [my whole rant just now + thoughts on forgiveness]. K:  I had two specific quotes from this go that fit I think. K:  First was: "I guess Clan cats aren’t used to leaving home.” Jake sounded amused. “I know the feeling you’re having. The nagging pain, the tug in my pelt and paws? I get that whenever I’m away from my home too long.” “Really?” Talltail blinked. “Why?” “Every creature needs to belong somewhere,” Jake told him. “Your paws know where that is, even if you don’t.” K:  Just the phrase of "Every creature needs to belong somewhere" felt so genuine and sweet coming from Jake, and I think could have felt so much more impactful if the themes we've recognized were more evident in the story. K:  The second was: “Talltail!” Dawnstripe leaped from the Meeting Hollow. “You came back!” Delight lit up her eyes. Talltail stood still as she raced to meet him. “I couldn’t stay away.” She stopped in front of him and gazed warmly into his eyes. “Then my training wasn’t wasted.” “It was never wasted,” he meowed softly. “Not once.

S: YES K: Partially because I will always be soft for Dawnstripe, but also, the genuine tenderness between her and Talltail in this moment felt so real and so earned. K: This is what I wanted from Bluestar and Stonepelt. S: I've said it before, I'll say it again: mentor+apprentice relationships For Life. K: Talltail saying that his training with Dawnstripe was never wasted, and then immediately transitioning into him encouraging and being a positive role model for Deadkit? K:  Ugh. It's so good. S: Loved it.

6. What other non-Warriors (or Erin Hunter affiliated) books does this one remind you of? Are there themes, symbolism, or storybeats in this novel that made you think of other stories as you read it?

K:  Oh, great question. K:  Oh shit, you know what. S: Hit me. K: We've got a Book Club classic coming at you. K: The Knife of Never Letting Go, by our mutual bastard Patrick Ness. S: You know, I was thinking about More Than This. But mostly because of how much I hated it. K: TKNLG's big theme revolves around like, what murder does to you and what it feels like to do an unspeakable act that you can't retract or replace. Revenge and anger become a part of you and you've got to deal with that. K:  And it's been ages since I read it, but I feel like that makes a lot of sense for this book. Todd and Talltail both spend a book with things being taken from them and wrongs being done to them, and it makes them so angry and hurt and desperate that eventually they go "Okay, yeah, murder would be a solution here." And when it comes down to it they both get to make that choice, of what they want to put out into the world and what kind of man they want to be. S:  I like that. I haven't read it myself, but I can definitely see how those themes talk to one another. S: I don't think there's a particular story I can pinpoint that is similar to this one, but I can think of stories that echo what I'd like this story to have leaned into more. S: Being about forgiveness and family trauma, it reminds me both of The Goblin Emperor and also the How To Train Your Dragon films? Especially the first film, I think. That whole undercurrent of absent mother, disdainful and frustrated father, queer-coded and different kid feels very present in Tallstar's Revenge. S: However, I think HTTYD does that a lot better than this book, by a considerable length.

7. Did this novel (or the experience of reading it) change your perspective on anything, either within the world of Warriors or outside it? What do you think about differently now?

 K: Hm. I think it's certainly limited my excitement on reading any future Super Editions books. They all seem to be just the same garbage plot wrapped with slightly different bows, and that's both disappointing and relieving. S: I feel you on that. S: I think for me, the single biggest shift is that it's changed how I think of Tallstar. For me, he was probably my favourite leader--or one of my favourites--growing up reading the books, and he came across often as wise and relaxed, and then made that final defining mistake. S: Having come back and read this, I feel that the book stripped a lot from the character in a way that wasn't constructive. I don't feel like I know him better, but I do feel like I respect him less. And I think that's a monumental failure of a prequel. K: Tallstar had such a specific presence in the original series, and this book just really takes a lot of that away and replaces it with something worse. S: It does. And that's disheartening to me. S:  Of course I can and will kill the author myself and take my place on the throne of canon, but you can't unknow details of a character. So that does change things. I don't have the same fondness for Talltail, now that I know he spent so much time being unadmirable and stupid and boring. S:  I recognise that your twenties is like that for most people, but like. Doesn't mean it's worthy of a narrative. S:  Kind of makes me think of Albus Dumbledore, to swing back around to Joke Rowling? S: Like, despite and sometimes because of how phenomenally jank and flawed that magnificent man is, I love Albus Dumbledore. I always have, ever since I was first listening to the tapes. And part of that is knowing his past--knowing that he struggled figuring out what was right, knowing that he fell in love very young with someone whose ideology became incompatible with his core beliefs and virtues. But I think you can allude to past mistakes and show growth without having to delve into it, if that makes sense. S: If I read about teen Dumbledore being like "hmm maybe wizard supremacy is good" for several chapters, there's a strong possibility that would stain all my readings of him into the future. I can know he did something, without needing a front-row seat. K: Yeah. S: And I feel like the crux failure of Erin Hunter's super editions is they don't have the delicacy or sense needed to know what needs to be told and what needs to be shown. S: Because sometimes, showing is worse. K: Being shown like, all of this, was worse than not. S: Nearly all of this book could have been summary.

8. Last week, we talked about predicted endings for the novel. In light of that, how do you feel about the ending? Was your prediction correct–and do you feel that reflects well on the narrative, or poorly? (i.e., is it good that you could guess, or are you disappointed by the result?) How important is it for an ending to be “unguessable”?

K:  We hit the nail on the head and I am not surprised at all. S:  I would say we were basically correct, but it brought me no joy. K:  Yeah, it felt bad to read and go "I already knew this but sure, disappoint me with what you have to say." S: That's not to say I would have been overjoyed if there had been some bizarre twist, because I don't think twists or shock endings are inherently good storytelling. K:  They're not. They've gotta be handled well to make me feel like, "Fuck yes, this is wack and I want more" K:  And like, you can predict an ending and still have it be satisfying! K:  That's just called successful foreshadowing. K:  But what we did was like. Just have the sad, knowledgable wherewithal to know exactly what kind of inane and soulless bullshit Erin would pull. It's not foreshadowing if it's just "you're a bad writer and you're going to reach for the easiest tropes to tie up your story without any thought about what makes it good" S: As a general rule, I think you should be able to predict endings based on the tone and emotional themes of the story. For instance, a story that starts with someone getting thrown out of their house by their unloving family should, ideally, rectify that by ending with that person having either found a new loving family and/or revenging on the previous bad family. Sometimes both! S: If you're going to start an arc, you should finish it in a satisfying place. If you start with a murder being discovered, you should have a denouement at the end. S: So... I guess Erin Hunter's ending is... fine, in that light? S: Their narrative is honestly very muddled, so it's not super easy to actually see what the through-line of the story is. The story starts with a prophecy about Talltail leaving, so really it should end with his triumphant, enlightened return... but then it keeps going. K: It just drags on and so much of it feels weightless. S:  It feels like they're juggling a lot of themes and ideas, but they're not really doing any of it well enough to be impressive. While I'm reading, there's always this deep uncomfortable sense of anything could be dropped at any minute. A good performer of any kind makes you feel safe in their hands, not lowkey on edge. S: It's like watching amateur stand-up.

9. In your opinion, what is the most important moment or event in this final chunk of story, and why?

 K:  I guess the cliche answer would be to say "Tallstar choosing to return to Windclan", but like. I think that really is the most important part of all this. S:  I think it's actually choosing not to kill Sparrow. K:  Oh, I mean. Okay that's fair lmao S:  Because I think he probably could have gone back after he killed Sparrow and everyone still would have been basically fine about it. It didn't seem like anyone cared enough to try to stop him leaving, and frankly the clans as Erin Hunter writes them are mad blasé about murder. S:  But I think in order for Talltail to retain like, some moral worth as a character, it was vital (if super inevitable) for him to not kill Sparrow. K:  Absolutely. K:  Can you imagine if he had, though. K:  Like, if he'd pushed Sparrow off the ledge and went "sick" and then Sandgorse's ghost showed up to razz him with airhorns like 'YOU IDIOT SON, THAT WAS THE WRONG CHOICE, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WOULD DISAPPOINT ME AGAIN' S: Om.  S:  [that one video of the guy screaming above the mountains] S:  That's Starclan whenever the living make a bad decision.

Bonus question: choose a different character from Tallstar’s Revenge and briefly imagine what this story would be if they were the protagonist instead.

K: Hm. I'm torn. Barkface, or maybe Reena, would be interesting to me. S:  I think Reena's experience would be super interesting. K:  I think you could tell a really interesting narrative with her. S:  I'm sort of thinking Shrewclaw? Like, he's such a dick and there's very little about him that's redeemable, but like. This is also true of Talltail for a lot of the book. S: And I guess an external clan perspective of Talltail from someone who actively dislikes him could be kind of interesting! It'd definitely be a totally new counterpoint. K:  Yeah! Especially given that they end up kind of being... foils? A little? I think it could be super neat to like, see Shrewclaw reprimand Talltail for being so focused on revenge, and then suddenly becoming revenge-minded himself and then having to grapple with that hypocrisy. K:  Either by going "My feelings are different, I'm not like you," or going "oh shit oh fuck we're the same and now i feel all sorts of ways about it" S:  I think the low-hanging fruit for why Shrewclaw is such a prick to Talltail is just plain homophobia, you know? But that's so boring, so I'd definitely want to tap into like, the inner world of Shrewclaw and swing it a different way. S: See Talltail through his eyes, emphasising everything Shrewclaw doesn't like about himself. Which becomes so tasty when you later think about Mudclaw doing something similar. S:  Shrewclaw has to grow from hate and jealousy to grudging respect and kinship within the clan, and then Mudclaw grows from outright respect to total adoration. It's an interesting intergenerational trajectory.

