#to the people that woke up and chose violence you made a great effort
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Clubs
(Perks include but are not limited to random teenagers playing music while you shower at the gym)
In an effort to both utilize pre-existing clubs, and furthering their careers, Robert and Mags have joined clubs. This idea was planted in Robert's head after he went with a friend to the gym for a late night workout, and his friend promptly bailed, leaving him to shoot hoops alone.
Part of the joy of playing a game is the cheering and applause from others when you get a point. At least, Robert thinks so. He applied to join the "Powerhouse" club, which seemed promising right off the bat, seeing as they had a dumbbell as their icon. Very to the point.
After inviting the club leader, an elderly Marcus Flex, to his house, Robert showed off any and all reasons that he would be a great fit to the club.
Marcus didn't really need convincing, he just made a club for people who can't really exercise unless they do it as a group, but it was an interesting way to spend an evening.
Within a few meetings, Robert also invited a coworker, Morgan Park, to the club. She's a bona fide gym rat, so she couldn't refuse.
Having the club meetings at the gym did help his work performance, and he was able to get a promotion to a Minor Leaguer, a raise that was appreciated by everyone.
Mags joined the Upper Crusts, which came with the benefit of a bunch of people making food for her, so that there was lots of leftovers in the fridge for times that she was exhausted from work and wanted to eat something before going to sleep. The extra company was nice as well; for some reason Mags doesn't know nearly as many people as Robert does, so chances for her to meet new people are welcome.
After meeting Clara Bjergsen, Mags got very sentimental, wishing that Bob had some kind of grandmotherly figure in his life, which is something she basically shoved onto Clara, rather awkwardly.
It's a little difficult to maneuver the club meetings, their jobs, and taking care of Bob, but hopefully it's worth it, at the end of the day.
Robert woke up one day and quite literally chose violence, because he wanted to become enemies with some random Sim that I've never seen before, but I guess in the time when I was playing the Simovitchs, he managed to get a negative relationship with someone. And so, I figured out where the guy lived, had Robert stop by, and promptly start arguing with him about anything, in his own house, and then started a fistfight.
After winning the fistfight, Robert declared this random Sim his enemy, and went home to enjoy time with his family.
In some ways, it's probably a good thing that there isn't a police force in The Sims the way there is in real life, because this entire ordeal would have 100% gotten Robert Newbie in some sort of trouble. Aggravated assault at least. Instead, he ended the day confident, and happy that he was able to complete a want. He doesn't have blood on his hands, but he definitely has bruises.
Speaking of completing wants, it was soon New Year's Eve. It was an incredibly uneventful one, no parties or notable gatherings. Literally the only pictures I have about it are from the countdown.
(if you see tiny little baby legs behind mags in the last picture, bob fell asleep on the floor in classic sims style, because mags and robert were too preoccupied with the countdown)
#this is a little disjointed because i played this a few days back?#more like around ten days ago#once again i did that thing where i play and take pictures but don't make any posts#so future me is left trying to string things together but this time i didn't even take that many pictures#past me is really trying to get future me and present me is not a fan#ts4#the sims 4#simblr#the sims 4 gameplay#the sims 4 screenshots#the sims 4 legacy#sims 4#ts4 gameplay#the newbies#the brokes#images have alt text
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A Court of Dragons and Fallen Angels (NobuKichou Demon AU)
Tagging @ashavazesa not sure if you’re gonna like it, buttt think of it as thanks for your wonderful NobuKichou ficlet
Pairing: Nobunaga x Kichou, Mitsuhide x Reader
Length: 1,188 words
Warning: slight gore and sexual situations
Prompt: Demon AU based on Onimusha: Warlords
It was another unsuccessful raid on Azuchi Castle. True to Mitsuhide's words, Nobunaga needn't don his armor and greet the invaders himself. The Oni warriors were swiftly massacred the moment they set foot on the other side of the wall.
His demonic vassals had outdone themselves once again. Tonight, another celebratory feast was in order.
Nobunaga sipped his rice wine leisurely as he enjoyed the night breeze.
At his side sat Azuchi's chatelaine, anxiously awaiting the return of her beloved.
"No need to fret," Nobunaga assured her. "Don't you remember how effortlessly he crushes Oni like bugs under his soles? He will return soon."
The seamstress shuddered at the image of Mitsuhide blowing the enemies' heads with his trusty rifle. Flesh-colored veins from his hand tangled along the barrel like a web of viscera.
"It's not that. I just find this all to be so...surreal, detached from my own reality," The princess whispered. "Even now, I still can't wrap my head around demon people killing each other with supernatural powers."
Nobunaga laughed.
"Monstrous, am I right?" He scratched at his muscular arm. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. Soon, the history of this nation will change under the rule of my infernal army. Your future will change."
The expanse of his skin that transformed into adamantine scales would itch at certain times. But it mattered little to Nobunaga. He needed the protection it provided from flames and bullets. Now almost invincible, Nobunaga and his retainers were free to invade lads under Uesugi and Takeda's banners.
Not even resurrected warlords could stall his thirst for conquest.
"Look," Nobunaga pointed at the grounds below. "They're coming."
But his chatelaine didn't have his enchanted senses and thus could not make out the features of the returning men. Yet she only had to look at her lord's fond gaze.
"I heard Kichou was leading the party," she nodded. "I thought he would be exhausted from all our recent battles. That demon strength really is something."
Nobunaga licked his lips at the thought of Kichou gunning and slicing through hordes of Oni and men alike. He would always bring the barrel to his lips before firing, like a prayer so that he'd never miss his mark.
The shot was dedicated to Nobunaga, along with the unfortunate soul it reaped.
Ironically (then and even now to a certain extent), it wasn't the killing that fulfilled Nobunaga. Kichou did.
It's a shame Nobunaga couldn't declare them as lovers. Two hearts made of ice weren't meant to warm each other.
But Kichou fell in love with his vision. Nobunaga loved his devotion and unyielding trust. Even when he told Kichou that he was willing to call upon the powers of hell if need be.
To which Nobunaga literally did.
There was a flicker of uncertainty in Kichou's eyes after Nobunaga showed him the books and spoke of his plans in great detail. For the first time in their long life together, Nobunaga feared that the other man would finally leave him for their adversaries in disgust.
But it didn't take long before Kichou appeared at the entrance to the tenshu. In the dim light, the smaller man reached for Nobunaga's hand, declaring his readiness to sacrifice his very own humanity.
Nobunaga smirked wryly. Then again, they had already stopped being human some time ago. Even though the princess believed otherwise.
Soon, she'd learn that their entire entourage (including her serpent) had long traded their human souls for the sake of Nobunaga's vision.
They sealed their fates as asuras the moment they pledged loyalty to Nobunaga. It was a foregone conclusion that they chose infernal powers over the promise of nirvana.
Evil, the senile monk at Honganji had accused. But Nobunaga could care less about being the villain in everybody else's story. It was all about the ending they'd all eventually meet.
Nobunaga rose. It was time to go welcome his warlords.
"Come," he offered his hand to the young woman. "Let's meet your “boyfriend.”
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The warlords were still high on the thrill of bloodshed when Nobunaga called them to the meeting room.
Nobunaga was delighted at the fevered look in Hideyoshi's eyes as he babbled at their exploits. Kichou paid no heed to him speaking out of turn. He only answered to Nobunaga, and only when prompted.
Was his poor warlord fatigued? These consecutive series of attacks had taken a heavy toll on his sleeping schedule. Nobunaga chuckled at his gormless expression. Demon warriors were supposed to liven up at the prospect of bloodletting.
The constant need for violence was now running through their veins, no matter how righteous they believed themselves to be in the beginning. Just look at Hideyoshi.
"Excellent," Nobunaga concluded their assembly. "Now, go and let yourself indulge for tonight. But remember that we still have much to do in the morning."
The warlords left their seats after bowing to Nobunaga, leaving Mitsuhide and Kichou with Nobunaga and the chatelaine. She rose and immediately went to the silver-haired man's side.
"My little mouse," Mitsuhide stroke her head. "Have you been waiting long?"
The tired man beside them eyed the couple impassively. His old self would have sneered at the lover's audacious display. But not this Kichou, who patiently listened to the chatelaine chattering about his impish cousin with adoration in her eyes.
The more monstrous we become, Kichou muttered one night, the more we appreciate these little moments that remind us we still haven't changed.
Even for all his cruelty, Kichou was still very much a sentimental man, Nobunaga mused.
After what felt like eons, the couple finally bid good night and left Nobunaga alone with Kichou. About time. He wasted no time making use of his privacy with his green-eyed companion.
Nobunaga drew Kichou to his chest, grimy armor and all.
"Nobunaga-sama, please," He pleaded weakly, hands kneading at the fabric of his kimono. "I'm all covered in blood."
"Hmmm, does it matter?" Nobunaga chuckled. "You won't be needing all that bloodied garment on you once we're upstairs."
But Nobunaga understood the exhaustion in his voice. He will wait until morning, then, when Kichou was refreshed and awake to savor his ministrations.
Nobunaga enjoyed their couplings as a demon should: for pleasure and nothing more. But to Kichou, the steady rush of emotions between every touch of their skin was his last remaining tether to his withering humanity.
Nobunaga, already ruthless before his transformation, could barely comprehend the usefulness of keeping another fragile being close to his heart. The era they were living in nearly led him to believe every living soul was disposable, even his own. It was ironic that he only understood Kichou's sentiments now when they had literally been turned into monsters.
Kichou didn't protest when Nobunaga hauled him to his feet and looped his arm behind the Demon King's neck. A sturdy hand rested at Kichou's slender waist, pulling him closer to Nobunaga's side.
Kichou was allowed to clean up and rest in his master's suite, where he belonged. When he woke up, Nobunaga would ensure his right-hand-man was handsomely rewarded for his efforts.
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Notes: the “demons” are actually referred to by the franchise as Genma. The Oni (sometimes usually translated to “demons”) as well are their equally supernaturally enhanced counterparts, but good.
#ikemen sengoku#ikesen nobunaga#ikesen kichou#ikesen mitsuhide#nobukichou#ikesen fanfic#riri tries ikesen
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Decisions Of a Capricorn
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Summary: Levi Ackerman woke up one fine morning. In the past. Shit.
Genre: Angst, lets-change-shit, drama, liddol romance (Levixhappiness)
Warning: Manga spoilers
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Chapter 1: Admit it
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Summary: As a Capricorn, patience and determination are amongst your most well known qualities. Although no one is immune to occasional frustrations, you attempt to be understanding and calm in all your dealings.
Alternatively, Levi tries to make sense of what the hell is going on and tries not to chose violence.
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What. the. Fuck.
This couldn't be happening, it seriously couldn't. Was it a dream? No, he had punched his fist into a wall, pinched himself but still, it all felt too real. Maybe he was in some sort of fucked up heaven? Whatever the case, he felt ready to throw hands with whatever deity had done this to him.
With a shaky breath, Levi began to calm himself and sort through the situation. His fingers were back, he could see from his left eye again. There weren't any scars on his face nor any bandages on his chest. Levi was, by all means, back to his prime. Which would be great news really, except he was apparently five fucking years in the past. At least he thought it was five, considering the very much alive faces of his Special Ops Squad.
He had woken up, disorientated, expecting to either be bleeding out or in hell with Erwin. The sight of his impeccably clean office had made him pause. When he had heard a knock on the door and automatically told the person to come in, he had damn near short circuited at the sight of a very much alive Eld, strolling in with a cup of steaming tea.
What. The. Fuck.
Years of dealing with Hange and titans and the bullshit called life had hardened Levi to the point he could keep his expression neutral infront of the teen. He listened as Eld prattled on about duties and nodded along, not trusting himself to speak lest he shatter the world he had ended up in.
'.. Captain we'll be leaving for the castle today with Eren..'
Eren. Eren fucking Yeager. Oh God, he was going to kick this brats ass. Even if this likely was nothing more then an illusion, he would whoop Eren to hell and back for the shit he had put them through-
'Umm- captain?'
Snapping out of his vivid strangling Eren fantasies, he composed himself.
'We'll leave shortly. Prepare for the journey.
'Yes Sir!'
On second thought, Levi thought as he leaned back in his chair, whatever deity had thrown him here might deserve a little thanks. He owed Yeager a black eye. Scratch that, he owed both Yeagers a black eye. Well, in Zeke's case it was more of a blade through his throat. Maybe he could at least achieve that in his dream world.
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'.... So the mission plan is..'
Levi had spent the last 5 years missing his dear friend. He had truly cherished Erwin, and hadn't enjoyed his own part in the man's death. But, he had forgotten how tedious and boring meetings with him were. Just how did the man go on and on about this crap and not lose his mind? And how had he ever listened along and not bashed someone's, preferably his own, head on the wall?
Sipping his tea, he silently wondered how long this was going to last. The weird fantasy he was stuck was exceptionally accurate, not a thing out of place. It was almost as if it was all real. But he knew better then to delude himself, and so was only really playing along until he was back in his own time. Or world. Or whatever. The figuring out what-the-hell-is-going-on was more of Hange's thing. Speaking of which, Levi paused mid sip as someone kicked the door open, interrupting Erwin mid speech.
'....Ness and his squad are in the right-'
'ERWWWIINNNN'.
Levi perked up. Just a few hours ago, he had seen the exuberant woman burn to death. One of his closest friends was suddenly alive and well and absolutely fi-
'PLEASE LET ME EXPERIMENT ON EREN PLE-'.
And, just as obnoxiously loud as ever, he chuckled to himself. He watched as she enthusiastically shook Erwin, demanding Eren for herself. The usually composed blonde commander looked like he wished he was the commander of any other military branch as he fended her off. Moblit could only try and fail to pull her away.
This Hange looked just as youthful she had been before becoming commander. Her eyes bright, arms flailing around like a tornado, voice screeching higher then it should be legal. It was the Hange that had been missing for quite some time now-replaced by an overburdened, tired version of herself. It felt good to see her rampaging around and giving Moblit heart problems and probably reducing his lifespan. Just like the old times.
'Hey shitty four eyes.'
'Hi Le..vi..'
Hange trailed off, clearly stunned. Erwin raised an eyebrow at him while Levi nonchalantly set his tea cup down.
'What? You constipated?'
'No, it's just, you never say hi to me..'
'Yes I do.'
Hange went on as though she hadn't heard him.
'....While smiling like that.'
Oh. That explained alot. Levi hastily corrected his expression, he had gotten too caught up in his relief of seeing Hange alive and actually smiled at her. Said woman, however, was suddenly in his face, hand resting on his forehead.
'Do you have a fever? What if this is a side effect of titan shifters on short people-'
'Shut the fuck up four eyes.'
'And he's back to normal. So, Erwin, I need Eren to myself for-'
'Hange- you're talking too fast-'
'Section Commander please calm down-'
'....We have so many experiments to conduct. What if there are titans attracted to Eren? What if he gives off pheremones and they want to MATE with him?'
The entire room went silent. Moblit looked like his soul had left his body, Erwin and Levi stared at her in disbelief. The former looked ready to hand in his resignation to God for his existence and the latter looked irritated.
Thankfully, Erwin spoke up first, before Levi could attempt to throw Hange out the window.
'That's enough. We won't be putting him through experiments that we know have no basis-'
Levi watched as Erwin began lecturing a pouting Hange. He poured a cup of tea and nudged it towards Moblit, who tossed him a grateful look.
A part of him wanted to smile, happy to be back with the people he cared about. To have his comrades alive and well in front of him. It gave him a sense of peace that he hadn't had in a long time.
But, ever the pessimistic, he dashed his own hopes.
None of this was real.
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It was an effort, but through sheer will power, Levi managed to curb his violent urge to beat the shit out of Eren. Instead, he allowed them to make their journey to the castle, feeling hazy and distracted. His squad and Eren chattered as he rode ahead on his horse. He could vaguely make out Olou obnoxiously picking on Eren and biting his tongue. Just like the last time he had been there.
He couldn't bring himself too look at them for too long, the horrifying scenes of their deaths would start flashing in his mind. Too long his nightmares had consisted of the deaths of the people riding alongside him. He often darkly imagined that they had blamed him. For not getting there in time. For not telling them about the female titan. For being a useless, shitty captai-
Levi cut off that train of thought. Not now. Not when they were in front of him, so full of life.
Seeing his squad, alive and bickering like usual, it was too good of a sight to pass up. Olou childishly imitating him, Eld and Gunther poking fun at Petra and Olou, Eren floundering about as though he wasn't planning on mass murdering billions of people in five years. It made him miss them even more, knowing none of what was happening was actually happening.
He had spent years mourning his comrades. When Paradise had begun advancing in technology, when they had seen the ocean and explored what was on the other side of it, he had missed all of them. Achieving so much without them had always left him feeling a little empty.
How long was this journey going to last? How long would he spend in this fantasy world? Why was he even here? Maybe he was still alive and hallucinating about the people of his past. This was all in his head, the dying dreams of a useless old man taking his last breathes. As they reached the castle, he immediately gave orders for cleaning the filthy place.
He would mourn his own failures later.
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Later at night, Levi sat in his chair, feeling his frustration return to him full force. Dream world or not, it didn't change how useless he had become. Losing to that shitty monkey, getting so brutally injured, unable to contribute a damn thing to the battle. Armin had gotten kidnapped right in front of his eyes, Connie had nearly died and Mikasa of all people had to save him . He was the one those idiots called humanity's strongest yet he had been nothing but cannon fodder. A burden.
He hadn't been able to do shit for them. Zeke was still alive, a horde of shitty titans with limitless energy were blocking their way to Eren, they had no supplies and no way of leaving the battlefield without Armin. An absolutely pathetic situation--and it had been all his fault.
If only he had killed Zeke back in the forest. If he had chopped his head off and burned his body to ashes, none of this would have happened. Eren had needed Zeke to activate the rumbling, without him, none of this would have happened. So many lives had been lost because of that monkey, turned into mindless titans and slaughtered. Commander Pixis, Nile..
And he was the one who let it get that far.
Rather then ending the entire battle in a flash- he had made a mistake. A mistake that had cost them too much. His own abilities and the lives of his comrades. He would never be able to sleep in peace again.
With Zeke dead, they would have had time. Eren would need Historia for the rumbling and would have had to wait till she gave birth. They could have talked things through--or sealed Eren up or even given Eren's power to someone else. Anything would have been better then the senseless genocide Eren had launched.
A part of him also questioned if he was to blame for Eren lashing out like this. Coming up with such a plan, going against the military.. Why had Eren not trusted him? He hadn't been the nicest but, Levi felt a pang of hurt as thought about how much he had sacrificed for Eren. His comrades and their lives had been reduced to less then dirt particles, to keep Eren alive. Only for him to turn on them so easily. If Eren and Zeke had been really working together, did that mean he had known Zeke would try to kill him? Was there anything he could have done to change the outcome of all of this? Just where had he messed up with Eren and lost track of him? Despite all the questions plaguing him, he knew he couldn't undo the past. Dwelling on it like this was doing him no favours.
And now, here he was, despite his failiures, in tip top shape, completely okay. Yet he wasn't where he was needed. His brats were fighting for their lives and here he was fantasising about a better life as though he hadn't just damned all the others.
Scowling fiercely, he forced himself to calm down. Nothing would make how miserable he was feeling go away. He could only wait for himself to wake up and face his reality. Hopefully, he would be the only casualty in the mission. He wasn't sure he could look any of them in the eye again if he lived and one of them hadn't. Sasha's death had already been too much for him.
His headache wouldn't go away, so he went to make himself some tea. Only, he found himself stopping short at the sound of someone sniffling. Levi discreetly approached the source of the sound.
Remus Ferguson
The brat had been in the survey corps for about a year now. If Levi recalled right, he had lost his girlfriend in the last expedition, which explained the tears so late at night. Remus himself would die when the female titan attack-
Wait.
What. The. Fuck.
