#thread: reunions in the sand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 1 year ago

Text

<<spoilers in this blurb guys!!>>

the 'reunion' of the high cloud quintet wasn't always something that had been weighing on blade's mind- he had seldom remembered the past. being with the stellaron hunters and going on missions directed by elio was a good distraction- what with kafka's words supplying him the numbness he needed to keep his mara in check. still, the person he mentioned needing to see before leaving the luofu was no doubt related to that very past.

when kafka had parted ways with the trailblazer after getting blade's condition back under control, you stood off to the side of the meeting place in the divination commission and watched as he also had a brief conversation with the stellaron-infused being.

in truth, you weren't sure what you were doing here. you had no reason to be and the script elio had prepared was finished, hence why kafka had already left. you should be right behind her, moving to get back to rest up before your next errand. and yet, you stood against the wall with one arm crossed over your chest and the other looking lazily at your phone screen.

the text thread between you, kafka, and silver wolf was mostly kafka announcing her return, silver wolf trying to convince you to come back to help her with some sort of dual hack for some game, and you saying that you would be on your way shortly. by the time you had left the thread and lifted your eyes from the screen to the looming shadow that now stood near you, the trailblazer had vanished, and blade was within your bubble.

"all finished?" you asked plainly, pocketing your phone before pushing off the wall and standing to meet him. his aura was always somewhat intimidating, but you had been around him long enough that it hardly phased you anymore. plus, he was probably exhuasted from the constant flow of mara that had just now been placed under wraps again. not that he would admit it.

"there are other matters." he blandly responds. with a sigh, your hands come up to your midrift and silently prod him for an answer to your silent question. 'am i staying or leaving?' "do as you please," was his reply. as he started off, you shifted your weight to your left and shook your head.

someone had to make sure he made it back, and since kafka had already up and left...

if he found your trailing presence irritating, he made no mention of it as you both found your way towards scalegorge waterscape.

stepping off the small boat that had carried you to the destination, your feet pressed firmly into the sand of the shore. from where you were, you could vaguely see a small group of four already near the statue of imbibitor lunae. your throat felt tight as you glanced over at blade, knowing that this has something to do with him and most probably his past that haunts his body.

without speaking, you move past him to lean against a large enough rock to support your weight comfortably.

"i'll be here when you're finished," you said. your back was towards the center of the land, and beyond it was the parted sea of dragon palace. you had been curious to see such a sight, but you knew now was not the time- and since now wasn't possible, you just swallowed your disappointment because you knew you wouldn't be returning to the luofu to ever try and see it again.

the visage of the calm sea that drifted your small vessel here would have to suffice.

"I won't be long," he tells you back, and whether he means it or not you're unsure. still, it was strange that he even replied to you in the first place- like a reassurance he would be back at all. you heard his boots crunching and shifting the sand as he made his way more inland until you couldn't hear him anymore.

you let out a deep breath before lifting your leg up. you rested your ankle on your opposite knee and set your elbow up so your chin rested in your palm. the breeze was nice at least.

you sat there for a while before you heard a commotion loud enough it made you tempted to go up shore and find out what was happening. blade could handle himself in more ways than one, you knew this fact well. still, the more you heard the more intrigue gathered in your mind. it was the echoing of blades clashing that finally got you to drop both your legs to the sand and start sauntering to where he had started off to before.

when you had finally made it, you slid behind one of the many fracture stone walls and peered around it. the blonde man and two cloud knights you briefly saw earlier had left, but the general had remained. alongside him and blade were two others, a woman with long white hair with a blindfold and the man you recognized as dan heng- one of the nameless that had been on the luofu at the same time as the trailblazer.

of course, you also knew that dan heng as imbibitor lunae with how much of an effect he had on blade before kafka had shut him away in some random building to calm him down.

whatever had happened had already concluded with blade laying on his back on the ground before bursting awake again with a gasp and small cough as he picked himself up. you had half a mind to go to his side and act as his crutch- as much as that would tick him off- but you refrained. it felt... wrong to let yourself be seen with so many people present. people you didn't even know at that.

so, you tucked yourself back behind the wall fully and shut your eyes, waiting until the chatter died. and soon it did. first the woman left, then the general, followed by blade's voice speaking coldly to dan heng. then, finally, silence and the sea.

feeling safer, you allowed yourself to step out into the open and as you suspected, all had cleared out aside from the black-haired man who kept his gaze glued to the eroded statue of a friend long since lost to him.

while he stared off into space, you finally turned your attention to the parted sea you were so interested in. you let a satisfied smile grace your features, as you look on at the beauty of the walls of water and what it had previously enclose in its depths. it truly was a wonderous sight, and you felt a little less guilty for being nosy as you gazed at it.

satisfactory eyes shut before you looked back to blade, seeing if he was done reminiscing... moping? whatever it was he was doing. his gaze had dropped from the statue at some point before you saw and he was now locked onto you. maybe he was waiting for you to finish gawking. you felt unsettled under the gaze of his heavy, crimson eye that wasn't concealed by his hair.

"are you quite finished?" his voice asked you before you cleared your throat.

"don't act like you were waiting on me."

"i was." your head dropped with a sigh. he was the one keeping you waiting! after all it was his mess you had to tag along with him for. was he pinning blame here?

"let's just go," you huff. "i'm sure the general won't be as generous if he sees us roaming around yet another time. kafka is probably already back by now." you turn your back and brush shoulders with the immortal, mara-man before stretching your arms in the arm as you step further away from him.

blade watched you go, getting further from his visage. watching your arms stretch then fall, seeing your shoulders expand then drop with each deep breath you took, yingxing almost felt envious of your life. then, with closed eyes, he reminded himself that you had suffered your own losses and closed the gates to those emotions he had lost.

in truth, he was waiting for you. knowing that you wanted to see the remains of the hidden sea palace even though you never voiced it was easy enough to read. he had been beside you long enough to read you and it helped he was already a fairly good judge of character to begin with. so, he waited for you to get your fill of the sight before finally bringing your attention back to him.

"blade!" you yell with a slight twinge in your voice. he opened his eyes and saw you had stopped walking, not hearing him fall behind you in step and turned around with your arms crossed. "we're leaving sometime soon i hope."

blade said nothing as he finally turned to chase you with his own, long languid steps. somehow, even if his old friends had drifted, died and shunned him for crimes that could never be taken back, being with the stellaron hunters- even if for ulterior motives- felt easier on him.

you especially somehow.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail blade #hsr blade #blade #yingxing #honkai star rail yingxing #honkai star rail fic #honkai star rail angst #how to write blade without making him overly romantic but also not a snob bc he's been humanized with trauma

49 notes · View notes

ryehouses · 2 years ago

Note

Did the other Skiratas ever talk to Boba?

just for you, hell yeah they did!

set post-ast in some nebulous time after the sarlacc pit! cw for the usual re: clones and also re: boba and also re: clones and boba.

in which there are feelings that are discussed instead of stabbed, which is an improvement over most fett family reunions.

Alright, thought Ordo Skirata, halfway up the side of a tower, clinging to a smooth sandstone wall and hoping that Prudii’s distraction out in the sands had drawn most of the palace guards and the other Mandalorians and hopefully the mand’alor himself off to investigate, I might be too old for this.

That wasn’t the sort of thing that Ordo would ever admit out loud, of course, because the thought of handing over leadership of the clan to any one of a dozen or so Skirata children made Ordo itch beneath his armor, but he could admit it to himself inside the quiet of his own buc’ye.

Damn the kaminiise anyway, he thought. Forty-six years in the galaxy looked and felt like sixty or seventy, to Ordo. Seventy was too old to be climbing up towards in the dead of night and organizing raids against sovereign – or sort of sovereign, because Ordo, Mereel and Jaing hadn’t actually stuck around after that business with the sarlacc to figure out what the new ruling structure of Mandalore was going to be – territories.

Ah, well. Regrets were for the dead and Ordo wasn’t dead yet, no matter what his protesting knees or his aching shoulder said, and he was here to do a job. Only the job mattered right now.

Why Ordo’s chosen to assign himself the task of climbing up a heavily-guarded tower in the middle of nowhere on karking Tatooine, of all places, was still somewhat of a mystery to Ordo, but he’d already gone to the trouble of starting. The only thing to do was see it through.

Boba Fett had kitted his palace out like a real morut. Ordo hadn’t even been able to approach from the air; Fett had some kind of finely-tuned motion sensor at the crown of his palace, and even a bird flying past would trigger the palace’s security sensors.

Ordo hoped that coming from the ground would at least gain him entry into the palace. Fett could hardly expect anyone to climb up two or three hundred feet of wind-worn desert sandstorm and so far no one’d picked Ordo off f the wall, but he still had a good sixty feet of climbing left.

Far out in the desert, there was another distant boom. Night reigned over Tatooine. The moons were dark. Ordo’d swapped his usual beskar’gam for Vau’s old blacks, counting on the darkness to further hide him.

Prudii better not overdo it, he thought. I needed the mand’alor out of the palace, not a declaration of war.

After the Mandalorian summit – after the little dust-up with the Hutts here on Tatooine, too, which had admittedly been a bit of fun for Ordo and his brothers – Clan Skirata had retreated carefully back to their own territory. Mereel’d wanted to come to the summit just to see what the others were doing, but Ordo had no intention of wading back into Mandalorian politics. He’d watched Mandalore tear itself to pieces once already.

But as the days had turned into weeks and the weeks into months, something about the whole experience – the summit, the battle, Boba karking Fett of all people allying himself with Mandalorians, when he was infamous among the clones for rejecting any and all attempts at burcyan – had stayed with Ordo like an itch beneath his armor or a loose thread on his kama, and the itch had become curiosity and the curiosity had become, well.

This, thought Ordo.

There was no reason to try to talk with Boba Fett. Ordo honestly couldn’t say if he’d ever exchanged more than a word or two with him, back in the days of Kamino. Fett didn’t care about the tatug’ad. He never had.

Ordo had never cared much for any clone outside of his close circle of brothers himself, and ten years ago if Ordo’d been invited to a Mandalorian summit and found himself looking at the Prime’s chosen son, Ordo would have turned around and slipped away, content to keep his clan and their business out of Fett’s.

But something Mereel had said to Ordo, before they’d gone to Krownest, stuck with him.

“The last time you saw him, he was ten,” Mereel had said. “Remember how awful your kids were at ten?”

Boba Fett had been an unpleasant boy, on Kamino. A perfect copy of Jango Fett, complete with the Prime’s sour temper. But he had been ten.

And we left him behind, thought Ordo, craning his neck up to look at his destination. He was nearly there; Fett’s rooms were open on all sides to the wind and the sky, protected when he needed them protected by blast doors and motion sensors. Fett, however, clearly hadn’t been expecting someone to be jare’la enough to try climbing up the spire.

ARC training was good for something.

The itch that Ordo felt under his armor – that he’d felt for the first time on Krownest, watching Fett stride across the ice, surrounded on all sides by enemies – was guilt, Ordo thought. Kal’buir had taught his boys to look out for their own. Ordo had always done his best to look out for his brothers, for Jaing and Kom’rk and Mereel and A’den, for Prudii and Fi and the other clones who’d left the GAR, made their way to Mandalore, to freedom. But he hadn’t looked after Fett.

He’s a man now, Ordo thought. Has been as long as we have. He doesn’t need us to look after him. Has never needed us to look after him.

Fett hadn’t liked admitting that he was literally one of millions, on Kamino. He’d thought the fact that the Prime had chosen him meant that he’d been better than all of the other clones.

But he was alone. No clone – not even an exact clone of Jango Fett himself – had been made to be alone.

That guilt had grown and grown. Now Ordo was here, hooking his fingers around the edge of the ledge that circled Fett’s rooms at the top of the tower, and his brothers were off drawing Mandalorians away so that Ordo could talk with Fett.

It is my duty to offer him aid, if he needs it, thought Ordo. Only a few on Krownest stood for him.

Several members of Death Watch had attended the summit on Krownest. Many kyr’tsad survivors had done their best to stamp out any trace of the True Mandalorians Fett was no True Mandalorian, but he’d had his share of enemies there on the lake.

Mereel and I went over this, he thought. One conversation. One offer of aid. Then I’m gone, and I can set any guilt I have aside.

Ordo got a decent grip on the ledge and hauled himself upright, his shoulders complaining. He came up off of the wall in a crouch and scanned the room. Fett’s rooms were wide and spacious, cooled by night air. He had only a little furniture. A long table strewn with datapads, a few chairs, a bed. Ordo straightened and took a step into the room. He was pleased that the motion sensors hadn’t been triggered. He pulled his helmet off and tucked it under an arm, scanning the shadows for Fett.

He didn’t have to look very hard. Ordo took another step into the room and Boba Fett himself stepped out of the shadows, kitted in full armor but for his helmet, and leveled a weapon at Ordo.

“Don't move. Who are – ah,” growled Fett, pausing when he caught sight of Ordo’s face. Fett had aged naturally. He was Ordo’s age, maybe a few years younger, but he hadn’t grown twenty years in the space of ten, thirty years in the space of fifteen.. Ordo’s hair had gone grey since they had all been children on Kamino, his face creased with age. Most looked at him now and didn’t see a clone.

Fett did. His eyes widened. Ordo watched him with interest.

He doesn’t see me as an enemy, then, he thought. That was – a surprise. Ordo’d watched Fett, at that summit. Fett was hostile on a good day.

But he didn’t rush in for an attack. Fett was armored, everything but his helmet snapped into place, and he held a dark, dangerous-looking staff in one hand. His face could have been carved from stone. But he didn’t lunge.

Maybe time has mellowed him as it has the rest of us, Ordo thought. I can work with that.

He raised his hands to show Fett that they were empty and said, “Boba Fett. I’m not here to start a war.”

“You’re a Skirata,” Fett said, studying Ordo. The hostility in his eyes hadn't lessened. “I thought you’d died off, by now.” He didn’t lower his weapon.

Ordo inclined his head, ignoring the insult. “I am,” he said. “I'm Ordo." He didn't bother with his clan name, since Fett knew it already.

Fett’s lip curled. “A Null.”

Ordo waved a hand. The motion made Fett twitch, his fingers curling more tightly around his staff. One end of the staff was shaped like a club and the other ended in a fearsome spike.

“None of that matters any more,” Ordo said. Null, ARC, commando, pilot; the war was over. The war had been over.

Fett snorted. “It always matters,” he said. “What do you want, Skirata? The noise in the desert is your doing, I assume.”

“It is,” Ordo said. When Fett’s jaw tightened, Ordo added, in a tone he’d perfected around the dinner table in the karyai of Kyrmorut instead of on the battlefield. “No one’s going to get hurt. It’s a distraction, nothing more. You have my word.” He'd made Prudii and Jaing swear not to kill anyone. Somehow Mandalore had begun to revive itself without any blood feuds. Clan Skirata didn't need to start the first one.