Final notes.

S: God, can we rewind a moment to the whole Sparrow bullshit. K:  Oh 100%. S:  Talltail obsesses over this for like, at least twenty chapters. And then two lines of dialogue and he's like, "I'm cured, my dad was a hero the whole time." S:  “It’s what Sandgorse would do.” Now that the rage had gone, Talltail wondered how he could ever have thought of killing Sparrow. Had grief taken away all his faith in the warrior code?” MY rage is still right here. K:  Literally one of my notes is: K:  Talltail straight up telling him he’s here to kill him like a coward. Like not that I WANT him to be a murderer, but god damn, just do it! K:  If you're gonna spend an entire fucking book yelling about how badly you wanna kill a guy then just! Don't make me wait this goddamn long! Do it!! K:  And yeah, just. Redeeming Sandgorse. BLeughghelfuf

S:  Okay, another point of rage: Talltail literally dissolves the goodwill between the travellers and the clan. K:  Y E A H S:  Like, years of peaceful gathering, destroyed. S:  Note: "This dude literally just ended years of peace over his petty revenge quest" K:  I do find it hilarious though that Talltail goes "Hey we should leave," Reena goes "Hm?? No you dont?" and then Sparrow comes in with the most uncomfortable, exhausted expression saying "No He's Right They Really Should Be Going And Should Never Come Back Thanks," S: I'm also so pissed that when Talltail showed up, the travellers were like, “Warriors and kittypets don’t belong with rogues” AND YET you stay for a whole month or more in clan territory? What ripe fuckery is this. K: YEAH IT MADE NO SENSE S: Everyone's just ambiguously racist enough to use it as an excuse whenever they don't want to do something.

S: Also: we called it re: Reena, although the story was actually less obnoxious than I was expecting. S: “There was sympathy in the she-cat’s mew, and Talltail suddenly wondered if Reena had been hoping that Talltail would be her mate: that they’d have kits and travel together. Had she started to imagine a whole new life ahead of them?” Ew.  K:  i was gonna say K:  We really did call it. S: Way to project, Talltail. S: "I guess she's in love with me and I'm breaking her heart by leaving because of the elaborate future she's imagined of our strong, brave kits and--" calm down, boy, she didn't say any of that. K: Yeah, like. Keep it inside, buddy.   K:  There was a lot of very wild Jake/Talltail shit going on but I'm going to drop this from my notes first before dipping into the bits I did like: K: Jake saying “oh that drive to kill wasn’t REALLY you” is VERY “what if I date this unhinged maniac man so I can change him and make him better because I know who he is deep down” and that is VERY unsexy of you, Erins, K:  Jake... my boy.... S: Yeah.  S:  I'm just going to keep pointing at the advice I gave him in previous Book Clubs. Respect yourself, king. K:  I did briefly look at the disastrous mini-comic at the end of the PDF and I do love that he's canonically a chubby king, though. S:  We do love that. A cuddly boy. K:  He's shaped like a friend! S:  But yeah, if these cats were people, Talltail is some skinny closeted runaway with some serious esteem issues and a kind of volatile and disrespectful pattern of behaviour. S:  And Jake is the cute bi boy next door with a supportive dad with apparently a solid sense of self and value, and I find that kind of a jank combination? It feels like it'll either lend itself to basically "adopt a stray" style "fixing" someone else, which isn't a great relationship dynamic, or Talltail dragging Jake into his mess and drama. And it's just difficult for me to imagine what Jake sees in Talltail. S:  If the relationship was just a bit more balanced--Talltail bringing something of value to Jake beyond "adventure"--I could believe it more. K:  Meanwhile, if Talltail retained his "soft, shy poet boy who's just looking for a place to be accepted and flourish" attitude... S: YES 

S:  I got so mad when Talltail's like, "I'm going to kill a guy," and Jake was like, "you can't!" and Talltail's like, "if I was back home, I would have probably already killed by someone by now," and Jake's like, "yeah but that's different, warriors killing each other for Survival is fine." K:  IT ISN'T S: And I'm like, whoa, slow down, I want to talk philosophy right here right now. S: It's a genuinely fascinating conversation that I want canon to have a lot more, but they just... glance over it.

S:  Pivot for a moment to the gay part of Jake/Talltail: I was surprised by exactly how heavily they implied it. K:  Me too!!! S:  I thought it'd be a lot less than there was, and a lot more oblique. So that was a pleasant (? is any part of this pleasant?) surprise. K:  And in the final comic they say that Tallstar sees Firestar like the son he would have had (with Jake).  Which. Is gay. S:  Mad huge gay, for sure. K:  Their final "oh, what if I stay with you!" parting scene was wild to read. And on Tallstar specifying that Jake is someone he loves at the very end. Like hot damn S:  But I Lost My Whole Mind. Because of one line. I read it and involuntarily galaxy-brained with the power of song. I can't find the full quote right now BUT it was basically Talltail and Jake talking right before Talltail leaves to return to the clan. S: And Jake's like, "you know what you have to do. Listen to your heart.” K: YES S: And I was HIT BY A TRUCK S: by this song S: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCC_b5WHLX0 K:  OH FUCK YES S:  Which honestly is so good, and also hilarious, because I have fond gay memories of this song from my teen years. S:  So I know we were saying the very long slow lame end was boring and anticlimactic, but there were a few things that did in fact spark joy.  One was--despite his name and the rampant ableism--Deadkit. K:  YES K:  I have in my notes: K: "I would die for Deadkit." and then "Apparently Deadkit would die for me" S: Hopkit sat up straight, quivering with effort. “Still as a stone, right you are!” he mewed. “Barkface, carry on!” Bless. S: MY SON S: MY BOY K;  And Talltail finally being like? Not an asshole, and treating him well and encouraging him.  He really did feel like he was emulating Dawnstripe in a wholesome way. S:  I KNOW. S:  It honestly made me feel so good about the story I've planned out, but I can talk about that after. S: I also loved that Talltail swam. <3 K: Yes.  S: I was there just elated, thinking about Mudclaw's final moments. And how this story actually ties in so well with that one. That's nothing really to do with Erin Hunter, but it was nice for me. It made the two feel resonant and in conversation with each other in a way I truly hadn't expected. K:  Oh fuck also, two extra from the notes K:  "Talltail’s heart began to race. “I can’t go home!” He stared in panic at Jake. “They won’t want me! I broke the warrior code when I left my Clan. They’ll drive me away again!” — On the one hand: I understand that his fear of being driven away/not being accepted stems from like, 90% of the interactions in this book. But also: THEY LET YOU LEAVE, everyone agreed! Nobody drove you out!" S: Talltail: "I'll go if I must, I understand, you need me to leave--" The rest of the clan: "uhh dude you said you wanted to go." S: Makes me think of people who get really pissed when they're like "I said I'm fine, why didn't you ask me more about how I was feeling because I was clearly Not Fine and Lying to you." S:  And it's like... I trusted you to tell me the truth. Don't play stupid games. K: Yeah! Like, if you want to be consoled or helped, be honest! I can't read your mind!