He hadn't seen this before. Everything so far, every interaction, it had occurred before. But this hadn't. He hadn't seen remus crying last time. He had known of Remus crying up a storm at night, courtesy of his squad members. But he hadn't witnessed it first hand.
Watching the teen sob, he began rationalising the events of today.
If he was in some self constructed fantasy world, why wasn't it all happy? Why were there still titans? Why was anyone in pain? Where were Isabel and Farlan? He knew he had never wanted to see any of his comrades in pain. Unless...this wasn't just a dying man's fantasy..
If he had to fantasise about a happier time in his life, wouldn't it be with his mother? He had always known that the one thing he had wanted most in the past twenty something years was to feel his mother's warmth again. To hear her sweet voice sing him a lullaby to sleep. So if he really was dying, why see this? Why be back at a time where everything was just okay? Why not a time where he was actually happy?
In fact, why not a world where he everyone he wanted to be alive was alive? Rather then a dream, it felt like he had been plucked from one time period and left to live his life from another one...
His mind raced as he finally reached a conclusion, and without a second thought he fled back to his room, too shocked to acknowledge his new discovery.
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A knife had been Levi's companion in life far longer then any other human being. His mother, Kenny, Isabel, Farlan, Erwin, Hange and all his other comrades had come and gone. But knives had been consistent. Constant.
Even after he had escaped the clutches of the underground and its lawlessness, he had always carried one with him. It made him feel safe, knowing he had weapon-- even if it was virtually useless while fighting titans. Of course, Erwin hadn't known about it. It was the one thing he wasn't willing to be talked out of, even by Erwin.
Although, Levi mused to himself, Erwin would have been justified in taking it away if he could see him right now, pointing said weapon at his arm, ready to slice.
If he actually bled, if he was still sitting here, bleeding but alive and well, he would admit his findings to himself and move forward, just as he always had. He would accept the situation, no matter how crazy it seemed, and plan accordingly.
Resolving himself, he slid the knife.
Ten minutes later, Levi finally admitted it.
He had travelled back in time.
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A/N: So this idea got stuck in my head, because I rewatched AOT and realized a bunch of stuff that could be changed. I picked Levi because he's my favorite. There's going to be more parts for this--where Levi just changes everything. And it'll basically end up a happier AOT. And yes, I plan on giving Levi some romance in this too, because this boi deserves it 😤. It won't be complete happiness and fluff, because I plan on it being realistic. I also don't know if anyone would actually like this but the urge to write it was too great. So, till next time!⭐
#AOT#snk#Attack on titan#Levi ackerman#Time travel#manga spoilers#They all deserve better#Isayama won't let them be happy :(#Action#Liddol romance#Let's change it all pls
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King: Rex x Reader
Today was unlike any other day in Villeneuve, the capital city of your planet Dalmorth.
Though it was a fairly large planet with a population in the hundreds of millions and various biomes, involvement in the war between the Separatists and the Republic seemed almost inexistent. In the early days of the clone war, you chose to align Dalmorth with the Republic. They exchanged protection of your people when traveling between planets for a safe resting place when traveling to wild space, since Dalmorth laid in the middle of the outter rim. The only condition was that you wished for these terms to be private.
You stared out your palace window at the wave of droids slowly approaching. The last thing you wanted was the be the Queen of Dalmorth during Separatist invasion, but that's exactly where you found yourself.
Before you knew it, Republic forces were on their way to Dalmorth, upholding their promise to protect your people. You ran your hands though your hair and made your way to the throne room, taking a seat where you mother once sat. Dozens of royal guards protected the room both inside and out, but they were never trained to fight droids. One of your guards informed you of an incoming transmission from the Separatist leader. You nodded at him to accept it.
The hologram showed a tall menacing looking man with a well trimmed beard and a lightsaber on his waist. He introduced himself as Count Dooku, Sith Lord. You swallowed your response of fear and asked bitterly what he wanted with your planet. It was exactly what the Republic had come for about a solar year ago. As the Sith Lord kept rambling along about why he needed your planet, you anxiously awaited the arrival of the Republic. You didn't want war on Dalmorth, but that was almost unavoidable at this point.
You respectfully asked Count Dooku to have his troops retreat while you discuss terms of negotiation with him, and ordered your guards to the outskirts of the palace to escort Dooku to a room where he could be quartered overnight.
"You highness. The Separatist forces have been sent back to the command ship except for a single platoon requested by the Count for his safety. The Republic forces should be arriving soon," you most loyal guard informed you.
You nodded, "Thank y- Wait. A Separatist command ship?"
"I'll alert the Jedi," he quickly responded, hurrying out of the room. You slumped into the throne and dragged your fingers along the intricate design of the woodwork, the thought of war on your planet tearing you apart. Your eyes glanced up at the oil painting of your parents on the wall, the former King and Queen of Dalmorth.
"I wish you were still here," you whispered, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. The horrific images of the accident flashed before your eyes before you opened them. All you wanted right now was their guidance. Dalmorth hasn't been at war in over three centuries, and that was coming to and end before your eyes.
Trying not to fall asleep on the throne, awaiting the Jedi's arrival was nearly impossible. In an effort to pass time, you scrolled through the holochannels until a game of bolo ball caught your attention. Before the match ended, you were alerted of the Jedi's arrival.
"Finally", you mumbled under your breath, turning the match off and straightening your posture upon the throne.
"Your highness," the one Jedi announced, pulling down his hood, "My name is General Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this here is General Anakin Skywalker. We are here to insure the safety of your people during this separatist invasion."
"Will my planet remain beautiful as it currently is?" You asked, the landscape of Dalmorth being your favorite part of the planet.
The Jedi glacned at each other with discomfort in their eyes. They knew keeping minimal damage could always be a struggle when fighting the droids. "We will try our hardest," Kenobi nodded.
"Thank you," you grinned, bowing your head slightly, "and also, generals, one of the leaders of the Separatist army is currently being quartered in the palace. He said he wanted to negotiate terms of aligning with the Separatists. I do not condone this and I fear we will no longer be faking neutrality."
The generals' faces dropped, "Who is this leader?"
"He called himself Count Dooku," you shrugged, not knowing of the grave mistake you've made.
"Your highness, you have a safety bunker, correct?" General Skywalker asked, moving his forearm to his face.
"Yes, my guards can take me there if you need-"
The General shook his head, "I'm going to send one of my best men to protect you." He turned his comlink on, "Rex, I need you or Fives to report to the palace immediately. Obi Wan will meet you outside."
"Do you really believe all of this is necessary?" you asked, trying to remain composed in hopes of having your world remain unscathed by the war.
"Unfortunately, yes. We have fought in countless battles against the Separatist Army. Whenever Dooku is present, it's a sign violence will soon follow," Anakin sighed, "we just want to insure your safety.
Obi Wan reentered the palace, this time with a Republic soldier next to him. "Your highness, this is Clone Captain Rex of the Grand Army of the Republic. He is one of our finest men and will certainly keep you safe in the event of an emergency."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," he bowed, his voice muffled under the static of the helmet. "I was informed of a safety bunker. We best be headed there soon."
Everything was changing so fast. Just hours before this, not a single outsider was on Dalmorth. Everything was in harmony.
"You hold the lives of my people in your hands. We will side with the Republic. If the Separatists are as dangerous as you claim, please do everything you can to remove them with the least amount of violence possible. I'll allow the Senate to make decisions while I must be hidden from the exchange of fire," you frowned your final words to the Jedi Generals while the clone captain escorted you to your safety bunker.
The next few moments were a whirlwind. You were capable of leading the way to your bunker though if you had to put what was going through your mind into words, you'd be at a loss. The captain followed you into the secret concealed door that led to a stairway that went several stories below ground. He followed you into the blast doors of the bunker and locked them immediately, sighing in relief.
For a moment you were silent, still taking in everything that was happening. You watched Rex take a seat on the futon and look around. Even though he helmet was on, you could tell he was in awe of how luxurious of a safety bunker you had.
"It's like you have a mini palace down here," the captain joked, his helmet still muffling the sound of his voice.
You sighed and sat down on the edge of the only bed in the bunker, "I thought I'd never have to use it."
Rex took off his helmet and placed it on the ground. You gasped softly, in pure admiration of what you saw. Prior to this, you've never seen a Republic soldier. You didn't expect them to be as handsome as Rex was. As he was scrolling through a holopad, presumably trying to get some information on the pending battle, you admired every square inch of him. You notice the faint scars that are scattered over his face, wondering if his whole body is like that. The made you frown.
"Are you okay, your highness?" he asked, noticing your frown.
Quick, you snap out of your trance and look away from the handsome captain, "I'm fine, sir. How long do you think we'll be down here?"
"Not sure," he hummed, "Depends how quickly we can get the Seppies to retreat. General Skywalker is incredible at what he does. I'm sure it should be too long. Maybe two days."
"We're stuck down here for two days?!" you gasped, beginning to panic. As your breaths began to become shallower and more rapid, Rex rushed to you and kneeled down in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders.
"It's going to be okay your highness," he confidently smiled, "I promise."
"Call me (Y/N)," you whispered, sinking your head into your chest.
"Well, (Y/N). I promise, everything is going to be okay. Would it made you feel better if you laid down and I put something on the holovision for you?"
You quickly nodded and smiled, queuing Rex to go put the holovision on.
"I'll be right here if you need anything," he smiled, sitting back down on the futon as you laid down in the bed.
~~~
You woke up from your nap and let out a soft groan, stretching out your shoulders.
"Sleep well?" Rex asked, still on the futon. As you looked across the room to reply to him, you noticed he took his upper armor off. Instead of answering his question, you began to stare at his tight under armor suit against his toned body.
"(Y/N)?" he asked again, bringing you back.
"Slept great, you?" you laughed, nervously shifting you attention to the chips in your nail polish.
Rex shook his head, "I didn't sleep. I'm supposed to be protecting you, remember."
A small smile formed in the corner of his mouth as he glanced up at you.
"You have a nice smile," you hummed, getting off the bed and making your way to the futon next to him.
"Excuse me?"
"I said," you sat next to him, "you have a nice smile."
He huffed, "That makes me and about a million others."
"Oh please," you let the syllables roll off your tongue, "I don't know much about cloning but I'm sure you all smile a bit different. Emotions can't be engineered."
Rex opened his mouth, then closed it, seeming to not know how to respond.
"A smile is created over time. Everyone's looks different," you grinned.
"I never thought of it that way," he commented, squinting slightly, "what makes you say that."
You rolled your eyes, "You say that like I'm the first person to tell you that. Not a single girl in this galaxy has told you that you have a nice smile? I wouldn't believe that for a second."
"For a queen, you are being especially kind to someone so much lesser than you."
His tone was firm. It took you back for a second. He was being serious.
"Your social status shouldn't determine who gives you compliments. Praise is given where praise is deserved. Or, at least, that's how I try to make it on Dalmorth," you shrugged.
Rex bit his lower lip, thinking about what you said, "Well, if this war ever ends, maybe I'll consider coming here to live. Tell me more about it here."
Even though he'd been on many different protection missions before, and asked the question, "tell me about it here," many times, this time, he actually cared about the response. He was not only taking your mind off the horrors happening outside the palace, but he was seeing your words from your perspective. Which for once, actually meant something to him.
"We have so many vast landscapes here. We have tropical regions, tundra regions, and everything in-between. That's one of my favorite things here. Sometimes, I'll go outside and lay down in the grasslands outside the palace, listen to the nature around me. All of the people on this planet are so compassionate. We are raised on values of charity and love. Though I am the queen, I like to think of myself as just as important as everyone else on Dalmorth. After my parents passed in an accident, I was showered with so much support. Why can't every citizen be held to that high of a regard. Anyway, it's been lonely here being the only royalty in the palace, but there is still no where else I'd rather be. My king will some, someday."
Rex smiled as he listened to you talk. Your happiness was radiating onto him, an effect no one has ever had on him. "The people here are lucky to have you as their leader. If I wasn't in the army I'd want to explore the town myself."
You perked up, "I'd love to offer you a tour!"
"That sounds lovely, but that can't happen," he sighed, moving his body slightly away from yours.
"Why's that?"
Rex moved his hand to the back of his neck and softly scratched, "That's not a luxury a trooper gets."
"You're not allowed to walk around a Republic aligned town?" you asked confused. The true treatment of Republic troops was still blissfully unaware to you.
"Well. It's a lot. But to make a long story short, yes," he muttered, reaching for his holopad, trying to end the conversation without being rude.
You placed your hands on your thighs and stood up from the futon, grabbing a snack from the food supply, "If we're going to be down here for two days, I'd be willing to hear the long story, not the short one." He slowly looked up at you in awe. He felt like he was dreaming. "Snack?"
Rex nodded and you tossed him a cereal bar.
"So, tell me the long story."
"Are you sure? No one has asked me-"
You stopped him in the middle of his sentence but placing your index finger on his lips, "I want to know more about you."
And that is exactly where it began. In that moment, Rex's eyes met yours, where he saw everything. For the first time in his life, he truly felt as if someone cared.
"Your highness," he whispered, "I've never done this before, so I apologize in advance."
As soon as you were about to ask what he meant, he parted his lips and pressed them into yours. His lips were rough, chapped from the war, but them seemed to lay perfectly on yours. It was almost hard to believe he has never kissed someone before; his movements felt so natural, so perfect.
He slowly pulled his face away from yours. The second eye contact was made, he quickly looked away, in a shame like manner. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I don't know why I did that."
You smiled, "There's got to be a reason why you did that. Not like I'm complaining or anything. I mean, I did it back because I think you're ridiculously handsome."
"Oh, no no no no no," he sighed, standing up and pacing around the room, "I'm a clone. I'm not allowed to have emotional attachment. I just made this next few days awkward. I'm sorry."
"You're not allowed to have basic human emotions?"
"(Y/N). I just broke one of the most important rules of the Grand Army of the Republic. I-"
You interrupted his ramble, "Rex come with me."
"Come with you where?"
"I mean," you stumbled over your words, "stay here on Dalmorth with me. I rarely abuse my power but I think I can make a circumstance for this. Please."
"(Y/N), I have a duty to the Republic."
You smirked, "And I have one of the oldest locks in the galaxy."
He looked at you baffled and you approached him and grabbed his left hand, placing a golden band on the second finger. "What is this?" he asked as the band seemed to magically size to the size of his finger.
With his hand still in yours, you smiled, "It's the Dalmorth lock band. The band is given to the Queen after the King passes. The ring is to remain on the King's finger from the moment the Queen places it on him, until the moment he dies."
Rex stared at you with a blank face, "So I'm the-"
"King," you both say simultaneously.
"But why?" he asked, breathing heavily.
You laughed, "Something in my heart told me to. And Rex means king in the native language of my people. But mostly that first point."
~~
It's been two years since Dalmorth was invaded by the Separatist army. Two years since your beautiful planet was almost torn apart by the demons of war.
It's been one year since the war ended. You leaned against the balcony that was attached to your bedroom, starring out at the rolling fields that made up the backyard of your palace. Daylight was just beginning to break, and you were still in your sleepwear. Slowly, you began to untie your loose braids to let the cool morning air run through your hair.
"It still amazes me that you wear such stunning outfits even to bed," Rex smildd behind you, slowly pacing towards you. He surrounded you with his arms and placed his head on your shoulder, giving you a soft kiss on the neck.
You looked down at your nightgown. It was a mix of lavender and grey lace, with silver embellishments here and there. Rex, on the other hand, wasn't wearing much. Just a pair in sleep pants and a robe, which he only put on when he joined you on the balcony.
"If you told me a year and a half ago, I'd be where I am now, I'd call you crazy," he mumbled against your shoulder.
With a small smile, you turned your head into his, kissing his temple, "If you told me two years ago Dalmorth would be a battle ground and I'd meet the future King of Dalmorth all in a few hour time span, I'd call you even crazier."
"If you told me back when I was a cadet on Kamino that I would marry a gorgeous queen, I'd call you the craziest."
You laughed, "are we just going to do this all day?"
The moment was interrupted by the morning bells that rang from the palace every morning, reminding the citizen that it's a brand new day, full of opportunity.
"Who would have thought a clone like me would end up here?"
"I did," you smiled, standing up on your toes to give him a gentle kiss.
~
And just like that, Rex got the one thing he's always craved; love. JOIN MY TAGLIST
@soclonely @raf-loves-everything @peacelandbread @persaloodles @smellssharpies @obiorbenkenobi @jedi-dreea @hannahjessica113 @gryffindorqueensworld @ganondorf-has-greasy-balls @lightning-wolffe @roadworkahead-404 @000ayfh @coffeeandtodd @weragarsia @sarel-lavellan @ahsoka-padme @clone-lover501-212-104 @Stucky2k3
this may have sucked oops
#captain rex x reader#rex x reader#clone x reader#tcw#clone wars#Star Wars the clone wars#Star Wars fanfiction#ct7567329writes
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I watched: The Night Manager
I find spy stuff a bit difficult really. It’s so smug - long, indulgently complicated stories chock-full of smart men in smart suits drinking man-drinks like whisky or martinis, surveilling each other out of the corners of their eyes, skulking around the charming alleyways of some architecturally opulent urban space. No one is ever insecure in a spy story; no one ever has a moment where they’re at a loss for words; no one ever has acne or eats a burger or even drinks a latte, because the only coffee appropriate for a spy story has to be something tight and elegant like an espresso. Oh, and very few people in these stories are ever female, fat (unless they’re evil) or gay (unless they’re evil).
Of course, this is all completely endemic to the genre. Asking for a spy thriller without these qualities would be like asking for a Judd Apatow comedy without a bunch of scruffy beardy blokes. But like - it’s 2021 now, and you’d think we would be gradually nearing the point where we were ready to retire all the tiresome, difficult stuff about the genre and do something new and interesting with it. Alas, The Night Manager has proved to me that we are nowhere near this possible future.
Don’t get me wrong, this is an enjoyable, easy show if you don’t think about it too much. It’s polished, gorgeous to look at and the basic plot revolving around illegal arms trading in the Middle East is absorbing, albeit a little toothless (for all the action and violence in the Middle East scenes we never really engage on any level with the human impact of this nefarious trade, besides one anecdote which never really lands). Tom Hiddleston and Hugh Laurie are both, predictably, also amazing in this show. Tom Hiddleston is perfect as a hotel manager; his earnest, twinkly-eyed politeness fits perfectly in the luxury hotels his character glides through, just as his luxury suits and luxury face suit the luxury décor. Then, as a secret services mole amongst gangsters, he is perfect again, charming everyone into smitten trust with a gleaming smile as they fall into the glacier-blue lagoons of his eyes, barely noticing him surreptitiously gathering all their secrets.
Hugh Laurie is as charismatic and sinister as a cartoon devil and makes for a terrific villain, fiercely dedicated to chewing the scenery at every opportunity. It is unclear to me why they chose to give him a sortof shabby Friar Tuck haircut for the role, but perhaps he is doing a Harrison Ford and just exerting his Great Actor Famepower to refuse to undergo any kind of personal grooming before a scene.
But yeah. Every time I was enjoying it, the dang show did something to ruin it. Firstly it was the ‘Bond women’. Sure, stunningly beautiful and sexually inviting women are a staple of this genre, and this show tries its best to show good faith by making sure that the stunningly beautiful and sexually inviting women in this instance have some kind of personality and plot relevance. It’s a pathetic effort at best. The first gorgeous woman chivvies the plot along for all of two minutes before flinging her fabulous self at Tom Hiddlestone and being a charming bedfellow just long enough for him to be distraught when he discovers her moments later in a pool of her own blood. Ahh, yes, a classic Woman in Refrigerator - gosh, I haven’t seen one of those employed with such efficiency in quite some time. Despite barely knowing her, Tom Hiddlestone is so devastated that he moves into some kind of massive concrete bunker right at the top of a Swiss Alpine mountain (what IS that house, dude!?!? Do you live in a weather monitoring facility?) and eventually agrees to become an agent for the secret services - which of course presents even more opportunities for some top totty.
