#v: the war machine keeps turning { second war }

[potentialbreakupscng]

❗❗❗  for your muse to suddenly and unexpectedly kiss mine. - @lupiinee

since her confession, and him leaving -- she'd been tense. her hair had never returned to the bright pink it had been before. her patronus had surprised her -- she didn't realize they could change. she tried so hard to get it back to the jackrabbit it had been before. she didn't need the painful reminder that remus didn't want her. or refused to want her.

she was surprised he showed up when bill was attacked -- she knew the tension between them was evident. everyone knew what happened. why remus had been gone for so long. tonks knew shouldn't have said anything. she should have kept her mouth shut. one of her best friends had been attacked, and thankfully was still alive. his fiancee was worried about him, and even she got peeved at molly for suggesting that fleur would have felt any different for her fiancée. of course she wouldn't feel any different. she loved him. him getting bitten meant nothing to fleur.

it meant nothing to her either.

the only thing she regretted was the outburst there -- she shouldn't have made it about herself. it was about bill. her friend. one of the few true friends she actually had. she felt awful for turning it into the situation between her and remus -- it should have been about bill and him alone. and dumbledore. fuck. how -- could she let herself get so wrapped up in all of this love shit when there was so many other things that needed their attention? they had days to plan a funeral and get dumbledore buried. they had to frantically figure out... what was next. tonks decided to stay at hogwarts, teasing bill when he finally woke up and muttering to him about how she was so close to stealing his hot fiancee -- joking even when her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. she went with him back to the burrow.

and avoided remus at all costs.

it was late. everyone in the house was sleeping. well, mostly everyone. molly was still trying to force tonks to eat -- she hadn't been eating very well or very often because she hadn't had an appetite. she really only picked at whatever food they gave her. the tips of her fingers were destroyed. wrapped and bandaged up by pomphrey in the hospital wing earlier -- saying she needed to give them at least the evening to recover. even the bandages had been picked at, which moly had to swat her hands a few times -- even attempted to teach her how to knit to keep her hands busy -- but even then she couldn't get the handle on. her lower lip was next, and she stared into the fire as she curled up on the large sofa. a shell of herself really.

she glanced up when she heard arthur make molly stop bothering her and go up to their own rooms. leaving just her and remus alone in the living room. the last time they were left alone was the last time she had seen him. after confessing to him again and reducing herself to a woman who begged for him to just love her the way she knew that he loved her. she casted a glance over to him and swallowed when she felt her stomach lurch and a wave of sadness rush through her. this wasn't like her. to be so distraught over someone. she was better than that. stronger than that. but nothing hurt quite like this did.

"i'm going home," she muttered suddenly, pushing herself up from the sofa and moving to grab her combat boots to pull them on. she crouched down to string them up and tie them probably too tightly, then stood back to her full height. she licked her lips, wincing slightly as her tongue ran over an open gash that she'd been picking at. she refused to let herself fall apart because of him. not anymore. she tucked her wand into her boot and reached for the door, but was surprised when a hand on the door stopped her from leaving. she turned, her eyes widening when her head tipped back and she saw him over her.

she hated how her heart skipped a beat and her stomach lurched. she hated that she felt so strongly for him. she hated how fast her heart beat when she noticed him dipping down to get closer to her. she hated how she naturally rolled onto her toes to meet him halfway. tonks especially hated how good it felt to kiss him, how her body melted into him and how her fingers gripped onto the front of his shirt. her knuckles turned white with how hard she was gripping onto his shirt -- to keep herself from falling because of her naturally clumsy manner. her eyes fluttered closed -- and she couldn't even control the way her hair slowly melted from the brown it had been to a soft pink. she allowed herself to feel good for a few moments.

before she remembered she was angry.

hands that were fisted into his shirt turned into flat palms against his chest, shoving him away hard enough for him to be a few steps away from her. her hair turned a deep red, eyes flicking up to him with irises that matched the deep red of her hair. her hands balled into small fists -- to keep herself from slapping him.

"you don't -- you don't get to do that remus," her nostrils flared, and even with the anger surging through her, "you don't get to -- keep telling me that you can't be in love with me and can't be with me and then hours later just -- kiss me. that's not fair." tonks hated how her lips tingle after their kiss -- and how much she wanted to desperately kiss him again. she hated that she was reeled in so easily by him -- but there was no hatred for him. there never could be. anger. sadness.

but she could never hate him.

"you left," her voice was a whisper, and had her fingers not been bandaged up her nails would have been digging into her palms, "you left because it was such an unbearable thing for you to love me. that's -- you're -- it's not fair to make me miss you and then come back and argue with me again about how you think you're not good enough for me -- and then kiss me." her voice cracked and trembled, still angry but still feeling that deep sadness in the pit of her stomach.

"don't kiss me then tell me you can't love me. please. that's worse than just leaving."

[rgbwings]

Do you think v1 and v2 knew each other before hell? And if so what do you think their relationship was like?

I doubt they actually met because V2 prototype wasn't a thing while V1 was still relevant and being tested. Once the war was over and the money invested in the first prototype became a problem, the company just stopped spending much time in V1, keeping it dormant, deactivated while simultaneously used to prepare their next project, V2. Surely maaaany things were taken from the first V model and adapted to the new one.

There was probably a lot of pressure set upon the company's engineers and robotic specialists to take as much advantage from V1 for V2's design. We cannot afford new, innovate ideas, just copy what we have and program it differently. Go for a cheaper, less warfare oriented technology, people need protection, not a weapon. Cannot sell this thing otherwise.