S: Palebird is just a full on mess in this book, huh? And it's really unsatisfactorily handled.  S: Sandgorse gets obsessed over for... the entire book. Palebird, equally bad parent, doesn't really get any kind of meaningful resolution with Talltail. K:  I misread when Talltail first brings the kids into camp, and fully thought that Palebird recognized Talltail and chose to ignore him in favour of her kits. That sadly isn't actually far off from what happens when she does recognize him. K:   He just goes "oh she died and in my leader ceremony she makes me feel like she always loved me and i never should have doubted her" S: I was so furious that her bit was like "a mother's love for her kits" and he's like, oh I can't believe how stupid I was for doubting her. S: She abused you, dude. S:  Being like, "lol jk" after she's dead counts for Nothing. K: It’s awful.  S: "I always loved you," said Palebird. "I just never wanted to interact with you at all when I was alive and I attached all my grief and trauma to your existence, which made it impossible to enjoy time around you, and I never even bothered to get help for myself or you, and I was happiest when you weren't in my life and I could focus on my other family. So I guess I didn't actually love you. I just felt like I probably should have, but oh well." S: I am as angry about her as I am about Sandgorse. K:   Yeah, she just somehow gets a free pass because "that's just how moms are!" -Erin S:  "Mums can say they love you and you have to believe them." K:  What kind of mother did you have/are you to your kids, @the Erins collective. I want to know. S: I KNOW K: Like, please answer for science. K:  I KNOW WE'VE ROASTED SANDGORSE THIS ENTIRE TIME BUT K:  THE NOTES S:  GET HIM S:  GET HIS ARSE K:  “I give you this life for forgiveness. No death need ever be avenged. Forgiveness brings peace far more surely than vengeance.” Talltail felt his ruffled fur smooth, his claws retract into his pads, his breath come steadily. Mercy was his, and always would be. “I’m sorry you had to learn the hard way, Tallstar,” Sandgorse meowed. — HAVE YOU EVER WANTED TO MURDER A FICTIONAL CAT S:  YES YES YES YES S:  I was literally about to grab the same note. K:  "im sorry you had to learn the hard way" WHOSE FUCKING FAULT WAS THAT S:  “I give you this life for forgiveness. No death need ever be avenged. Forgiveness brings peace far more surely than vengeance.” It is a fatal mistake to conflate forgiveness with pacifism. K:  It's just. K:  Like I knew it was going to be awful, I knew this moment was going to happen, but just to see it and see the phrasing. K:  "I'm sorry you had to learn the hard way" is just the ultimate slap in the face. You abused and abandoned and neglected this kid. You did this. You were a ghost for 70% of the book and could have told your son that you "died a hero" and stopped him from being an absolute asshole. YOU DID THIS. S:  What peeves me is that I personally believe forgiveness is something you have to do for yourself, and not for other people. A lot of the time, bad people in your life won't ask for your forgiveness and don't deserve it. K: Yes!  Forgivesness isn't earned, forgivesness is given. K:  It's up to you to give people that forgiveness on your own terms, whenever and however you choose. And if you go "I'm not giving this to you" you don't have to! It's for you! It's your choice! S: But all your anger and hate and misery inside will burn you out like acid, so sometimes you need to go, "you're never going to earn my forgiveness, but I am choosing to forgive what you did so I can move on with my life and grow." S: It's why "forgive but don't forget" is a good thing to remember. You can let go of self-harmful anger without ever losing the lesson that person taught you, which was stay the hell away from people like that. S: That's the conversation I want to see happen around forgiveness in this story. K:  Talltail deserves so much better than any of the story we were given. K:  And like. Forgiveness through that specific lens is so compelling. S:  I know. It's something I'm deeply invested and interested in.  K:  It's so engaging, and relatable! It's messy and nuanced and full of a lot of good shit. S:  Yeah, like, and what happens when the person you resent or distrust tries to make efforts to atone, but they always fall a little short, or don't grow the way you need them to?  How do you forgive that, but still choose to walk away, knowing that in their narrative, you're the bad guy? K:  It's hard.  Knowing that they see you as the bad guy is like, the fucking toughest.  s:  It's extremely hard and I think there's so much space in this story for that exploration. K:  It makes it so easy to want to go back in for seconds and explain yourself to try and get them to understand you, even when you know that like, they're not going to and never will.  And it'll just hurt you more to try than to move on and be a better you for it. S: And being able to forgive yourself is I think a massive underrated lesson. K: Yes! It's beyond hard to try and be gentle with yourself and have compassion for yourself sometimes, especially regarding a messy scenario like these. S: I mean, all of this is way out of Erin Hunter's range, but like, ugh. What could have been. K: Yeah, absolutely. K:  Also I'm always here for young upset queer kids growing up to become Better & Cooler & Sexier than you, so don't try any shit dad, S: Anyway! That's it! We did it! K:  Yeah! S:  Honestly this is such a dumb book but it always feels like an accomplishment to get through another Book Club with you. K:  I agree. K: <3 S: <3

[swtorpadawan]

Theron Shan in Absolute Trust

Author's Notes: FYI - This is an older piece written a couple of years ago. The Alliance Commander depicted in the following story is decidedly NOT my OC, Corellan Halcyon, but another JK Outlander. It takes place shortly after Knights of the Eternal Throne.

This is all just between us, right? Strictly our little secret? Good. Because you know I'd hate to have to kill you.

So, go ahead and pull up a chair. I'll buy you a Corellian Brew, and then I'll tell you a story.

People ask me, 'Why stay with the Eternal Alliance?' Oh, sure, back when the Eternal Empire was off subjugating the galaxy, it was easy to see why so many people would jump at the chance to join an organization dedicated to taking it down, especially when most of the really big players had rolled over to it. But why stay afterwards? Now that the war is over, hasn't the Alliance fulfilled its purpose? Shouldn't we all just go back to being Republic, or Empire, or Zakuulan, or whatever?

Well, for me, the answer is simple: Our Commander is the reason I stayed. He's the reason I've believed in the Alliance for as long as I have.

I have a great story to illustrate my point, but first it needs some background on my friend and leader.

Nowadays, people just call him the Commander. So much so that most seem to have forgotten his actual name.

He used to be called 'the Outlander' by the masses, a name Arcann gave him as an insult but that he turned into a title of respect among friends and enemies alike.

Before that? Oh, he had a bunch of other titles. Master Jedi. Hero of Tython. Battlemaster of the Jedi Order. The Conqueror of the Sith Emperor. He held the honorary rank of General in the Galactic Republic. I think he was also a Paladin of House Organa of Alderaan - you know, If you're into that sort of thing. The Gree call him the 'Black Bisector of Coruscant'. (Yeah, I don't know either.) Oh, and a few of our recent Zakuulan recruits quietly call him the 'Dragon of Zakuul' when they think no one can overhear them. There's a story there for another time. The Commander's been a bunch of things over the course of a relatively short life. He's been a Jedi, a soldier, a hero, a Champion of the free galaxy, a rebel, a savior and now finally a peacemaker.

Yeah, it's true – his reputation has always been as a warrior first. And probably the greatest in the galaxy. That's one reason why he's inspired so many martial types – Jedi, Sith, Republic and Imperial Commandos, Mandalorians, heck, even gangsters – to his side. And then keep them there. He wins a lot. I admit, I really do regret not being present for his showdowns with Arcann or Vaylin or Valkorian. What can I say? He needed me someplace else in each case. I do remember his fight against Revan a few years ago, though. A bunch of us fought by his side. Myself, Lana Beniko, Satele Shan - the Grand Master of the Jedi Order, Lord Scourge - the Sith Lord who used to be the Emperor's Wrath, Darth Marr - who was basically running the Sith Empire at that point, Shae Vizla - who went on to become Mandalore, Jakarro - this Wookie bounty hunter we had buddied up with – all serious customers. Even with all of us behind him, the Commander – who was still just a Jedi Master at the time - stood out. Watching him in that fight was like nothing else I've seen. There's no way we could have taken down Revan without him. And if anything, he's only become more powerful since then. It's kinda scary when you think about it.

What's that? Who am I? Oh, sorry. Theron Shan, at your service. Former agent of the Galactic Republic's Strategic Information Service (that's "spy" to those of you not in the know), sometime hero and adventurer, now a senior adviser to the Commander of the Eternal Alliance.

But getting back to the Commander - This man has taken blows that would have crushed anyone else. Falling to the dark side, then bouncing back. Losing those years of his life when he was imprisoned in carbonite, knowing most of his friends were missing and maybe even dead, seeing almost everything he'd fought for destroyed in his absence. Then being hounded by the Eternal Empire with just a handful of allies when he finally got free. Then later watching his nascent Alliance being abandoned by the Senate of the very Galactic Republic he had once championed. Watching friends and allies die in the final battles to take down the Eternal Empire, and finally overcoming Valkorion in a battle for his own mind.

I've seen him win so many battles and lose so much along the way, I honestly don't know how he keeps going. But he does. And deep down, I knew he always would.

And I think everyone else in the Alliance pretty much thought the same.

What's that? Am I related to… Oh, kriff, really? Alright, yes, fine. I am the illegitimate son of Master Satele Shan, former Grand Master of the Jedi Order. (Who incidentally was the Commander's boss at the time we met.) Yes, I am a descendant of Bastila Shan, hero of the Jedi Civil War centuries ago. And if the name Revan means anything to you, yeah, I can claim him as an ancestor, too. And heck, why shouldn't we bring up the fact that my father is Jace Malcolm, the Supreme Commander of the Republic military? And that I didn't even meet either of my parents until I was almost thirty? And that my mother apparently went into hiding years ago after the Eternal Empire invaded, and that she didn't even bother to send me a message to tell me she was alright?

Not that I'm, you know, bitter or anything.

Anyway…

The Commander and I, though, we've been through a lot, since well before Zakuul invaded. Heck, we even met a couple of times before that Korriban operation went sideways and eventually led to us meeting Lana and squaring off with Revan. We kept that hush-hush, though. My old bosses at the SIS wouldn't have approved of what we were doing. It's possible my mother wouldn't have been okay with it either. Story for another time.

In all our time together, he never brought up the fact that Satele was my mother. Or that I was raised as a Jedi initiate as a kid before washing out because I didn't have 'the gift' of the Force. Don't tell anyone, particularly him, but I always… really appreciated that.