The other stunningly beautiful woman in this show is in a relationship with the baddie played by Hugh Laurie, even though the two of them don’t so much have an age gap as an age chasm. She is called ‘Jed’, and she truly is only here for the camera to make long, indulgent pans up her svelte legs and delicate back. The show leaps at any opportunity to show a bit of her boob and at one point she fully disrobes and walks slowly and teasingly into the sea, pointing her arse right at Tom Hiddlestone, in order to make a point about living a carefree life. All the personal details about this woman are arbitrary - she has a kid that she never gets to see, I guess, and like she’s kind of suspicious of her boyfriend the arms dealer or whatever, but the show refuses to waste any time giving these story points any more than a cursory glance. Jed is a hollow, objectified character whose clothes fall off at the slightest jostle.
And then there’s the other thing. The torture thing. What is up with these spy shows? And how the only thing they love more than sexy women is the spectacle of sexy women being battered, tortured and lying dead in revealing poses? Just like her predecessor, poor Jed barely gets to do anything interesting or even proactive before she is ‘found out’ and we have to endure a really queasy scene where she’s being beaten up and repeatedly almost-drowned for her treachery. As her sore, blue-purple face is thrust over and over again into the brimming bathtub and she thrashes for air, her naked breast dangles out of her top in a tactless mush of raunchy objectification and vicarious misogyny. It’s one of the most troubling things I have witnessed on telly in a good while.
Okay - there is one other woman in this show. Olivia Coleman plays the head of this secret service operation, and she is written as a fierce, ambitious agent who knows exactly what she’s doing. Oh, and she’s pregnant, so I guess we’re doing Fargo too, a bit? For the entirety of the programme, which seems to span several months, she appears to be at the end of her third trimester. No one ever asks her when she’ll be going on maternity leave and who will take over this spy operation when that happens. As part of the final showdown, she travels to the Middle East, stalks around a hotel filled with murderous gangsters, shoots people in the knee and hides from even more murderous gangsters WHILE SEEMINGLY MOMENTS AWAY FROM HER FIRST CONTRACTION.
Essentially this woman’s pregnancy is a decorative character quirk, like having an eyepatch or an eccentric moustache. The story doesn’t let the character engage with her pregnancy in any human sense: and sure, the logistics of being pregnant is not exactly thrilling espionage content, but then why bother doing it at all? Leave her unpregged, and let her run around with guns to her heart’s content, or do it properly, and engage with interesting ideas of how we see and define modern motherhood; how we see pregnant women as vulnerable and in need of protection rather than being the protectors; how a woman’s career clashes and harmonises with her biological fate to be the child-bearer. Fargo did all that stuff effortlessly. Watch Fargo. The film, not the telly programme.
I also feel that it’s worth pointing out that this character was a man in the book, which makes it pretty clear that she was the hail-mary gesture to preempt any complaints that the only female main characters are bland eye-candy.
I have one last complaint. Remember that thing I said at the beginning about how the only gay characters allowed in this genre have to be evil? Well yeah, stamp that one on your bingo card too. I cannot believe that we are at a point in society where we can generate edible meat in a lab and yet the most frequent gay characters we see in mainstream TV are still either camp BFFs or acid-tongued villains. Tom Hollander is a completely wonderful actor and I urge you to watch basically anything else he has done besides this. There is no need for this character, Hugh Laurie’s snide and suspicious right-hand man, to be a creepy, predatory homosexual man. He is preposterous - constantly leering at Tom Hiddlestone and making blunt innuendos or just full-on grabbing Tom Hiddlestone’s giblets. A clear conflation is being made: this man is a threat, and the threat he poses to Tom Hiddlestone’s mission is mirrored by the threat he poses to Hiddlestone’s hetero-masculinity, his sexual autonomy. It feels like this character is a charicature of how homophobes see all gay men: malevolent and sexually rapacious, on a mission to assault, harass and render uncomfortable all hetero men who are just minding their own business.
I truly don’t understand this show - how they made such an effort to shoehorn so much deeply troubling messaging into a story which needed none of these things. The bare bones of the spy story is solid and it could have been turned out in so many different ways, but this was what they chose. It all feels so retrograde, so unnecessary. This is the kind of thing that Netflix would not have toyed with - whatever you feel about that streaming platform, they create stories with real, three-dimensional women and all kinds of diverse characters from the LGBTQ+ scene and beyond. Amazon Prime still needs to work on getting woke. But I guess we shouldn’t expect too much from the platform that snapped up Jeremy Clarkson.
The Night Manager, available on Amazon Prime
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Summary: A nightmare, a new friend, and an old enemy — your first official day of work gets off to an interesting start.
Notes: This is a dialogue-heavy chapter, sorry!
Word Count: 2,200
Warnings: minor canon-typical violence
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
For when your troubles start multiplyin',
And they just might,
It's easy to forget them without tryin'
With just a pocketful of starlight
• Catch a Falling Star - Perry Como •
Panic. Complete and utter panic. You are searching for something, but you can���t seem to find it. You need this thing to survive. Where the kriff is it?!!
A bang. Heavy footsteps. A scream; your scream. You are being dragged away, helpless, no one around to save you.
Eventually you feel your bare feet hit freezing cold ground, but it’s a sinister voice that sounds from above you that chills you to the bone.
You sit up with a start, panting heavily. You hadn’t had a dream like that in a while. This one was scary, but what really terrified you was how strangely familiar it felt. It’s probably just the stress, you thought.
You looked at the clock across the room: 5:13. You were too anxious to go back to sleep and you had to get up in an hour anyways, so you decided to get ready for the day.
You showered, brushed your teeth, and inspected your closet for something to wear. You chose a dark grey tunic with a matching grey skirt that went just below your knees. In typical First Order fashion, you pulled your hair into a tight bun. Looking in the mirror, you barely recognized yourself.
No, this wouldn’t do.
Still feeling a bit rebellious from yesterday's encounter with the injured stormtrooper and General Hux, you decided to leave your hair down like you did on Lothal, two loose braids winding around the sides of your head, the rest of it gently cascading over your shoulders.
Better.
Content with your appearance, you headed straight for the cafeteria. You didn’t recognize most of the food — It all looked like gray mush compared to the vibrant, fresh foods your parents cooked back home.
Lothal was known for its large farm-based economy and culture, something you took immense pride in. Lothalians had fought hard to preserve their land, as it was often victim to exploitation by those with galactic authority. Many times the planet was under imperialist occupation, namely the former Galactic Empire. During those times, the planet was essentially destroyed, its sacred habitats burnt to a crisp. Natural resources were depleted, pollution enveloped the air, and Lothalians were either forced into a life of servitude or were killed. A small group of rebels, called the Spectres, led a resistance effort against the Imperial occupiers, eventually succeeding in driving them out. Since then, relations between Lothal and the First Order were tense, which explained some of General Hux’s disdain towards you. Lothal, however, managed to restore its previous prosperity and you had been lucky enough to grow up in relative peace.
Right now, all you longed for was your favorite fruit, jogan, but it didn’t look like you were going to find it here anytime soon. With a sigh, you settled for the indistinct mush and sat down at a table in the corner.
Since you woke up so early, you were the only one in the cafeteria, but you didn’t mind. You were actually thankful — this meant no more run-ins with stormtroopers, generals, or ridiculously tall men in capes.
After forcing down the last of the mush, you strolled the hallways, attempting to somewhat gain your bearings before your first official day of work. You pulled out the map you had been provided and followed its twists and turns to the yellow dot labeled: Office of Imperial Promotion, Galactic Truth, and Fact Correction.
As you rounded the last corner, you saw a door a dozen feet away which appeared to be guarded by a stormtrooper. This must be it, you thought.
You apprehensively approached the door, willing your feet to move forward with more confidence than they were. As you reached for the handle, you did your best to avoid the trooper’s gaze. Suddenly, he reached his arm out towards you.
Terrified, you stumbled backwards, hitting your head on the wall behind you. The trooper advanced, both arms now outstretched.
You protectively put up your arms as well, attempting to shield your head from any incoming injury — but it never came.
“Hey, hey, whoa.” You heard the trooper say, his hands now raised in surrender. “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s me!”
Your hands were shaking as you lowered your arms slightly. You tried to think of any stormtroopers you knew. Not any on the Finalizer, you thought.
“I- I’m sorry. Who are you?” You stuttered.
“Oh, right!” He gestured lazily to his mask. “This ol’ thing.” He sighed and shook his head.
He spoke unlike you’d ever heard a trooper speak before. He sounded kind, normal even! Normal… Something clicked and you started to put the pieces together.
“You - you were the one I found in the hallway!”
You were shocked; you thought for sure you had left him to die. A stab of guilt pierced your heart.
“Yeah, that’s me, good ol' Mr. Concussion!”
“I thought you were... Well, I thought you were going to be-” you started.
“Trust me, I’ve been through much worse.” He shrugged nonchalantly. You paused, looking him over in astonishment and thoughts running wild. What piece of space junk sent him back to work the day after receiving a head injury?
“You should be lying down, or resting, or getting treatment in the med bay, or-”
“Wow," he said. "You sure worry a lot about other people for someone who doesn’t worry enough about themselves.”
“Why do you say that?” you questioned sceptically.
“Well, going through with that stunt yesterday, you not only risked your career for me, a stranger, but you risked your life as well.”
When you didn’t respond, he paused for a second, reaching behind him to reveal the large First Order coat you had used to stop his bleeding the day before. Hux’s coat.
“I take it this isn’t yours?” He asked, knowingly. You imagined a small smirk forming under his helmet.
You responded with a breathy laugh. “No, it most definitely is not. That used to belong to General Hux, but now it’s yours, I suppose.”
His eyes widened in a mix of shock, fear, and a hint of admiration.
“Son of a blaster, how’d you manage that?” He replied.
“Well, I uhh- I just kinda took it from him?”
“You just kinda took it from him?” he repeated, stunned.
“Without his permission…” you continued, quieter this time.
The trooper just stared at you in shock, and you started to feel uncomfortable. Maybe he thought you were crazy. Maybe he would turn you in. Maybe he would bring you to Kylo R-
A laugh bellowed from behind his mask, slightly distorted.
“You!” A laugh. “And Hux, how-” More laughter. “Without his permission-” He could barely get his words out between laughs.
This was the first time you’d heard laughter since arriving on the Finalizer, and you couldn’t help but smile in return. As his laughter mellowed, he sighed and stuck out his hand for you to shake.
“I’m FN-2187.”
FN-2187, you thought. “That’s hardly a name…”
He shrugged. “It’s the one I was given.”
You thought for a second. “Mind if I give you a new one, to be used privately of course,” you clarified.
He looked taken aback, even through the helmet. “Yeah, that would be… okay.”
You paused, thinking. “How about I call you Finn?”
“Finn… Yeah, I like that,” he said. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. My friends back home call me Wren, but it’s probably better you call me by my real name here,” you said, referencing the Finalizer.
He nods, and after telling him your name, you drop his hand. He looks around the hallway before moving a step closer to you.
“In all seriousness, thank you. No one has ever asked for more than my trooper code, and no one ever stops when… you know...,” He trailed off, lowering his gaze, that sadness you sensed from him yesterday having returned.
“Hey,” you reached out and placed a gentle hand on his armored shoulder. “We got each other’s backs now, right? We’ll make it outta here in one piece. Maybe we can steal Hux’s toupee next time.” You winked at him, making him chuckle.
“Ha, yeah, that’d be great,” he replied.
At that moment, the Ginger General himself rounded the corner of the hallway, followed by two obedient stormtroopers.
You started to feel the panic building again. Had he heard what I said? Is he coming to fulfil his promise of my death by trash compactor?
“It’s alright,” Finn reassured. “Follow my lead.”
Kicking Hux’s bloodied jacket behind the door, Finn moved to stand in front of you a few feet. You started to follow him, but he held his arm back, keeping you in place. Finn stood at attention as Hux neared, and you attempted to make yourself as small as possible. You noticed that his coat seemed a few sizes too big, and you chuckled internally, knowing that you were the reason for that.
“Ah, I see you have yet again managed to involve yourself in the business of pathetic stormtroopers,” he spat.
You glanced down to Finn’s fists, which were clenched in anger.
“No, General. I was just asking for directions” you replied.
Hux’s eyes slowly trailed over your body, like a predator stalking his prey. Finn subtly shifted his balance back and forth, continuing to clench and unclench his fists. The General’s eyes came to land on your hair, which he scowled at disapprovingly. He began to approach you, and as he did, you noticed Finn start to move towards you. You made a small gesture with your hand, pleading with him to stay back. He listened, reluctantly.
Hux grabbed a chunk of your hair. “This is not within protocol,” he seethed.
“Neither is that coat, General,” you replied, gesturing to his oversized garb.
You had no idea where the sudden burst of confidence had come from, but you immediately regretted your comment as Hux pulled harder, causing you to wince in pain. He pulled his face to your ear.
“Strike two,” he whispered threateningly, before shoving you back into the wall and turning around, almost knocking into Finn.
Expecting Finn to move out of the way, Hux waited, but neither of them stirred. The two were locked in a stalemate for what seemed like eons. Finn eventually sidestepped, letting him pass, and with a final glare, Hux and the troopers continued walking down the hallway.
You leaned against the wall, rubbing your now-sore head. As soon as Hux and the troopers were out of sight, Finn rushed over to you.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, concerned. His armored hand helped you smooth down your disheveled hair.
“Yeah,” you replied shakily.
“I could’ve helped,” he stated dejectedly, a hint of frustration laced in his tone.
“I know… I just didn’t want to see you get hurt — again,” you responded stubbornly, giving him a small tap on the side of his helmet.
“Hey, this whole saving each other’s lives thing only works if it goes both ways,” he argued.
“Save your saving for another time. I’m sure I’ll need it soon enough.”
He sighed. “I really hope that isn’t true.”
Silence filled the hallway before you had a sudden realization.
“Hey, how did you know who I was when I first walked up? You were unconscious when I found you yesterday…,” you asked, perplexed.
“When I woke up in the med bay, I asked the nurses how I got there. They told me I arrived with the help of a girl from this sector of the ship. So I came here and waited. I don’t know how, but I just knew when I saw you — you were the one who had saved me.”
“Oh,” you replied, still puzzled.
“Yeah, pretty weird, huh?” He paused. “Anyways, I should let you get to work — wouldn’t want you to be late.”
“Right,” you replied. “I guess I’ll see you around then Finn.”
“I hope so, coat thief,” he said with a smirk, placing a large hand on your shoulder. “Stay safe out there.”
“I’ll try my best, Mr. Concussion,” you replied, making your way to the door of your new workplace before directing a final wave back at Finn. You watched as he walked down the hallway, stopping at the very end to turn and salute you. You chuckled. At least I made one friend today, you thought.
You pondered over your father’s words of wisdom: nothing bad can ever come from helping those in need. So yeah, maybe that wasn’t completely true. But you could amend the advice a bit, taking today’s events into account: something good will always come from helping those in need. So far, despite everything you had gone through, that seemed to remain true.
With a new spring in your step, you smoothed your uniform, fixed your hair, and held your head high as you walked into your first official workspace, feeling prepared for whatever else you would have to face throughout the day.
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To Keep You Safe
Title: I don't wanna be the one to have the sun's blood on my hands
Chapter: 19/?
Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie
Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn't have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.
Rating: E
Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions!
Also on Ao3 here :)
Warnings for this chapter: Graphic depictions of violence, brief mention of previous torture, blood, language
~~~
“Loki Odinson was under the control of an outside force and coerced into his misdeeds in the 2012 Invasion of New York. After the incident, he served time for his crimes in solitary confinement on his homeworld of Asgard. He has since returned with his brother, King Thor Odinson of Asgard, to make amends for his previous actions. He has assisted the Avengers on several missions to better the safety of our fellow man. His presence here is fully supported by myself and the rest of the Avengers. He is not a threat to us.”
Tony was a natural at press conferences. Even when reading a pre-prepared speech, which he would hopefully stick to this time, he seemed completely at ease with the stressful situation and stiff legalese. Only those closest to him would notice the tension he held in his shoulders or the worry he hid behind his glasses. Loki was going to be a hard sell, and by proxy, so would I.
I had stood on the sidelines for countless press conferences and events acting as his assistant. I was comfortable in that role; my job consisted of just waiting to step in if it went south or if an urgent matter came up that I needed to get Tony out of there to handle. I was much less confident in my current position. I was the subject, or at least a good part of it, to be discussed in front of a hundred reporters who would then publish or broadcast it to millions of people. All eyes were on me and the Asgardian by my side, scrutinizing our every twitch and breath. A wrong move would not end up in just my firing from the company, but with the very real possibility of my arrest. It wasn’t a relaxed atmosphere, to be sure.
Loki, on the other hand, looked as poised and calm as ever. It was easy to picture him as he would’ve been on Asgard, standing dutifully to the side as Odin rambled on and on about some issue that he would most definitely handle differently. There wasn’t a crack in his apathetic gaze as he stared out at the crowd, looking as if he belonged there in his dark gray three-piece suit. Tall and proud and wholly above the proceedings, I felt very small in comparison.
“Many of you have seen her before, but the newest member of the Avengers is my former assistant, Jennifer Thompson. She has been a huge asset to the team since she joined several months ago. We have nothing but positive things to say about her and her abilities.”
All of the heads and cameras in the room swiveled to direct their attention to me. I wanted to shrink away into the shadows beneath their intense scrutiny. I settled for dropping my eyes to the floor. Loki shifted on his feet enough to brush his arm against mine, and I flicked my gaze over to him. He lifted his chin slightly higher and took a deep breath in through his nose, directing his eyes to settle just above the reporters present. I took the hint and fixed my neutral gaze just beyond the onlookers. With my hands clasped behind my back and my chin lifted proudly, I could almost pull off looking as stately as him. Almost. My quickened breathing and ashen face had to give my nerves away.
“Now, I know that you’re all here because of the incident that occurred last night. Loki and Ms. Thompson had been out on a mission for us when they were attacked by terrorists. They handled the situation as best as any of us could have, without any civilian casualties. Rest assured that we are working on finding and eliminating this terrorist cell permanently. In the meantime, we ask for your patience and continued support. Thank you.”
Of course, his clear-cut dismissal and retreat from the podium didn’t stop the barrage of questions hurled in our direction.
“Are Loki and Ms. Thompson dating?”
“Who were the terrorists?”
“How can we know that he’s changed?”
~~~
“I’m not wearing heels, Nat,” I refused, scowling at the black strappy stilettos of death she held out for me. “Besides, you won’t be able to see them in this dress.”
I wasn’t wrong. My black floor-length gown completely hid my bare feet as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Thankfully Pepper had listened when I asked for some sort of sleeve to hide the scar on my shoulder, but chose to ignore the request for a dress with a back as well. The intricate lace that began above the deep-V of opaque fabric at my chest continued up to the collar at my neck and down both arms, but it didn’t extend to the very open and low back. The dimples at the base of my spine were visible, for goodness sake. If anyone tried to touch any part of my back tonight they would just get a handful of my skin. Awesome.
The tangled web of scars stretching across my middle and upper back were out for all to see, as Nat had insisted that the dress was meant to highlight them for a reason--to show the world what I’d faced and overcome--but it just sounded like I was some freak put out on display. She insisted that leaving my long hair down would be a waste of such a beautiful gown; the elegant bun pinned to my head with far too many bobby pins was much more fitting, in her opinion. I didn’t argue, but maybe I should have. It would only give the people who were coming just to see Loki and me in public another thing to speculate about, but it wasn’t a battle worth fighting. Whenever Nat was in control of my styling I just let her go to town. She knew what she was doing, and my nerves were pulling my thoughts in too many directions to even begin to formulate a decent argument.
“C’mon, Jen! Grow a pair and wear the damn heels. It won’t kill you and it’ll make your ass look great,” she replied, tossing the shoes at my feet so she could strap into her own slinky stilettos.