“A distraction,” Fett rumbled. He was shorter than Ordo’d expected him to be. All of Ordo’s brothers were precisely six feet tall, grown by Kaminoan hands and Kaminoan nutrient bars, but Fett was several inches smaller.

Not enough food to go around as a boy, Ordo thought. Like Kal’buir.

Another sensation itched underneath Ordo’s armor, prickling like the first, like the sensation that had driven Ordo out of his comfortable home, away from his family. Ordo knew that it was guilt.

Fett looked strong, though. He was solid and his stance was rooted, feet spread apart like the base of a mountain.

“If you’re here to speak with the mand’alor, he’s not here,” Fett growled. “He’s out dealing with your distraction. He takes Mandalorians at the High House. No Mandalorians come here."

That was a blatant lie. Ordo chose to ignore it.

“I know where he is,” Ordo said. That had been the point. Ordo had no business with Din Djarin, the Mandalore; his business was with Fett alone. “I’m not here for him.”

Fett narrowed his eyes. Ordo kept ten or twelve feet between them, ready to move if Fett moved first. “You have no business with me either,” he said.

“I do,” Ordo disagreed. Fett’s face was set into a hard plane of dislike. Distrust.

“You don’t,” Fett said, his voice a furious rumble. “We’ve never had business between us.”

Ordo heard the unspoken accusation. You never wanted anything to do with me, Fett was saying. And I want kark-all to do with you.

Ordo hadn’t climbed three hundred feet of tower to be dismissed so easily, though. He shrugged. “We’re kin,” he said.

“We are not.”

“Allies, the,” Ordo said. That drew another snort from Fett. “You are the mand’alor’s ally, aren’t you?” Ordo said. “My clan has no fight to pick with him.”

“Just me, then,” Fett said.

Ordo fell silent again, studying Fett intently. Fett was ready for a fight. His face was perfectly still, smooth as granite.

“Just you,” Ordo finally agreed. “Though I didn’t come here to fight.”

“What did you come here for, then?” Fett demanded, every bit as impatient as the Prime. As the Nulls, who’d had too much of him. “Think quickly, Skirata, before I decide to put this – ” he broke off to lift his staff higher, so that Ordo could see its wicked spike “ – to good use.”

Ordo sighed. To the point, then.

“Clan Skirata has – concerns,” he said. “We thought we’d offer our aid to a brother, if he needed it. Standing in the middle of joha’kaan’s a dangerous place for any Mandalorian. For a Mandalorian alone.”

“You’re – concerned,” Fett said flatly. He raised his staff like he was thinking about lobbing it at Ordo’s head.

Mereel should be the one doing this, Ordo thought. He’s better at diplomacy than me.

Wary, Ordo nodded.

“About me,” Fett clarified. When he said it, it did sound absurd. Fett had never been treated as a clone, not on Kamino. He’d grown up naturally. Hadn’t been flash-trained or poked and prodded by the Kaminoans. Hadn’t spilled blood in the Clone Wars. Fett was no more Ordo’s brother than the mand’alor was.

But he was alone, said a voice in Ordo’s head that sounded like his father. You were safe on Mandalore, surrounded by your clan, and Boba Fett was alone for thirty years.

Guilt sharpened.

“...Yeah,” Ordo said. He didn’t know how to explain it to Fett, not properly. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. Discomfort was a novel feeling. Ordo didn’t much care for it.

“Why,” said Fett, in a tone that suggested to Ordo that Ordo ought to have either a satisfactory answer or an exit plan to get away from that staff.

Ordo looked at the man who could have been his brother and said nothing for a moment. Boba Fett and Ordo Skirata weren’t much alike. They shared a genetic code and little else. Not a life, not a war, not even a face, really, beyond the shape of Fett’s nose, the line of Ordo’s jaw. If Ordo spoke, he wasn’t sure that he’d be understood.

So Ordo did what Kal’buir would have done, and told the truth.

“None of us were made to be alone,” Ordo said. “Not even you.”

Fett’s expression didn’t change. “That didn’t seem to concern you thirty years ago,” he observed, still in that same flat, disinterested voice. “And it shouldn’t concern you now.”

“Maybe not,” Ordo agreed. Fett was hardly a lost little clone these days, barely more than a tubie, cheeks round with baby fat. He’d survived, same as the rest of them. Thrived, even; none of Ordo’s brothers could call themselves kings. “But still. We thought we’d check, when we heard that Death Watch was involved.” There were plenty among the mando’ade who would happily kill Fett to avenge kin slain by Jaster Mereel or Jango Fett. And now that the mand’alor was living here on Tatooine, those old kyr’stad warriors might be tempted to seize the opportunity and kill Fett while the mand’alor’s back was turned.

While the mand’alor is elsewhere, Ordo thought. Drawn away by another enemy.

“There is no Death Watch,” said Fett, and for the first time since Ordo’d heaved himself up over the lip of Fett’s window, Fett’s hard stone expression eased. It didn’t soften, because bedrock, choruk be te vheh, couldn’t soften, had no softness in its nature, but now instead of looking at a sheer cliff Ordo was looking at enough of a slope to stand on.

Or I’m the one who’s getting soft, he thought wryly. Boba Fett might be the stone of the earth, but Ordo had always been something else.

“Not here, anyway,” Fett said.

“No?” Ordo said. He hadn’t apologized. Fett wouldn’t want him to, Ordo didn’t think. Fett hadn’t been Ordo’s responsibility, and even if Ordo – or, more likely, Kal’buir, who had never managed to walk away from a child who had needed his help or his care – had thought to find Fett in those first chaotic days of the war, Fett wouldn’t have stayed with the Nulls. He had too much of the Prime in him, and not enough of Kal’buir. “Must’ve got some bad intel, then, ‘cause I could’ve sworn that that mand’alor of yours was Death Watch.”

“He quit,” said Fett, his tone going flat and dangerous again.

Ordo raised his hands, palms up and empty, in a sign of peace. “Alright,” he said. “And the others? Bo-Katan Kryze and her verde, the Owls, the Saxons?”

Fett shrugged. “I don’t have much to do with them,” he said. “I’m in the business of making credits, Skirata, not ruling Mandalore.”

Ordo’s intelligence came from Jaing, who’d gotten it from his youngest girl, who had an in with one of the Saxon boys and another with an annoyingly cheerful and persistent shabuir who worked underneath old Fenn Rau. Ordo trusted Jaing’s daughter more than he trusted Boba Fett. If the new mand’alor had once been Death Watch –

Well. None of that was Ordo’s business. He’d followed the old ghost of Kal’buir and come to check on his wayward brother, because Kal would have wanted to care about what happened to Boba Fett and in his advancing age Ordo found it hard to shut that old ghost out.

Weakness, Ordo thought, in a voice that sounded cold and clipped and Kaminoan.

All men are weak, Ord’ika, said a different voice. Just don’t let it kill you.

So. Fett was fine. He was living with – married to, if the jor’ika around the more Mandalorian parts of the galaxy was right – this new mand’alor, and apparently had let go of his grudges enough that he could tolerate former Death Watch assassins hanging around.

Maybe he doesn’t have too much of the Prime after all, thought Ordo. He made an interested noise. “Not in the business of ruling Mandalore?” Ordo said. He hesitated for only a bare second, aware that what he said next could get him punched in the nose by a Fett clone, who was genetically predisposed to punch rather hard, but decided that he’d rather take the risk and confirm Jaing’s intel, since it seemed that Mandalore was rising again, and it paid to keep an eye on growing power. “But here I thought that Mandalore the True spent most of his nights here in your bed,” said Ordo.

His gut instinct had been right. Fett did punch him, hard and fast, square in Ordo’s nose.

Ordo rolled with the blow and only staggered a little. The bright metal taste of blood filled his mouth.

“Don’t call him that,” said Fett. His hand was still curled into a fist but he didn’t press his advantage and swing on Ordo again.

He is one of the brothers, Ordo thought, a kernel of something that might have been affection – and what Ordo was going to pretend was just grudging respect – taking root beneath his armor.

“He’s hoping it doesn’t stick,” said Fett. He finally set his staff aside, propping it up on the work table. Fett was still wary, was still watching Ordo with a fierce expression on his face, but he had put down his weapon. For a Mandalorian, that was a sign that a verd was open to negotiation. That a verd mmight listen.

Ordo hadn't been a soldier in a very long time but he remembered how to talk like one. How to talk to one.

Fett was angry. Fett wanted to fight. Ordo wasn't angry.

“What’s he like, then?” Ordo said, standing back up straight. He set his nose with a practiced twist and ignored the blood in his mouth. Spitting on Tatooine was impolite, he’d heard. “We’ve heard ‘Mandalore the Just’ and ‘Mandalore the Fair,’ too, though we couldn’t tell if that was referring to his politics or to his face.”

Ordo had seen this new mand’alor on Krownest. Everyone had. Ordo was forty-six years old, physically closer to seventy, and he was a father and a grandfather and a happily married man.

But, he thought, amused, as Fett’s hand curled into a fist and a very Prime light glittered in his face, I do have eyes.

Fortunately, Fett managed to restrain the impulse to hit Ordo again, which was probably for the best. Ordo could let him have the one hit, but allowing two offended Ordo’s pride. If he and Fett were to be allies – and Ordo suspected that they were allies, or that they would be allies soon, because Ordo had enough of Kal Skirata in him to know that once he claimed a clone a kin, Ordo would not – could not – change his mind.

Daro's a good place for a morut, he thought. But the clan's big enough now that it might be time for the young to set off on their own. To build a new morut.

Tatooine was a large planet. There were plenty of places for a resourceful band of warriors to scratch out a good living.

“Ordo,” Fett said, after thinking for a moment. “Get out of my house.”

#ast asks #ast 'verse pov tag #i will be putting this up on ao3 this week because i DO have notes and thoughts #'tatug'ad' is 'clone'#okay fair warning i didn't revise this one very thoroughly so it's kind of disjointed and could use some polish #but i'm tired.

66 notes · View notes

nullcanary · 10 months ago

Text

songfic tag game!

Thank you @lamortwrites for the tag!

tagging: @fenharael @wraith-caller @no-braincells-inc @nnairdav if you feel like playing! If you want to join in, go ahead and tag me :)

Pick a song to accompany each of your fics or as many as you like. This might be the fic's inspiration or just pure vibes that you'd like to share with readers. Tag as many people as fics you feature (or do as you please!)

took me a moment to get to this, but it's been on my mind since you tagged me! while I've only publically posted one of my fics, I've still got several in my WIPs folder that I'm polishing up to post one of these days. I love finding a new song, listening to it on repeat, and diving into an hours long writing spiral.

The Night House (bg3, gortash/durge, explicit, dominate person/throat fingering/blood pacts, m/m, 4.9k)

title: Paranoic Intervals/Body Dysmorphia by Of Montreal

Counting wolves in your paranoiac intervals

Nobody's leaving, nobody is off the beat

You shouldn't try to unpeel my Pavlovian bells

You should be fucking with no one else

Anyone but me is an antipathy

Anyone but me is just your enemy

Only I see you the way you want to see yourself

You should be fucking with no one else

[bonus song]

title: Up To No Good by The Hoosiers

Don't get too comfortable with the man who has no history

Shadows climbing walls hide cracks we don't want other eyes to see

You tell me to shut my mouth, you love the mystery

So he tells you love you now?

Driving you crazy how

Fingers on lips, allow his hands on your hips

You know you shouldn't do this

But there's no turning back

Doctor's Orders (dos2, loshe/doctor|adramahlihk, explicit, possession/masturbation, m/f, 1.9k)

title: Mx. Sinister by I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Oh you never seem to notice

That my heart beats for you

So I'll open you up

And make yours beat for me too

And I'll get you yet

I've got to make you mine

Worst Impressions (elden ring, varré/tarnished, explicit, gore/torture/drugging, m/f, 2.8k)

title: Flip by Glass Animals

Here's to the one with the smoking stare

Running through my head with a bolo knife

Chopping up the threads made up from looms

Of love and blood and hate and some empty tunes

Mechanics of Affection (bg3, dark urge/gortash look-a-like, explicit, vivisection/masturbation/crisis of faith, m/f, 2.5k)

title: Mongrel Heart by Broken Bells

Would it be wrong

To clamp down on your racing heart, Love?

And if they'd known, what sifted down to be found out?

It's not what you deserve

Love is turning you out

Sliding worry round

I try to warn its waiting game

To bring that specter down

Letter to an Old Friend (bg3, gortash/durge, angst/reunions/memory loss, 1.5k)

title: The Opposite of Loneliness by foyer

I can tell you all the ways that it goes wrong

I can fill you in on everything since you've been gone

Hold your shadow next to mine the shape that you outgrew.

Bootlicker (bg3, tav/gortash, explicit, bootlicking/desk sex/dubcon, m/f, 3.6k)

title: Hatefuck by The Bravery

What would they say now if they saw you in this place?

Naked and breathless, could you live with this disgrace?

Could you live? Could you live? Could you live with this?

And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness

When the Coat Drops (bg3, gortash/durge, angst/loss/emotional breakdowns, 2.9k)

title: Through Me (The Flood) by Hozier

The unemployment of the mouth

The waking up, having forgotten

And remembering again the full extent

Of what forever is

With each grave

I think of loss and I can only think of you

I couldn't measure it

The Black Hound (bg3, gortash/durge, explicit, a/b/o, knotting/praise kink, m/m, 3.5k)

[ this song is so goddamn hot and I will apply it to every ship forever until the end of time end tweet]

title: Fever Moon by Kevin Devine

You're quick sand

And every morning say I won't get stuck again

I work and fight but just sink deeper in the end

But by nightfall baby here I always am

I tie myself in knots

You come and shake me loose

I'm bound up in you

We push til you're through

Lit up with the proof

#songfic tag game #thank you for the tag!#lamortwrites #tag game

6 notes · View notes

ssozo · 2 years ago

Note

Perhaps from the drabble prompts "alone + reunion" for Jack?

helios was a shattered wreck amongst him.

as eddie picked through the shards of broken glass and twisted metal, the corpses of hyperion workers tossed like ragdolls amidst the pandoran sand, all he could think was thank god jack wasn't alive to see this.

the sun was rising, slowly but surely, and as he surveyed the ruins of an empire he never wanted, eddie recalled exactly what had led to his downfall.

<-->

"youre shorter than i remember, jack." eddie has one hand threaded through rhys's hair, his gun pointed towards the man's temple, finger resting on the trigger, and the threat is there. sure, jack is in helios now. but without rhys he has no body to take over.

"what, the giant closeup doesnt do it for ya, kitten?"

the finger tightens over the trigger and rhys whimpers.

jack continues, as if oblivious to the danger. he's not.

"i'm surprised how little you've redecorated the place- didnt you always complain about my decor?"

eddie's face betrays no emotion save for a slight tightening in the brows. unreadable to all but the ai studying him.