I don't want to sound like I'm bragging here, but I don't think I'd be totally out of line if I told you I'm probably the Commander's best friend at this point. Nothing touchy-feely, you understand. In my job, I don't place too much stock in terms like that, but it's likely true. There are only two people in the whole Alliance he's known for longer than he's known me, and both of those are members of his old crew, back when he was just a Jedi running around the galaxy with five companions in one small ship. They're both good people, don't get me wrong, but one is an AstroMech droid who talks in beeps and whistles and the other is a drill Sergeant with the personality of a Durasteel wall. So as far as confidantes go, yeah, I feel I'm at the top of his list when it's time to share memories over a beer.

Not that he does that a lot, being a former Jedi, but we have.

Of course, then there's Lana, who is a very special case.

Lana Beniko, the former Minister of Sith Intelligence. Brilliant. Ruthless. Beautiful. Deadly. We'd become partners of convenience years ago when were both on the run during the Revanite Crisis. We worked well together. I respected her. I even liked her. We were friends. Even good friends. But I never forgot that she was a Sith. She and I had a little incident back on Rishii when she let me get captured and tortured by the Order of Revan so she and the Commander could find their base by tracking me down.

I mean, that was a long time ago, so I'm mostly over it.

Mostly.

Anyway, so Lana was the one who freed the Commander from that carbonite prison in the Spire on Zakuul. She searched for him almost non-stop for five years, even after everyone else had given him up for dead. She risked everything to rescue him, convinced that he was the only one who could defeat the Eternal Empire. Since then, she's been totally dedicated to his cause, building the foundation of the Alliance up from nothing and rarely leaving his side, except when he needed her to. Heck, she even chose the location of our headquarters here on Odessen.

Eventually, she and the Commander even started sharing a bunk. So, you know, they're close. Special case, like I said.

(And just for the record, Lana's interest in the Commander as more than just an ally? Totally called it years ago. This was right after that thing on Ziost, when she didn't have the Commander and I killed for not turning a Vitiate-possessed Jedi Master over to her for an 'examination'. Believe me, she didn't hold off for my sake.)

If the Commander was the heart and soul of the Alliance, Lana was the mind. Her intelligence and ruthless determination helped forge a grassroots resistance movement into an organization rivaling the great powers of the galaxy. The Commander consults with her on every major decision.

(Me? I try to be the Alliance's conscience. Hey, don't look at me like that. Someone needed to do it.)

Some of the troops – the few who were with us way back on Yavin years ago – they still call the three of us the Triumvirate. Sounds like a gang of spice dealers of Nar Shadaa, I know. But just between us, I always kind of liked it. A Jedi, a Sith and an SIS Agent. Sounds like the opening of a bad joke.

Instead, we saved the galaxy. More than once.

But here's my story. So, a few months after the Commander took down Valkorian and claimed the Eternal Throne, Lana and I were vetting the application for a potential recruit. We'll call the guy Slade, though you can bet your last credit that it wasn't his real name.

He was ex-Sith Intelligence, one of their 'Watchers'. He had briefly worked for Lana years ago before the Eternal Empire had invaded.

Now I'm a spy by trade myself, but this guy was shifty even for my line of work. Lana was suspicious of him right from the start when he came to us. Said she remembered Slade as being too "old Empire", loyal only to the most powerful Sith within arm's reach. She also assessed that he changed loyalties too fast to be trusted with important assignments. She said he could be insufferably flattering to a superior, and equally arrogant to his subordinates. Lana concluded that it was incredibly suspicious that he was choosing to join us now, and not months before, when the rebellion was in full swing.

I tried playing devil's advocate for a while, but Slade's background check generated too many red flags, including the suspicious shifting of a large amount of credits to his accounts through the Hutt Cartel, but originating elsewhere. We couldn't trace the origin, but when he waffled on his explanations for where the money came from, we both agreed it was best to give him the boot.

Lana and I were escorting Slade to the shuttles with a couple of Alliance troopers – one ex-Republic, the other former Imperial. That's how we try to do it. No restraints; we were still treating him with kid gloves at this point. We were walking past the war room – basically the command center of the whole base – when Slade spots the Commander. He was talking to Hylo Visz, our former celebrity smuggler turned Head of Underworld Logistics for the Alliance. They were probably going on about trade routes, but Hylo is one the few people in the galaxy who can honestly relate with the Commander's experience of having spent a few years frozen in carbonite, only to wake up to a galaxy that looked very different from how they left it. So I guess they did have that much in common, anyway.

Arcann was by his side, too. Yes, it was that Arcann. Valkorian's son, who had seized the Eternal Throne and invaded the rest of the galaxy. The one who had imprisoned the Commander in carbonite for five years, then hunted him and his allies down for months. The one most of us had joined the Alliance to stop in the first place. But when the time came, the Commander barely hesitated to trust that Senya, Arcann's mother, was right that there was good in him. How crazy is that? But then he joined us after being redeemed, helping us stop both Vaylin and Valkorian. Arcann was now one of the Commander's most powerful supporters.

In a private moment, Arcann had once asked the Commander how he had been able to forgive him for everything Arcann had done, both to the Commander and to the rest of the galaxy. The Commander just told him that if he hadn't given Arcann that chance, everything the Commander's life had stood for would have meant nothing.

Yeah, every once in a while, the Commander could be as enigmatic as the most wizened Jedi Master.

Anyway, Slade suddenly makes a break for it, running straight towards the Commander. He was a slippery one to make it as far as he did. Now if we hadn't already been convinced we didn't want him around, the sheer stupidity of making this move right there, right in the heart of the entire Eternal Alliance, would have been enough. Immediately, I drew my blaster and called for Slade to freeze, and our escort leveled their rifles. Six more Alliance members interposed themselves between the intruder and the Commander, ready to give their lives if needed to protect him. Arcann stepped forward as he ignited his lightsaber, wary of this apparent intruder.

Of course, all of that was superfluous when one of the people who had been escorting the target was a highly-motivated Sith.

I could tell Lana was furious that we had let this guy get anywhere close to the Commander. I mean, yeah, we had checked him for weapons and other 'toys' and it's almost impossible to think he could have actually harmed the Commander personally without them. But Lana didn't really care. She reached out with the Force, and next thing you know poor Slade is levitating in the air, grabbing his own throat in pain and desperation. Force-Choke is still part of Lana's repertoire, even if she's embraced the Commander's "tactical restraint" doctrine. She stepped towards him in full-on Sith mode, totally prepared to kill him on the spot. Naturally, by now, everyone's watching this exchange. Between communications staff, analysts, guards and Alliance members just passing through, there must be have been over thirty people watching this guy struggle for his life as Lana approached him. I sighed and holstered my weapon, hoping I wasn't about to have a corpse to cleanup.

Then came the very distinct sound of a throat being cleared, and all those eyes turned. It was the Commander himself. He had stepped forward and was holding up a forestalling hand to Lana. His expression to her was patient; his old Jedi training and discipline still occasionally served him well in his new role. Lana obviously knew that look. She didn't look at all happy, but she reluctantly lowered her arm, releasing Slade. The man fell to the floor, gasping for breath. Arcann and the others stood down, but were still wary.

The Commander stepped towards Slade and helped him to his feet, then he moved back and gave him a few moments to recover. He stood with his hands folded behind his back and his feet shoulder-width apart, looking every bit like the rock that the Alliance was built on.

"Mister Slade, was it?" the Commander spoke in a polite but very formal voice. "I'm sorry we won't be working together, but everyone who becomes part of the Alliance has my complete trust." He gestured around the room for effect. "And I'm afraid Lana and Theron have strongly advised against adding you to that list." There was a firmness to his statement that made it clear that this point was not open for discussion.

Slade, apparently, didn't pick up on that.

"But Commander." The little weasel was still recovering his breath, but his nerves were apparently doing fine. "There are things you don't know about these trusted advisors of yours!" he pointed wildly back at Lana.

The Commander didn't budge. He merely raised a questioning eyebrow at the man as people started tensing up, Lana among them.

"For example." His expression became rather smug as his confidence grew. "Did you know that after you fought side-by-side on Yavin, Darth Marr's first assignment for Lana Beniko as Minister of Sith Intelligence was to have her develop a series of tactics the Empire could use to 'neutralize' you specifically if you turned against them? She was planning ways to kill you!"

The entire chamber suddenly turned deathly silent.

"How dare you?!" Lana's voice cut through the room, her face taking on a murderous rage. Her eyes, which had already been glaring intently at Slade, seemed to shift into daggers.

I hadn't known about Slade's revelation, but I was hardly shocked by it. I stepped forward and gently put my hand on Lana's shoulder, just hoping I could keep her from making a bad situation worse. She shrugged the hand off, and then gave me a look that told me that if I were almost anyone else, I'd have lost the hand.

The Commander's eyes never left Slade. He simply raised a hand to forestall Lana from acting again. She just stood there, simmering. This two-bit operative had successfully gotten under her skin.

He hadn't gotten under the Commander's skin, though. The man still hadn't budged an inch at Slade's revelation. In fact, he had never looked away from Slade. Without looking, without even using the Force, I could tell he was appraising the room. Gauging the mood, and finding a solution.

"Well." The Commander's tone of voice was amiable, but the pitch of his voice allowed everyone listening to hear him clearly. "Then I'm very glad she never had the opportunity to use them."