I ignored her, going to my closet to select and step into a simple pair of black flats instead. “My ass already looks great,” I countered, painted plum lips pulling into a smirk.
“His ego is rubbing off on you.” She rolled her kohl-rimmed eyes, checking herself out in the mirror before heading to the door. “C’mon Princess, we don’t have all night.”
I rolled my eyes and followed her out, my snappy comeback dying on my lips as I got an eyeful in my escort for the evening waiting outside of my room. All of the air rushed out of my lungs. Loki had no right to make a tuxedo look that good. I stopped dead in my tracks, ogling him appreciatively before he took notice of me. Leaning against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets and his head dropped to stare at his shined black leather shoes, he could have walked out of a movie. His slightly curly hair was tucked back behind his ears to accentuate his sculpted cheekbones and chiseled jaw, and his emerald green bowtie brought out his penetrating gaze when finally looked up upon our entrance. My heart stuttered in my chest as our eyes met; he was the most stunning man I had ever laid eyes on, and he was all mine.
I blushed under the heat of his perusal as he languorously traced every curve of my body in the tight dress with his penetrating gaze. He sauntered over to offer me his arm with a leering smile. “You are ravishing, love,” he whispered into my ear, lightly setting his hand over mine when I slipped it into the crook of his arm.
“You clean up pretty well yourself, Asgardian,” I replied warmly as he led us downstairs. Nat had made everyone wait for us--perfection couldn’t be rushed--but she claimed they wouldn’t mind when they saw what they had been waiting for. From Loki’s darkened eyes and wolfish grin, I’d have to agree with her on that one.
Our entrance was welcomed with a wolf whistle from Sam which triggered another deep blush to bloom on my fair skin. Loki tensed up, either from jealousy or possessiveness, and I stroked the inside of his arm with my thumb to soothe him. That side of him was never going to go away, no matter how much I proved my loyalty to him. Truthfully, the less civilized part of me enjoyed his desire to keep me for his own. I hazarded a look around the room, which immediately made me feel inadequate. It was a little intimidating to be reminded that the people you lived and worked with could all pass for models and movie stars.
Thor, immaculately dressed in his own tux, came forward and clapped Loki on the shoulder. “Well done, brother,” he said loudly in that resounding voice of his that echoed around the large reception area. I couldn’t help but smile at the implied compliment and received a wink for my efforts. While the eldest Odinson wasn’t my type--I couldn’t believe that I had thought he was at one point--I could understand the easy, confident appeal that he had as he chatted idly with the man holding me securely to him. Loki also seemed to appreciate the hearty endorsement, as he stood a bit taller and cast a proud smile in my direction.
“Natasha, Sam, Steve, and Thor, you’re in the first car. Jen and Loki, you’re in the second car with Tony and myself. Wanda and Vision, you’re with Bruce in the last car. We’re late, so let’s get a move on,” Pepper called, walking in from outside and pointing everybody in the right direction. Tony was apparently already in the car, as he was nowhere to be found.
Loki and I followed Pepper, climbing into the black SUV assigned to us and settling in the back row. Tony was, as I guessed, sitting in the row in front of us fiddling with something on his phone. He didn’t even move at our entrance, and only briefly looked up to kiss Pepper on the side of her head when she sat next to him and told the driver to head away from the Compound.
Several minutes into the ride, Pepper turned around as best as she could in the seat so she could face us. “I have to tell you this even though you probably know it, but you both need to be on your best behavior tonight. Nobody really knew you as Tony’s assistant, Jen, and they’re going to want to get under your skin. Loki, Thor assured me that you have been to many events like this on Asgard and that you would know how to act properly?” She paused, waiting for Loki’s quick nod of agreement before continuing, “You both need to consider how you want to present yourselves. Jen, you know how it goes. You saw the spotlight that fell on us after we went public. Just,” she looked pointedly at Loki before meeting my thoughtful hazel eyes, “think about how you want it to go, okay?” She offered us a sympathetic smile before turning around, going back to whatever work she had to do on her smartphone.
“What is she referring to?” Loki asked quietly, probably not wanting to be overheard by the couple diligently working away just in front of us.
I shook my head and tried to muster up a reassuring smile but I could tell by the frustration written on his face that it wasn’t successful. “I don’t know. Probably nothing important.”
His steady gaze turned to steel and he leaned toward me slowly. “Do not lie to the God of Lies, little one. It never works out well.”
I suddenly became very interested in a piece of lace detailing on my sleeve, picking at it with my nails to avoid looking at him. That didn’t work for too long, as he delicately grasped my chin with his long fingers and lifted so I was forced to look at him.
“Tell me what she meant,” he ordered, his low voice brokering no room for argument.
I knew exactly what she was implying, and I also knew that he wasn’t going to take it well. But if I didn’t tell him, his irritation was going to get the best of him and that wasn’t what we needed right before spending several hours playing nice in front of people desperate to see us crack. “Besides what happened last week, I’m relatively unknown to the public. I have a small reputation as Tony’s assistant, standing in the background while he conducted business. There press and paparazzi are going to be there, digging for whatever they can find to publish in the tabloids and trashy magazines. Which wouldn’t be so bad, but…” I stopped, tugging my chin free from his hand so I could direct my quiet words at his chest. “If I present myself as your partner, it,” I sighed heavily, “it won’t look the best for me. She was reminding me that appearing in public with you, as your partner, is going to make your reputation rub off on mine. It’s going to make it all much more difficult.”
He visibly stiffened, shifting farther away from me in the seat as he regarded me with a feigned air of cold indifference. His spindly fingers laced together on his lap. “Ahh, I see. Is that what you want? To no longer be tied to me and my negative past deeds?”
“No!” I said loudly, earning a quick concerned glance from Tony and Pepper. I smiled awkwardly until they gave up on their curiosity and turned around. “No. I’m not going to abandon you just because tonight is going to suck. This will, however, be our moment to publically come out as a couple. So, we need to decide if we want the world to know about us or not. We will be closely observed either way. What do youwant?” I asked, my stomach threatening to come up through my throat at the sudden onset of nerves raging inside of me. I couldn’t stop my hands from wringing together in my lap if someone paid me.
“I am proud to have you by my side,” he replied, the hurt he managed to hide from his stony expression creeping into his otherwise clear voice. “But it is your decision on whether or not you feel the same.”
“We will be the most hated people there…” I cautioned. He needed to be prepared for what we were about to face, whether we did it together or not.
“I have spent the majority of my life as the most despised person in mixed company. Their opinions do not matter to me.” He frowned. Vulnerability reflected in his eyes for a brief moment before he turned to the window. “It would, however, make this ordeal much more bearable if I did not have to face the criticism alone.”
Really fucked that one up. Good job. I slouched backwards, deflating as I stared out my window. I didn’t know whether I was more upset at Pepper for bringing it up or at myself for even making the suggestion that we might go it alone. I knew about his deeply rooted trust and abandonment issues and I had just played into them handily. Words weren’t going to make it any better. He was the God of Lies. He knew that words meant little compared to actions. The only option I had was to show him that I wanted to stand by his side through it all.
Because that’s what I wanted, right? I couldn’t imagine facing all of this alone, and I certainly didn’t want him to have to do it either. He, more so than anyone tonight, was going to be watched like a hawk at this event. He hadn’t yet proved to them that he wasn’t the same man that they had last seen. I couldn’t throw him to the wolves like that. We made each other stronger in all situations, and this was more nerve-wracking than any mission for the Avengers. We’d both be much calmer if we could lean on the other in our weaker moments.
The car pulled up outside of the venue for the night, an impossibly large museum, and stopped right next to the red-carpeted stairs. Through the heavily tinted windows dozens of paparazzi lay in wait to get pictures of the Avengers and other celebrities as they made their way into the charity gala. And, by some twist of fate, I had been lumped into that group.
Pepper and Tony exited first to a chorus of shouts and cheers. Loki, ever the gentlemen when it concerned me, gracefully withdrew from the car before turning to offer his hand to assist me. Apprehension settled in faint lines on his fair skin as he waited, illuminated from behind by the flashing bulbs of tabloid reporters waiting to get the perfect shot of our entrance. With a grateful smile, I took his hand, carefully easing myself out of the car. Loki’s stricken face studied me, waiting for my next move to indicate how we would go about the evening.
I released him to smooth down my dress with shaking hands and his face fell instantly, but only briefly; his mask of apathy slipping over his face with practiced ease. He began to walk away, adjusting his suit jacket stiffly, and I just barely managed to snag his wrist before he made it too far. He turned on his heel to see what I needed and my heart panged in my chest at the hint of betrayal shining in his eyes.
My hand drifted down his wrist to lace my fingers with his and pull him into my side. “You can’t leave me alone with these sharks. It’s not very Prince-like of you,” I teased with a hopeful grin.
A relieved smile spread across his face, showing his teeth and wrinkling around his eyes. Bright flashes from the cameras pointed at us blinded me as he left a lingering kiss on my forehead. His pleased hum vibrated through my skull. The tension left his body with heavy exhale of relief. “Please excuse my poor manners. It will not happen again.” He brushed another kiss on the back of my hand before straightening up to face the screaming paparazzi head-on.
“-you two together or-”
“-side of what happened last-”
“-she a good la-”
“-Tony not good enough so you had to move up-”
“-with an Asgardian Prince like?”
“-do we know this isn’t just another trick-”
Loki’s head tilted slightly to the side as he fought to catch each sleazy and lowball question. With a quick wave at the yelling silhouettes behind the flashing cameras, I tugged him along the walkway. Now wasn’t the time to give them any attention that wasn’t necessary, and I told him so.
“A number of those questions were out of line,” he muttered, shooting a glare back in their direction while I guided him inside of the building.
“They want to get a rise out of us; it sells their shitty magazines. Don’t stoop to their level,” I replied, leading him down the cordoned-off pathway. My sure steps ground to a halt just outside of the hall where the gala was actually taking place. A lead ball had fallen into my stomach and my heart thundered in my chest.
Loki took in my anxious face and pulled me off to the side, allowing the small crowd of people we had been blocking to continue inside unhindered. He stooped down until all I could see was his face. “Do not tell me that you are afraid to go into that room filled with harmless mortals?”
I laughed weakly. “I’m not afraid of the other mortals. I just don’t want to go in there, big difference.”
He rolled his eyes at my bluff. He straightened up and pressed his hands over the front of my shoulders so that I dropped them back to mirror his impeccable posture. Before taking my hand once again, he nudged my chin upwards with his calloused fingers. “If they will not give you the respect that you deserve, take it from them. Show them the fierce woman that I know you to be.”
Bolstered by his confident assurances, I followed him into the crowded room. I fixated on his thumb rubbing against the thin skin of my knuckles. I forced myself to not focus on the hush that fell over the space as soon as we entered or the eyes that watched our every move as we made our way over to the bar. I didn’t pay attention to the hushed utterances of our names as I downed a glass of red wine and then clutched onto my second. I was one-hundred percent not paying attention to them at all.
Right.
The only saving grace, besides Loki’s continued quiet presence at my side, turned out to be his brother. We had managed to find an area along the wall where I could keep an eye on everyone and stay out of the way, hoping not to be bothered. Thor had other ideas, as he strolled over to us with a beaming smile and held out his hand to me.
“Right now you are both a terrifying sight, ghostly in black as you stare people down. Come, dance with me, my lady,” he offered, directing the words to me but his attention on Loki.
“He has a point,” I conceded, also looking up to the imposing man at my side. He definitely had the tall, dark, and handsome thing going on, but in a much more menacing manner than the saying usually implied.
To his credit, he extinguished the small flicker of doubt that reflected in his eyes down enough for him to nod at us both. “They do seem to have taken to you, brother. Go on, then.”
Loki took my proffered half-full glass of wine and I stood on my toes to quickly kiss his cheek before I took Thor’s hand. He was determined to make our revelry known, as if all eyes weren’t on us anyway, by stationing us at the center of the dance floor. The live band hired for the event played a catchy, upbeat tune. Thor put one hand on my back, shockingly warm compared to Loki’s, and took my other hand, swinging us around to the beat. It was impossible not to give in to his infectious joy as he danced, looking more carefree than I’d seen him in ages. It took only a few turns and ridiculous dance moves from Thor before I was laughing so hard that my face ached. He wasn’t ever really that uptight around the Compound, but it wasn’t every day that the King of Asgard let loose so completely.
After my dance with Thor was over, Tony smoothly cut in. He made sure to be respectable with his hand resting on the middle of my back, avoiding my scars, the other holding mine lightly.
“Rock of Ages doesn’t look too happy over there,” he said, glancing behind me.
I peeked over my shoulder to see Loki standing where I had left him, arms crossed as he carefully monitored us. The high arch of his brow dared Tony to try anything untoward. I turned back to Tony with a shake of my head. “He gets a little…”
“Possessive? Jealous? Dramatic?” Tony offered with a smirk.
“Concerned,” I supplied, silently agreeing with Tony’s offering. “I don’t mind it.”
Loki couldn’t help it, though. Everything good in his life had been ripped from him, and while we hadn’t discussed it, I knew that Thor had reminded him of the grim fact that my days with him were numbered. The hazards of my position in the Avengers only added another layer of danger to my life. If I were him, if I had suffered as much as he had over those that he cared about, I’d keep me as close as possible, too.
A tall black man dressed in a monochromatic black suit approached his, a wide smile that didn’t reach his eyes plastered on his face as he held out his hand for Tony to shake, which he accepted after releasing me. His eye--for he had an eyepatch covering the scarred socket of the other--only glanced at me before settling back on Tony. “Mr. Stark, so glad to have you come with the rest of your team! I haven’t been introduced to the newest member,” he said jovially, clapping Tony on the upper arm briefly before turning to fully face me.
“Ah, of course. Nick Fury, this is Jennifer Thompson, my former assistant and newest member of the Avengers. Jen, Fury is the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the man that I’ve been speaking to about our current situation with Hydra.” Tony made the introductions politely, but the tightness around his mouth hinted at a tension that he couldn’t disclose in mixed company.
“Pleasure to finally meet you.” His large hand grasped mine for a strong handshake just teetering on painful.
I pulled it away as soon as possible, discreetly folding my hands together in front of me so as to deter any further physical interaction. “The pleasure is all mine, Director Fury.”
“Would you care to dance?” he asked without a smile. The emotion behind his offer was completely opposite to Thor’s earlier. While the golden god had been jovial and bright when he offered, Fury leveled me with a calculating stare that did nothing to hide the evaluation he was bestowing upon me.
I didn’t see how I had a choice in the matter. Not when it came to someone in a position to drastically help us or hurt us, as he saw fit. I plastered a smile on my face that didn’t reach my eyes and settled my hand into his. “Sure!”
If nothing else, I was grateful that Fury followed Tony and Thor’s lead and placed his hand just beneath my ribs on the bare skin of my back, and that his rigid arm held us at a reasonable distance away from one another. All I had to do was get through this dance and then I was heading back to my partner so he could scare off any more threatening men who just felt off in some odd way that I couldn’t pinpoint.
“You have caused quite a ruckus, young lady,” he commented, looking down his nose at me as he led us in slow circles around the dance floor.
“It wasn’t intentional,” I pointed out, doing my best to keep my voice calm and polite. It was working, so far.
“We at S.H.I.E.L.D. have been very curious about what makes you so special that Hydra would want you so badly.”
Exasperation creeped out of where I had poorly tucked it away, “If you ever find out, let me know.”
He turned me out of his arms and then back into him again, pulling me close enough that our chests touched lightly with each breath. I stiffened, but without making a scene I was stuck until the dance was over. “It is odd, if I may say so, that you were just an assistant for Tony and now you’re a member of the Avengers.”
My blood ran cold at the unspoken accusation beneath his words. “What exactly are you trying to say, Fury?”
He dropped his hands from me and shoved them into his pockets with a shrug of his shoulders that didn’t match his icy tone. “Only that it is peculiar for a nobody such as yourself to be thrust into this world, join the Avengers, cosy up with a villain like Loki, and become a target for Hydra all in the span of less than a year.”
I flexed my fingers by my side, and an empty champagne glass flew into my waiting hand without my consciously calling on it. His eye widened as he watched my fingers tighten around it before he smoothed a knowing smirk back onto his face. “Strike a nerve?” he asked, looking far too pleased with himself.
“No,” I tilted my head to the side and stared up at him with barely-restrained anger, “but I could strike one of yours.”
He leaned forward until I could feel his breath on my face, eyes flicking down to the glassware clenched in my fist. “Do it,” he challenged. “Prove to them that you’re the villain I know you are.”
My blood boiled and I was highly cognizant of the power that coursed beneath my skin. He straightened up to fully tower over me with a pleased grin. I clenched my jaw, fighting against my desire to drag him into an abandoned room and make him regret this unsettling conversation when a hand wrapped around my waist and turned me away from Fury.
I jerked my head up, ready to give whoever was holding me a piece of my mind when I realized it was Loki who was quickly leading me away. He brought me to a more crowded area of the dance floor, erasing the lingering feeling of Fury’s hand on my back with his own cool touch, his other pulling the glass from my hand to make it disappear before moving my now empty hand to perch upon his shoulder. Satisfied with how I was positioned, his hand ghosted up my back and the other curled around mine away from our bodies. “They’re watching every move you make,” he cautioned me softly, tracing his concerned gaze over my frowning face.
He guided me around the room in a slow, elegant waltz. It was all I could do to keep up with his graceful movements without stepping on his toes. Thankfully he had enough experience to compensate for my lack of dancing experience. We had both proven our prowess at grinding on each other at the club, but here, he shined. Like this, he was regal, graceful, powerful as he commanded the floor. Warmth filled his eyes as he stared down at me with the barest hint of a kind smile. With his hand cupping my shoulder blade and the other holding mine firmly, I was swept away into the measured rise and fall of our bodies. Somehow, staring into his eyes, trusting him to lead me in the unfamiliar steps, breathing the same air as him in front of so many people, this felt more intimate than any dance we had shared amongst sweaty bodies and thumping bass.
“And how is this any different than them watching me put Fury in his place?” I asked petulantly.
He chuckled and shook his head lightly. “Because that will surely not convince them of your nauseatingly good-natured personality, which I need to use to further my positive reputation among those who wish to see me locked away in prison for all eternity.”
I smacked his shoulder with a laugh.
The mirth fell from his features. His eyes warmed once again with sincerity, and I would’ve sworn up and down that my heart skipped a beat. He spun me away from him fluidly, only to pull me back into his arms with a quick tug on my hand. When I twirled back against him he kept still. His free hand tucked a bit of hair that had fallen from my bun behind my ear, and it curled around the side of my neck to caress my jaw. “In all honesty, I was going mad watching you in the arms of other men. You are the most exquisite woman in attendance tonight. Your impeccable waltz with a dashing prince?” He bent down to leave a tender kiss on my parted lips. “Let that be fodder for the pathetic press.”
How was I supposed to respond to something like that? Thank you for loving me so completely? My fingers rubbed at the smooth fabric of his tuxedo jacket, and after opening and closing my mouth several times hoping that a response would tumble out, all I could manage was, “My Loki.”
Pride raised his chin minutely and the most breathtaking smile tugged on his lips. A pleasant glow flooded through my body and I knew that I had to look like some lovestruck fool beaming up at him, but I didn’t care. The answering adoration shining in his eyes was all that I needed. The clicks of cameras were barely audible over the live band as he gathered me back into his arms to resume the dance.
The intensity of his words lingered in my mind, providing a welcome distraction from the unpleasant conversation with Fury, but not a lengthy one. At the song’s end, he brought us to a stop in the center of the now-deserted dance floor. He maintained eye contact with me as he brought my hand to his lips, brushing a delicate kiss there before bowing at his waist before me. Was he for real? I lowered my chin to my chest in response, curtsying seemed a little too much, and when I lifted my head I caught Fury watching us from behind Loki’s shoulder. He stood out like a sore thumb--analytical and alarming-- among the rest of the crowd that had stopped their mingling and dancing to watch the spectacle of the newest Avengers sweeping across the floor.