"do you know how hard it's been running this place?"

"uh, yeah, i was-"

"not just as a company. everyone expects me to be just *like* you, jack. just as cunning and smart and vicious. and i *am.* but im also so, so tired. do you know how hard it is trying to match your shadow, when all i did before was hide in it?"

jack smirks. "then let me back in, baby. we can go right back to how we were, i promise ya. just let the kid go."

the façade falls, and even rhys can read the tiredness etched into every feature of eddie's face. he doesn't notice rhys reach for his stun baton. jack says nothing as he aims for eddie's temple, knocking the smaller man out in one heavy blow.

<-->

eddie wakes in the wreckage of jack's office, curled up underneath his desk. the first thing he does is reach for his echo device and check the time- he's been unconscious for almost two days.

the second thing he does is survey his body for injuries. beyond the throbbing pain where that code monkey had whacked him, and the bruises and thumps one could associate with falling from fucking space, he was miraculously unharmed.

the third, final, and perhaps most important thing he does, is stand on two wobbly legs and begin his march further into the desert.

let someone else clean this mess. let someone else take care of hyperion from now on. there was nothing for him here.

#ozo mumbles #ozo writes #ship: jacks off #si: eddie #anonymous #HIIIIII I HAD TO LET THIS ONE STEW FOR A BIT BUT ITS FINALLY DONE THANKS NONNY <3

4 notes · View notes

she-ismysun · 9 months ago

Text

Starting 9-1-1 6x10 live blog thread (literally updating and editing the post as I watch)

I heard it’s gonna be a doozy :’) crazy start already.. bro got struck by lightning on the beach and then the sand turned into glass

Last episode, I usually don’t like the Halloween gimmick but the rest of the plot was great. Love how chimney and lucy get a house/apt the same way. After a supposed crime happened haha

Hen struggling with Denny’s curiosity about his bio parents. Him hitting them with the “I don’t need another mom” which seems like a nice wrap up and then he goes and finds his bio dad (who knows what kind of issues are gonna come up now)

Also Bobby is plotting something. I’m nervous. He is. Scheming.

—

OKAY 6x09 recap done. Onto new ep

Holy shit?? The Buckley parents AND Albert :D this is gonna be so awesome (dramatic and tense)

—

hdjdksk Evan!!! HOWIE. THE first name calling is CRAZY - shout out to Jee-yun for bringing the peace

THE SCREAMNI JUST ACRUMPT. HOWARD’S PARENTS??? Oh Albert you can’t just DO that. I literally didn’t know how tf they were gonna shake it up this family reunion

—

Does.. does hen not know that Denny went to see his dad?

Albert!!! Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission tch

—

DHJDSN. ATHENA AND MAY SCHEMING WITH BOBBY!!!

—

Oh my GOD?. WHAT IS UP WITH THE BUCKLEY PARENTS. being so eerily optimistic and nice?? Not just with Maddie but not with BUCK?

Baby Jee Yun is just the magic juice .. she makes everyone happy

—

God this rain is making me REALLY nervous

—

FUCK OF COURSE. OF COURSE BUCK GETS STRUCK BY LIGHTNING. Now it’s EDDIE’S TURN to scream for buck’s lifeless body desperately.

someone needs to stitch together these parallels for me. Every time Buck screams and runs after Eddie desperately thinking he’s dead

Eddie being the driver to take him to the hospital is correct . Onto 6x11!

#911 abc #911 6x10 #live blogging #evan buck buckely #buck buckley #eddie diaz #henrietta wilson #chimney han #bobby nash #karen wilson #maddie buckley

1 note · View note

jehannandancer · 4 years ago

Text

» reunions in the sand

@knollandvoid, continued from here:

🥂 "This is a surprise-- it's been some time. It's Knoll, correct?" Tethys smiles at the mage and extends a coconut, complete with a small umbrella and a fruit toothpick. It's been some time since she's seen him, and while not close, she considers her comrades at arms from Magvel as important people in her lives. "Sit down with me, have a drink. The coconuts here are amazing."

Knoll turns to look backwards from where he stands on a rocky outcropping overlooking the sea, confused by the sudden appearance of a familiar voice. He wishes for a split second that they had met again in some other place. His robes really aren’t made for places like this, all the water makes the wet sand stick to his clothes where they brush the ground, and that has him feeling more than a little embarrassed to be seen by an old comrade in such a state. Then he remembers, he couldn’t be on a beach, certainly not with Tethys. He’s left for Garreg Mach, his allies from Magvel are probably all back home. This must be a dream, he’s just exhausted from the travel and imagining an old acquaintance. Still, there’s no harm in indulging the fantasy of being with a familiar face again.

He awkwardly stumbles towards the dancer, removing his hood as he goes before reaching out and taking a coconut from her. “I’m sorry for taking so long, I was,” he trails off, “lost in thought. It’s good to see you again Tethys, I haven’t got to share a drink with anyone from home for too long.”

Tethys simply shakes her head in understanding, not minding the initial silence from the man. It’s her that appeared out of the blue, with a drink that was meant for someone else, but she soon forgot who it was originally for. To share it with a former comrade, felt right, if not fitting.

“Staring at the sea does that to you. You don’t have to apologize for reflecting. Besides... It’s the perfect view to drink to.” Tethys stands by him and looks out at the sea herself, a gentle, cool breeze passing by them, strands of scarlet swept along, her bangles lightly jiggling. It was a peaceful day. A welcomed change, but its still... conflicting for the dancer.

She takes a small sip from her drink, eyes fixated on the never-ending blue in front of her.She wonders briefly if this was just a very long dream if not or the distinct memories from the previous battle. Some people that she hasn’t seen before, or hasn’t seen in years popped up all of a sudden too, like Knoll. Was he at the monastery too? She can’t seem to remember, some parts of her brain muddled up and incredibly hazy.

She turns to the mage this time around, curious of his own worries. “So what plagues your mind, Knoll? Surely it’s not troubles from home?”

#thread: reunions in the sand #support: knoll #knollandvoid #( transferred! sorry it took a while )

8 notes · View notes

ggukkieland · 4 years ago

Text

📚BTS Fic Reads - 2021 January Pt 2

*Fics are not mine. Credits go to all the writers. Please show them love by reblogging and/or commenting on their work 🥰.

Note: if link doesn’t work, click on author and go to their masterlist

🥕Ongoing - most recent chapter [as of date this list was posted] 🥕Completed - completed one shots | series 🌹 S - smut | F - fluff | A - angst 🌷 with reaction/commentary (if reading reactions help)

PART 1 (most of the fics were part of my Dec reads but I opted to post my favorite holiday-themed fics instead to match the 🎄☃️❄️🎄mood)

🥕[Ongoing Series]

Bad Influence Collection @noteguk - JJK | 16.1k (so far) | Bad Boy AU, Good Girl AU, Enemies to Lovers, FWB AU | S, slight A, slight F ~ [2/?] + [2 Drabbles]

Bad Influence 🌷

Bad Behavior

Drabbles [2/?]

Before You @ephemeralkookie - JJK | 21k (so far) | Tattooed!JK, Friends to Lovers, Parents AU | F, S, A

Original Story 🌷

Other stories in the Before You Universe

Countermelody @bonvoyagenoona - MYG | 54.8k | Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Producer AU, Music AU | F, S, A ~ [3/5]

Dissonance

Tuning

Syncopation

Don’t Hold Your Breath @ilikemesometaetaes - JJK | 32.3k | CEO!reader, Rockstar AU, Exes AU | A, S, F ~ [6/10]

Driving Me Wild @koorara - JJK | 13.2k | followed roommate demon Jungkook to hell, Demon AU, Soulmate AU, Roommate AU | F ~ [3/? + 1/? Drabble] (this is really cute 🥰)

01 02 03 🌷

Halloween Special

In the Middle @taetemae - JJK x Reader x MYG | 7.6k | Love Triangle AU, Unrequited Love AU | A, S [1/3]

Little Mouse @jjungkookislife - JJK | 19k | Established Relationship, College AU, Frat Boy AU, College AU | F, S, slight A ~ [8/?]

01 02 03 04 05 06 07

Christmas Special

Valentine’s Day

Maybe I Do @jiminssthetic - KTH | 96k | CEO AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Strangers to Lovers | A, F, S ~ [6/11]

My Tears Ricochet Drabble Series @augustbutwinter - KTH | 1.9k | Ghost AU, Roommate AU | F, A ~ [2/12]

Pearls & Poinsettias @chillingkoo - JHS | 12k | CEO AU, Escort AU, Christmas AU | S, F ~ [2/3]

01 02

Still reading ongoing series from previous reading lists, whenever there is an update 😊

🥕[Completed Fics/Series]

Namjoon

Asmodeus @jingabitch - one shot | 3.6k | Demon AU, Witch!Reader - While trying to summon a demon, you have an encounter with Namjoon | S (I love this! spooky yet 🔥) 🌷

Friction @bangtanbetchfics - series | 27.5k | Rivals, Enemies to Lovers, CEO AU, feat matchmaker assistants VMIN | S, F ~ [4/4]

01 02 03 04

Seokjin

Aubade @junghelioseok - one shot | 9.9k | One Night Stand AU, Snowed In | S 🌷

Mea Culpa @jinned - one shot | 16.9k | Warlock AU, demon realm | S, F, A

That Famous Happy Ending @jinpanman - drabble | 2.3k | Royalty AU, Enchanted AU, Seokjin as Prince Edward | F

Uptown Girl @moononthejoon - one shot | 16.4k | part of the Playlist series, Bodyguard AU, Royalty AU, Enemies to Lovers | F, S

Yoongi

a love that endures @cinnaminsvga - one shot | 14.4k | High School Reunion AU, Exes to Lovers | F, minor A

Eargasm @lavishedinjimin - one shot | 9.5k | Phone Sex AU, Sex Hotline AU | S 🌷 (a re-read; imagine yoongi’s honey voice 🥵💦)

Untitled @bxebxee - drabble | 1.8k | exes(?), “Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years” | A, S (this is good, can’t believe it’s only 1.8k felt like a lot happened) 🌷

Hoseok

A Court of Curses @readyplayerhobi - one shot | Vampire Prince x Witch!Reader, Arranged Marriage AU | S, A, F 🌷

Sometimes I Don’t Like Being Last On Your List @honeytae - one shot | 3.2k | Established Relationship, Slice of Life, arguments | A, F

The Compromise @chim-chimmie - one shot | 12.8k | Enemies to Lovers, kind of Fuckboy AU | A, S, F

Jimin

Could Have Been You @ressjeon - drabble | 832 | bickering exes | A but in a cute way? 😁 (author considering turning it into one shot so here’s my vote 💕)

For Whom the Bell Tolls @softyoongiionly - one shot | 8k | Fantasy AU, Mythology AU, Demi-god AU | A, F, S 🌷

Remedy for Mondays @dovechim - series | 41.9k | Co-worker AU, Fake Pregnancy AU (lol), Fake Dating AU, fake baby daddy 😅 | F, A, S (actually a re-read because I miss HR Namjoon 🥰)

01 02 03 04

Try Me @jjkxla - series | 11k | Gang AU, Neighbor AU | A, S ~ [4/4] (I read this on AO3 but it’s also on tumblr 🥰)

Prologue 01 02 03

Taehyung

Boy With Luv by ephemeralkookie - one shot | 11.6k | Idol AU, established relationship, healing/comfort fic, Slice of Life | F, S

Get You The Moon @bymoonchild - one shot | 19.6k | Enemies to Lovers, College AU, Football AU, Jock!Taehyung, Student Reporter!OC | A, F, S 🌷 (a re-read🥰)

Kismesis @sincerelyourfangirl - one shot | 7.1k | Enemies to Lovers, Fake Dating for free cakes, Holiday AU | F 🌷

Tease @caiuscassiuss - one shot | 13k | Brother’s Bestfriend AU, Enemies to Lovers | S, F

Jungkook

The Accountant @avveh - one shot | 3.4k | Idol AU, hired to relieve his stress 😉 | S, PWP

After Hours @zibermuda - one shot | 4k | CEO AU, Assistant!OC | S, F 🌷

Anpanman 🌷 @honeymoonjin - one shot | 6.6k | part of the love yourself collab, Bestfriends AU, Fake Dating to get cheaper therapy lol 😅 | S, F, A 🌷

A Scum’s Wish @bobagukk - one shot | 4.3k | based on the anime of same title, FWB AU, Rebound(?) AU, Unrequited AU (they’re in love with other people) | A, slight S

Beast by ephemeralkookie - one shot | 4.1k | established relationship, jealous Kook | S, A, F

Begin Again @jinings - one shot | 10.4k | Single Dad AU, Blended!AU (like the movie), Vacation AU, teacher!reader | F, S, A 🌷

Canceled by zibermuda - one shot (but writer said there’ll be pt2?) | 6.4k | Blogger AU | S 🌷

The Dark Prince @jkeuphoriadreamland - series | 44.1k | Curse AU, Royalty AU, Yandere themes | A, S ~ [8/8] (😥 poor prince Koo)

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08

Daydreams @voidswan - drabble | 1.3k | Jungkook has dreams about a woman he had never ever seen in his life | S 🌷

Deep Six @bratkook - two shot | 40.3k | (rival) Gang AU, infidelity/forbidden love, action | A, S, F ~ [2/2] 🌷

01 02

Delete Voicemail? feat Taehyung @evangelene - one shot | 5k | Exes AU, Established Relationship, it’s just 😭 | 🌷

Fierce & Delicate + Felicity @mintseesaw - two shot | 22.4k Established Relationship, Husband AU, her parents don’t approve | A, F, S ~ [2/2] 🌷

Heated @whatifyoulivelikethat- one shot | 5.8k | Bestfriends AU, dom-sub conversation that led to more 😉 | S, A 🌷

Is Your Refrigerator Running? @joheun-saram - one shot | 4.2k | Fratboy AU, College AU, prank calls | F, humor 🌷

It Takes Two @suqakoo - one shot | 21.1k | Soulmate AU, CEO AU, fashion designer!reader, Spring AU | A, F, S 🌷 (actually a re-read, author accidentally deleted her fics) ⭐one of my ultimate favorites⭐

A Little Sand Never Hurt Anyone @mimikookie - one shot | 12.5k | bestfriends to lovers, friends celebrating 10 years of friendship | S, F (read this on AO3 before 🤔)

Love You, Crazy @vinterjeon - one shot | 3.1k | established relationship, LDR | F, S

The Masked Stranger @nottojay - one shot | 2.9k | Friends to Lovers, One Night Stand (sort of), Masquerade AU | S, F 🌷

Night Apple is Poison Apple @helvonasche - series | 30.5k | OC came back to town, childhood acquaintances turned FWB AU | S, A, F ~ [10/10]

Strings Attached by ephemeralkookie - one shot | 4.4k | Idol AU, Friends to Lovers, FWB AU | S, F

Sorry + I’m Not Sorry by bxebee - drabbles | 4k | ex-classmates, ex-bully!JK, prosecutor!reader, Reunion AU | S, A, F 🌷

A Touch of Fate by yoonia - one shot | 9.2k | follow up to We Are All Dreamers, soulmate AU, ex-E2L, Neighbors AU, Established Relationship | F, S 🌷

You Are Mine @deathbyyoongi - one shot | 8.2k | College AU, sort of Enemies to Lovers, popular!JK, jealous Koo | S, A 🌷

Youngblood by jinned - one shot | 14.6k | Enemies to Lovers, Journalist!OC, Rockstar AU | S 🌷 (had to read it again, I just noticed the new banner 🥰)

Multi

love triangles, here we go 💔💔💔

🌹 Namjoon x Reader x Yoongi

Egotistic @pasteljeon - one shot | 4.4k | Childhood Friends AU, College AU, FWB AU | S, A, F

Threads @yoonia - one shot | 7.2k | Slice of Life, One-sided Love AU, Infidelity AU | S, A, F

🌹 Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

Heartbeat @xbaepsae - two-shot | 24.9k | Musician AU, Unrequited Love AU, Friends to Lovers, Love Triangle AU | A, S, F ~ [2/2] (💔 my heart)

01 02

🥕 posted: 2021 Jan 28 🥕 link to other reading lists 🌹 I love to read so feel free to recommend a fic =)

1K notes · View notes

tooktheladdedgbtq · 4 years ago

Text

....and the Oscar goes to.. | Tom Holland X Male!actor reader.