That let a lot of the air out of the chamber. People relaxed just a little bit, some of them visibly exhaling from holding their breaths. There were even a few nervous chuckles from around the room, and Vette, our Twi'lek professional thief turned crack saboteur let out a high-pitched laugh. Lana still looked angry, but she blinked. Slade? He just stood there with his mouth open in disbelief.

Evidently, he had never put together a 'Plan B'.

The Commander finally started moving, pacing around Slade like a Nexu who was trying to decide if the bark rat it was stalking was worth the trouble.

The Commander's voice was level and calm. It was as if he were giving a lightsaber lesson in the training grounds. "But let me tell you another story, Mister Slade. I once met a wise man on Tatooine. To tell you the truth, he was kind of a strange, old hermit. But he taught me a few important things, including the difference between complete trust and absolute trust."

"Complete trust, you see, is what they call it when you trust someone so much that you would still trust them even if they were holding a dagger at your throat."

Here the Commander stopped, smiled and beamed proudly. "I have to tell you, Mr. Slade. The second-best part about my job is that I now have a literal army of people at my back, each of whom I trust completely." Here his arms spread wide, indicating everyone in the chamber. Still, his eyes never left Slade's.

And just like that, all the tension in the room just melted away. Guards stopped clenching their weapons. People swallowed and looked around at each other. A lot of people even smiled proudly. It wasn't just because of all the things the Commander had accomplished; it was because of all the things people hoped he'd achieve in the future. They believed in him. All of them. And knowing he believed in them empowered each of them to do whatever he asked of them.

"Now, absolute trust, on the other hand, is a little bit different." The Commander continued. "Absolute trust is what they call it when you'd still trust someone even after they had just slit your throat and left you to die with your life's blood spilt across the desert sand." He continued to use hand gestures to express the concept.

The former Imperial finally found his voice. "But… that's insane." Slade sputtered.

"No. That's trust." the Commander replied crisply. "And Alliances are built on trust."

He resumed his pacing around Slade. The operative looked like he was getting smaller and smaller the longer he held the Commander's attention.

"The point, Mister Slade, is that in this strange life I've led, I've met four remarkable people whom I trust absolutely." The corners of his lips turned upward for the briefest of moments. "Not counting AstroMech droids, of course." He smiled over at Tee-Seven, the old member of his crew, who rolled forward and returned his comment with a series of beeps.

The Commander turned back to Slade. "Now two of these four people… are lost to me forever." His eyes closed as he inhaled the air, and I could feel the sadness in his voice.

A full moment of silence was observed before he exhaled and his eyes suddenly came open, focused on Slade's and full of intensity.

"The remaining two are now standing at your sides."

I started at that, giving a little glance around. I realized that the two he was talking about were Lana and myself. She realized it, too. I saw her lips part just a little, and her eyes took on this glazed look. For the first time in the encounter, her complete attention was now on the Commander and not Slade.

Because Slade no longer mattered.

There was this enigmatic look the Commander occasionally took on. A look that was decidedly not 'Jedi'. A look that forced me to remember that for nearly a year, Valkorian had inhabited the Commander's mind as a 'back seat driver', and that while the old Emperor might be long gone (finally!), there were some lessons that he might have left behind about leadership, power and loyalty. The Commander's eyes were full of these lessons as he smiled intently on Slade.

"And if anyone needed any additional proof of Lana's loyalty, Mister Slade, then consider this: You are still alive."

I've never seen a man shrink like Slade did just then. There was nothing this weasel, this small fraction of a man, could ever do to even scratch the veneer of either the Commander or the Eternal Alliance. There was silence in the room again. But this time, people weren't nervous or apprehensive. This time, almost everyone seemed to be following the Commander's lead, looking upon Slade as an intruder. An enemy. Someone who had dared to even try to disrupt the Eternal Alliance, and was now being cast out.

For a second there, I thought we'd have to get Slade a new pair of pants.

"But since I'm in a good mood today, I'll let Theron be the one to escort you out." The Commander's smile became marginally kinder, but in a formal, detached way. His tone of voice was somehow intimidating without being threatening as he leaned in and spoke in Slade's ear, still loud enough to be heard. "Go and tell whatever masters you serve that the Eternal Alliance will not fall today."

Then, for almost the first time in the whole encounter, the Commander looked away from Slade, smiling over at me and giving me the nod.

Just like that, it was all over.

I hung back once Slade was restrained and firmly in the hands of our armed escort. I just didn't want to miss the post-credits scene. The Commander gave a confidant smile as he turned and addressed the troops.

"Back to work, everyone. The galaxy isn't going to save itself."

Everyone did just that, and let me tell you, it left them all with a renewed sense of confidence in the Eternal Alliance and what we stood for. Yeah, we all came from different places and had different views of how the galaxy should work. But every one of us believed the Commander was the man to make all that work, and that he'd find a way to win when it came time. Most of these people had endured years of hardship and loss, which was bad enough. Worse still was the uncertainty, particularly for the future.

Now they had something – someone - ensuring that they had a future worth fighting for.

It was only then, with relative privacy, that he turned to Lana with a smile. A different smile than one he gave to me or the troops; one that was just hers. I couldn't help myself. I used the cybernetic implant in my ear to eavesdrop on their exchange. Not a skill I often advertise, but it has its uses

(Hey, i am a spy.).

Lana immediately started to speak. I couldn't see her eyes clearly from this angle, but I didn't need to. She desperately wanted to explain herself. "Commander, I – " she began.

"Shhhh." he gently silenced her, reaching up and caressing her cheek. "I don't question your love. Don't question my trust."

Lana blushed, and if they hadn't been standing in a public area, I imagine she'd have been doing much more.

He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "And for the record, the time I spend with you is the best part about this job." He grinned. It made him look almost boyish. He'd accomplished more than most people would in ten lifetimes, but for all of that, he wasn't quite thirty.

"Come on." He reached down and took her hand in his. "I'll take you to dinner, and you can tell me all about these special 'tactics'." He seemed positively cheerful now, like the galaxy was finally moving in the right direction.

Lana just smiled, taking his hand and following him out.

Wow, am I right? I mean, who wouldn't walk into a Corellian hell for a man like that?

That's why I've stayed with the Alliance all this time. I'll never have a boss I admire as much as him. Or a friend.

After all, he'd given me his absolute trust.

***********************************************

After I put Slade on a shuttle headed for Nar Shadaa, I was walking out of the docking bay area when I ducked into an empty maintenance closet. I quickly unscrewed the control knob on my blaster, then I used a short length of wire from my jacket to connect it to my implant. Neither object was suspicious in and of itself, but combined they did a little bit more than you'd expect. Alliance Headquarters has security measures for this sort of thing, of course, but I designed most of them, so they wouldn't be a problem. Alone and unobserved, I spoke aloud.

"Begin transmission. Scorpion reporting. Slade was a non-starter. Next time, send an asset who's halfway competent, not to mention plausible. The Iokath Gambit remains on schedule. End transmission."

I killed the device, putting the knob back on my blaster and securing the wire between the fibers of my jacket. Then I let out a guilty sigh as I shook my head sadly.

"He's never gonna see it coming."

Hey, I did say this was all just between us, right? Our little secret?

[swtorramblings]

I Shall Save Myself - 1: The Final Chain

Injured Vaylin by @fleeting-sanity​, with much thanks.

Re-working an old story, to clean it up, add pictures, and actually pick a Commander. I used my character Richerd (link to come). He was the first character I made, and the first character through KotET. I haven’t played him much since then, for reasons. I’m still disapproving enough to let him get roughed up.

I Shall Save Myself Second Draft Chapter List

Vaylin nears defeat in the second Battle of Odessen. Then, well-ordered Fate is suddenly disrupted.

The battle had gone their way, for a time. The power of Richerd Pauers, Barsen’thor and Alliance Commander, with Senya and Arcann at his side, had easily defeated Vaylin’s forces. And, while perhaps Vaylin was still more powerful than all of them combined, they were all experienced in war. Eventually, she was brought to her knees, pained by numerous small wounds, exhausted by their attack.

He felt for her, but knew she had to die. She was too broken and too powerful to live. Her crimes too great. It was the only way.

Wasn’t it?

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

Vaylin was on her knees, again, gasping for breath, and then she heard his voice. Telling the Outlander, his favorite pet, how she was still dangerous.

How could he? Throwing them all aside for this upstart! None of them deserved this more! None of them had gone through the pain she had!

Well, they were going to now.

She mocked her father one last time, and then, finally, unleashed her full power. She realized then that she had, even now, been holding back.

Not any more.

Arcann and Senya were blasted off of their feet, unable to stand against the gale.

The wind she caused to rage around her was even strong enough to begin cracking thick walls of the Alliance base. Nothing living would stand against it.

The Outlander, though, somehow, did. He couldn’t be more powerful than her family, could he? He was struggling, but he pushed against the winds.

She gritted her teeth, let the power rage through her. No matter the cost, she would destroy this usurper. She could feel the ships overhead, even out in orbit. She began to drag them down. Even if she fell, they would still destroy everything the Outlander and his puppet master had created here.

If this was to be her last stand, at least it would be a glorious one. It would have to be enough.