I squeezed Loki’s hand and closed the distance between us as another song began, opting for the more comfortable dancing position of high schoolers at prom everywhere, draping one arm around his neck and shifting back and forth on our feet. “I have a bad feeling about him.”
“Did he threaten you?” he questioned darkly after he slowly turned us around to see who I had been referring to.
“I don’t think so. I’m not sure,” I replied hesitantly, inching closer to him so that I could rest my forehead in the crook of his neck. I just wanted to soak up the comfort of his presence for a moment of peace, even if it was just a single moment.
He shifted my hand to his chest so that he could place both of his on my back, stroking the scarred skin with his thumbs as he held me close. I tensed up at the contact on my sensitive marred flesh. He swept his hands up to cover the majority of the scars, his touch gentle but unyielding. “They are part of you. They show your strength.”
“That’s what Nat said,” I muttered, lost in thought. I closed my eyes and willed the sway of our bodies and the beat of his heart to banish the crawling of my skin from the talk with Fury. Surely if Tony had been working with him to track down Hydra he couldn’t be all bad? Maybe he was like the rest of the onlookers and was trying to see what made me tick. He was the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and he would want to know more about me as such. He had to protect the people from any threats, and I wasn’t out of the woods on that front yet. Plus, my abilities were still not well known, and the public was itching for more information about me.
They were already getting plenty of details on my relationship with Loki, if him rescuing me from that conversation, leading me in a stunning beautiful waltz, and cradling me close to his body as we swayed back and forth were any indication. He wasn’t known for public displays of affection; he had a reputation as a stone-cold badass to uphold. But Fury wouldn’t care about that, except for what it meant concerning Loki’s alleged redemption and my role in it.
My train of thought was derailed when Loki stopped swaying and dug his fingertips into my skin roughly. I opened my eyes and craned my neck to look up at him. The rage and alarm that burned in his eyes as he stared at something behind me set my heart racing in my chest.
“Go find Thor and stay with him,” he commanded, storming off quickly towards the exit.
I was never one to follow directions to the letter. I looked around the room, spotting the big muscled man talking to someone pleasantly and holding a beer. Not wanting to waste time closing the distance between us I reached out, curling my fingers toward me so that the beer left his hand and flew into mine, dodging people and sloshing a bit of the fizzy liquid onto the floor on the way. He looked up in alarm and traced its path to see me watching him urgently. I set the drink on the tray of a passing waiter and jerked my head in the direction that Loki had gone before walking as quickly as I could after him. Best not to make a scene, even if we were stealing the limelight for most of the evening.
Thor caught up with me before I’d even reached the exit. “What is wrong?”
I didn’t slow down. If he wanted to have this conversation he was going to have to speed walk and talk with me. I only barely caught sight of the heel of Loki’s shoe as he turned the corner. Damn, he’s fast. “Loki told me to find you and stay with you. So that’s what I’m doing.”
“I do not believe this is what he had in mind,” he reasoned. His hand encircled my wrist to stop me from rushing after Loki.
I whirled around to face him. “Whatever he is chasing is obviously dangerous if he wants to keep me away from it. Now, do you want to leave him to face it alone or do you want to come with me to see what it is? I will go through you to get to him if I have to,” I threatened, flexing my hands just enough so that the metal supports around the windows behind us creaked in response. He may be almost a foot taller than me, a god with the power to smite me down where I stood, and a man I was beginning to call a friend once again, but I would fight him tooth and nail to get outside to stand by Loki’s side in whatever he had gone off to confront. “I’m not leaving him.”
Indecision warred on his face, his blue eye flicking between me and the exit to the building several times. The choice was made for him, however, when a great roar followed by a flash of green light came from outside, lighting up the large room through the windows.
“Loki!” he bellowed, sprinting outside.
I did my best to follow, but my legs were restricted by my long, tight dress. Frustrated, I snagged a glass from a woman as she walked by and smashed it on the floor. I used one of the shards to cut a slit on both sides of the dress, ignoring the cuts it left on my hand as I ripped at the slits until they reached my knees.
It was such a pretty dress, too.
Not what’s important right now. Focus, idiot.
Now free to move, I bolted outside, my eyes straining to find Loki. I barely heard Tony fly up behind me; the jets of his suit were a mere whisper against the blood rushing in my ears as I searched the darkness.
There. He was kneeling over the body of a man, his leathers covered in blood and growing dirtier with each powerful blow of his fist that he slammed into the man’s face. Thor was at his side in an instant, wrapping an arm around him and tossing him off and away from the man. He put his arms around Loki’s chest when he lurched to his feet to go back to his brutal task.
“Unhand me, brother!”
Trusting Thor to keep Loki contained, I ran over to the still figure on the ground, falling to my knees by his side. His face was an unrecognizable mess of blood and tissue that made me gag. I was forced to look away to compose myself. My watery eyes fell upon the cane the man held limply: thin, black, with the Hydra symbol along the side. A muffled groan came from the man below me, blood bubbling from his mouth as he tried to speak.
Kneeling on a cold concrete floor. Flashes of never-ending pain as a cane whipped across my back again and again. This man ordering my torture as he held it at his side.
Malfoy.
I snatched the cane from his slack hand, bringing it behind me and then bringing it down against the side of his head with it with all of my might. A feral cry between a sob and a scream tore through my painted lips. The sickening sound of wood meeting pulverized flesh would forever haunt me. But it wasn’t enough. I snapped the cane in half over my thigh, and with another agonized cry, shoved both jagged ends into his chest.
I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt warm arms wrap around me. A tiny part of my brain told me not to attack Thor as he pulled me away from the grisly scene. Loki stood in front of me, wiping away my tears with his thumbs as he cradled my face in tender blood-stained hands.
“It’s over, love. It’s over,” he soothed, gently drawing me away from Thor to cradle my head against his chest. The blood on his leather armor seeped into my thin dress and raised goosebumps on my skin in conjunction with his cool touch, but I didn’t want to pull away. His presence was a balm on the overwhelming emotions swirling within me.
“Guys, now’s not the time,” Tony warned, landing heavily next to us. I looked up from where I had been staring blankly at Loki’s chest to take in the gathering crowd of people watching us with horrified expressions. Even worse were the photographers pushing their way through as they did their best to get a picture of the dead man and his murderers.
Shit.
“Can you conceal this?” I questioned quietly, leaving his arms to stand in between the crowd and the corpse behind me. As if that was going to help anything.
“They have already seen it,” he answered, staring down the throng coming closer with a wary expression in his eyes.
“You two get her out of here,” Tony instructed, flying forward to stop the incoming crowd before it could get any closer.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught the rest of the gala guests spilling out of the building, including the rest of the Avengers. Oncoming sirens sounded through the roar of the shocked crowd as news of what we had done traveled through them. I stayed silent as I fought to remain present. Even when forced to face the reality of having killed a man in cold blood, it was a better alternative than to descend into painful memories that Malfoy’s reappearance attempted to trigger.
Loki’s right. It’s over.
White-hot fire tore across my bicep. My shocked cry pierced my ears and the world moved in slow motion as my heart rate kicked up a notch in my chest. I looked down to see blood pouring down my arm, staining my alabaster skin red beneath the black lace. Arms wrapped around me, cushioning my head against wet leather as we tumbled to the frigid ground. Screams and gunshots sounded into the night. I tilted my head to see who had pushed me down, only to meet Loki’s narrowed eyes with my own.
The pulsing pain in my arm brought me back to reality, and Loki knelt over me, daggers materializing in his hands as he quickly took in the chaotic situation. Bullets whizzed passed us; the few that hit their mark bounced off of his armor uselessly. He needed protection. My searching eyes landed on the marble facade of the museum. It was difficult sprawled on the ground, but I grunted and arched my back with the effort of ripping a piece of thick stone from the wall, following the natural fissures of the rock to lessen the strain on my powers. I directed it in front of the largest concentration of civilians to deter any wayward bullets as they fled the scene. My flexed arm held it in place while I traced the bullets back to their source, barely able to make out dozens of men coming toward us from the shadows, the Hydra symbol barely visible on their bullet-proof vests.
“For fuck’s sake!” I yelled, getting to my knees beside Loki. It wouldn’t do to try to fight this fight prone beneath him.
“Get the civilians out of here!” Steve yelled, jumping into the fray.
After that, I was forced to focus on myself as another bullet lodged itself in the meat of my thigh. I let out a shriek of pain, pulling the marble previously used as a shield for long-gone bystanders over to protect myself and Loki. Peering from behind it, I could make out even more Hydra men approaching; the glint of their weapons caught the incoming blue and red emergency lights.
With a low groan, I strained all of the muscles in my body and ripped a deep hole in the earth beneath a small group of men advancing on Wanda and Vision. I didn’t watch as they fell into it, moving onto the next batch, but I heard their screams suddenly cut off as I closed the hole back up.
They wouldn’t be shooting at me or anyone I loved anymore.
Nat shouted out somewhere behind me, and I could only hope that she was okay as a man charged me from the darkness to my left. A green-lit dagger pierced his chest courtesy of Loki who was standing to my right. There was no time to thank him as several men ambushed us at once.
Loki’s savage grunts sounded in my ears as he went to work dispatching two men at the same time, the whirl of his cloak moving quickly in the night. I reacted on instinct to the first man who charged me, reaching out and clutching his gun in my bleeding fist just as it fired. I barely registered the burn it left on my hand and the bullet that barely missed my ear as I willed the metal to distort and meld together beneath my touch. I used the now-useless hunk of metal to hit the man in the temple, knocking him out cold.
My brain shut down and I became a machine. Each punch, kick, and use of my powers was done without thought. I sent men falling into deep chasms that I ripped into the ground, crushed them beneath broken hunks of marble, and pinned them beneath thick tree roots under my command and twisted bits of metal rent from police cars and nearby benches. The scent of iron filled my flared nostrils and screams of pain and gunshots rang in my ears. Each flare of agony throughout my body was ignored because if I gave any of it even a second of my attention, it could very well be the very last thought I had.
Above it all, I picked up on the piercing wail of a child. I searched for the cause frantically. There! Passed Wanda, who was throwing a man away from her in a wave of red light, was a little boy, crying as he huddled behind a bush. Casting one glance around to pinpoint where the majority of the Hydra agents were, I sprinted away, my hands twisting in the air as I willed the bush to grow and wrap around him. Seconds felt like an eternity until I was sliding to the ground before him, tearing up my knees and shins on small rocks and twigs. The branches parted for my grasping hands so I could pull the boy ensconced within free. He hung onto me desperately, burying his face in my neck as he sobbed. I curled my torso around his as best I could, remaining crouched as I pressed my back into the building and looked around for whoever he belonged to.
“It’s okay. You’re safe, just close your eyes. You’re safe with me,” I chanted into his ear, my hands protecting his head and supporting his bottom.
Finally, I spotted a frantic man shouting around the edge of the building. Nobody without a severe hero complex would risk such danger unless they had a damn good reason. Taking a chance that my instincts were right, I ran along the edge of the wall until I got to him.
He ripped the tiny child from my arms to hold him to his chest. “Timmy! Thank goodness!” he sobbed, meeting my eyes in a quick show of gratitude before dashing off into the night.
That issue resolved, I needed to find Loki. I scoured the battlefield lit up in a constant strobe of blue and red emergency lights, and white lightning for my dashing god in black and green. When I finally found him, battling gracefully against two men, it was just in time to watch a third man dash up behind him.
He drew a large knife from his thigh, quickly reached around Loki, and impaled it into his stomach.
Loki ripped the knife from his body and shoved it into the neck of the man in front of him with a feral snarl, letting loose a torrent of blood from them both. And then he fell to his knees, one hand clutching at the hole in his abdomen while the other threw the remaining two men back with a burst of green light.
I barely registered that the anguished scream that echoed throughout the night came from my own raw throat. My arms shot out to my sides, sending a shockwave through the ground that expanded out from me in a fast-moving circle. It knocked down all who were still standing as it reached them. When the wave came to Loki I threw my hand out, using its momentum to rip the ground beneath his knees away from the rest of the soil and hover in the air. I pulled my arms into my chest, sending the circle of thick soil--and the man on top of it--soaring to my side. My hands rose above my head and a wall of dirt as high as my waist shot up around us, shielding us from harm.
Loki struggled to stand, but he was too weak and fell back against the dirt wall with a pained cough. He trembled as he fought against blood loss and pain. “It seems… that I-I am injured,” he said, trying to smile but failing as his lips twisted to release a shaky gasp.
I dropped to my knees at his side, gathering his hands and holding them over his wound. Were they always this cold or had he already lost too much blood?
“You’re okay, you’re okay. It’s fine, you’re okay,” I stammered, tears thick in my throat and clouding my vision as my hands pressed against his to try to stem the bleeding.
“Battle suits you, l-litte one,” he choked out, a drop of blood spilling out of his mouth to roll down his chin. “What a shame-”
“Nope, cut that shit out. I’ve got you. I’m not allowing you to die, remember? Just hold your annoying ass on,” I commanded, refusing to let him say anything that even remotely resembled a goodbye. He wasn’t dying. I wouldn’t let him. He could stop bullets and one blade was what finally got to him? Unacceptable.
I fought the fear clawing at my chest, standing up from behind my barricade. I allowed myself one last moment of weakness to glance at Loki slumped against the barrier, breathing shallowly with his eyes closed, his brow furrowed.
Anger unlike anything I'd ever known slammed into me, setting fire to my blood and causing an electric green light to glow in my eyes and over my clenched bloodied fists.
It was easy enough to summon a jagged piece of metal from a broken street sign. Easier still to send that makeshift dagger through the neck of the nearest man. And then the one nearest to him. And again and again. I moved in an intricate dance above Loki until the only men left were fighting my fellow Avengers. Once I helped dispose of the last man Thor had been fighting--conductive metal plus lightning does quite a bit of damage--I screamed his name into the night, bringing the God of Thunder running to my side.
“No. No-no-no-no,” Thor cried, sliding one hand behind Loki’s neck and placing the other hand over his, applying pressure to the large wound in his midsection.
With one last burst of energy, I knocked down the wall of dirt that I had constructed so that the others could easily see us. Tears slid down my dirty and bloody face and sobs tore at my throat as I knelt back down beside Thor who was clutching Loki to his chest. My right hand tangled in his raven hair and my left pressed over Thor’s in what felt like a futile gesture.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t do anything besides stare down at the ashen face of my love.
Please, please, not him.
#to keep you safe#violence tw#blood tw#language tw#torture tw#loki#loki odinson#loki laufeyson#loki friggason#loki fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#im so sorry
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The Royal Romance Deleted Scenes, Alternate Endings & Additions...Book 1, Ch. 16
These “deleted scenes”, alternate endings and additions are from The Royal Romance – a story written and owned by Pixelberry Studios. All main story character names and fictional places are owned and created by Pixelberry Studios. Some content belongs to Pixelberry, whereas the rest is created and written by this author.
Master List of Chapters
Book/Chapter: The Royal Romance, Book 1: Chapter 16: The Beaumont Bash (Alternate Ending) “One Last Hurrah”
Content Type: Alternate Ending
Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Bragnae Bennett -- *pronounced Brawn-yah)
A/N: I fell in love with this series immediately, and I always envisioned more depth and experiences with the characters to make it more realistic. I had a lot of fun writing these “moments” that we didn’t get to see in the books, especially when giving Drake and the MC a lot more time together to show just how much they care about each other. These are NOT the full chapters from the book itself, rather they add to or expand upon certain moments in the story. I do apologize that they are scattered across the series, but I am working to fill in the moments in each chapter. I hope you enjoy what I’ve decided to add to this already amazing series, and stay tuned for more posts!
***These chapters set the foundation for my fanfic series The Royal Couple.
Warnings for deleted scenes, alternate endings and additions: Adult content, suggestive and strong language, sex, violence
Warnings for this chapter: Adult content, strong language
Word Count for this chapter: 4747
Setting for this chapter: The beginning of this chapter has references from @burnsoslow‘s “Quiet Hour” of what happened between Drake and the MC after Truth or Dare was over. It is the day after the Beaumont Bash, and Bragnae and her crew are looking for something normal and fun to do before Prince Gabriel’s coronation in a week. Let the karaoke begin!
Permatags: @burnsoslow @cora-nova @dcbbw
Bragnae rolled over to hug her pillow feeling the sunlight hit her eyelids. She slowly opened her eyes to glance at the clock on the nightstand reading 11:42 a.m. She gasped as she sat up quickly in her bed.
“I… what? I must’ve slept in!”
Just then Bragnae felt a pounding in her head, which caused her to slowly sink back down onto the pillow clutching her forehead.
“Oof. Maybe I’ll just lay here for a second more.” Bragnae closed her eyes trying to will the throbbing away.
As she tried to relax, she let her mind wander to the crazy events that transpired last night that led her to her current position.
I can’t believe I ran around the ballroom in my underwear. All in the name of Truth or Dare…well, for him. God, I’ll do anything just to catch his attention. How embarrassing. But…he does seem to enjoy when I make an effort to embarrass myself for his benefit no matter how silly it is. And he did kiss me back last night. Oh, his lips…they’re so soft. I could kiss him all day.
Bragnae smiled to herself remembering his hands touching her for the briefest of moments last night after he walked her back to her room.
He said that it was ‘the most incredible kiss’ he’s ever had. Bragnae grinned peacefully to herself as images of Drake flashed across her mind. I can’t wait to see him again. I need to see him again.
Thoughts of Drake motivated Bragnae to get out of bed despite her now dull headache. She got herself dressed, and took a few minutes to complete her morning routine before heading downstairs. On her way down, she saw a few members of the house staff plus Bertrand and Maxwell cleaning up last night’s mess.
“Hey, why’d nobody come get me?” She asked.
“You earned a day to sleep in,” Bertrand replied as he bent down to pick up another shard of glass from a broken Champagne bottle.
Bragnae was taken aback by his comment. “I… did?”
“We also thought it’d be better if we minimized the destruction from last night before you woke up,” Maxwell added.
“I could have helped you guys… You know that right?”
“We don’t want you wasting your energy when we’re heading into one of the most important events of our lives…” Bertrand said, waving Bragnae off.
“The Coronation Ball is next, and after last night, all eyes are going to be on you!” Maxwell said proudly.
Bertrand continued, “So, get what you sleep you can. It’s not long before we depart for the palace.”
Bertrand walked away toting a full bag of trash in one hand as he instructed the staff on their next steps. Realizing just how soon the Coronation Ball was, Bragnae started to panic internally.
I knew this was coming, but I didn’t realize just how soon it was. I’m not ready for it. I need more time. I need to see Drake. But maybe also Gabriel? I just need to do something with them that’s normal for once. Like regular people. Maybe Maxwell would want to go, and Hana. But what could we do?
“Hey, Maxwell.”
“What’s up?” He asked as he continued to sweep.
“I was thinking we could all go out tonight to do something fun… you know, for old time’s sake before Gabriel’s Coronation? Before things get crazy for all of us. Not that last night wasn’t fun, but I was thinking about something more ordinary than, say, riding horses in the house and breaking open champagne bottles with swords.”
Maxwell abruptly stopped sweeping dropping his broom to the floor as he raced over to Bragnae who was still standing on the stairs.
“Bragnae, you’re a genius! I’ve been dying to check out this new place here in Ramsford. It’s a karaoke bar and dance club all in one! You know, I’m always ready for a party.”
“Do you think Gabriel, Drake and Hana would want to go?”
“Go where?” Hana asked, rubbing her eyes as she descended the stairs toward them.
“Morning Sleepyhead!” Maxwell practically screamed.
“I haven’t slept in like that in a very long time,” she said stifling a yawn.
“Maxwell and I were just discussing going out tonight to a karaoke and dance club. Do you want to go?” Bragnae asked.