A/N: this was just something I wrote because I got inspired I guess. Happy Pride everyone!

——————————————

You couldn’t decide whether time was slipping through your fingers too quickly or if this had been the longest night you’d ever experienced.

seconds slowed to a crawl while you tried to gather yourself before it was your turn to take the stage. You were nervous. Not about being at the oscars or presenting for the first time. Not even about being nominated for your leading role in the second installment of a critically acclaimed trilogy. No, you’d been used to these sorts of things, you’d been an actor since you were a very young kid. Starting on television before film, and you even got to hold the Emmy the show had won when you had just turned a teenager.

No, you were nervous about who exactly you’d be presenting to. Of the five nominees and potential winners, only one could cause such an intensive feeling in your chest. Only one could awaken a sense of dread that battled with a feeling of intensive happiness mixed with anticipation, and it was Tom.

You’d known each other for years and had come to fall in love. You’d met as young co-stars on set and eventually grew into an inseparable friendship that progressed into something far more. Neither of you were sure when the feelings started but it felt like they’d always been there and you weren’t exactly complaining.

Your blissfulness with Tom was beautiful but short lived. After almost a year of being official you both agreed to take a break from the relationship. Unbeknownst to Tom you were just agreeing to save face and hadn’t pried for an answer out of fear of being hurt. You just accepted that this was how things were now, and took a step back.

You’d still kept in contact with him. It was hard not to. He was still your best friend. But whether it was the business of work or something a little more awkward, distance grew between you both as the multi-hour long facetime calls and text threads became once-a-week check-ins to just make sure you were alive and okay.

Time had passed, and you didn’t have a clue what you could possibly say to him now. You certainly didn’t want to ruin his special night. But you’d missed him so much and felt like you would implode at the first sign that he’d be interested in getting back together with you. But you also didn’t want to seem desperate or needy if he’d moved on. You didn’t want to slip and say those three words again in the moment.

Father time showed you no mercy as the sand in his hourglass suddenly shifted from a slow-motion drip to a flood. The seconds you’d spent daydreaming of your past with Tom and pondering about the your potential future had passed and left you with little time to gather yourself before presenting. still you shook your hands, arms, and lastly shoulders, putting all your worries aside and waited for introduction from the host.

Before long you’d been counted in to walking on stage, and heard the host over the microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen, to present the award and introduce the nominees for Best Supporting Actor, please welcome one of this year’s nominees and one of our generation’s greatest talents: Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The applause erupts from the audience like a revved up engine as you took center but it was nothing compared to the standing ovation you’d receive later on that night when receiving your own award for Best Actor.

You were stood promptly center staged with the towering Oscar statue reflecting onto the black stage floor beneath your feet. Your outfit was alluring and would surely be the next hot topic which is rare for male stars. You looked like a million bucks. Everyone knew it, most of all, Tom.

You smile and wave as you approach the microphone, your teeth shining a blinding white, and wait for a hush from the crowd.

You chuckle lightly as a few hoots and hollers sound out as the cheers subside.

You eye the monitor across the room and start to read, your nerves dying down as your jokes land and laughter echoes around the room.

As you finish the introduction, clips start to show behind you to accompany the names of the nominees as the cameras catch a glimpse of each of their reactions.

You couldn’t help but notice how tough the competition was as each actor was called. Steven Yuen playing a detective in a thrilling murder mystery. John David Washington in a fictional film playing the world’s first black astronaut aiding in the discovery of lovecraftian horrors. Andrew Garfield for his role as a psychotic narcissist and genius businessman. Oscar Issac acting in a sci fi space opera asking questions of existentialism.

Finally, you had to withhold your smile as you called out the last name. He had returned to his Billy Elliot roots being nominated for his role in a astonishing musical romance film. “Tom Holland.” You’d been ecstatic when he’d told you about it as you’d always recommend he tried it again since it made him so happy in his younger years.

You spot him a few rows from the stage, making eye contact with him and wondering if he was thinking about you the way you had done with him earlier. You couldn’t help but notice him squirming in his chair and fidgeting with his hands. Selfishly asking yourself if this wasn’t just about the award but about having you present it to him.

Seeing you here after what felt like an eternity apart and your reunion potentially being the greatest achievement of both your careers. Making it the greatest night of your lives, that is, if you were still together. But you were still best friends. That’s what mattered. So you push your self centered thoughts aside and shoot him a small wave that he returns with a smile and thumbs up. letting you know he was okay and that you could continue as the camera pans back to you capturing your not so hidden giddiness.

This awarded some small oos and aahs from the crowd as your relationship with him had been a wholly celebrated one. especially among your marvel peers.

You’re handed an envelope and statue as the music ends and the applause dies down and you take one final glare into the camera before beginning to open the envelope.

“....and the Oscar goes to,” you take a peek at the crowd and see some of the nominees holding hands with loved ones. others plainly

awaiting your next words with bated breath. The anticipation shone on everyone’s faces. Even those that weren’t nominated. Your not-so-hidden grin giving away the answer mere milliseconds before his name escaped your lips. “Tom Holland!”

Tom shot up with a shared expression of shock and happiness on his face. Pecking his mother on the cheek as she wipes the tears of pride from her eyes. His best mate Harrison gives him a quick embrace and a pat on the back before he moves on to shake hands with the director and smile at everyone cheering him on as he gradually moves toward the stage still completely baffled at the victory.

As he walks towards you in his pink pastel colored suit and brown leather dress shoes you can’t help but swell with an overwhelming feeling of joy having been here to share this career defining moment with him. You thought about how far you’d both come to get here and almost started tearing up remembering all you’d been through together.

He skipped up the miniature steps and blanketed you with both arms. You didn’t want it to end as you hadn’t felt it in a while. You threw your arms around his neck and he tightens his hold around your torso. Before you could even process them, your blunt thoughts spill out as whispers.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you. you deserve this and so much more.” you hear a small chuckle escape him as he responds. “I am trying not to cry y’know mate?” a wolf whistle comes from the crowd as you apologize for being so sappy and before he can tell you off for it you hand him his award and shove him off toward the microphone.

As he takes center stage you stand off to the side to watch him give his acceptance speech. He pauses and takes a second to gather himself before he starts talking straight from his heart with nothing prepared.

“Um, Wow. I really can’t believe this is really happening and I probably still won’t believe it happened tomorrow. Just.. wow.” his words were filled with that charmingly British accent you’d come to love so much.

“First I would like to thank my mother, without whom of course, I would not be here. I would like to thank the academy and everyone who worked on this movie from the producers and camera men, make-up and costumes, to our wonderful writers, composer, back up dancers and vocalists, and of course my friends, my co-star and the director Damien Chazelle.” whom he gestures to sitting in the second row. “I share this with all of you and I can’t thank you enough for awarding me with the opportunity to create something I love so much.”

He thanks the other nominees before turns towards you to end his speech. you felt your heart in your hands when you saw his big brown puppy eyes dart in your direction with an intensive glare of admiration.

“last but most importantly, I want to thank the inspiration for all of the love songs I sung in the film and the reason I decided to take the role. The person standing here on my right.”

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen when his words hit you like a speeding semi. you realize that he’d just called you his muse in so many words. the inspiration behind the love songs in the film no less. Meaning that with every lovestruck note his character sung he was reminded of you. All that time spent worrying if the distance between you two would cause him to forget about you, or if he’d maybe moved on and found somebody else. But no such thing had happened. He was relating his character’s longing in the film to his longing for you this entire time and that made your heart do a backflip.

You blush and cover your still ajar mouth with your fist whilst trying not to pay attention to the crowd who’s attention was fully focused on you.

He takes a deep sigh before continuing. “Y/N you’re not only the reason I took this role, but you’re the reason I was able to play it with such sincerity. You’ve been a unwavering beacon of support throughout my career in general but here you really gave me the inspiration for something special. He faces the audience again as the all follow his words with whispers of how adorable you both were. “from reading lines together in the middle of the night, to keeping me company when i’m on the brink of a meltdown.” It was all true and it only made you miss you relationship more and you found it difficult to hold back your tears.

“Y/N is the kind of best friend everybody needs, the kind of partner everybody deserves, and the person I’m so incredibly lucky to have known for so long. ..and I still can’t believe he never figured out the lyrics were all about him, It was kind of obvious-” the audience laughed you’re so close to swooning as he turns toward you again. “But, with all my heart, I love you, Y/N. Always will.” you feel as if you’re floating.

He shifts to the crowd one last time to say a final thank you before you both walk off stage one arm around one another’s shoulders. You have a short but sweet conversation backstage with him where reassures you that everything he said on stage was true and completely unscripted. He wants to talk more but knows your category is coming soon so he asks for a later opportunity and you agree before returning to your seat in the crowd.

The rest of the night flew by with you winning the award for best actor and receiving the biggest applause of the night. Tom joined in the standing ovation. You thanked everybody involved in making the film, the academy, and squeezed a little joke directed towards Tom that garnered a shared laugh from both him and the audience. You were the last award of the night and after the celebrations it was time to return to your place, where Tom was waiting for you. Wanting to talk about everything that had happened not just tonight but everything leading up to it. He also hoped you’d kept a spot open in your heart for him to return to.

#tom holland x you #tom holland x male reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland gay imagine #tom holland x male! reader #tom holland fanfiction

368 notes · View notes

inkquillery · 3 years ago

Text

sideblog for fic raws and updates: @b4-the-ink-is-dry

feel free to send asks for anything at all :))

my Ao3 works masterlist, sorted by fandoms:

fandom: naruto

more than just parallel lines

~ moodboard & summary ~ jinchūriki ~ found family ~ rookie 9 shenanigans ~ team 7 as family ~ sand siblings ~ gaara & naruto & fū being triplets™ ~

fandom: fairy tail

like a page with a golden word (puts my heart to the test)

~ moodboard & summary ~ lucy & brandish & dimaria shenanigans ~ e.n.d. ~ implied annalogia ~

and god knows it’s the only way to heal now

~ moodboard & summary ~ lucy & erza sisterhood ~ missing moments throughout the series ~

five more minutes

~ moodboard & summary ~ aquarius & lucy ~ developing relationship ~ missing scenes ~ mother-daughter-ish ~ not ft-100yq compliant ~

hey lucy (i remember your name)

~ moodboard & summary ~ lumen histoire ~ ghost!lucy ~ little shit!lucy ~ team natsu as a family ~ honourable mention: peak chaotic sibling energy ft. lucy & gray ~ learning to let go ~

fandom: mcu

little lost child (what’s your damage)

~ moodboard & summary ~ mamaspider ~ natasha raised peter ~ tony & natasha coparenting ~ avengers as a family ~ harley & peter brotherhood ~ teenage shenanigans ft. peter & harley & shuri ~ picking up strays ft. wanda & pietro ~

fluctuat nec mergitur ~ a sneak peek to the series ~ {completed, posted} ~

yesterday’s sky unfolds ~ {in progress} ~

a paper-bound ledge ~ {in progress, unposted} ~

pastel storm clouds ~ {in progress, unposted} ~

in the ether ~ infinity war/endgame au, ft. characters from agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. ~ {in progress, unposted} ~

fandom: agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.

darling, close your weary eyes

~ moodboard & summary ~ maydaisy ~ nightmares ~ post-afterlife ~ taking care of self-inflicted wounds ~ staying through the night ~

when all is lost, then all is found

~ moodboard & summary ~ bio!maydaisy ~ the red room ~ kid!daisy ~ daisy & natasha sisterhood ~ trauma from both ends ~ lost and found ~

to find you ~ how their story begins ~ {completed, posted} ~

found (the answers in you) ~ in which insecurities surface but bonding allows for proper healing from trauma ~ {completed, posted} ~

the hidden cost (and the thing that’s lost) ~ an alternative take on ‘what happened in bahrain’ ~ {in progress, unposted} ~

lost in translation ~ in which hydra is eliminated by a one-girl army before they can do any real damage ~ {in progress, unposted} ~

your lie in april

~ moodboard & summary ~ maydaisy ~ philindaisy ~ teenage!skye ~ street kid!skye ~ jemma & skye & fitz & trip friendship ~ matt murdock & skye siblingship ~

beautiful girl

~ moodboard & summary ~ alternate dimension ~ dimension hopping ~ older daisy ~ maydaisy ~ post-s2 ~ kang the conqueror ~

fandom: encanto

thread by thread

~ moodboard & summary ~ 5 + 1 ~ post-casita’s fall ~ runaway!mirabel ~ reunions ~ a little crack, a lot emotions ~

a place further than the universe

~ moodboard & summary ~ bio!mamápepa ~ identity crisis ~ solidarity among the second-gen madrigals ~ teenage shenanigans ft. mirabel living her best life ~ antarctica ~

34 notes · View notes

fastwiemagie · 4 years ago

Text

It's dress family reunion time!!

As I just recently finished dress number 5 using (a variant) of the same pattern I decided to show them all of in one post.

The family legacy started a couple of years ago with the dark red dress (like dried blood almost but not as brown).

It's linen with a golden glitter thread woven into it. You can cinch in the shoulder part for a sleeveless fit or leave o

It unruffled for a semblance of sleeves.

Imade it to attend a dear friend's graduation ceremony from film school. It's an overdress, with a corresponding underdress to go with it. You have to wear something underneath as it just has a slit going down the entire skirt front. I often wear a coordinating skirt with it instead of the underdress nowadays, so I can change it up.