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

Richerd staggered forward. A few steps more and it would be over. He heard himself saying something to her as he reached for his lightsaber. He wasn’t sure what it was. The only sounds he heard now were the winds, and his followers over the com channels.

And the Empress Vaylin’s cries of pain and fear.

It had been unfair, his taunts. She really was a child, wasn’t she? Or, maybe had simply never had the chance to be.

But even if she had, she would still be a monster. She’d never had a chance. Her power had been too great and too early, and she’d needed to be controlled. And now she was free, and had decided on this.

As he ignited his weapon and prepared to end this, though, her expression changed. The winds suddenly stopped, and he staggered forward, surprised. Before he could recover, he suffered the fate he had planned for the broken woman before him.

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

Part of her had accepted that she was about to die. Whatever she did, whatever she had tried, it only made everything worse. The day she lashed out at the Knights in the arena had revealed her power to her father. Her rage at her mother for leaving her that day had kept her from accepting help. Her time on the Throne meant all but her most loyal subjects hated her.

At least coming here at the Outlander’s taunting meant an end to her pain. Then she saw it. Her brief future. The way things were meant to be, had been arranged, probably even at the moment she was born. A single path that would put her power in the hands of the Eternal Emperor, her hated father.

That, she could not stand.

She pulled it all back to her at the last moment, causing the ships now unrestrained to surge upward and the Outlander to lose his balance.

Which let her end the fight, but on her terms.

She leaned close to him, whispered into his ear, “Did you really think it would be that easy, ‘Father’?”

She knew it almost had been. She just wouldn’t admit it to either of them.

She deactivated her lightsaber. She now understood it would do her no good against the real enemy here, the one that gave it to her in the first place.

Richerd’s power had always leaned towards healing. Even as he attempted to lift his lightsaber to defend himself, he was attempting to repair the wound as best he could.

Vaylin gestured, and he was slammed to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs, leaving him defenseless. Through the pain, he couldn’t focus well enough to resist her power.

She was swaying, a gash on her arm dripping blood to the ground, but she still smiled down at him, saying, “Now you’ll have a scar to go with the one my brother gave you.” Then she looked uncharacteristically thoughtful. “If you survive. He saved you before, didn’t he? He won’t be able to this time. I’ll make sure of that.”

Valkorion emerged as he had before, attempting to slow time, but she was having none of it, the glittering sphere shattering. “Kneel before the Dragon of Zakuul!” he shouted in desperation, as Richerd had while trying to save Torian.

“No, ‘Father’. Never again.”

“Daughter,” he began. Before the spirit could say any more, Senya shouted, “Vaylin, no!” She and Arcann draw their lightsabers as they charged forward.

They may as well not have bothered. Vaylin’s smile broadened as she looked away from the Outlander, saying in a light, almost sing-song voice, “Not now, Mother, I don’t think I have much time, and ‘Father’ and I must talk.”

Before they could reach her, she gestured, slamming both into the cracked wall. They fell to the ground, no longer moving.

She looked down at the Outlander, still clinging to consciousness. “What was it you said to me? That killing Father wouldn’t heal my scars?”

“You said you didn’t have any,” he replied, barely able to get the words out.

The smile disappeared, finally. “Idiot. My father caged me like a beast for my entire childhood. I endured countless experiments, cut off from my power, tormented by the world he killed. And then they came, tortured me, conditioned me, controlled me. I don’t have scars. All I have is rage.” She stood again, turning to the fallen. “And you come to me with your Jedi ‘wisdom’, your platitudes, your manipulation. Your taunting. No better than SCORPIO, or my brother. You were given my chains, and never hesitated to use them. So, no better than Father, either. What did you would happen? What I would say?” She gestured at Torian’s body. “What I would do?”

Valkorion had been silent, but now he said, haughtily, “You cannot blame us, Daughter. You brought yourself here. You killed the Mandalorian. I only tried to prevent all of this. To protect you from yourself.”

She ignored him, keeping her eyes on Richerd. “I do hate you. All of you. Still, I’m going to give you a chance, not because you’ve earned it. You’re just not that important. Maybe Father was holding your chains. I don’t know and I don’t have the time left to care what happens to you. It is over.”

Valkorion begins, lacking his usual smug tone, “Vaylin…”

She repeated, “No, ‘Father’.”

Lightning leaped from her hands and into the spirit of Valkorion, and he screamed. Richerd saw Vaylin through the almost blinding light of her power, at first straining, then smiling. Finally, she began to laugh, not the broken sound he had heard before, but something like joy. It was terrifying, but he had to admit, there was also beauty in that sound.

Soon, the lightning stopped. Where Valkorion had seemed to stand was only smoke and melted stone.

Vaylin was swaying where she stood, her breathing ragged, when she turned back to the Commander one last time.

They had won. She had won.

She looked down at him. He noticed that, oddly, her eyes were blue. He did not understand for a moment.

“You were wrong,” she said. “Sometimes, the only way to heal is to strike back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

She smiled then, not that predatory grin, but as though at a private joke. Then, her eyes closed and, with a sigh, her knees folded under her, and then she toppled to the ground. Moments later, the Commander followed her into the darkness.

[sergeantsporks]

Whatever It Takes

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

TW: Self-harm, attempted suicide, emotional manipulation

“While I’ve got you here, want to hear the complete history of wild magic? I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting, considering that you’re old enough to have lived through it.”

“I am not, you little brat. Shut your mouth, I don’t want to listen to your voice.” “Yeah? What if I don’t want to shut up? What if I feel like singing?"

Hunter is a difficult prisoner to keep, and Lilith and Eda are about to find that out the hard way.

Ao3

Ch 2/4: Prisoner

Ch 1

Eda perched on a chair, watching her new prisoner. “When do you think he’ll wake up?”

Lilith finished tying Hunter to a chair with a roll of her eyes. “If I hit him hard enough, not for a while.”

“Should we… try to wake him up?”

“Titan’s veins, Edalyn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this anxious before.”

“I’ve never kept a coven head tied up in my basement before!” Eda peered at him. “What does he even eat?”

“Nothing. He photosynthesizes. I don’t know, Eda, probably the same thing we eat. He’s a witch, after all.”

“He’s a powerless witch. What if they have human diets?”

“I—this is ridiculous. Keeping prisoners isn’t that scary, I’ll walk you through it.”

Eda squinted at her sister. “Oh, yeah. Sometimes I forget that you were…” she rolled a hand. “A horrible person.”

“Hmph.”

Hunter groaned, and Eda grinned. “Guess you didn’t hit him hard enough.”

Hunter’s eyes shot open, and he glanced around wildly, kicking his feet and straining against his bonds. “Wha—where-?”

His kicking knocked over the chair, and he fell backwards with a crash. “Ow.”

Eda snorted. “Behold, the mighty head of the emperor’s coven.”

“Oh, great. It’s you.”

Eda picked the chair up, flicking Hunter’s head. “YYYYYep. Nice to see you too, nerd.”

He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “Ugh—Darius! What happened to him?! Where’d he go?!”

Lilith studied her nails. “He left you high and dry. He didn’t care if we captured or killed you. You know how it is.”

“Is this the part where you try to convince me to, as we say in the coven, pull a Lilith, betray the emperor horribly, and end up sad and lonely?”

“They do not say that!”

“I don’t want you on our side,” Eda interrupted, shooting her sister a “don’t react” look, “I wouldn’t trust you for a second. I want you to tell me what happened to Raine Whispers.”

Hunter leaned back as best he could while tied up, looking bored. “The emperor killed them slowly and painfully. Next question?”

Eda’s heart stuttered dangerously in her chest. “Liar,” she snarled, “Your precious emperor hasn’t appointed a new coven head yet—so Raine’s still alive. Where are they?!”

Hunter clicked his tongue. “Let’s see… coven head prisoner, coven head prisoner, mmmmmm doesn’t ring any bells.”

Lilith put a hand on Eda’s shoulder as she growled. “Oh, Hunter. Your bravado isn’t fooling anyone. You know how the emperor’s coven works as well as I. No one is coming for you. There is no holding out until rescue, because there will be no rescue. Don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be—who are you even keeping quiet for? An emperor who doesn’t care enough about you to come for you? Just tell us what you know about the bard coven head.”

He rocked back and forth in the chair, looking up at the ceiling, unconcerned. “Or what? You’ll torture me?”

Lilith raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what you want.” She turned to go. “Excuse me. I need to gather a few things.” She strode back up the basement stairs, leaving Eda and Hunter alone.

Eda rocked back and forth on her heels. “So… how’s that portal coming along? Got enough titan’s blood?

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Mmm.” Eda clicked her tongue. What did Lilith need that was taking this long? “Soooooo… what now?”

“This is the first time you’ve taken a prisoner, isn’t it.”

“No!”

“Uh-huh. Alright. While I’ve got you here, want to hear the complete history of wild magic? I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting, considering that you’re old enough to have lived through it.”

“I am not, you little brat. Shut your mouth, I don’t want to listen to your voice.”

“Yeah? What if I don’t want to shut up? What if I feel like singing? Oh titan’s heart, oh titan’s heart,” he started howling in an off-key voice, “we the covens are loyal to thee!”