Come on, Hana. Say ‘yes’.
“Sure! I’m well-rested, and I’d love to try karaoke! I’ve never done it before, but I’ve always wanted to.”
“Well, apparently this weekend is full of ‘firsts’ for you! Maxwell, where are the guys? We need to see if –”
Before Bragnae could finish her sentence, Maxwell was already speaking to Gabriel on the phone.
“… Yeah. So, do you want to go?… Of course, Bragnae’s going. It was basically her idea. Ask Drake if he’ll come too... Oh, come on! He has to sing! … Okay, fine. As long as he comes. Let’s all meet up here, and go together. Okay, see you then.”
“So, what’s the verdict?” Bragnae asked, trying to restrain her excitement.
“They’re in! It’s going to be one awesome night! Oh my God, what am I going to wear? What are you going to wear?” Maxwell asked. “Let’s go pick out our outfits, ladies!”
The three of them walked briskly to the boutique leaving Maxwell’s half swept mess on the floor behind them. The girls immediately walked over to the rack of dresses as Maxwell flipped through countless shirts occasionally tossing some to the floor with a look of disgust.
“So, what kind of look are we going for at a Karaoke Bar?” Hana asked, waiting to be inspired by the perfect dress.
“We definitely need something that will stand out. We’re going to be on stage singing in front of people, so we need an outfit that looks great against the lights that will be on us,” Bragnae said as she slid more hangers across the rack.
“Glitter and sequence, ladies. It’s all about the sparkle!” Maxwell called over his shoulder.
Hmmm… what am I going to wear? I want something with color. I wonder which one Drake would like. Should I ask Maxwell what his favorite color is? No. That’s too obvious. I’m sure he’ll like whatever I pick out.
“I’ve got it!” Hana exclaimed, holding up a hot pink dress with rhinestones delicately placed in a starburst pattern. It had spaghetti straps and the front was cut low… lower than Bragnae thought Hana would choose to wear.
“That’s perfect, Hana! Go try it on!” Maxwell suggested.
Damn it. What am I going to wear?
“Hey, Princess-to-be. I think I found what you’re looking for,” Maxwell said, dangling a dress in front of him.
Bragnae turned around and her eyes grew wide. “Maxwell! That’s it! How do you always manage to find the perfect outfit for me?” She ran over to him grabbing the dress and headed for a changing room.
This is definitely going to turn some heads.
Bragnae took off her clothes and slipped on the dress Maxwell found. It had a plunging, cowl neckline held up by a halter strap, which allowed only a hint of her cleavage to show in the center of her chest. The back was completely open, and the rest of the dress hugged her curves nicely. Perhaps the best part that made this dress stand out was its green and blue gradient sequin design. She watched the dress change colors against the light as she rotated her body back and forth in the mirror.
“I want to see too, Bragnae!” Maxwell cried.
“Yes! Come see mine as well!” Hana added.
Bragnae stepped out of the changing room strutting like she was on a runway in Paris.
“Woohoo! That’s what I’m talking about! Get it, girl!” Maxwell called out.
“Bragnae, that’s beautiful!”
“So is yours, Hana! We’re going to light this club on fire!” Bragnae said confidently.
Maxwell held a deep red button up shirt against himself. “This is what I’m wearing. Talk about fire. It’s going to be an inferno up in there! I may even keep the top few buttons undone.”
“Oooh, scandalous!” Hana said.
A few hours later, Bragnae and Hana were in Bragnae’s room getting ready for the night. Hana chose to straighten her hair completely for a more edgy look, whereas Bragnae added a soft curl to hers to provide more volume against her already form-fitted outfit. They began applying their make-up, already dressed.
“You want to be bold and dramatic, Hana. Don’t be afraid to go outside your comfort zone. Here. Add some wings to your eyes with the eyeliner like this.” Bragnae turned her attention away from the mirror, and faced Hana closing her eyelids to display her own design.
“That’s so pretty! I’ve never worn gray and black eye shadow before. My mother always told me to stay with neutral tones as to not offend the eye of a potential suitor. It’s not too much, is it?”
“That’s called the smoky look, and no, it’s not too much. It’s exactly what you need for a night out like this,” Bragnae reassured her.
The girls finished with their make-up, spritzed perfume on their bodies and slipped on their black high heels. With a final look in the mirror, they headed downstairs to meet the guys in the foyer. Bragnae couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nervousness like she was meeting Drake for a date. She hoped he liked how she looked, and couldn’t wait to see him. Maxwell, Gabriel and Drake were standing near the front door talking when the girls began their decent down the stairs.
Maxwell stood facing the stairs in his deep red shirt with his collar popped, and a few buttons undone at the top as promised, along with black slacks. Gabriel and Drake also wore button up shirts, but Drake had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Gabriel’s was a steel blue color, which complimented his eyes, and looked great with his hair. Drake’s was black, a color Bragnae had not often seen him in. He completed his look with a pair of dark jeans, which he wore very well. Drake stood with his back to the stairs, keeping his face out of Bragnae’s view much to her disappointment.
“Damn, ladies! Check you out!” Maxwell said, looking up at them.
Gabriel turned his head to the right, and Drake slowly turned around to face Hana and Bragnae.
“You ladies look beautiful tonight,” Gabriel marveled.
“They’re gorgeous!” Maxwell added.
“Oh, you guys! Stop it!” Hana playfully dismissed.
Drake stayed silent as he clenched his jaw and swallowed hard keeping his eyes on Bragnae. When her eyes met his, she felt a little weak in the knees, so she gripped the railing tighter as she continued to walk down the steps. Bragnae felt her heart flutter as her breathing increased slightly. She wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and kiss him for the rest of the night. Bragnae realized she had not looked away from Drake this whole time, so she decided to divert her attention to the others to avoid suspicion. She looked towards Gabriel who had a big smile on his face. He stepped forward to offer her a hand as she took her last step off the stairs.
“Thank you, Gabriel. You look nice.”
“Thank you, but nothing rivals the way you…and Hana look tonight,” he replied.
Bragnae turned to Drake and smiled. “Drake, I’ve never seen you in that shirt before. Is it new?”
“Nah. This is Maxwell’s. He made me wear it tonight,” he said, almost curtly. His eyes still focused on Bragnae and his body rigid.
“Well, it looks good on you.”
“Let’s go, guys!” Maxwell shouted as he threw the double doors open and walked out to the limo waiting outside.
“After you,” Drake offered.
What a polite and subtle way to check me out, Drake. Good one.
Knowing his eyes were most likely on her backside, Bragnae added an extra sexy strut to her step as she followed the others out the door. They piled into the limo and soon they arrived at the club.
“Alright, everyone. I called ahead, and got us the VIP table in the back. It includes drinks all night!” Maxwell stated.
The group sat down around the table as the waiter came over to collect their drink orders and place glittery plastic VIP bracelets around their wrists. Maxwell ran off almost immediately toward the stage and returned just as quickly with a large binder, a pen and a couple pieces of paper. Bragnae found herself seated in between Drake and Gabriel with Hana and Maxwell across from her. Maxwell flipped rigorously through the binder until he suddenly stopped and his eyes lit up.
“Oh! That’s the one!” He said as he lowered his head toward the table covering his paper with one hand writing his selection down secretly.
“What are you going to sing?” Hana asked him.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he replied turning his paper over on the table.
“Bragnae, do you know what you’d like to sing? I’m looking forward to hearing your beautiful voice again,” Gabriel said, smiling at her.
Drake looked over at her. “You sing, Bennett?”
“Yes, I do,” she replied proudly.
“Are you any good?” He asked.
“I guess you’ll have to be the judge of that,” she said with a wink. “I’m not sure what I want to sing yet. Maxwell, pass me the binder.”
Taking the massive binder from him, she began to flip through the seemingly endless pages. With some songs standing out, she still felt they weren’t quite right. Drake moved his leg slightly under the table brushing against hers, which made Bragnae lose all train of thought. The slightest touch from him wreaked havoc on her mind and body. She stared at the binder trying hard to steal a peripheral glance at Drake without making it obvious.
“You could sing Empire State by Alicia Keys. And ooh! I can rap Jay-Z’s part!” Maxwell offered with enthusiasm.
She smiled at him and resumed her search through the binder before seeing it. This was it. The song she would sing. It was perfect. Bragnae quickly closed the binder, and grabbed a piece of paper writing her name, song title and the artist on it.
“Do we get to know what you chose?” Hana asked.
“Like Maxwell, I too shall keep it a surprise,” she said pressing the paper to her chest.
While Maxwell and Gabriel helped Hana pick out a song to sing, the waiter dropped off their first round of drinks.
“A martini, huh Bennett?” Drake inquired.
“A dirty martini. I love them. Plus, I think I’m going to need the vodka to calm my nerves. Stage-fright sucks. I see you’re staying well within your whiskey comfort zone.”
“Why mess with a good thing, Bennett?” Drake smirked as he took a drink.
With their selections given to the DJ, the group passed the time talking about the past week’s events until the lights in the club dimmed, and the DJ began speaking.
“Good evening ladies and gentleman! Who’s ready to get this party started? Our first guest who will be singing tonight is Maxwell, A.K.A ‘M-Dizzle’ delighting us with Gansta’s Paradise by Coolio. M-Dizzle, come on up!”
Maxwell hurried up to the stage transforming his face to a hard, determined look. The signature 90’s beat Bragnae knew all too well hit the sound system as the crowd cheered.
“Wooooo! Maxwell!!!!” Hana yelled.
Maxwell rolled right into the song impressively rapping every verse, and loving every minute of it. When the chorus hit, Maxwell threw his arm in the air waving it back and forth to the beat causing the audience to do the same. His presence was commanding, and he shined on stage. He was truly in his element.
♪ Fool, death ain't nothin' but a heartbeat away – I'm livin' life do or die, what can I say? – I'm 23 now but will I live to see 24? – The way things is going I don't know ♪
“That’s for sure,” Drake said chuckling.
Bragnae moved slowly to the beat in her seat mouthing every word along with Maxwell.
♪ We keep spending most our lives – Livin' in a gangsta's paradise – Tell me why are we so blind to see – That the ones we hurt are you and me? ♪
As the song came to a close, the crowd cheered even more chanting his name. He dropped the microphone and ran into the audience high-fiving and fist bumping anyone in his path before returning to the table breathless.
“Maxwell! That was amazing!” Hana screamed.
“I loved that song so much growing up, and now I love it even more! You nailed it!” Bragnae said offering him a high-five.
“Thanks guys. That’s felt incredible! I need a drink!”
Drake shook his head while smiling at Maxwell as Gabriel patted him on the back. A few other patrons got up on stage as the group continued talking, laughing and having a good time.
“Hana, you’ll be fine. Just go up there with confidence, and you’ll kill it!” Maxwell encouraged.
Drake excused himself from the table as Bragnae turned towards Gabriel.
“So, Your Highness, will you be gracing us with your singing talent tonight?” She asked.
Gabriel chuckled. “No, I came for the entertainment. Truth be told, I’m really looking forward to your turn up there in the lights.” He smiled at her with a bit of heat in his eyes. “I have no doubts you’ll blow us all away.”
“You sure are putting me on a high pedestal. I hope I can meet your expectations.”
“As a woman of many talents, I think you deserve that high pedestal,” he said with a wink.
With the current singer stepping off the stage, the DJ spoke again. “And next, we’d like to welcome Bragnae to the stage who will be singing Christina Aguilera’s Bound to You.
Her friends cheered her on as she made her way to the stage feeling butterflies in her stomach with each step. She reached the stage and stepped up to the microphone, which she decided to keep on its stand throughout her performance. She adjusted its height, and braced herself. The music began and she took a deep breath…
Drake heard soft music starting to play as he returned to the table noticing Bragnae wasn’t in her seat.
“Where’s Bennett?” He asked the group.
Gabriel nodded his head in the direction of the stage as Drake heard an angelic voice come across the microphone.
��� Sweet love, sweet love – Trapped in your love – I've opened up, unsure I can trust – My heart and I were buried in dust – Free me, free us ♪
Drake was instantly mesmerized by Bragnae’s voice as he stood there watching the most beautiful sound come out of the amazing woman he knew standing on stage. As she continued, he slowly sank into his seat listening to her as every word she sang felt like it touched his soul.
♪ You're all I need when I'm holding you tight – If you walk away I will suffer tonight ♪
♪ I found a man I can trust – And boy, I believe in us – I am terrified to love for the first time – Can't you see that I'm bound in chains? – I finally found my way – I am bound to you – I am bound to you ♪
Drake was frozen in place. As far as he was concerned, he was the only one in the audience, and she was singing just for him. That voice. It’s amazing. She’s amazing.
♪ So much, so young, I've faced on my own – Walls I built up became my home – I'm strong and I'm sure there's a fire in us – Sweet love, so pure ♪
♪ I catch my breath we're just one beating heart – And I brace myself, please don't tear this apart ♪
As Bragnae came to the chorus again, Drake couldn’t help but think this song was chosen on purpose. She sang it with such passion, and it felt like it was coming from her heart. Is she singing this for me? No. It can’t be. Maybe it’s for Gabriel. But the words. It makes sense for me and Bragnae.
♪ Suddenly the moment's here – I embrace my fears – All that I have been carrying all these years – Do I risk it all, come this far just to fall, fall? ♪
That last word led Bragnae to crescendo into a loud and powerful note sending a chill throughout Drake’s body. He watched in amazement as she closed her eyes singing the next verse with conviction.
♪ Oh, I can trust – And boy, I believe in us ♪
Shit. She’s looking right at me. Oh my god. She’s not looking away.
♪ I am terrified to love for the first time – Can't you see that I'm bound in chains – And finally found my way – I am bound to you ♪
As the intensity of the song grew, Drake stopped breathing watching her, listening. Breaking her gaze for just a moment to summon the final notes of the song, she looked at him once more.
♪ I am – Ooh, I am – I'm bound to you ♪
As Bragnae finished singing the last word of the song, the lights faded off her as the crowd erupted into a thunderous applause. Hana, Maxwell and Gabriel stood to give her a standing ovation, but Drake couldn’t move. He finally let out the breath he’d been holding as he watched her exit the stage. Realizing he was the only schmuck not clapping for her, he snapped out of his temporary paralysis, and stood to join the others clapping. Bragnae joined everyone at the table receiving a hug from Hana as Maxwell playfully bowed down in front of her reveling in her stellar performance. Gabriel pulled her into an embrace as Drake watched him whisper something into her ear. She pulled back and smiled at him.
What was that about? Stop. He’s probably just telling her how amazing she was. Because she was. But look at her smile at him. Maybe she was singing it for him. But those words…it made sense for me. Maybe I want it to make sense for me, and she’s just singing a damn song. Ugh, I don’t fucking know.
The crowd was still clapping and cheering for her. Bragnae made her way over to her seat and smiled at Drake as she sat down. He joined her as he trembled slightly trying to think of something to say.
Speak. Say something, you idiot. Anything. Tell her she killed it, tell her she’s amazing. SOMETHING.
“Wow, Bennett. Didn’t peg you as a Christina Aguilera fan.”
Okay, that was dumb. Say something better. Why can’t you say something nice to her? Fucking give her a compliment!
“Uh… I meant to say, that was, uh… pretty incredible.”
She smiled at him and touched his shoulder. “Thanks Drake.”
He melted at her touch as he watched her turn to the others and graciously accept their endless praise. Shortly after, she excused herself from the table and headed back toward the restrooms. Drake finished off his whiskey trying to shake himself loose of the trance he couldn’t get away from.
“She slayed up there! I’m still freaking out about it!” Maxwell went on. “Who knew our little Bragnae was a master vocalist? We should start a musical group. We could sing and dance, and go on tour!”
As the others went on about Maxwell’s day dream of starting a band, Drake felt himself watching the hallway that led to the restrooms waiting for her to return. He wanted to look at her and never stop. He wanted to hold her and gaze into her eyes and tell her how much that song meant to him. He wanted to kiss her. God, he wanted to kiss her. He was enraptured. He didn’t care if anyone saw him do it either. If that song was truly about him, for him, then he wanted to know for sure. Finally, Bragnae emerged from the hallway, but headed to the bar instead of returning to the table. Drake took this opportunity to join her.
“Time for another drink. Anybody want anything?” He asked the group, hoping they’d all say no, so he could get to the bar as quickly as possible.
“I’m good, thanks,” Hana replied.
“I’ll take another Manhattan, Drake,” Gabriel announced.
“Could you get me a large water with lots of ice?” Maxwell requested. What the fuck, Maxwell?
“Yeah… Be right back.” Drake spoke with little energy as his attention was still on Bragnae.
He made his way over to where Bragnae was standing. She was leaning into the bar with one foot balancing on the foot rail beneath it. He asked the bartender to fill his drink orders, and turned to Bragnae with a smile.
“You know, you really were incredible up there. I’ve never heard a more beautiful voice in my entire life.”
She smiled the biggest smile he’d ever seen on her. “Thanks Drake. That really means a lot. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Singing is one of my favorite things to do.”
“So, I was wondering… what made you pick that song out of all of them?”
Drake watched as Bragnae looked down at the bar pausing to come up with her response. “It’s one of my favorite songs to sing. I can really showcase my talent with that one.”
“Oh, well… you certainly did that. I think you blew the roof off this joint with everyone’s cheers.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Come on, Drake. Just ask her.
Drake mustered up all of his confidence. “You sang with a lot of passion behind your words. It seems as if you might have picked that song to relay a message to someone.” He looked her in the eyes so intensely that he saw her draw in a sharp breath before she spoke.
“Well, Drake… did you feel that it was a message to someone?” She spoke now playfully, but also with a hint of seriousness.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Then maybe you should trust your instinct.”
Damn, this woman is so elusive with her words sometimes. Just tell me it was about me, so I can pick you up and take you out of here.
Bragnae leaned in closer to him placing her hand on his arm. Their faces just inches apart. “I’m bound to you, Drake.”
Oh my God. It was about me. Holy shit.
“Bennett, I –” Drake began.
Just then the bartender placed the drinks they ordered in front of them breaking their attention on each other.
“Come on, let’s join the others,” Bragnae said, grabbing half the drinks as Drake took the others.
They returned to the table and distributed the drinks just as the DJ called Hana up to the stage.
Hana picked up the microphone and sang Dolly Parton’s Jolene as if she’d been singing country music her entire life. The group cheered her on as she finished strong, earning loud praise from the audience.
“Well, guys, I think it’s time we head back to the estate,” Gabriel suggested.
He’s always the party pooper. Can’t he just rebel and stay out late like any normal guy? He’s not normal, asshole. He’s the Prince. Give him a break. God, you’re such a dick.
As they made their way to the doors, Hana, Maxwell and Gabriel walked outside and got in the limo. Drake was about to walk through the door himself when he felt his arm getting tugged hard. Bragnae pulled him back inside and up against a wall near the entrance. It was dark and secluded in that space, and she had him pinned. Without speaking, Bragnae reached up and gave Drake a searing kiss grabbing his sides as he kissed her back. He held her face with both hands and deepened the kiss. All too soon, she pulled away from him slowly and breathless.
“Shall we go?” She asked looking up at him.
Drake nodded as she had removed all words from his body. He only wanted her and to keep doing that. Reluctantly, she walked out of the club as he followed her. They got in the limo and made their way back to the Beaumont Estate.
Drake savored the ride back stealing glances at Bragnae, as he knew his time with her as a single woman was coming to an end with Gabriel’s coronation happening next.
#trr#trr drake#the royal romance#the royal romance drake#the royal romance fanfic#choices trr#trrchoices#playchoices#choices stories you play#trr fanfic#drake x mc#drake x bragnae#drake walker#karaoke night#gangstasparadise#bound to you#jolene#drinks#dirty martini#bragnae bennett
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His human, his protector [2]
(gif not mine credit to the owner) Introducing you to your new subjects...