2018 I used version B of the bodice to make myself a birthday dress. This version doesn't have the shoulder straps for gathering. The bodice has a beautiful sakura print and I made layered circle skirts for the bottom part (which are also longer in the back). I got the fabric for the skirts from a relative.

Last year I made another dress using version A (like the original dark red dress) from a beautifully machine embroidered white linen. It's thicker than the dark red linen, so that contributes to a slightly different look. I added a permanent underskirt panel in a golden sand colour. The waistband is also made from the golden sand coloured linen.

This year I created the green patchwork dress using version B. The skirt of that dress is printed fabric that only looks like patchwork and I did actual patchwork on the bodice from the fabric scraps, as I've retroactively decided to not only do a (fake) patchwork skirt but an actual patchwork dress ! The skirt part has side gadots for a bit of added interest and lace, because obviously. I also changed up the waistband of the green dress and used another method to create it, just to see the difference.

The purple & pink dress was also made in 2021, from pink linen (with golden glitter thread) and purple linen (with silver glitter thread) and a purple cotton for the underskirt. That's the same kind of linen I've used for the original red dress. This dress also started out life as a skirt (a pointy circle skirt) but I upgraded it this year into a dress. Why not change up your clothes by transforming them into something else?

And the legacy is likely to continue in the future...

#diy #sewing #handmade #handmade fashion #cottagecore #mori kei #mori girl #natural fabrics #linenlove #linen dress #linenclothing #handmade dress #handmadebyme #one pattern many dresses #dress collection #dress family

63 notes · View notes

efkgirldetective · 4 years ago

Text

~part III~ of this little prompt series ( part I & part II icymi )

much gratitude to @missgryffin for one prompt & the same anon as the previous prompt for the other one!! <3 absolutely TICKLED to indulge my obsession with post-traumatic injury reunions <3

pajamas + purple + panic

doodle + indigo + relief

A soft knock on the bathroom door. “Evans? Everything all right? You’ve been—oi, I’m standing here, will you—what d’you mean leave her alone, she’s—oh, come off it, Lupin, I’m just trying to be a help, honestly—”

Lily presses her forehead to cool porcelain. Focuses on one breath in; one breath out. It doesn't work. Her stomach roils, and she sicks up. Hardly anything left—but it burns just the same.

There's scuffling outside the door, voices quick and low. Lily flushes the basin and rises to the sink, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror. Swishes around mouth rinse and spits it out. Washes her hands and turns the light off and takes a backward look at her reflection, hand on the doorknob.

Her face is stark and pale and scared, even in the dim.

The door swings open to Remus and Sirius mid-argument. They fall silent; turn to her, cautious.

“I’m fine,” she says, though she doesn’t meet their eyes, either. Pulls at the sleeves of her linen blouse, at the collar; sticky with nervous sweat. Remus takes out his wand and casts a cooling charm. She closes her eyes to it and nods. “Thank you.”

“Jesus, Evans,” Sirius murmurs, his hand on her arm. She wants to pull off, turn from the touch, tell them both to piss off —but the tightness in her throat intensifies, the pit in her stomach glomming like a rock. She loses footing, body asway; Sirius catches her elbow and pulls her forward, into the crook of his shoulder.

Lily takes a long, painful breath.

That morning she woke from fitful sleep to disorientation; pain; loneliness; panic. Remembering James, a room away, deep in spelled sleep. Remembering, disjointedly, the tossed-off owl from St. Mungo’s: ...three weeks lapsed...tri-monthly Contraceptive Charm...would you care to reschedule your appointment?

The bleary eyes, the dry throat, the: This can’t be right—

I never forget—

I never forget.

The problem with war is the blur. The carousel of unease, its unremitting haze; the constant, constant disruption. The this is not my time anymore. The my time belongs to war.

Lily feels sick again, suddenly, tucked in Sirius’ shoulder. It’s not the right time. This isn’t our time.

Remus puts a steady palm on her back, as if he can feel her tremble. Voice low, “there’s something else, isn’t there?”

She raises her head—and how clearly he seems to see her. His hair is overgrown; the color of sand wet with sea. All those narrow silver scars. She tries to say his name but nothing comes out, and besides that there’s another voice, round the corner of the hall:

“Lads? He’s awake—oh, shit, Lils, he's up, he's—”

“He’s awake?” Sirius interrupts, disbelieving.

Peter looks drained, nodding. “Awake.”

Remus urges Lily, palm on back—but it's Sirius she looks to, now. The skin beneath his eyes made into translucent half-moons. “We’ll be just on—you go.”

She pauses one more half a second, then goes. Feels a tremor overtaking. Rushing so quickly she nearly smacks into Mags, exiting. The door cracked an inch. “Be gentle, yeah? It’s fragile. But—a day or so of rest, he’s good as fine.”

“Maggie,” Lily breathes, tunneling the woman into her arms. Gripping like she doesn’t know how hard she holds. Entrenched in gratitude—for her, for him; maybe, for a third. “Thank you.”

“All in time, Evans,” Mags says gruffly, pulling back, bristling. “All in time.”

Lily steps in slowly, squinting at the brightness. Someone has opened the shades and the room is light with midday. In the center, in their bed, pillowed upright by cushions and sheets, blanketed in the purple quilt her mother made for them—James sitting up, open-eyed.

Lily inhales deeply and blinks to be sure that it’s right; that it’s real. Amid such a downy pile he looks younger. But his eyes are blaring gold, glasses un-cracked—and he’s breathing.

“Hi,” he says, quietly, sheepishly. Someone put him in pajamas. The green-and-white striped collared shirt buttoned unevenly, off by one looped hole.

At such a little thing, the pulp of Lily's heart gives a definitive jolt.

She stumbles. Slows; remembers Mags saying fragile. Looks down to his leg, bandaged and glowing the deep indigo of stasis charms. Her throat locks and she remembers the morning; her hapless nerves. Turns her head out of necessity, eyes landing on the bedside table, the little framed sketch of her own profile—doodled by James in the back of seventh-year Charms.

She turns back and finds him apprehensive, chewing at his lower lip, as if she’s the one that should be handled carefully. As if he didn’t fall to his knees and nearly leave her for good. “Hi,” she tries—and it really almost works, if it weren’t for the cracking, midway, for the way his arm falls down onto the bed, palm up, open, reaching, for the way he breathes out—

“Lils.”

She goes to him. Feels the palm, carefully, with her own—and skin so familiar, and finally warm, and dear, fingers latching onto hers, that she folds forward at the waist, unable to stop, face pressed wholly to the bend of his arm. Mouthing at the skin, desperate to prove he is solid; prove he is whole. “I’m sorry.”

“No, love, no,” he murmurs, and he’s threading a hand through her hair, urging her face upward, till she finds herself facing the uneven buttons—a detail still so tender that it breaks her over again. Reaching out to touch any reachable part; the other elbow, the good leg, the hollow space between collarbones.

“Come on,” he says, so earnestly.

“Don’t you—” she cuts her head to the side and suddenly exhaustion crashes over her; the night of poor sleep, the morning so blue with sickness and owl and abrupt, unwelcome truth. “Don’t you go and pull that shit ever again, Potter, you can’t just—” His hand stroking up through her hair, his hand cradling her jaw. “I won’t live without you.” And it’s irrational and true. His thumb across her lips. “You arsehole,” she adds, though she’s crying—though the sentiment is real—though her lungs are crying out for air.

“Rather selfish of me to nearly die, I realize," his mouth quirking minutely, a smirk so gentle and so Jameslike it pains. “And I apologize, I really do, from the bottom of my heart.”

“Honestly,” she laughs, cut through at once with pain and a flood of gentle levity, his eyes so bright and healthy; the sweet flopping of dark hair over forehead. “Honestly.”

His throat moves. There’s no time to tell him—not the right time—others wanting reunions, wanting confirmation he’s awake. But his face so open and honest. “We’ll be okay,” he says, always quick to ground, to hold steady; to carry her face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head, words gone out. Kisses him on the cheek, on the other. “Stay with me,” she begs. Implores. “I love you, stay with me.”

His brow creased in a tender pull. Breath shallow and warm when their lips meet between, pulling her out of herself. Everything will wait. Relief is like a river; long, slow, and plenty.

#weve got an unplanned pregnancy on our hands boys #jily #fic #marauders

74 notes · View notes

doodledraw · 4 years ago

Text

Return (Of What Was Cherished)

Cody crash lands on Tatooine. He doesn't really know why, but there's nothing left for him in the Empire. Little did he know there's a lot waiting for him this far out in the Outer Rim.

(thanks @katanrocksketches for the title idea!! and for being my sounding board ily)

Today for @commandercodyweek I decided to write a fic I’ve been wanting to try my hand at for a while!! Post-Order 66 reunions are just...the BEST so here’s my shot at it!

Read on AO3 here! Or under the cut!

He didn't know who he was. He didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was that it was kriffing hot and it had been over 24 hours since he had crossed paths with another being. Granted, 12 of those hours had been in space and then another 5 had been spent unconscious in the desert, slowly baking under the hot suns. Most of his armor had quickly been removed and fastened to a small sled using a piece of debris from his now absolutely trashed ship. Dragging that along, he began to wander the desert (it was just his luck he managed to land as far away from civilization as possible).

After two hours, he felt like he was going in circles.

After three, he spotted a ridge in the distance and started to make his way towards it.

After four, the ridge was still firmly in the distance and he was starting to think it was a mirage and that he was going to die out in the middle of nowhere.

He never realized that he was thinking clearer and more him than he had been for the last five years, like taking a breath after being underwater.

He finally reached the ridge on hour six and allowed himself a small rest. Clones were built for endurance but not for invulnerability. Besides, he needed to tend his wounds and the shelter he had found was the most he was going to get.

It was only once he'd stopped that his brain, no longer preoccupied with moving his legs through the rapidly shifting sands, caught up to his situation. That was when the panic set in. He was all alone, on a planet that very well could be the death of him, and yet at the same time he was feeling more alive than he had in a good long time.

After he gave himself a moment to panic, the rational part of his brain kicked in and he looked through the pockets on his toolbelt to see what he had with him.

Unfortunately, his black armor did nothing to help him from the heat of the suns, and he curses his competency for that. Why couldn't he have been forgettable?!

None of you are forgettable to me, my dear. You're all so very important, the memory surfaced unbidden. Obi-Wan would reassure him like that whenever he or his vode felt inadequate.

Cody's breath caught. He tried the name out in his head again. Obi-Wan. Then out loud: "Obi-Wan," he whispered to the wind.

He can say his General's name!

For the first time in years, he can say the name of the man who gave him everything and asked for nothing in return. It made him want to cry. But water is precious on Tatooine. Even he knows that. So he stashed that grief with all the other grief he'd piled away into a corner of his mind and then he left it be.

He's got a bacta patch, some tape, two painkillers, a spare comm that's broken straight in half, a ration bar, and nothing else. He split the ration bar in half and ate one of the halves along with one painkiller. Then he set to work making bandages out of part of the sleeve of his blacks and secured it around the cut on his head with some tape. Luckily he could still think rather clearly, so he didn’t think he was in danger of anything worse than a concussion, and the blood had stopped hours ago.

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up the next day. Sighing, he decided to conserve his painkillers and food. He wanted to make it out of this canyon...gorge...thing...whatever it was, if he even could and make it to some sort of civilization. So with a groan of pain, he set off again.

He focused on the fact that he was no longer burning under the suns constantly due to the slight shelter the ridge provided, and told himself that he could make it. He was Marshal Commander Cody turned Purge Trooper, the sun was not going to be the thing that killed him. Kriff it all, he was going to live. For his vode. For his General. He would live.

Civilization was a sight for sore eyes. After almost having fallen to his death multiple times, and having definitely aggravated the wound on his abdomen, he had made it out. He wanted to fall asleep. No wait, he wanted to eat something other than the expired ration bar and then fall asleep. And food required civilization.

The citizens of the town had apparently had a good amount of half-dead beings stagger their way into town because he was barely even given a second glance. The town, which he later learned was Mos Espa, was located in the north across from the Dune Sea, where he'd crashed. The barkeep was helpful enough to direct him to somewhere he could trade in some of his armor and scrap for some credits and get new clothes for it. He traded everything except his vambraces, greaves, blaster and toolbelt, and got a hooded jacket and a pair of patched-up spacer's pants in return. Freshly outfitted and feeling lighter than he ever had, but also more exposed than ever, he wandered back outside and through the town.

He had no working commlink, not that he would want to call the Empire anyway, better they just assume he died, and no credits and nowhere to go. Credits, he obviously needed. Shelter could come later.

Cody spent three weeks in Espa. He picked up odd-jobs here and there, and with the credits, bought some medical supplies, treated his wounds, and then did more odd-jobs. He had no purpose but also no reason to leave. The townsfolk weren't so bad once you got to know them and Espa was quiet, out of the way. No one could find him there.

At least that's what he thought.

Brown robes weren't uncommon on Tatooine. The first time he had seen one, he nearly killed himself by looking away from the box he was supposed to be catching. But it wasn't him, how could it be? The second and third times, he had been no less surprised, but this time he knew it wouldn't be him. It couldn't be him.

Now, being the tenth time, he barely even glanced at the stranger on an eopie wandering into town. But he felt the eyes on his back anyway.

Cody knew he was recognizable. He was one in a a few billion, obviously there would be people that had seen his face before. Some of the townsfolk asked about that at the beginning, but not for long. They stopped asking soon enough. So this stranger would realize soon enough that he wasn't who he thought and move on. They all did, everyone had for as long as he could remember, except for one. Cody couldn't escape the slight feeling of relief that filled him when the stranger's eyes were gone. For some reason, that stare had felt more piercing than normal. He shivered despite the heat, then turned back to his work.

He forgot about the stranger until that night, when he made his way into the bar for a refreshment after his day of work. They were there, at the bar, almost as if they were waiting for him. But that was crazy, and Cody resolutely placed himself as far away from them as possible. They made no move towards him, didn't even notice him, as far as he could tell, and they mutually ignored each other for the rest of the night.

Until Cody left to make his way back to where he was staying. Noticing his brown hooded shadow, he made his way through alleys and then stopped. "Whoever you are, whatever you want, why don't you just leave me alone. We'll both be happier that way."

The figure made a choked noise and took another half step towards Cody, who had spun to face them.

"What do you want from me?" the clone demanded.

"I don't know."

"Who are you? How did you find me?"

The figure lifted their hands to remove the hood, and Cody immediately tensed towards his blaster. Moonlight illuminated silver threaded copper hair and Cody's eyes widened.

"My dear, I think you know the answer to that by now. It's not an expression you've particularly liked me to say," Obi-Wan Kenobi said, tears streaming down his drawn face.

Cody stumbled back against the rough stone wall. "No. No, it's not you. It can't be. I...I killed you! I watched you fall! That should have killed you!"