“UUUUUGH,” Eda groaned, “Stop that, or I’m going to gag you!”

“We pledge our lives, our magics, our hearts to yours! When you call, we heed your voice!”

Eda stormed up the stairs, slamming the door behind her. “That kid is the most annoying creature in existence!” Her sister was lying on the couch, reading a book, and Eda leaned on the back of the couch, looking down at her. “What are you doing? I thought you were getting something?”

“No. I just want him to think I am. Let him sweat and squirm. Let him think about all of the horrible things I might be planning to do to him.”

“Let him freak himself out. Devious, Lili.”

“Oh, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Let him imagine the worst. But now that you’ve come up, too, we can just… leave him.”

“I’m not sure how that—”

“Leave him alone long enough, and he’ll start to wonder if we’re coming back. He’ll start to wonder if we had to leave for some reason, and we left him. He’ll start thinking that if we did have to leave, there’s no one to let him out. That he’s trapped down there. At first he’ll tell himself not to worry, that we’ll come back down for him eventually. Then, as time wears on, and he has no idea how long it’s been, he’ll start calling for help, thinking we’re gone.”

“And that’s when we go down?” Eda interjected, “When he’ll be happy to see us?”

“No, Edalyn. We wait for him to stop calling. We wait for him to give up, thinking that no one will come for him. We let him wallow in the fear that he’ll starve down there, tied up, and then, then we return.”

Eda scooted away from her sister. “… have I ever mentioned how incredibly glad I am that you changed sides?”

“You could stand to mention it more.”

“You’re not gonna… actually torture him, are you?”

“Physically? I wasn’t planning on it, no, why, do you want me to?”

“Titan! Lilith, no!”

Lilith shrugged. “To each their own. He’s probably not feeling too well—a blow to the head is no joke, and neither was that spell he took for Darius. He’ll spill.”

“He seemed fine to me. Just as annoying as ever.”

“It’s an act. Bravado. He’s hurt, he was just flat-out betrayed and abandoned by the person he was protecting, and he’s captured with no hope of rescue, because he knows that’s not how the emperor’s coven works. He’s a resilient pest, but all of that will take its toll quickly. Give him a few hours, and he’ll crack.” Lilith hesitated. “But… Eda… about rescuing Raine, should they still be alive…”

“What?”

“I’m just… not entirely certain it’s the best plan.”

“I can’t just leave them!”

“I know you don’t want to, but… we have the upper hand over Belos at the moment. We have his right hand, a coven leader, in our grasp. We’ve put his day of unity plans to a grinding halt. We go running off on a hare-brained rescue mission? If one of us gets caught, it’s all over.”

A new plan quietly clicked into place in Eda’s head. “We have the coven head. We have the right hand of Belos. Why not make a trade? His precious golden brat for Raine! Either way, we end up with a coven head, so we won’t be giving up our advantage, but this way, we’ll have Raine, who will fight with us, instead of the brat tied up in my basement!”

Lilith sat bolt upright on the couch. “Are you insane?” she hissed, “You want to try to ransom him back?! Edalyn, an attempt to negotiate with the emperor will go very, very badly! Let’s say we achieve the best case scenario, let’s say Belos agrees to the trade and we get Raine back. The emperor will not stop hunting us down. When I was attempting to capture you, it was just that—capture. If you try to make a deal, trade hostages? Belos will want you dead. Even having kidnapped the golden guard is risky—for now, Hunter could be anywhere, no one knows we took him. But if Belos finds out? We may as well start writing our obituaries now.”

“Fine.” Eda growled in frustration. “It’s just—I don’t want to leave them, if they are alive! It just doesn’t feel right.”

“I know. We just have to be patient. And after the Day of Unity passes, we can go after them. I promise I will help you retrieve Raine.”

“Helloooooo?” Hunter’s voice called up from the basement, “Are we gonna get this interrogation going, or what? I’ve got places to be!”

Lilith motioned for Eda to stay quiet. “Here we go,” she whispered.

“Traitor? Crazy owl lady? You there?”

Eda head a scraping noise, as if Hunter was dragging the chair he was tied to across the floor. There was a pause, then, “Titan, there’s stairs. Helloooooo?” Another pause. “Okay, I’m going to escape now! Anyone up there to stop me? No? Okay!”

“Should we go down there?” Eda murmured to Lilith. Her sister shook her head.

“He can’t get out of that chair, you heard him about the stairs.”

“I mean it! I’m breaking out of here! Oh, look, I’ve got the ropes off! No? Nobody?” Then, a little more quietly, “Guess they’re gone.”

Eda heard a lot of thumping, and then an ‘ow.’ She snorted softly. “Sounds like he’s knocked himself over again.”

Lilith pulled her away from the basement door and into the kitchen. “Give him a bit.” She started flipping through one of Eda’s potion books. “Any chance one of these has a truth potion recipe in here?”

“No, but I think there’s a knockout potion somewhere. If he keeps trying to sing, I might use it.”

Lilith snorted. “Right. I’ll go ahead and brew that. Forget feeding it to him, if I have to talk to him for much longer, I’m going to want it for myself. Where do you keep your sleeping nettles?”

“Cupboard by the trashcan, do NOT let Hooty know where they are.” Eda paced the kitchen. “What if he is in the middle of escaping?”

“He’s concussed, has short little legs and no staff. He won’t get far.”

Eda snapped her fingers. “No staff! Where’s his little palisman, I didn’t see it!”

Lilith stopped mid-stir. “Palisman?! Him?!”

“Yeah, he has a little cardinal palisman.”

“Belos hates wild magic! Do you know what it took for me to keep a hold of my palisman?! You’re telling me that Hunter hasn’t just got a palisman, he’s hiding it from Belos?”

“I guess. What’s the big deal?”

Lilith laughed. “Oh, he is in for it when Belos finds out! See if he’s still the favorite then!”

“…Lili, you’re not in the emperor’s coven anymore.”

Her sister resumed stirring her potion. “I know that.”

“And we aren’t going to use Hunter’s palisman as leverage against him, okay? I want more info about Raine, but I’m not going to threaten an innocent palisman to get it.”

“Fine.” Lilith set her spoon down. “I think it’s about time we check in on him. Let’s see how much he’s panicking.

When they got down the basement stairs, Hunter was asleep. Eda snorted, setting the chair upright again. “So much for that idea.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Lilith growled.

Hunter opened his eyes with a smug look that Eda was relatively certain meant he’d never actually been asleep. “Oh, hey, when did you guys get here? Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

Lilith lunged towards Hunter, and Eda had to hold her back. “You are a horrible, conniving little brat, and if I never saw you again, I could die happy!”

“Oooo, might want to watch that temper, Lilith, isn’t that how you got beaten by your sister so many times?”

Lilith’s nostrils flared, and she stopped trying to get past Eda, taking a deep breath and smoothing her hair. “Laugh all you want, brat. I may be out of the coven, but at least I chose to go. Unlike you.”

“I’m not leaving the coven. I’m going to get out of here, and I’m going to go back, and y’know what, I’m going to drag both of you with me, and this time we’ll finish the petrification process.”

Lilith chuckled. “Oh, Hunter. You don’t really think you can go back, do you? Not after you failed like this.”

For the first time since he’d gotten here, fear flashed in Hunter’s eyes. “I didn’t fail,” he said defensively, “Darius got away—I protected him from your assassination plot. I completed my mission—you failed.”

“But you were captured,” Lilith said softly, leaning in close to him, “Of course you carried out your mission—but you’ve still failed the emperor. You lost. To us. How humiliating.”

“I only lost because that coward Darius used me as a meat shield,” Hunter snarled, “It wasn’t my fault!”

Lilith laughed softly, pulling away. “Do you really think the emperor will accept that excuse? You know as well as I that you cannot blame others for your own mediocracy.”

The shift in Hunter’s attitude… Eda wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Lilith had gone from dancing to Hunter’s tune and rising to his taunts to playing the flute herself. Hunter was a marionette on her strings. She grabbed her sister’s arm. “Hey, Lili? A word?”

She pulled Lilith upstairs, shutting the door so that Hunter couldn’t hear them. “What was that?!” she hissed.

“I know how the emperor’s coven works. I know how Belos works. I know how he treats people—you could hurt Hunter physically all you wanted, and he wouldn’t give up anything.”

“So you play mind games with him, Lili? That’s just cruel. Did you see his face when you said he’d failed Belos? That wasn’t just worry, that was terror. You really freaked him out, and I don’t like how you’re going about this.”

Lilith pointed at the door. “I’ve seen hardened demons break down at the idea that they’ve been left locked up with no hope of anyone ever coming for them. Do you want to know why it didn’t work on him, Eda? Because he was trained in the exact same torture methods I was. He’s the head of the emperor’s coven at age sixteen. Do you know how you get there? It isn’t by being an innocent kid, I can tell you that. Neither of us could kill him. But he’s dangerous, and Belos is the only one who could ever keep him in control. You heard him! He would drag us to our own petrification in a heartbeat! So if I have to invoke his fear of Belos to keep him from hurting you or I, I will!”