“A new system is being implemented ladies and gentlemen.” The voice of their facility warden rang through the conference room and all nurses. He was a tall man, his face square and his eyes narrow and too far apart. “You’re to be divided into groups, each of those groups will have a patient to look after along with a doctor to work behind.” He continued. “It will hopefully increase productivity, efficiency and hopefully give us better and more frequent data and results.” He paused, smiling. “So then at least our tax money isn’t going to waste.” She clenched her fist on the desk at the snide remark and was disgusted at how many people seemed to nod and agree. He raised a clipboard to his line of vision and began reeling off nurses and their leading doctors. She listened keenly for her own, she was tense, she knew she shouldn’t be biased to have a preference but she wanted subject 99. She wanted to be the one who oversaw his examinations and his cell. The day she had saved him had haunted her - his eyes never left her dreams. She wished she could call them nightmares, it would make more sense to her that way. He was a dangerous enhanced human weapon that looked at her with hatred in his eyes but all she dreamt about was his hands on her body. The sexual fantasies that woke her up in a hot wet fluster were becoming almost too much. Her ears perked at the sound of her name. “... you’ll be working alongside Doctor Lendal with subjects, 10, 21, 99 and subject 88.” She inwardly gasped refraining from showing her relief. Doctor Lendal smiled at her from across the room, it was a sinister grin that made her blood curdle. She pursed her lips covering up her fear as the image of his face flashed before her eyes, the evil in his eyes as he pointed the gun to 99’s head. She looked down at the desk, unclenching her fists, slowly noticing the indents in her palm from her nails. She swallowed as everyone stood to follow their appointed doctors to their subjects. She had examined and knew her new patients except for 88, though she knew of him. The drug tests and the experiments had affected him the most. His cell was underground, he had apparently gone mad, reached the point of insanity and never returned, but too valuable to terminate. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being his nurse. She wasn’t sure whether she could keep up her facade if she was to see him in his madness. “All of you will need a quick briefing on subject 88.” Lendal spoke, leading his nurses to the elevator. “He’s spectacular.” She took a breath and her stomach twisted. The 5 nurses including herself stepped inside the lift after the doctor and they began their trek down to the lowest cell. She knew that subject 68 had been kept down here before his termination and subject 12 was at the very base of the facility but she hadn’t the clearance to ever assess him. She was positive that she didn’t want to, the stories of his violence was enough to put even the cruelest of doctors from entering his cell. The doors opened and they walked through a windowless hall that was similar to the halls she was used to floors above. There were no windows in any part of the facility, a safety precaution in case of any cell breaks. But the air was different, the halls lined with military officers with guns. She held her breath stepping past them. They came to a dimly lit black viewing room and all of them filed inside. There was a window that ran across the entirety of one of the walls. A one way window to observe the patient inside. “Nurse.” Lendal addressed her, pointing his finger at her and all eyes turned to her. She swallowed. “Yes, doctor?” “Come inside with me.” Fear seized her heart but she hid it as best as she could as the doctor unlocked the door to the cell with his lanyard. The room was warm and she noticed it was a padded cell when she stepped through. Sympathy and sadness eased the fear in her heart when she heard the heavy breathing of the dark skinned man across the cell. Instead of leather he was bound with chains, his arms and legs locked to chains that lead to the back wall giving him enough slack to move around, to sleep in his bed when he chose and to use his facilities. He wore no closes save for a jock strap. He was ereathal, his skin looked smooth stretched over his muscles and his hair the whitest blond she had seen. He faced them but his head was lowered. Her body was rigid as her doctor faced the one way window on the wall, the nurses watching from where he couldn’t see. “Meet subject 88.” 88 looked up at the sound of voices and she took a step back. His eyes were red, the irises so piercing and lethal she wondered if they glowed in the dark. His nose was wide and his lips full and plump. “This line.” He gestured to a red line that had been painted neatly on the floor, running up the walls. “Indicates where the kill zone is.” She turned to Lendal, alarmed and frightened. Lendal just smiled. “He is most forgiving with women over the line however, I’ll demonstrate.” He took the nurse by the arm and before she could react he had taken them over the line. Her world seemed to slow down. 88 inhaled, his nostrils flaring in sudden rage. Her heart shot up to her throat in terror and she couldn’t move, paralysed by the fear in her bones. She willed herself to calm down, she didn’t want to be afraid… If she was afraid she wasn’t showing empathy. She swallowed a scream as subject 88 darted forward, his white hair becoming a blur in the room as he lunged forward. She clenched her eyes closed, her body tensing for whatever he had in store for her. Pain or death - or both. She felt the whisper of breath, movement and a heaving chest brushing her arm. Her body quaked as she opened her eyes her own chest heaving. Subject 88 stood next to her where the doctor once stood, his chest against her upper arm, staring down at her with a menacing gaze that chilled her bones. His red eyes were almost unbearable to stare at, the pain and the loath in them too severe - too animalistic. Doctor Lendal was back over the line, a wondrous look on his face. Subject 88 was pure ereathal beauty in front of her, his lips, red and gloriously puffy and his skin surprisingly tan. He had never seen the sun in his life, it was a wonder. His chains on his arms and ankles had slack in them, giving him the opportunity to snap her neck if he so desired; but he just stood there still as stone. And that was when she noticed it. The flashing of his skin. The disappearing of his flesh, like with every blink of her eyes he turned invisible and reappeared. “Subject 88 has developed extraordinary powers.” Lendal spoke to the mirrored window. “He can teleport… But only when released from the chains.” “He can’t go far even without them, he can only take himself to places he has been before or places he can see from a distance.” The halls on this floor has no windows. His cell had no window and his cell door was padded from top to bottom, there was no escape. Subject 88 gave her a lethal once over and she prayed for her life; i’m not like them. She looked him in the eyes, her own strength shocking her; I can help you, I promise. As if he knew her thoughts he stepped back, his chains sagging to the floor. She allowed Lendal to pull her back over the line and her legs felt weak. Back inside the room with the rest of the nurses Lendal spoke. “Next one.” ~~~ A floor above still lacked windows and from another passing group of nurses and their doctor she knew more patients lined this floor. She wasn’t sure but Lendal had made it almost impossible to stay invisible during their induction and she felt the emotions of her upset and anger towards her superiors rising with every word from his mouth. “Subject 21 is another danger, his unique abilities cannot be tamed. We cannot stop him using his gifts.” He began and a frightened hush fell over the nurses. “What we can do however, is hinder him.” “Nurse, come.” She felt her stomach drop and she didn’t miss the grin of an amused and bewildered male nurse from her left as she made her way to their doctor. She hated every moment of it. They stepped into subject 21’s cell and her face twisted at the pungent burning smell that hit her. The body of subject 21 was restrained on a reinforced plastic chair, his head was dipped into his chest. She could see the sheen of sweat that lined his body and the white sparks that seemed to dance across his skin, evaporating into nothing seconds later. His feet were submerged in water, the water rose to his knees. He heard them enter and his head rose, his eyes sharp and deadly as he glared at them both. Her mouth opened and bile rose to her throat at the bruises that lined his face. “This is why you don’t attack the doctors.” Lendal spoke to him, his voice heavily patronising. “This is why you behave.” She swallowed her disgust and anger as she stepped away from the doctor, hoping he didn’t notice her effort to put distance between them. “We haven’t figured out subject 21’s gift whether it be electricity or lightning.” Lendal spoke to the roo behind the glass. “Or even both. He’s too volatile for us to really know.” She heard Lendal but she didn’t pay attention. She locked eyes with 21, refusing to let fear hinder her goal. He looked in pain, his face red and the veins in his neck protruding. She wanted to reach out, apologise for everything Nova had done to him, set him free and she would - at her first chance she would. ~~~ “We are unsure about subject 10’s temperament.” “He can have great days of roaming his cell, interacting with the nurses and doctors in what could be described as being friendly.” “Then on other days it’s like he’s a monster.” “He may seem docile but you can never be too careful.” “His gift is useless however.” She snapped her head in the doctor’s direction feeling gripped by almost suffocating fury. Useless?! She wanted to snarl at him. “He can heal wounds or take away pain.” Lendal continued. “We discovered this when one of the nurses he had taken a liking to had been attacked by subject 61, he healed her burn wounds with a touch not long after.” The male nurse tilted his head in awe. “But wouldn’t a healer be great in battle alongside medics?” Lendal smiled. “Yes. But our goal is to make weapons, not supernatural doctors.” She stepped to the window and saw such a gentle face peering back at her. He seemed to see her through the mirrored glass and she smiled at him pressing her hand to the cold surface. His restraints lay barely used on his bed surface and there wasn’t a mark on his skin. Her smile was short lived as the doctor continued speaking. “We are currently going through the process of having him terminated.”
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ALBUM REVIEW: Revival
“It’s true, I’m a Rubik’s. A beautiful mess/At times juvenile yes. I goof and I jest/A flawed human I guess”
Detroit legend and highest-selling rapper of the decade, Eminem, releases his eighth (ninth if you count Infinite) album Revival: a project that is over hated, yet plagued with cringey lyrics, inconsistency, and an excessive runtime (77 minutes), propelling his decline and mainstream hate that’s haunted him since the late 2000s.
Overall thoughts
I say this with pain because I genuinely think this project could’ve been comparable to Jay-Z’s 4:44. Both rappers have been successful since the 90s and they both know their best is behind them. However, Jay-Z hit the mark where Eminem vastly missed. BUT, this isn’t a review of 4:44. Unfortunately, this is a review of Eminem’s controversial 2017 project: Revival.
Revival misses the mark for several reasons. First, the songs he chose for pre-release singles turned off fans from the jump. He pre-released “Walk on Water”, which captured the interest of fans who appreciate Eminem’s calmer, more introspective side. However, his second single release “Untouchable” made me hesitant to expect this album to revive Eminem’s career. This song isn’t strong enough to headline the album. At best, it’s a little annoying. And at worse, its skippable in 60 seconds. Furthermore, it was a political song, so any listeners that disagreed with his message immediately disassociated from the project.
Second, his lyricism is weak throughout the album, downright offensive at some points. Not offensive like its edgy or has shock value. Offensive like I can’t believe he made me listen to such shtty similes and metaphors. Contenders for the worst lines include but are not limited to:
“Instinctive nature to bring the anguish to the English language/ With this ink you haters get rode on (wrote on), like a piece of paper”
“I’m looking at your tight rear like a sight seer/ Your booty is heavy duty, like diarrhea”
“I just bodied the beat, so that hole must’ve been dug/Cause it just died, like food coloring does”
Along with weak metaphors, he also uses his signature play-on-words style to create painstaking lines such as
“The plan’s to bring her to my house/You’re drinking Jack and Beam, I’m thinking soon this tramp’ll lean (trampoline) so we can bounce”
“From the first time I saw you, I actually/Said to myself, ‘I gotta meet her’ (meter) like a taxi”
“I ask does she want a computer lodged in her vagina/Said my dick is an apple, she said put it inside her (in cider)”
Some of the vocal performances were painful as well. On “Chloraseptic” and “Untouchable”, he straight up lets out ridiculous drawn out yells. I have difficulty accepting that the producer of those tracks and long-time friend of Eminem, Denaun, heard him make those noises and didn’t tell him on how bad it sounds.
Third, and most importantly, Eminem’s tone is extremely inconsistent throughout the project. I wouldn’t be as critical towards the goofy songs if Eminem set and maintained one tone. He began the album with “Walk on Water”, discussing the stress of constant scrutiny and how unrealistic expectations make him doomed to fall short. This is a great topic to talk about as someone who was 18 years into his fame. But then, he begins topic ping-pong for almost an hour, switching back and forth between maturity and childishness, (with some high spots that I’ll discuss later). You cannot complain that people stress you out with high expectations, and then make songs that’s just punchlines revolving around breasts, butts, and vulgar sex.
Logic has great examples of priming your expectations and tones. He makes it clear when a project is a concept piece, like Incredible True Story or Everybody, or when he’s just having fun, like Bobby Tarantino I & II. Because Eminem keeps switching between serious songs and dumb songs, it makes everything seem disingenuous. For example, on the song “Like Home”, he basically rips Donald Trump a new one, going so far as to compare him to Hitler. But on the song “Heat” he makes a joke that he agrees with Donald Trump that women’s privates are supposed to be grabbed, which is why “they call it a snatch”. You can’t criticize the president in one song and then agree with them in the next, even if you’re joking. You can have fun songs and serious songs, but they should keep the album’s tone consistent.
Okay, I’m done criticizing, cause there are some great things about this album. “Walk on Water” was a great intro to the album. “River” is great collab between Ed Sheeran and Eminem. While the content of “Remind Me” is unremarkable, Rick Rubin delivers on the beat, creating an entertaining chorus that samples Joan Jett and the Blackhearts’ “I Love Rock n Roll”. I will give credit to “Offended”, which is ambitious to say in the least. I skipped it on first listen but it actually grew on me. And of course, the final two tracks “Castle” and “Arose” are the album’s peak.
If Eminem would’ve shaved the track list to 9 songs instead of 19, weeding out the childish/forgettable songs and making it more tonally consistent, this album would be much better. My ideal Revival album would be:
1. Walk on Water
2. Believe
3. River
4. Like Home
5. Tragic Endings
6. Nowhere Fast
7. Offended
8. Castle
9. Arose
This would bring the runtime down to 40 minutes instead of 77 minutes. At 45 years old, 8 albums into his career and 18 years in the game, Eminem doesn’t have 77 minutes’ worth of material to talk about. And it shows.
I mentioned earlier that this project is over hated. Although there are things I strongly dislike about this project, it isn’t nearly as bad as media and music reviewers describe it. Two of his previous projects, Encore and Relapse, were much worse than Revival. I think it’s an exaggeration to call Revival the worst of his career, but it is definitely indication of a decline.
Album Breakdown
“Walk on Water” ignites the album with an emotional piano ballad, Beyonce’s beautiful vocals on the chorus, and Eminem’s surprisingly self-exposing verses. He talks about the pain of having a section of hip hop disregard him, while having another section constantly hold him to a standard he feels like he’ll never reach again. It’s more melodramatic than what I expect from an Eminem song, especially the dramatic pause at the beginning of the first verse where he dramatically asks “why.........?”. Seeing Eminem express vulnerability instead of constantly acting like a god gave me hope.
But then...I heard the last 5 seconds, and I knew I was in trouble.
“Cause I’m just a man/
But as long as I got a mic I’m godlike/
So me and you are not alike/
B***h, I wrote ‘Stan’”
This transitions into “Believe”, a track that carries on the topic from the previous song but establishes that he is not self-conscious and knows he’s superior in the rap game, asking the audience if THEY believe in him. It’s disappointing to see him abandon vulnerability so quickly. It took five minutes and four seconds for Eminem to backtrack and basically say “Nah, I can reach every height. You guys just need to believe in me”. Like he’s blaming critics and fans for his decline, not his skills or style. I did not care for this shift. And speaking of shifts, we hear Eminem’s first attempt at a trap beat, which sounds off with his rapping style. He’s constantly taking odd pauses to squeeze in rhyme schemes. Not the worst song, but already starting the contradictions to the initial tone of the album.
Eminem’s second attempt at a trap beat, “Chloraseptic”, was painful. I can’t sugar coat it. Half of the time I had no clue what he was saying, and the half that I could understand had no substance. He mocks Migos’ style, using adlibs, shouts, and voice bites that make him sound old and desperate to fit in modern trap music. Over his career, Eminem’s best tracks have either a rock sample or a piano melody. But this is clear evidence that very few Eminem tracks should be trap songs.
As I mentioned earlier, “Untouchable” was released early as a single. This song was painful because I knew what he was going for. So it sucks to be distracted by the subpar delivery. The rock guitars and harmonized vocals in the chorus hit my ears too hard, making me wince and decrease the volume at the chorus. Eminem’s verses have him shouting/teasing “white boy, white boy” “black boy, black boy” which is too immature for someone of his status and stature. And there’s a line in the first verse where he says “then we wonder why we see this side of youuuuuuuuuuuu”, drawing out the last word in this painful, awful voice that definitely should’ve been scrapped. In the second half of the song, the instrumental switches from a hard rock sample to a piano melody that illustrates a sense of anxiety. Also, in the last verse, he switches perspectives and talks as a black person under systematic oppression. While I appreciate the effort, it doesn’t really translate into anything emotionally because his solutions to these problems are shallow.
He talks about police brutality and systemic racial issues. The problem is it’s all surface level. Someone with his age and experience should be able to add more to the discussion. But he comes through with messages like “We need to hire black cops and stop putting cops in neighborhoods they are unfamiliar with. This country was built on slaves. It’s unfair Kaepernick got hate for kneeling during the national anthem. Racial profiling is the cause of violence”. These are things I was able to articulate as a middle schooler. But he delivers these thoughts like he’s speaking from the woke-est perspective the world’s ever seen. When in reality, there are tweets that hold more substance. And because of this, Eminem’s yelling doesn’t feel like anger. It just feels loud and misguided.
Fortunately, we then transition to one of the stronger songs on the album, “River”. He discusses a toxic relationship filled with cheating, lies, and an abortion. Eminem has always delivered good bad-relationship songs, so I’m not surprised another one is one of the best on the album. Ed Sheeran’s singing on the chorus is dope, especially at the end when the instruments drop at the end and Sheeran’s tender vocals cap off the track. Cannot complain; its easily the best track so far.
“Remind Me” is the first goofy track on the album. Eminem is taking a break from serious topics like meeting other’s expectations, success and failure, police brutality, and a devastating relationship, to talk about a girl with “implants so big” she could hang him up on her rack, with her “big ol’ tits”. This song is only tolerable because Rick Rubin’s sample was fun to hear. Otherwise, this song is unbearable.
“Like Home” is his next political song. He takes a patriotic stance while criticizing President Trump. And that’s about it. Pretty much a diss track where he spent 8 lines setting up a Hitler punchline and then calling Americans to unite against Trump. Alicia Keys sings the chorus but its nothing heart stopping. Definitely one of the more forgettable songs simply because it wasn’t painful to listen to.
The thing about bad songs or forgettable songs is that if you string too many together, they become more difficult to tolerate. So I’m coming off the heels of the annoying “Remind Me” and forgettable “Like Home”, when I get to “Bad Husband”. Here, he’s talking about how bad he was to Kim, his ex-wife. This song seems good on paper, but two things make it bad: X Ambassadors on the chorus and X Ambassadors on the chorus. X Ambassadors and Eminem do not fit well. Their loud style doesn’t fit the quiet, soft vocals that Eminem implements. It’s also hard to take Eminem’s apology seriously. On the chorus, X Ambassadors call him a 1) lord 2) good father 3) good dad 4) great father. No genuine apology contains repeated self-appraisal. Imagine if someone hits you with their car and says “Wow, I’m such a bad driver. I’m a great manager. Great parent to my kids. I donate to the local homeless shelter. And I baby sit for free. But I’m such a bad driver.” Is that really an apology?
And to that note, I’d take being hit by a car over hearing X Ambassadors on the chorus.
“Tragic Endings” picks up the album. Skylar Grey is amazing on the chorus. The entire song sounds like a sister of “Love the Way You Lie”. This talks about a toxic relationship with someone who doesn’t encourage him. I’m not surprised he once again hits a high point with a bad relationship song. Eminem’s verses are alright, and the instrumentation carries the same tragic-ness that surrounds the content of his verses. Skylar Grey and Eminem have collaborated on multiple songs over the years and they tend to compliment each other well.
Side note: There’s a curse in this album that’s wreaking havoc. After a certain number of bad songs, my appreciation for a song comes from the fact that it doesn’t make me want to take off my headphones. I’m approaching every song with “it can’t get worse than its already gotten”.