"You of all people should know I am rather good at surviving things normal mortals should not be able to," he chuckled wetly and his gaze moved off into the middle distance. "It was a specific point of anxiety for you during the war. Oh Kote. Ner'Kote...what have they done to you?"

"More like what have they done with me," Cody remarked bitterly. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Is this real? I need you to tell me right now if this is real, General."

"Not your General."

Cody gave him a withering glare. "Yes you are."

The Not Apparition took a step forward. "May I?"

Cody nodded slowly, and then General Kenobi was gently, carefully, cradling his hand in both of his like it was the most precious thing he had ever held. "I'm here, Cody."

Cody broke right there. In the middle of nowhere on Tatooine, Cody fell to the ground and sobbed. He grieved in his General's arms, the man he was not allowed to even think of until earlier that month. The man he thought he had killed. The man he loved.

"Ni'ceta! Ni'ceta, Obi-Wan! I should have fought it harder, I should have escaped earlier, I should have looked for you, I should have--"

Obi-Wan shushed him. "You should have nothing Cody. You did everything you could. It was not you. I forgive you. I've forgiven you. I'd forgiven you as I was falling. It was not you, my dear."

They sat there, two broken pieces slowly healing each other in the middle of an alley in the middle of nowhere in Mos Espa until Obi-Wan pulled away.

"Let's go home cyar'ika," he murmured.

Home. The first true home he would ever have. "That sounds perfect."

#codyweek2021 #day 2 post order 66 #Post Order 66 #codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody week #commander cody #the clone wars #writing #my writing #doodledrawsart #listen i love them a lot okay #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #my fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction

37 notes · View notes

fanfic-of-fables-of-kitkat · 4 years ago

Text

Naruto OC ship week

Prompt: Hair

@narutoocshipweek

Synopsis: Temari, Kankuro and Gaara were adopted by the well reknowned couple Hatsue (OC) & Sasori, a few decades when the siblings had long been adults, they reunite and reminisce their childhood

[This prompt will become a future chapter to my existing fanfic at FF.net ]

"You know what, our parents are jerks." Kankuro grimaced and then downed his cup. With a tap, he set it down and his younger brother moved to pour more for him.

Temari, the eldest of the Sand Siblings, giggled in her drunkenness, letting out hiccups afterwards, her eyes half-lidded as the alcohol kicks in. "No kidding."

Gaara couldn't help but snort at that, an action he wouldn't be caught doing in a sober state.

"I mean first, there's our birth mother who couldn't keep herself alive." Kankuro complained. "Don't worry, Gaara, I'll say this again and again: you didn't have to anything to do with her death. Mother protested against Father from making you a jinchuriki and strained herself, risking you to be prematurely born."

The red head sipped generously from his cup. "Then there's our birth Father, who tried to have me killed multiple times for the sake of testing my control over Shukaku."

"Which was real shitty of him." Temari concluded. "He was a stellar father... in another life, probably. Kami, he was terrible."

"He was indifferent to me." Kankuro huffed, downing his shot in one go.

"I could never get a single praise out of him, no matter how well i perform my jutsu." The eldest of the three complained, wiping her face with her hand.

"He tried to have me killed. Multiple times."

The three looked at each other and barked a laugh.

"Oh gosh, are we competing on who among us siblings he treated the worst? Gaara wins that contest hands down." Temari grabs the bottle of sake to herself and orders a new one for her brothers.

"Hey, you should slow down, if you drink too much, we'll get your husband and we'll be cutting our reunion short." Kankuro nagged, squinting his eyes at her.

"I can hold my liquor, Kankuro, besides I know my limits, after this one I'll try to sober up before Shikamaru arrives." Temari assures her brothers, and then takes a swig out of the bottle. She looked... solemn now. "Sorry, I couldn't be here for their burial."

Kankuro gave her a sad smile and Gaara nods at her. Burials here at Suna, when a person dies, the body is buried at the same day because of the heat. The hot weather makes a dead body permeate a strong foul odor so funerals are held almost immediately.

"Hatsue-kaa-san was a damn jerk too." Temari says this without bite, her eyes dulled as she remembers memories of their adoptive mother.

"Yep, mom was a jerk." The middle child agrees, snorting in his drink.

"Agreed." The red head nods, not only to affirm his elder siblings' statements but because the room starts to sway.

"She was so disgustingly kind."

"She was. She had no business on what happens to us and yet she goes ahead and adopts us. Strangers. We would have been orphans if it weren't for her."

"In a way, we already were. Mother died early. Father was negligent."

"She let me use her paints, her paint brushes and... she would paint on my face too.", Kankuro reminisced, a nostalgic smile graced his lips. "She used to tell me I was handsome-

"it's either I'm biased to say you're handsome because you're my son or you're really handsome", the three simultaneously quoted.

"Such a jerk, blowing up my confidence like that."

"Yeah, I remember her combing my hair, hated my hair because-" She looks at her brothers alternately then her eyes went back to her bottle. "Kankuro looked like he got his genes from Hatsue-kaa-san, Gaara looked like he got his from Sasori while I look like neither of them. I look like Uncle Yashamaru. that bastard."

"Everyone here in Suna, knows what's the deal with us. It doesn't matter."

Temari shrugged nonchantly "When we would all travel for Sasori's spy network... It was nice to pretend that we were their real children."

"Yeah."

"... The people would give us scandalous looks, doing the math, it would seem they conceived Temari at 16, Kankuro at 17 and I at 18."

The blonde and the raven head guffawed hysterically, remembering the instances conservative people coming up to their mom and passing down unwanted advices. Sasori would hide a smile and Hatsue-kaa-san would turn as red as her husband's hair.

"Hatsue-kaa-san would tell me she loved my hair. She said every time she brushes my hair it's like she's spinning threads of gold."

Kankuro made a vomiting sound. "She was such a... sap."

"... i miss- ... She would hug me the longest."

"She taught me how to care for myself... and I loved it every time she would do her skincare with me." The memories brought the distinct smell of rose scented lotions and citrus moisturizers.

"She would hover around whenever I would get ready to paint my face." Kankuro chuckled fondly.

"You were their favorite." Temari says, a hint of envy was there and there was also acceptance with the way she shrugged her shoulders.

"Me? No way-" The puppeteer tried to deny it; he didn't believe it anyway since there was this saying about middle children often are ignored.

"You are. Hatsue-kaa-san loved that you were interested in painting and Sasori .. bonded with you through puppet making." The red head gave Kankuro a slow nod.

"You don't need to feel bad, our birth mother, Karura's favorite would be Gaara and Rasa's favorite was me, being the first born and all... before he got into the council."

"You were Uncle Komushi's favorite too, Temari, not just father's."

She laughed at that. "Oh, I miss that old man. I think I only became his favorite because of the fact that I was the eldest. He used to say I was what Sasori owed him."

"And Chiyo-baa-san favored Gaara the most."

They had grins on their faces and it slipped quietly to sad smiles. Memories flooded them, brought them happiness and warmth more than they could ever hold, thus it was no wonder if their eyes were a little misty. They blame it on the alcohol.

"I should've spend more time with them." Kankuro opens up, sake really did have a way in making an honest man out of him.

"I should've brough Shikadai more for a visit." Temari regrets

"I should've called him otou-san, at least once."

The three shared a look and couldn't help but be immersed in their shared regrets.

"We should've."

"But Sasori was an asshole."

"Agreed. He made it hard to call him so."

"His guard was up."

"He was stern."

"He threatened to kill me." Gaara paused, and then added. "Understandable since at that time, I recently attempted to kill his wife."

The older siblings froze and stared at the youngest.

"That happened?"

"You never told us."

The red head shrugged.

"But... he was a father to us. In his way. He would find wind technique scrolls for me to learn. When we were younger, I remember him tying my hair up, although Hatsue-kaa-san made him do it but still..." Sasori had a stoic expression the whole time but the slow, barely there tugs as he gently brushes her hair, belies that he cared despite his seeming indifference. Temari remembers catching an almost imperceptible smile he gives her when he was done, and patted her head.

"He told me, after developing my Red Secret Technique... that it was impressive. It was stupid, I admired him and respected him, idolized him even. He was an example to follow as a Puppet shinobi. It was stupid that I-.. I wanted to hear him say he was proud of me." The middle child confessed, whispered his words, one of his vulnerabilities. "But he was such an asshole, he made us look up to him as father figure but we always felt like we weren't allowed to call him that."

"Shukaku was always loud in my head but Sasori- After defeating me, Shukaku was... cautious of him. He'd grumble alot in my head. But he quiets down when I'm near... Sasori made me feel like... everyone was safe because he was there to stop me. That's why I always asked you to go with me and sleep in their room."

"I think we interrupted them a whole lot." Temari snorted.

The three siblings burst a laugh. They remember Sasori opening the door, breathless and Hatsue-kaa-san disheveled, her pajamas looking suspiciously crumpled. Their laughter faded after a few minutes and they sat there for awhile, wondering about their parents. They didn't doubt that their parents loved them but... they wondered if their parents knew they reciprocated.

"I used to think Sasori tolerated us, you know?" Temari waved the bottle, her head was resting on the table. "That us being his kids was only an extension of his love to Hatsue-kaa-san."

"Not gonna lie but I think that's how it was for him in the beginning. Just a bunch of brats he tolerated for mom." Kankuro says, shaking his head a little. "He was a damn good father, though."

"Except... he just didn't make it known that we were allowed to call him that." Gaara stares blankly into his cup.

"Everyone said we could, if we wanted. But I wanted him to say it."

"We were stubborn. And so was he."

"Yet we follow after them. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Because we love them more."

"More than our birthparents."

"That's why..."

"Our parents.." Temari hiccuped, cheeks red.

"They're..." Kankuro was swaying his head, as if he was hearing a lullaby.

" All..." Gaara rubbed his eyes, trying to keep the drowsiness at bay.

"..jerks!" The siblings all said simultaneously, clinking bottles and glasses.

#sasorixoc #temari #kankuro #gaara #fanfic #naruto fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

rebelsofshield · 5 years ago

Text

Star Wars: The Clone Wars: “Victory and Death” -Review

After twelve years, Star Wars: The Clone Wars comes to a close in a finale that is high on tension and somber atmosphere.

(Review contains spoilers)

youtube

Rex now free from the control of his inhibitor chip, Ahsoka and he make a desperate bid for safety from Order 66 and a rampaging Maul.

After the chaos and surprising plotting of the last three episodes, there is a welcome simplicity to “Victory and Death.” The Siege of Mandalore has been left behind. Anakin has fallen to the Dark Side and Order 66 is now enacted across the galaxy. The great Jedi apocalypse is now in full tilt and The Clone Wars is forced to conclude in its aftermath.

As a result, the first three quarters of “Victory and Death” are a nail biting fight for survival. Rex, Ahsoka, and Maul are all each at their wits end as they attempt to escape this tumultuous moment alive. It’s a miracle of directing and writing that Nathaniel Villanueva and Dave Filoni are able to make this such a breathless episode. We know the fates of the three major players in this story. Their futures will carry on for years from this moment, but somehow “Victory and Death” milks any ounce of uncertainty for all its worth. It’s easy to imagine just how traumatic this episode would’ve been in an alternate universe where Rebels did not yet exist and our understanding of the end of this series was all the more uncertain.

Part of the reason why this ends up working so beautifully is the clear emotional pain that our characters are suffering through. Ahsoka and Rex make an early pact that they aren’t going to take the lives of their brothers and former comrades in arms. It’s an understandable but almost impossible morality play. When Ahsoka removes Rex’s helmet to find him tearing up, it’s with the realization that they may very well have to kill those they love to survive. Filoni smartly mines this emotional line in the sand for maximum heartbreak. Even as their deaths feel more and more certain, neither of our heroes strike the killing blow. It’s the one act of light and true heroism in this somber and even despairing finale.

The action direction sells all of this chaos and desperation with sweeping scale and up close intensity. Just as Ahsoka and Rex’s set pieces are defined by two fundamentally good people pushed to their limit, Maul’s show a man of unbound anger and without limitation. Those who adored his hallway carnage in “Shattered” are sure to get a lot out of his merciless destruction of the Venator and the people inside. The in atmosphere disintegration of the ship functions as a great element of atmospheric storytelling as the setting for so many episodes of The Clone Wars comes apart at the seams and scatters the good, the bad, and the helpless to the wind.

There is likely to be some frustration though with so many open threads still dangling for the future of our characters and our universe. There isn’t the catharsis of a reunion between Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. There isn’t an answer to how Wolffe had his chip removed. There’s no image of baby Luke and Leia. The ending that is shown here is decidedly bleak. Not interested in answering questions or even offering a hopeful hint as to where we may go going forward. This is the ultimate purpose and achievement of “Victory and Death.” It’s an extended denouement of a tragedy.

The wordless final minutes of “Victory and Death” make for some of the best filmmaking of the series. Ahsoka and Rex bury their friends and leave behind everything they knew for an uncertain future. Villanueva marks these moments by a focus on negative space and artifacts. Despite the smoldering wreckage and the clone helmet grave markers, Villanueva makes a point to show our characters as alone and surrounded by a desolate landscape. Ahsoka and Rex don’t embrace and set off for a more hopeful future. Our last shot of our heroine is her letting go of the identity that she has held for so long. Fully and finally casting off the way of the Jedi.

In a moment that none of us expected, “Victory and Death” jumps forward. The Empire has discovered the crash of the Venator and an ebony clad figure steps out into the snow and picks up a discarded lightsaber. For a few brief and quiet moments, Darth Vader enters The Clone Wars. As opposed to Ahsoka and Rex, who were surrounded by memorials for those they cared for and presumably setting off for some future together, Vader is shot alone. His black suit stands out in the frozen wasteland indicating how truly alone the broken man inside is. Filoni and Villanueva pack so much into these wordless moments. Vader takes Ahsoka’s lightsaber. Perhaps as a memento of the man he used to be or as a trophy. A convor flies above. Ahsoka’s eventual companion Morai watching over this moment for unknown purposes. And with that. With the ushering in of a dark time and a buried orange helmet in the snow, Star Wars: The Clone Wars comes to an end. A series that was marked with joy, adventure, heroism, and heartbreak, closes wordlessly with a burial of an era and its people.

Kevin Kiner once again knocked it out of the park here. Kiner’s score in this final arc should be known as one of the great Star Wars soundtracks in the franchise’s history. From the symphonic triumph of the invasion of Mandalore, the eerie foreboding that carried the middle of this arc, the chaotic action beats of this last episode, and the somber heartbreak at its end, The Siege of Mandalore sounds beautiful and “Victory and Death” is the best of the bunch. It’s more than a little impressive how masterfully Kiner layers in the character motifs for Ahsoka and Rex with the larger movements of tragedy and suspense. Also, I’m sure all of us will have the final song “Burying the Dead” lodged in our memory for all time.