“Lilith—”

“When you first met him, he threatened King to get you and Luz to do what he wanted. He is not some cute little witchling who will roll over for belly rubs, he’s a lethal, dangerously unstable individual who is dead loyal to Belos and will stop at nothing to please him.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. It still doesn’t feel right, Lilith. And I don’t think it’ll make him crack.”

“Oh, please, he was about to be putty in my hands.”

“You make him scared of what Belos will do to him because he failed? He’ll just start thinking about how much worse it will be for him if he gives up information. No more head games, Lilith. I don’t like it, and I don’t like how much you’re acting like you did when you were in the coven.”

“Yes, because it’s effective. Good luck getting any information out of him.”

Eda grabbed her sister’s hands. “I don’t want to win by losing you. I’m not going to risk you reverting to your coven ways like that—you’ve come so far, and it’s not fair to put you in a situation where you’ll backslide.” Eda squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away. “You were right. Raine will have to wait.” It felt like a betrayal just saying it, but she couldn’t say anything else—Raine had risked everything to make sure that she, at least, could get away. Throwing that away based off of information they got from Hunter of all people would be disrespectful of their sacrifice. “We just need to ride out this storm. No more interrogations—we’re not going to just let him go, but we’re not going to hurt him, either. Okay?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Eda plucked a feather off of her sister’s arm. “This isn’t helping you—it’s making you worse. So trust me, Lilith—it is what I want.”

Xxx

Darius growled, kicking at a burned clump of vines. Of course the Golden Guard wasn’t here—he hadn’t really expected him to be, but it would have been nice. Right. Well, he could do a grueling search of the area—or worse, call in Eberwolf to help track the Golden Guard down.

Oooooor he could interrogate the last people to have seen him—his would-be assassins. He hadn’t seen their faces—the smokescreen had ensured that. But he had thought he’d heard a familiar voice.

Darius turned towards the Clawthorne estate. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Ch 3

[onwardintolight]

Monster Version 2.0 is up!

Read it here on FFN

Summary: After the war, Leia wrestles with who she is and what she's meant for, while exploring her Force abilities and struggling with Luke's revelation about their father. In doing so, she makes the choice that Anakin couldn't.

Written thanks to a prompt by @graciecatfamilyband 

The new version isn’t completely revamped; it just has a few extra bits I added to fit with what we learned in TROS. :) For those of you who still want access to it (I’m no George Lucas), I’ve posted the original version as the second chapter.

Here’s the new version in full:

~~~

Monster

After the war, I had a lot of things on my mind—I was heavily involved in the work to assemble the new government, for one, and I was also beginning to shift my focus back to the surviving Alderaanians and what I could do for my people. Not to mention, I was newly married, and a child came soon after.

I should have been happy. All the things I’d once dreamed of (and things I’d not even dared to dream, feeling myself unworthy) had finally come to pass. Yet I found myself stuck in a darkness and a turmoil that surprised me… though in retrospect, perhaps it shouldn’t have. All I had been through during the war—Alderaan, torture, Han’s temporary loss to carbonite, Jabba’s palace, watching too many people die (often directly or indirectly because of me), and so much more—it all began to catch up with me. And always, the mask of that monster loomed in my mind: him, the source of this evil, the cause of all this horror, and Luke had said… Luke had said he was our father.

I couldn’t process it. I didn’t want to think about it.

Luke had said that this father had turned back, in the end; that he’d saved his son and killed the Emperor. But all I could think of was Vader’s harsh breath as I writhed on the floor from the torture meds, the splitting pain as he tried to break down my mind’s barriers, his iron grip on my shoulder as everything I loved exploded into a billion tiny particles of dust, the proud, skeletal stare of his mask across the room in Cloud City as he came close to taking everything from me once again. A litany of my worst memories. The nightmares that still creep up on me, breaking into the quiet hours.

I despised Vader, with everything in me. And I was afraid. If I was the biological progeny of this twisted being, then who was I, really? Did the same potential for catastrophic evil lurk in my veins?

~~~

I had felt it, hadn’t I, all my life, this strange connection, this bridge to the ebb and flow of life around me. It emerged in my empathy, my intuition, even my leadership skills—I see it so clearly now. While I will never underemphasize my parents’ nurturing of those qualities, I’ve realized that the extent of my abilities can’t be chalked up to my upbringing alone. There’s always been something more, some inside force that whispers to me and guides me, that helps me persuade and fight and protect and persevere. Something that’s led me back, over and over again, to hope.

The Force. Somehow, I had always known.

At first, I let Luke teach me. Things like how to meditate, how to further hone my perceptions, how to reach out and feel him and others in a fuller way, how to speak without words. I’ve done some crazy stunts, both physically and mentally. I’ve flipped over chasms and moved my fair share of rocks. I can kick his ass with a lightsaber.

I know Luke hoped I would become a Jedi, too. But the more he told me about the Jedi way, the more uncomfortable I felt, especially as the weight of all that had happened began to settle more deeply upon me.

(Our father.)

Luke says fear and anger are the path to the Dark Side.

Easy for him to say, I think. Or maybe not. I know he’s struggled greatly with those things, and I would never trivialize his massive personal victories over them. Now, though, he is the picture of perfect peace, of tranquility. He trusts in the Force that all will be made right, and that in some sense, it already has.

Maybe he’s right. I don’t know.

But our relationships with those emotions are not the same. Anger and fear have been my constant companions for so long, I don’t know if it’s possible to let them go. And in truth, I’m not sure I’d really want to, at least not fully. After all, it’s my anger at injustice and evil and my fear of a galaxy enchained and destroyed that has so often fueled the fire in me, giving me strength to fight, to persuade, to seek change.

But I feel the dark potential, too, of those emotions—the seething hatred, the pull towards despair that sometimes sucks me under. There are days when I no longer know how to speak, how to be; days when all the pain rises up inside me, threatening to explode.

Honestly, the storms I experience are more of a threat to myself than others, unless you count the occasional angry diatribe. (My fault, the whispers still accuse, the ashes of Alderaan smoldering in my mind still.) I will carry forever the memory of the Dark Side’s evil, packed like a ball of durasteel in my core, a warning against too much power. (So much death, so many sacrifices. My fault.) I could never see myself perpetuating everything I fought so hard against, becoming the very thing I hate. (I’m a monster.) I will never.

And yet.

(He was my father.)

Other things, too, I might have to forfeit to become a Jedi; other threads making up the very fabric of who I am. Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments (Luke is undecided on whether to continue this practice, but it’s been a tenant of the order for millennia). I have Han, and for that alone I’d forsake the Force in its entirety. Jedi are supposed to favor serenity over passion: my passion is my drive, part of my very nature, even. Why would I let that go? Studying the Jedi way takes full commitment: I’m already committed fully to serving the New Republic and the Alderaanian diaspora.

(He was my father.)

~~~

It was in those early days of pregnancy, while I was still training, that the visions started. Waking nightmares.

I saw myself, boiling with rage, a mask descending upon my head, the world around me red as blood.

I saw my family, people I loved, their eyes full of grief and fear.

I saw the Dark devour the galaxy once more, undoing everything.

I saw my child, once blazing in the Force with so much Light, fallen into that darkness.

I saw myself taking up my saber. Killing my son.

The last vision was the clearest. It left me with a horrible certainty; the kind of Force-fueled certainty that centers itself right in the gut and refuses to budge. Visions are not directly mapped onto the future; what one sees may never come to pass, or it may in reality have come to pass long ago. But somehow, I knew: my path forward as a Jedi would lead to my son’s death, at my hand.

Whether the monster inside our blood claimed me or my son first, I still don’t know.

~~~

I have so much now. Even on my darkest days, I still have so much to live for. I see the steadfast love written in my husband’s eyes as he weathers these storms with me, encouraging me onward, daring me to pursue my goals, soothing me through the nightmares (as I do for him), daily sweeping me off my feet. Our love is an exquisite beauty I never thought I’d have, but here we are. I look at Luke, and Chewie, and other friends new and old, and the joy that wells up in me at the challenges we’ve faced together and the victory and the freedom we’ve won nearly takes my breath away. I gaze into the face of my precious little son, and I know that I would die, I’d do whatever it takes to continue making the galaxy a better place for him.

Whatever it takes, as long as it’s right.

And that… that is why I cannot travel this path. The power that Jedi training may give me is tempting, of course. Maybe if I learned more of the ways of the Force, I’d be able to make the galaxy right. Maybe I’d be able to better protect those I love. Bring swift justice. Champion the vulnerable without the neverending tangles of bureaucracy.

But then again, maybe the galaxy has had enough of that kind of power already.

I trust Luke not to grasp for it. As he’s told me, it’s surrender and sacrifice, not aggression and forcefulness, that mark a Jedi’s true calling. He will continue the Jedi tradition humbly and faithfully; I believe it.

And I will continue to honor my true father’s legacy, as well as my mother’s: serving my people in the government, and in the Senate, however I can. I’ll also continue to embrace this curious Force inside me; letting it speak through me to reach hearts and minds and strike up flames of hope, the same hope that it kindled in me, against all odds, throughout the years.

But I do not want more of that power.

(He’s my father.)

I reject the Dark.

No monster will ever take control of the galaxy again.