Then it got worse... “Framed”. With an instrumental possessing a western, cowboy-saloon vibe and a chorus that creates a “cowboy please shoot me in the head and end it all, this album is torture” vibe, “Framed” is a storytelling track where Eminem is framed for a murder. Apparently, some of his gruesome lyrics are so incriminating that he could be considered a suspect for a murder. Now, I love story telling tracks. One of my favorite records of all time is The Great Adventures of Slick Rick. But Eminem is too old and passed the point of his career where associating with assault, kidnapping, or murder is entertaining and/or interesting. It was shocking in 1999 when he talks about dumping his wife in a pier so he can be with his child without her interference. I would never condone that, but I was highly attentive. But 18 years later, saying you have Ivanka Trump in the back of your car is just creepy. Definitely the worst song on the album.
“Nowhere Fast” features Kehlani on the chorus and exciting violin strings that accompany Eminem’s commentary on the rap game. Kehlani is definitely talented, but I don’t think her style matches Eminem. Overall the song is middle of the road. Not horrible, not amazing.
Now that he’s dissed Trump, talked about a bad relationships, his “killer” lyrics, and the rap industry, it’s time to go back to a fun song and make more jokes about butt & boob implants. “Heat” is very similar to “Remind Me”. They both use a rock and roll sample and discuss the same shallow content. The sample isn’t as entertaining as “Remind Me”, so that makes it harder to tolerate the excessive double entendres and play on words just to illustrate offensive commentary on a woman. I try not to overuse quotes, but I had to save the worst line.
“Girl, you’re just gonna have to put them other chumps on the back burner/You got buns, I got Asperger’s (Ass burgers)”
I mentioned earlier that this next track “Offended” grew on me over time. The issue with tonally switching back and forth is it’s difficult to tell how seriously Eminem takes himself. How can I know Eminem is actually self-conscious about others’ expectations of him, when he immediately calls himself godlike and makes multiple songs about boob jobs? Here, Eminem makes it clear he is trolling and wants to offend and irritate a hater. Once I understood that, I was able to just enjoy it as a dumb track. The instrument is fun and bouncy, and the chorus is extremely childish, but purposely done so that it’s hard to criticize it seriously.
I can sum up the next two tracks, “Need Me” and “In Your Head” as forgettable. “Need Me” is another track about a toxic relationship ft. P!nk’s amazing vocals. Although the ratio of P!nk to Eminem on the song makes me think it should’ve been a P!nk song featuring Eminem. And on “In Your Head” Eminem simply describes his displeasure with past decisions, the most notable part of the song being The Cranberries sample on the chorus, which ended up being wasted on a take it or leave it track.
“Castle” comes outta left field as a MAJOR upgrade from the rest of the album. It almost feels like it belongs on a different album completely. The chorus is slow building with these subtle organ keys and a bassline where the instrumental doesn’t quite kick in but it hints at a explosion about to occur. Liz Rodrigues on the chorus helps Eminem deliver this song; a series of letters that Eminem writes to his daughter, apologizing for things in her life that are impacted by him and his decisions. They’re written in 1995, 1996, and 2007.
The first verse talks about his excitement about having a new baby daughter. The second verse talks about his failed album Infinite and how he’s not sure how he’s going to provide for them, but he’s stumbled onto an idea (The Slim Shady LP, which thrusted him into mainstream success). The third verse is in 2007, where he states his guilt for her life being thrusted in public light, his distaste for fame, his pills addiction. During that time, Eminem was suffering from drug addiction and nearly died from an overdose. The song ends with him taking pills and audibly collapsing onto the floor.
“Arose” picks up where “Castle” leaves off. Eminem talks over a piano ballad and an echo-ey drum that makes you feel like you’re in an empty dark room. Eminem is currently in the ER hooked up to life support machines, talking about the things he’ll miss if he dies in the hospital bed. Amongst other goodbyes, he tells his daughters to take care of each other and he’ll always be in their memory. Truly heart wrenching. But as he says goodbye to everybody, he suddenly fights to stay alive, his heart starts beating, and he recovers. As he recovers, he mentions rewinding the tape of time. Rewinding to before he made the mistake of overdosing.
Then, in an expert display of technical skill and creativity, the track rewinds to the instrumental for “Castle”, and Eminem delivers a final verse that has a much more “onward and forward”, positive outlook. It brings tears to my eyes every time I listen to it. He describes shredding the old letters and not letting the past hold him back. And that the first half of the song is what he would’ve wrote to his daughters if he had made it 2 hours later to the hospital, which is about how long the doctor said he would’ve lived if he hadn’t checked in. In this masterpiece of a closer, Eminem connects back to the concept of reviving. Without question, the best song on the album and the best outro of any Eminem album
Final Thoughts
The Intro “Walk on Water” and outros “Castle”/”Arose” feel like they belong on a completely separate album; they’re totally different from the tracks that encompassed the middle. So while those three are great, the album ultimately suffers from inconsistent themes and messages. If Eminem would’ve stuck with vulnerability and maturity, this album would’ve been great. Overall, the project isn’t horrible. But besides the few high points, I’m disappointed.
Top 3 Songs:
1) Arose
2) Castle
3) River
Overall Grade: C-
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Krayt’s Bargain Part 2
Continuing on with this fic, Luke and Vader still have to deal with the pact they made. This time with added Yoda.
Part 1
The closer they got to Dagobah, the more Luke’s agitation grew. Vader could sense it but had no idea how to ease it.
Luke was pacing the nondescript ship they were flying rather than their fighters. “Sit down, child. Pacing will not change anything.”
At that, Luke stopped pacing long enough to stare at Vader. “Coming from you, I’m pretty sure that’s hypocritical advice.” Half a smile curved his lips after another moment. “Even if you have a point.”
I have no ill intentions for Yoda. Much as I dislike him, he will come to no harm at my hands. Perhaps hearing it through the Force, through the kin bond they shared, would be more convincing.
“I believe you.” Luke laughed a little. “Maybe I’m crazy for it, but I believe you. I still gave away his location. Months, I’ve been back with the Rebellion, and I haven’t said a thing to them. But I told you. You of all people. Even if I got your promise first, it’s still betrayal. In a choice between you and him, I chose you. He’ll know that. He warned me about going to Bespin.”
Though Vader wanted to flinch at the reference to that disaster, he pushed it aside. “I am your father, child. It is a natural choice.”
“We’re on opposite sides of a war. Not so natural, Father.”
The boy had a point, much as Vader disliked it. “As betrayals go, I think Yoda will be far more focused on mine.” From the way Luke paled, that reassurance was not as well-received as Vader had hoped. He sighed as much as his respirator allowed. “Child, Yoda has never liked me, but I do not think he will judge you too harshly for the decision you made.”
The proximity alert went off, and they both returned to the cockpit. Vader took the controls, but Luke was the one giving him directions on where to go.
Vader felt his scars strain as his lips twisted in displeasure at the swamp Luke guided him to, and he reached out into the Force to find solid ground to set down on.
“I suggest you wait on the ship, child.”
When Luke rolled his eyes, Vader wanted to sigh.
“You know that isn’t going to happen, Father.”
“Stubborn child.”
“Pretty sure I come by that honestly.”
That, Vader couldn’t argue. Both Luke’s parents were stubborn. And neither of them would have stayed on the ship, either.
So they walked down the ship’s ramp together. Yoda had hobbled out of his hut, leaning heavily on his gimer stick. He watched them come, making no attempt to reach for a weapon. In the Force, the Jedi master felt old in a way he never had, even in the midst of the violence and chaos of the Clone Wars. Old, tired, and sick. Safe behind his mask, Vader rolled his eyes. Was he to be responsible for helping one of the Jedi he hated most?
“So, come, you have. Young Skywalker, Lord Vader. My death, do you seek?”
“Don’t start, old Jedi,” Vader snapped. “You can sense perfectly well my son has not Fallen.”
“Then why come here have you? Bring you he did. Hidden I have been for many years.”
Luke scrubbed a hand over his face. “I tricked Father into a pact, what is known on Tatooine as a krayt’s bargain, and found myself nearly as bound as he is as a result. As part of that, he gave his word you would be safe. I’m sorry, Yoda. Even if it may well help, this didn’t work out as I intended.”
“Bargains with a krayt seldom do,” Vader pointed out.
“Wise to bargain with a Sith it is not. Trustworthy they are not.”
“Master Yoda, I mean you no harm at this time. As my child said, I am bound by our pact.”
“An Oathbreaker you are, Lord Vader. Many times your vows as a Jedi you broke. Even your vows to your wife you broke.”
That hit hard, as Vader was sure Yoda intended.
Luke had blanched, but he shook his head. “He isn’t lying. He promised not to let me Fall, and he intends to keep his word. A krayt’s bargain isn’t something you break. Not if you’re from Tatooine. Much as he hates the entire planet, Father still spent years of his childhood there.”
Vader shook his head. He’d never told Luke that. “He is correct. Luke is sensitive to the Force in a way I have never seen before, even from the great Jedi before the Empire. He knows. He would know if I lied.”
“Then your intentions what are they?”
“I need Luke to be strong enough to survive the Emperor without Falling if I am not to be foresworn. I will train him as I can—without the Dark side, before you accuse me. I have trained a Padawan before, as I am certain you remember. But I cannot be absent for extended periods without attracting the Emperor’s interest. Luke is not yet ready to stand against my master. As I have few options, you will do as a substitute when I cannot be present.”
“Fa-ather,” Luke protested.
Again, Vader rolled his eyes. “Pretending amicability with the old Jedi was not part of our bargain, child, and he would not believe it if I tried.”
“Indeed,” Yoda said. “Prefer, I do, his honesty.”
For a long moment, Yoda merely leaned on his gimer stick and studied them both. “Very well,” he said at last. “Come with you, I shall. Trust you, I do not,” he warned. “Our best hope for peace your son is. Fallen you are, Anakin Skywalker.”
Vader’s fists clenched. The sound of his birth name, the name his mother had given him, burned when Yoda said it.
“Fallen you will always be.”
Luke flinched. “I don’t know if that’s true,” he started.
“That is a topic for another time,” Vader said sharply. “If you are coming, old Jedi, come.”
Yoda returned to his hut for a moment and came out with a small case under his arm. He hobbled slowly up the ramp of the ship, and Vader resigned himself to delivering the Jedi to medical as soon as they arrived at the hidden estate where he planned to establish his son.
Aboard the ship, Vader retreated to the cockpit and left Yoda to his son, though he did it with ill grace. Still, he left the hatch open and half-listened to an explanation of what a krayt’s bargain was to those from Tatooine and of what had occurred in the mining facility that had led to this point.
Eventually, Yoda sent Luke off to sleep, something Vader grudgingly agreed with. His stubborn child had gotten little rest on the way to Dagobah. Once that argument was over and Luke had vanished into a cabin, Yoda hobbled into the cockpit.
“Foresee this I did not.”
“I expect you saw the outcome of Bespin as either Luke’s death or his Fall. He chose death then and was fortunate enough to survive it, mainly thanks to the quality of his allies. He would have chosen death again this time had I not agreed to his bargain. I value my son’s life more highly than that. It is said on Tatooine that to break a bargain with a krayt risks the loss of everything the bargain offered. It may be mere superstition, but I will not risk my son’s life to it. The bargain I made binds me, and Luke is enough his mother’s son to use it to bind my actions further.”
“Sense truth in your words I do, even if Fallen you are. Difficult to believe this remains.”
“I’m sure,” Vader said dryly.
“Pleased your master will not be.”
“I do realize that. I have served him for more than twenty years. My son is more important. He will never be safe as long as Palpatine lives. His only chance while my master survives would be to Fall and take my place. Now, I can no longer arrange that.”
“Your plan it was?”
“When he rejected my offer on Bespin, I saw no other possible outcome. He is the one that has changed that.”
“Proud of him you are.”
That, Vader wouldn’t answer. It was taking most of his self-control, along with his shaky hold on calm from the Force, to converse with Yoda so calmly.
“Your first pact so rashly entered into this is not.”
Vader took as deep a breath as his respirator and ruined lungs allowed him. It was not as deep as that comment required, so he did it again before he spoke. “If you think I don’t realize that—!” Two breaths hadn’t been enough. He took two more, trying to settle his temper before it woke his sleeping son and brought the ridiculous child out to investigate. “I made a mistake when I put my faith in my master,” he said slowly, the words only clear through his vocoder’s efforts. Admitting that, to Yoda of all beings, hurt worse than Sidious’s punishments.
But Yoda only nodded. “Both Fallen and an Oathbreaker you are. Trust you I will not. Trust your son, however, I will. A chance I will give this arrangement.”
“Done.”
#Krayt's Bargain#my fanfic#Darth Vader#shadow puppets (cut my strings)#Luke Skywalker#bright enough to burn#twin stars#Tatooine lore#Tatooine fairy tale#Yoda#cryptic common sense#radioactivepeasant
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Summer
(Euron Greyjoy X Fictional Character (Elisabet))
(not my image)
Authors note: Okay, so this is my first ever fanfiction, so please be kind. It’s a little on the darkish side, but I just kind of ran with it. Sorry my knowledge of boats is very limited. I thought of maybe adding more to the story if people like it. Constructive criticism is very welcome and appreciated. Sorry if I didn’t do warning or format right. Hope people will enjoy it!
Word Count: 1554
Warning: Loss and Implied Physical/Sexual Violence
The vessel was aptly named, Silence. You could cut it with a knife. The only sounds were the creaking of the ship as the waves lapped gently against it, the occasional sounds of the crew walking, never speaking. Elisabet sighed to herself, wondering how she ended up on this ship, in the middle of the Sunset Sea, sailing stalwartly to some unknown destination. She remembered of course, the night on her brother’s ship Summer. It was a night she would never forget, the night that the iron men came for them.
Summer
Her brother Ragnar was one of the most brilliant sailors in the village, perhaps the whole North. Their family were once Westerosi, but chose to become free folk during the reign of the Mad King. They had been fisherman ever since they had sailed around the Wall to their new home in Ostshire. Their father had died at a young age, leaving Ragnar to take over caring for her and her mother, as well as the fishing trade. He never complained though, he loved them dearly. Since Elisabet could remember, whenever the weather was fair, she would be at her brother’s side on the old boat her father had built. She loved the smell of the salt water, and thrill of the days catch. Swordfish was a local favorite, and they always made a killing with trade at market.
After Mother joined Father in the afterworld, Summer became Elisabet’s only salvation. She believed Ragnar felt the same. When they were out on those crisp blue waters, wind in their golden hair, they were free of the sadness and loss that had filled their lives.
That morning had been like any other. Ragnar had woke her up before the sun rose to prepare for the long day of fishing ahead. They did not go on too many long trips this time of year as winter was near and the seas became more dangerous and the weather unpredictable. They were out on the sea in time to watch the sunrise while eating their breakfast of smoked meat and bread. They fished for hours. When all was said and done tt been a long day, and they had traveled much further out than usual, but the fishing was very good. They had caught 2 huge swordfish, and a couple buckets of shellfish. Fortunately the weather had been fair all day, but it seemed that storm clouds were on the horizon.
A Coming Storm
Before they knew it the weather had changed drastically, thunder was crashing and winds picked up harsh and heavy. Elisabet was so caught off guard by one large wave she would have gone overboard if her brother hadn’t caught her. He told her to go inside the hull while he tried to steer them from the jagged rocks along the coast. It was in the stormy chaos they came, like a creature from the seventh hell to devour them. She saw through the porthole a great ship, like none she had ever seen. A giant black sail eclipsed the moonlight, a huge golden beast was pictured there, a Kraken Elisabet thought. Just as she felt the gooseflesh cover her entire body her brother swung open the hull door, startling her nearly to death. “Stay inside Lisey, no matter what you hear” he yelled over the storm, his eyes graver than she had ever seen. He drew their father’s sword from his belt and disappeared back into the darkness. He was just like their father she thought, strong and brave. That was the last time she would ever see him.
The Captain
It took all her courage, but Elisabet decided whatever her brother was facing out there, he shouldn’t have to face it alone. She knew he only wanted to protect her, but she was not a little girl any more. She ran to the trunk and dug out her slender sword, Mist. She was not a swordsman like her brother, but he had taught her well enough to use it. In her mind she was ready to run out into the unknown with all the fierceness she could muster, despite feeling like a frightened rabbit inside. She took a breath and turned the door handle, only to find the door would not budge. “He barricaded me in!” she thought. She began to ram the door with her slender frame, but it would not budge. The storm was beginning to break and she could now hear some noise outside the door, she heard boots on the deck and the clinking of swords. A thud. A splash. Then only silence.
In the back of her mind Elisabet wondered what she would do if she could not escape the little room, if she was trapped. There was no time for worry. Elisbet ran at the door with a furiosity she didn’t know she had. As she did, the door opened from the outside and she was sent sprawling on the cold wet deck. She looked around frantically for Ragnar, but he was nowhere to be seen. Who was there were the grimmest little group of men she had seen in all her days. All standing there in silence. She began to look for Mist, but her stomach sunk as she realized that she had dropped it a few feet away when she went to break down the door. Before she could even begin to process what was happening a large hand picked her up by her shirt like a rag doll and set her back on her feet. She spun around to see the source of her reestablishment. She turned to see a giant of a man standing before her. His hair was dark, his eyes blue like the sea…like her brothers’. “Ragnar, where are you??” she thought. The man held a large bloody axe, with the same beast as the sails in its shape. She wondered with growing horror where the blood came from. Blood dripped from his leather coat, a smile graced his moustached face.
He spoke, “Well well well, with the way the lad fought I thought there might actually be some treasure on this floating piece of waste, but I see now what treasure he was protecting”
Elisbet thought, unintentionally, she must have looked quite stupid, standing there, emerald eyes wide, mouth agape. So many things were running through her head. Who was this man? Why were they on Summer? Where was Ragnar? What treasure was he talking about?
“Did you hit your head in the fall Lovely?” the man asked, eyes playful, a large grin on his face. If she didn’t know any better from the look on his face and his easy manner she’d think they were old friends, rather than strangers, better yet, enemies.
“Where is Ragnar?!” she shouted, louder than she intended on the now quiet sea, choking back tears.
“Ragnar?” he asked quizzically, “If you mean the feisty lad I just cut down with my Axe, then the answer is out there” he gestured to the sea. “He put up a good fight, I’ll give him that. He sent one of my men to his grave and injured another. Unfortunately for him, I took his head in recompense. I am sorry Lovely, was that your husband?”
Elisbet heard a voice screaming “NOOOOOO”, it sounded like some sort of banshee, and unearthly shriek. She realized shortly after that it was her own voice, but it seemed distant and detached. She then saw herself picking up Mist and running full speed at the man who had murdered her sweet brother. She swung Mist wildly, but was no match for his immense strength. He looked as if he had barely lifted his weapon to deflect her frenzied blows. She thought he might be playing with her, as the same smirk still sat on his lips. When she had worn herself out he easily knocked the blade aside. “An honest effort” he shrugged “now what is your name pretty girl?” She spat in his face in response.
He wiped it off on his sleeve, pausing to stare at the small act of defiance just long enough to make her second guess her course of action. After a moment the darkness left his eyes and the self-satisfied smirk returned.
“Do you know who I am girl?” he asked, not in a challenging way, but as if he was teaching a small child.
“The son of a whore who murdered my brother” Elisabet replied angrily.
He laughed heartily “Ugh, brother, my mistake. The lad should have stayed out of my way, and let me take the treasure. My name is Euron Greyjoy, and this is my crew, and that is my rather impressively sized vessel, the Silence”.
The name rang a bell, but in her fury she only saw red “I DON’T CARE, you killed my brother, and for what, we don’t have treasure, this is a fishing boat!!” she screamed at Euron.
He smiled at her, the same cocky, knowing smile. “The greatest treasure a man can find of course” he paused “A beautiful woman”. With that he moved with the speed of a Shadow Cat and threw her over his broad shoulders with seemingly no effort. He carried her aboard what she would soon find out was her new home. That was the day Elisabet remembered she went from a happy, free, northern girl to a salt wife.
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