It’s far from the ending many of us expected, but it’s fitting and sobering in its honesty and vulnerability. It’s restrained in its focus and razor sharp in its depiction of isolation and uncertainty. It’s one of the few, if only, Star Wars stories that ends without a shred of hope for the future. It’s a move that shows the incredible maturity that The Clone Wars has achieved as a series and as a collective creation of the artists that brought it to life for over a decade. In its final moments, it doesn’t feel the need for bombast, for spectacle, or for homage. It lets its own artistry and the story it has been crafting for so long come together in the way it needed to, confidently assured in the quiet sadness that it deserves.

Score: A+

#Star Wars #The Clone Wars #Clone Wars #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #review #reviews #Ahsoka Tano #captain rex #Dave Filoni

200 notes · View notes

alottanothing · 4 years ago

Text

Left to Ruin: Chapter Ten

Summary: Nouke returns to the palace to confront Ahk about his intentions, and worries her heart may shatter. Kahmunrah’s suspicions sink deeper, and someone close to the pharaoh goes missing.

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 5875

Warnings: Bit of sugar 🥰, bit of spice😏, bit of no so very nice 😬 (a n g s t)

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe, @r-ahh-mi, @theultraviolencefan, @hah0106, @rami-malek-trash, @diasimar, @sherlollydramoine, @flipper-kisses, @ivy-miranda-2390, @txmel, @sunkissedmikky, @concentratedsassandcandy, @babyalienfairy, @edteche2 (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: This chapter can be summed up pretty well with the 😬 emoji. But don’t worry, it will get better...eventually.... Also! Thank you to everyone who has been keeping up and commenting/rebloging/Liking. The fact that this has gotten any attention at all warms my heart. 💕 I hope you enjoy this chapter! Once again as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

Every part of Nouke’s sensible mind spent the next day trying to curb the growing desire that yearned to see her sweet prince again. From the beginning, her plan was to cut ties with Ahkmenrah for good once she had everything she required. As cold as such an act seemed, it was smarter to not allow matters between them sink deeper. And matters had already grown well past the realm of amicable charity.

Ahk had tainted her resolute composure with the decadence of his soft lips, giving her heart a taste of the one thing she wanted for herself, but could never have. His unforeseen kiss struck her with a bolt of brilliancy, feeding the dormant desire that had been lying in wait since the day she saw him in the city center, freshly crowned and so handsome—no longer the boy she remembered.

The mere thought of him sent her heart racing up into her throat, and heat to color her cheeks foolishly. She was veering into a path that was not meant for someone like her. Ahkmenrah was second only to the gods—who did that make her? A step above the sands of Egypt?

He was a glittering gem, and she was a pebble in someone's sandals.

Still, those melancholy thoughts could not deter the euphoria of being in Ahk’s arms; his warmth and softness were a welcomed contrast to the reality she’d lived. His path—grand, and out of reach—beckoned like a siren's call. The promise of his smile and the honey-drenched words he spoke made it difficult to stray from the foreign course she walked.

By the time she found the turned stone marking the passageway into the palace, Nouke’s heart was pounding against the walls of her chest with a vibrancy stemming from one-half excitement and the other apprehension. The anxiety that coursed in her was not due to threats made long in her past, but rather the notion before the night was through, her heart may break.

Naively she held onto that pulsing glimmer of excitement; hope that a different conclusion would mark the end of their reunion. Hope was a dangerous thing for someone like her—who had nothing. And yet, hope was all she truly had. It fed dreams no matter how utopian. More specifically, hope fed her heart with the idea that Ahk wanted her as much as she wanted him—forever, and not just for the night.

Minutes passed, stretching longer than the one before, as she stood with her feet buried in the sand, her eyes fixated on the singular crooked stone. Her hand hovered over it while her mind waged war with her heart, both screaming and neither coming to an absolute decision.

The vibrant hues of the sunset were swiftly succumbing to the black of night when Nouke shut out reason and bottled both the dangerous hope and the nagging insecurity. Her lips parted in a long breath, letting her rapid heart slow and her mind empty. If she could will her head to keep her heart from reaching too boldly, then perhaps it would not betray her.

There was a slight tremor in her hands as she pulled the bricks from the stone wall—each stone seeming heavier than she remembered. Nouke did her best to ignore their peculiar weight and the shake in her hands, not wanting to breathe too much life into such a sign.

When the hole was large enough to climb through, she did so easily, avoiding the sharp stones that threatened to scrape her elbows as she passed.

“Evening,” a familiar deep voice bellowed softly, startling her.

Nouke gasped and jumped finding Kamuzu standing on the other side of the foliage in the garden.

“Forgive me, lady Nouke,” he apologized with a bow of his head. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

She’d forgotten Ahk’s promise that his trusted Medjay companion would be waiting to escort her, and quickly composed herself.

“No harm,” she assured him.

Kamuzu responded with his usual nod and stepped into the bush enough to hand her a neatly folded garment. Nouke eyed it quizzically, her brows furrowing with intrigue as she cautiously accepted the bundle.

“Our king thought it would be best if you were to hide in plain sight.”

The silent question faded, her creased brow leaving only the intrigue as she carefully unfolded the linen garment: a simple but distinctly elegant sheath dress. The wide straps were decorated with fine blue and red beads, stitched into place with golden thread. In the right light, the faceted beads and metallic threads sparkled. The article was far too fine a thing for a commoner to possess, and she couldn’t keep from brushing her fingers over the textured straps and well-made cloth.

It wasn’t until Kamuzu cleared his throat that she looked to see he’d ventured back beyond the foliage and into the garden, standing with his back to her.

“If you would, my lady,” he spoke kindly. “Our pharaoh is very much looking forward to seeing you. We should not keep him waiting.”

Nouke glanced down at the dress again, running her fingertips over the beads one last time.

“Right.”

Without ceremony, she removed her tired, work warn garments, kicking them aside and slid the dress over her head. The fabric fell to encompass her in a display of feathery movements, disturbed only by the sight breeze that cascaded through the hole in the wall behind her. Nouke bit her lip as a smile unfurled on her face. It was as though she’d plucked a cloud in the heavens to wear; the fine linen was too gentle to scratch her skin—so light it felt as though she wore nothing at all.

When she stepped through the grove of bushes and trees to join Kamuzu in the garden, he cast her a faint, approving smile, and motioned for her to follow.

Venturing down the halls of the pharaoh’s palace with Kamuzu to lead fostered a sense of serenity. She was safe in his presence. A grin threatened to curl her lips at the newfound peace and the thrill it sparked, but she did her best to play the part—keeping her face noble and indifferent. Nouke let her eyes wander freely, however, marveling at the structures and the artistry of Ahk’s home like she never had before.

As a girl, she never thought to appreciate the beauty. The gold and mixture of painted colors suited Ahk; amidst vibrant colors and glittering interiors was where he belonged: a descendant of Ra.

A descendant of Ra—the smile on her mouth faltered as her mind reminded her that he was next to godliness, and she was next to nothing. Had it not been the sudden slam of closing doors seizing her attention, Nouke was certain those thoughts would have sent her back through the garden wall and away from Ahkmenrah forever.

Nouke was unfamiliar with the corridor Kamuzu was leading her down, and her eyes followed the noise to find a towering set of double doors at the end of the hall. Several men exited, and at first glance, she thought they were palace guards, seeing the weapons strapped to their belts. However, their miss matching armor pieces were evidence to the contrary.

Kahmunrah walked at their head, and Nouke felt disgusted knots tighten in her stomach at the sight of him. A thinly veiled frown worked onto her features; her loathing pressing deeper as she watched him approach carrying an air of hubris befitting for a king despite holding no significant title.

“Ahh, there’s my brother’s trusted companion.” Kah stood before them, as though he expected them to kneel. “Slacking on your duties, are you? It’s not often to find you not glued to his side.”

“I am always loyal to my king. A trait you would do well to learn,” Kamuzu quipped straight-faced and unprovoked, much to Kahmunrah’s chagrin.

Anger spread over his face like wildfire, turning his features impossibly red, causing his smug grin to swiftly turn into a scowl.

“And you would be wise to learn your place,” Kah spat. “I am the son of a pharaoh—you are nothing more than a glorified soldier.”

Kamuzu squared his shoulders and suddenly it was, as though he’d grown an extra foot, making him taller than Kahmunrah. A tight-lipped smirk settled onto the Medjay’s face.

“Move aside, disgraced son of a pharaoh. Or I shall move you.”

The band of roughians at Kahmunrah’s flanks all stepped forward defensively, hands to their weapons, ready to draw. Almost instantly, four more Madjey appeared to stand with Kamuzu. They too had their hand over their weapons, but Kahmunrah’s raised hand stopped the impending bloodshed.

When Kah’s men backed down, the Medjay returned to their stations without need of command. Nouke’s heart was racing again as her eyes darted back and forth between Kamuzu and Kahmunrah even though she knew it was best not to look directly at the pharaoh’s brother.

“So, my brother has you fetching his entertainment for the evening; I see.”

Nouke could feel Kah’s black eyes snake up and down her body with a wicked hunger that made her skin crawl. He stepped closer to circle her.

“This one is certainly pretty.” Kah stepped back into his previous position, wetting his lips as his eyes continued to undress her.

“See to it that she is brought to my chamber once my brother has had his fill. They’re always better a little broken in.”

Nouke’s stomach churned sickly; the idea of his vile hands touching her made her skin crawl even more. She would sooner throw herself from a balcony than share a bed with Kahmunrah.

Nouke through a fiery leer at Kah, and it only made his fiendish smirk grow.

“Oh, this one has fight. Even better!” he laughed, as did his men. Their wicked chortle filled the hall with a malevolence thick enough to suffocate.

Instinctively, Nouke’s fists clenched into balls; with any luck, she could manage one blow to Kahmunrah’s head before his guards descended upon her. The joy such an action would bring almost outweighed whatever punishment he would think up. Kamuzu, however, stepped between them.

From his tone, Nouke could almost see his vehement expression—his mocking smirk gone.

“As previously stated, you are a disgraced son of pharaoh—you a are not worthy of the likes of her. Now, I ask again. Please. Step. Aside.”

Kahmunrah squared his shoulders in challenge, not quite matching Kamuzu’s stature. Still, Kah’s eyes narrowed and the tint of red bled into his face once more.

“One day I will make sure you regret these fun exchanges we have.”

“I look forward to that day,” Kamuzu assured him without a twinge of fear to cloud his tone.

The two were locked in a stare-off for a minute before Kah folded. He snapped his fingers, and his men moved collectively to flank him as he sulked off down the hall, muttering orders to his men that Nouke didn’t catch.

The moment he was out of sight; all the fury vanished inside of her.

“You will have to forgive our king’s brother,” Kamuzu said in a tone of heavy distaste. “Although, if I may speak freely; he is undeserving of your forgiveness.”

Nouke smiled at him, “Thank you."

A gentle smile ghosted over Kamuzu’s expression, casting it to her with a bow of his head. Without anyone else to interrupt, he led her through the double doors and into what she could only assume to be the pharaoh’s private chambers.

Nouke’s mouth fell open when her eyes took in the grandeur of the interior of his room. Ahk’s chamber, itself, was akin to a small palace. The ceiling was as high as the heavens, held in place by towering columns, etched with storied hieroglyphs. Directly across from the entry, the far wall gave way to a large balcony were two statues of Ra stood sentry on either side. Her eyes skimmed every sight, reveling in all the splendor and ornateness of the various pieces of furniture until her breath caught and her heart leapt into her throat, finding the most breathtaking feature in the whole of Egypt.

Ahkmenrah was draped lavishly in the golden finery that marked his station; the gold of his jeweled bracers and wesekh gleaming under the torchlight. Nouke had to fight a frown seeing the crown on his head—it hid his boyish curls she loved so much. Still, she smiled seeing him again.

Something felt off, however. Nouke could sense it the moment her eyes locked on him. Ahk’s usual devil-may-care charm was masked by tense muscles, a heavy brow, and the hastened gait of a ruler whose mind was fraught with worry. He paced about the large room, one hand on his hip, the other pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Whatever it was that plagued him, held his focus with an iron grip; not even the echoing thud of the double door's closing drew him from his thoughts.

All at once, Nouke wanted only to run to him, to wrap her arms around him and console her sweet prince from whatever it was he found so troubling. Her mind, however, kept her feet planted in spite of what her heart wanted. She remained several feet away, Kamuzu at her side, chewing her bottom lip as she watched her friend, feeling helpless. Her reason for being there still eluded her, and until she knew beyond a doubt that he called upon her for reasons her heart yearned, Nouke would force herself to remain neutral.

“My king, I have brought you the lady Nouke, safely—as commanded.” Kamuzu bowed his head respectfully as he spoke.

Nouke hesitated, seeing the gesture and feeling obliged to do the same, bowed her head despite Ahk’s reassurance she needed not address him so formally.

The distinct cadence of footfalls that filled the chamber as he paced, halted. Nouke glanced up, peering at him from under her lashes as she slowly raised her bowed head. The moment his eyes found hers; all the burden melted away.

Ahk dazzled her with a smile, all teeth, and sparkling eyes, that was reminiscent of her carefree prince. His rapturous expression found its way into her heart, filling it with warmth, and she returned his smile before she could think better of it.

He crossed the space between them in a flurry of fluid movements illustrated regally by the flowing of his golden robes and without hesitation, scooped her into his strong arms. A surprised chuckle broke from her lips when her feet left the ground; the sound of her laugh painting even more radiance on his face.

Before Ahk settled her back onto her feet, he claimed her lips in a searing kiss that Nouke foolishly leaned into, utterly intoxicated by the sensation of his luscious mouth on her own. Every moment spent in his arms with his lips brushing against hers was like a drug; it muffled the reasonably cautious part of her mind that begged her not to act on her heart’s hopes and desires.

Each of his tender touches, every embrace, and intimate gaze Ahkmenrah bestowed upon her, tempted Nouke a little further down the path she was forbidden to tread. True, her body burned to have him, but her heart was greedier. Her selfish heart wanted him all to herself every day, until the end of her days. Nouke wanted to be bound to him in body and spirit for more than just a single night.

When he kissed her so deeply there in his chambers, squeezing her against his chest, Nouke knew she should have stayed away. Her mind could not compete with her greedy heart.

“I have waited all day for this moment," Ahk said on a puff of breath with hearts in his eyes.

“Me too,” she replied just as wistfully.

Her eyes fell to his glistening, wet lips; the sight of them shooting a wave of fire through her veins, and she bit down on her own to keep from tasting his again.

“I trust you traveled well?” he asked, a smirk growing having caught her gawking.

Nouke nodded, forcing herself to meet his eyes, struggling to keep from looking at his lips.

Ahk pulled his lower lip between his teeth as his grin grew, stepping back and tangling his fingers with hers.

“How beautiful you are. That dress suits you.” The pharaoh’s eyes wandered hungrily down her figure—drinking in the sight of her. His tongue poked out to wet his lips before his lewd gaze returned to hers.

“Such beauty,” he confirmed, stepping back into her orbit.

“Is it the dress that makes me beautiful?” Nouke tested imploringly, feeling unworthy of his compliment.

Her skin was darkened from years of labor under the sun, making it more akin to a hide than delicate flesh—coated in callouses, sand and dirt. Nothing about her ever alluded to being beautiful.

Soft fingers cradled her jaw as she watched the blue of his eyes smolder with the compassion she admired, and he tipped their foreheads together as he spoke.

“If it were the dress I found most appealing, I would have noted its beauty and not your own. Your beauty outshines any raiment or jeweled crown.”

Ahk kissed her again, a meditative draw—slow and brimming with the conviction behind his words. Warmth cascaded over her skin in a wave of goosebumps when his palm pressed against her back, pulling her against him with fervor.

“Come,” he implored, breathless against her lips. “I have something to show you.”

He took her hands and led her onto the balcony; the euphoria sweeping over her made her powerless to deny him. The weight of his hand twined with hers was comforting, and it worked to crumble the wall meant to keep her a careful distance. She squeezed his fingers—a test to make sure he was truly there—and when he cast her a smile in reply, it was brighter and more ethereal than Ra himself. The starlight reflecting in the blue of his eyes made her heart soar and her breath catch. He was so beautiful.

Waset glistened in the light of Khonsu. The glow of amber firelight flickered like a mirror of the twinkling stars overhead. The sleeping city looked so calm from the perch of the pharaoh’s balcony, and the sight worked over her with awe. Nouke could have stood for hours watching the city that way.

Her eyes skirted the far away horizon, standing at the edge of the veranda, against the stone railing until her vision met Ahkmenrah’s profile. The shadows and the flicker of torches highlighted his strong jaw and high cheekbones with a sharp contrast that made his features regal and masculine. Suddenly, the city was inconsequential—he was the most stunning thing within her sight.

Ahk tossed her another quick smile before dexterously maneuvering to stand behind her, looping an arm around her waist to hold her against his chest. Nouke felt so safe encompassed in his arms. She fit so perfectly.

“I found your farm,” he murmured against her ear, pointing to the horizon.

Nouke could hear his proud and delighted grin in his tone—too easy for her to picture in her mind.

“You have to squint, but it’s there.”

He moved his hand back to her waist, and as his fingers spread over her abdomen, their warmth settled in her core. Instantly her mouth was dry, and she struggled to swallow. Her whole body tingled—betraying her rational mind. Nouke gnawed her bottom lip biting hard enough to drown the desire building in her center that made her heart pound excitedly.

“What--um--what had you so worried before I came in?” she asked in an attempt to deter her want.

The lines of Ahk’s body went rigid against her. Whatever his concern had been; it was still bothering him.

“I don’t think I have ever seen you so worried before,” Nouke tried again when he offered no explanation.

She felt him shrug, and his body relax once more.

“It’s no matter,” he assured her, but there was a hint of unease in his voice.

Ahk’s hands slipped from her waist and she mourned their loss with a frown he couldn’t see, afraid she had upset him. A second later, feather-light touches swept up and down her arms; gentle brushes that aroused goosebumps to prickle her flesh and more longing to cloud her sensible mind.

His right hand glided all the way up her arm, just the pads of his fingers ghosting over her skin, before hooking them under the strap of her dress, sliding it to expose the tender flesh of her shoulder.

“My men are handling it.” Heat danced from his words and over her skin—lips against her shoulder even more tantalizing than the touch of his fingers.

Nouke sighed when his lips pressed firmly to the juncture of her neck and shoulder—mind in a fog, her heart beating too fervently to count. Her mouth fell open with a soft sound she couldn’t quell as her eyes fluttered shut to savor every moment; head falling aside, encouraging his ministrations.

Ahkmenrah’s lips quirked into a smile, and he hummed; the smug sound sent a rush of heat through her. His lips were sinful and heavenly at once, moving against the column of her neck, stopping to suck a bruise over her pulse before smoothing the mark with a sweep of his tongue. The warmth of his palms snaked up her torso, gliding over her hips and sides before cupping the globes of her breasts, thumbs dragging over her nipples. Despite the layer of linen between his hands and her skin, they tingled to a point almost immediately and the pharaoh made a throaty sound of approval.

Nouke bit her lip to keep the, frankly, lewd sounds from escaping her throat. It wasn’t until his mouth mapped a trail to her earlobe, licking and nipping as his hands gently kneaded each breast, that something akin to a moan broke from the cage of her closed lips. Her breath hitched and for a moment she feared she would fall from the sudden rush.

In a swift movement, he was there to catch her. Ahk’s hands circled her waist, the tips of his fingers digging into the soft swell of her rear as he possessively pulled her against him as his mouth found hers again. His tongue quickly flicked along her lips, stealing a taste, and she opened for him with a sigh—lost in the feel of him. Tendrils of lazy warmth worked through her as his teeth took her bottom lip with a nip with just enough pressure the pleasure outweighed the pain.

Nouke whined in the back of her throat as her arms twined over his shoulders, holding him closer until all of her senses were marked by the feel of him. Her heart was hammering in her chest; the muffled scream of alarm dulled by the taste and the feel of Ahk’s tongue swirling with her own.

Ahkmenrah broke the kiss with a breathless gasp to fill his empty lungs before searing a trail of kisses down her neck and opposite shoulder, sucking every sweet spot that drew a cry or whine from her lips. Nouke's head was inundated by desire—heat pooling with need at her center.

When his fingers threatened to slide the other strap of her dress away to undress her, the alarm of reality rang loud with warning.

Suddenly, it was all too much, too quickly with no rhyme or reason.

Nouke’s eyes shot open, and she wrangled herself free of Ahkmenrah’s grasp, yanking the straps of her dress back into place, suddenly dizzy. The abrupt loss of his closeness ached, but she fought against it.

Her abrupt movement almost sent Ahk careening forward into a stumble but he caught himself as puzzlement and the unfamiliar sting of rejection settled on his features in a wide-eyed expression. No words left his open mouth, but his question was in the crease of his brow and perplexed unblinking stare.

It took Nouke a moment to recover from the stardust and euphoria, and when she finally calmed, she gathered her resolve to keep her heart from leading her astray.

“Why did you ask me here,” she said.

She could sense the onslaught of tears brought on by the confusing mix of emotions at odds with each other inside of her. Her voice sounded cold—she didn’t mean for it to sound cold. But she wanted an explanation. She deserved an explanation.

He said nothing, his stunned expression pressing deeper as his eyes lost their focus. Something dark and precarious twisted in her stomach the longer he hesitated; Nouke did her best to ignore it.

“Why, Ahk?” she pressed firmly, using that malaise to fuel her reasoning.��“Because I refuse to be summoned to your chamber; to be seduced, used, and tossed aside.”

Disappointment tugged at her heartstrings and tightened the knots in her belly, recalling Kahmunrah’s assumption that she was the king’s evening entertainment. A routine of his, it seemed. How many women lined up each night to spend an evening with their handsome, virile pharaoh? She feared to know about those numbers.

Nouke wanted more than a night of wanton pleasures; she wanted all of him—body, mind, and spirit.

Some of her steam evaporated when she felt her heart begin to break with the notion of his thoughts being nothing more than a heedless desire. Nouke exhaled heavily in an attempt to drive away some of the pain.

“Do your words and your kisses mean anything? Or am I simply someone new to warm your bed?”

Ahkmenrah’s eyes darted to meet hers—the first time since she’d pulled away. As he thought, Nouke watched the severity of his emotions drift over his features until finally, they softened; his wide eyes growing sad with a twinge of hurt.

“I would never—” Ahk hung his head, his focus falling to the floor as he searched for the words he wanted desperately to say.

Mist glistened in his eyes when he slowly brought them back to share her gaze. He stepped towards her but refrained from reaching to touch her.

“Surely you must know my feelings for you,” he said softly.

An inkling of relief surged through to find her guarded heart hearing his revelation, bringing hope that would surely leave her broken.

“Color spilled back into my life when I saw you again,” he confessed.

Nouke risked a smile. She knew the feeling he spoke of—she’d been lost in his colors her entire life. But while it thrilled her hopeful heart that her love was reciprocated, there was more. Her initial question still remained in the air between them like a dark cloud, unanswered.

If she wasn’t there, in the privacy of the pharaoh’s bed-chamber to be merely bedded, then gotten rid of, there had to be another reason. She had his love. Nouke could see it in the way he looked at her; in the way he kissed her. His love for her was as real and as passionate as the sun.

But Ahkmenrah already had his queen.

Slowly, and somehow all at once, the unease crept back under her skin as her mind pieced together realization. The thick air of the room stuck in her throat, and she had to swallow twice before it cleared.

“Why am I here, Ahk?” she asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

Ahkmenrah swallowed too.

“The council,” he paused. “The council wishes for me to take—”

“A second wife,” Nouke choked out, feeling her stomach drop.

Her chest grew tight, and she struggled to breathe as her heart shattered.

“Yes,” he confirmed, only causing her more duress.

“No,” she mumbled, clutching her stomach in an attempt to keep herself from unraveling in front of him.

“No?” Ahk repeated, both question and defeat in his tone.

Nouke nodded, unable to bring herself to say it again; a part of her in anguish to deny him.

All of her life she saw the love her mother and father shared. She wanted a sliver of that happiness for herself. Nouke would not settle for a lifetime of feeling jealous or selfish for wanting the man she loved all to herself.

“It’s normal; I imagine, for a man in your position to take multiple wives,” she spoke calmly, but found it difficult to meet his gaze. “But that is not a life I will ever want for myself.”

“Nouke...” When he reached to take her hand, she moved away—cutting herself off from his touch like she should have long before that moment.

“I was given very little in this life—something I came to terms with a long time ago. But if I could ask the gods for one blessing, it would be to be your only one.” Nouke spoke with conviction and truth.

The weight of her words crushed the pharaoh’s regal posture as the sting of her declaration pierced him. The usual spark in his eyes faded, and his muscles grew tense. Nouke’s eyes never strayed as she waited for him to utter a response. Whether it was hopeful or devastating she didn’t care. All she wanted was some recognition that he understood. But what she found in his eyes was emptiness—Ahk was completely closed off.

“Have you nothing to say?” Nouke asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes looked in her direction, but through her; as though she wasn’t there at all.

It was as she had feared, his crown had spoiled him. He was given everything, and now; rejection made him cold. The boy she grew up with would never have surrendered so easily. He would have fought to keep her; she wanted him to fight. But he said nothing.

“Well,” she stated, allowing venom to seep into her tone—just enough to sting.

“Thank you…my king.” Nouke knelt before him, holding it long enough to let him know she understood her place.

There were tears in her eyes when she stood to leave, and for a moment she thought he was going to fight, his mouth open, but he only nodded.

Never had she felt so foolish. Her heart had not listened, and now it ached with a pain Nouke feared would never truly heal.

***

Ahkmenrah stood, breaths shallow, muscles tense, with his eyes fixated on the doors of his chamber feeling as though a hole had just been ripped into the very fabric of his soul, and it was all his fault. He didn’t move; hoping with every passing second those doors would swing back open and Nouke would come back so he could fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

The moments, however, stretched into minutes and with them, time brought the realization she was gone. It was an ache that pulsed with a heaviness in his bones. His stomach dropped as tears fought to breach his kingly composure. He was a fool.

A haggard breath shook him as his eyes shut and his head hung, forcing the flow of his tears steadier down his cheeks. The ample silence screamed with an echo of how alone he felt. It was a stillness that was heavy and haunting, mixing sickly with the anguish that worked through him with a chill.

The writhing subsided only when the sound of the chamber door opening rang out, spooking the pharaoh out of his woeful stupor. Relief rippled through him, and the influx of happiness prompted more tears to sting his eyes—she had returned to him!

The relief vanished with a cold sweep of reality when he looked to see Medjay entering and not the woman he loved.

Ahkmenrah hastily wiped his tears from his face and reaffirmed his stately posture as he greeted his trusted guards. His voice was shaky and betrayed his stoic composure, but his men didn’t question him.

“Is there any news?” he asked, valiantly trying not to let his pain taint his noble tone.

He hoped they brought good news; he needed it.

The two men shared a hesitant glance that lent enough clarity that the tidings they came with were not what Ahkmenrah was desperate to hear. The look on their faces sent a surge of worry through his body making his emotions that much more volatile.

“The entire palace and the grounds have been searched, twice over, my pharaoh,” one Medjay expressed solemnly. “There is no sign of Queen Setshepsut, I am sorry.”

Ahkmenrah’s posture wilted as he sighed—grief tearing through him mercilessly. In his heart, he knew his sister's disappearance was due to his foolishness as well. Every word spoken to her and to Nouke had been misconstrued. He’d broken a vow and let the woman he loved believe she was not his only love. Now, they were both gone.

The pharaoh took a steadying breath, gradually building his pose back to that of a composed ruler.

“She must be found,” he told them in earnest. “Her safe return is of the utmost concern. Take men—as many as you require. Search the city. Discreetly, if you can. The people of Egypt mustn’t suspect their queen has gone missing.”

Both Medjay nodded, and spoke in perfect unison, “As you command, my king.”

They held their bowed heads until Ahkmenrah dismissed them with a wave, “Go now. Do not stop until she is found.”

The moment his guardians were sealed behind closed doors, every shred of his collected mien snapped and crumbled. The icy pang of grief snaked through him; the ear-splitting sound of silence rekindling his unease. Tears welled in his eyes again—a manifestation of his regret and ire. His fists clenched into white-knuckled balls as his grief boiled over into unbridled rage directed at only himself.

How could I be so careless?

A piercing ache swelled in his skull, sharp and pulsing, made worse by the weight of the crown on his head. His teeth were set against each other, tight, and his lips curled into a sneer as he took the royal headpiece into his hands. In the glean of the polished metal, he caught his reflection and fury faded to a frown finding the distorted features looking back at him.

Could so trivial an object rule and sculpt him—turn him into the blinded fool he had become?

Ahk’s frown contorted into disgust and with an artless toss, he let the crown tumble to the floor. It clanked against the stone ground splitting the silence with a brash sound that made the proceeding quiet even worse than before. His room was cold—he was cold, and the coupling rendered an unfathomable sadness.

Ahkmenrah stumbled backward; his feet shakier with every fumbled step and stopped only when his back collided with a stone column. All too quickly his body fell limp, sliding until he was on the floor, his tears falling freely as the sounds of his cries filled the empty air—wishing he’d been smart enough to run away first.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Eleven: The Duality of Duty

#Ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah x Original Character #Ahkmenrah Fanfiction #Night at the Museum #NATM #NATM Fanfiction #Left to Ruin #Rami Malek Character #Rami Malek Character Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek

31 notes · View notes