Considering V2's meant to accomplish a different function, it was programmed and tested several times. Since it's function is to protect, a good machine needs a flawless, unquestionable, integration of Asimov's laws, a flawless execution and a flawless calculation of priorities. Variables must always aim to what's best for a person's sake. V2 was surely learning a lot, especially morality, creativity at decision making, among other things such as fixing one or two things in their body. And well, people talked, commented about V1 and how V2 was designed around it. Being meant to serve people made it a good listener. It loved to listen, to learn, to surpass the expectations.

Comments such as "V2 performs identically to V1 in combat but doesn't know how to exploit it's durability" (of course it doesn't know, V2 fights like V1) may have been a common critique to hear for the second prototype. The machine probably never had the chance to see their predecessor, however it knew it had to prove it's worth to be considered good enough to salvage the company.

Oh, how much they loved people when V2 achieved little things by itself, by utilizing its creativity and highly adaptive program. The nice comments were nice, but it always knew that, deep down, people were still comparing it to V1. And V2 never understood why V1 was such a great comparison point besides similarities in their designs.

When they finally met, it turned out V2 was better at so many things except one. A flaw that didn't come from themself, but from their creators. Because they adapted all possible aspects from V1 to V2, except one.

Something V2 would never be able to change because it wasn't it's own incapability but a limitation by design. And that's just so unfair.

And to apply salt to the injury, they're retrocompatible.

Wouldn't that fill you with resentment?

[space-ninja-fashion-show]

your turn. pride. your guys. what do they do.

habits, customs, little details. i want to know All

Okay after half a fuckin month of forgetting about this, here we go

In general my approach to Queer Shit in my worldbuilding here is that the "norm" of cis/het/etc still Exists, but there is a bit less overt discrimination against queer ppl as there is in our world, things like platonic marriage and polyamory are a bit less "niche," etc, and a violent approach to queer ppl is generally considered to be fuckin stupid

Different communities celebrate pride at different times of their local year, and what exactly they're celebrating differs with it. The core ofc is Queer Identity, but the focus besides varies: community, acceptance, love, perseverence, history. The pride celebrated by Tenno and their allied factions takes place during early summer by Earth timekeeping (the timekeeping all Tenno relays use and various allied colonies at the v least keep track of besides their own local time) and has an emphasis on community and diversity, whereas for example the Ostron observe the Tenno pride as a smaller event and have their own bigger one during March.

As for other factions:

The Corpus celebrate pride at the same time as the tenno for Relevance but it's almost entirely a corporate thing. A lot of Corpus defectors are shocked to learn that outside of their birth faction, pride isn't in fact about how much your superiors pretend to care about your feelings, or putting rainbow flags on the orb mothers patrolling the Vallis.

The Grineer just…don't. At all. As a society they don't really have a concept of queer identity in general, and pride is just a foreign culture thing even to those who defect. Some end up picking it up once allied with the Tenno, others remain indifferent.

Some of the Orokin had the same rainbow capitalism approach that the Corpus have since perfected, while others looked upon the pride celebrations with disdain, but seldom did any of them participate. What did non-Orokin have to be proud of? What identity was there for them to celebrate? Please, it's ridiculous.

You know the big banners hung up on Tenno relays? Some of those get swapped for pride flags for the celebration. Marches are still a thing, space and peace permitting, but not the end all, be all: the core event differs from culture to culture and location to location. Marches yes, but also picnics, feasts, dances, faires, whatever you could think of. The throughline is the pride flags, the celebration of queerness, and community

It takes ppl a bit of getting used to, to see warframes out and about during pride celebrations. What are the war machines doing participating in pride? But as more of them wake, as they become more of a common sight, as the truth about the Tenno eventually spreads among their allies, ppl get more used to them. Not just at pride, but any festival in general

Also I'm canonising my pride syandanas. Warframes wearing decorative armour and cloth in the colours of pride flags. Body paint is also popular among them. By nature most of them refuse to settle for small accessories, at the v least outside of combat

The first pride the group experience post-Awakening comes before TNW still so it's only Kohlrabi, Alden, Keiko, Lanius, and ofc Ordis at the time. The kids are all for it, especially Kohlrabi, and Lanius is really excited to take them down to Strata Relay about it to meet up with Hako and see the festivities kick off for the month, while Alden is more subdued about it (he's too busy repressing happy memories from his old life to really get excited)

The second one is post-TNW and once everyone is already around :)

Okay this is where i devolve into more disconnected points

North…forgot, that pride is a thing, during their time in Duviri, and is eventually reminded of it. They've always viewed themself as genderless, but haven't thought about their identity beyond that since before the Zariman, having had no care for it as a kid and then no spare brainspace as a prisoner in their own world. It's only after getting out and having the peace to Think that they settle into "aroace" and it makes their first pride in their remembered life exciting for them

Alden and Kodiak celebrated pride with their rebel group back in the day, about a halfway split between queer stuff and community. Once they both start reconciling with their past properly, they have traditions and stories they can bring along into the present. Alden's second pride as a conscious warframe is a lot better than his first

The homebase of Darius and his family (technically a clan dojo but it is never referred to as such for Reasons) is decked out in flags for pride and every year there's a few they forget to take down. Darius is gay as hell and loves pride and is very very excited about it while Tekla's identity is largely "do not perceive me" but they like pride nonetheless bc of the emphasis on being comfortable with who you are, where you are. Mae is the no1 project leader for decorating

Okay this is where i ran out of steam, I hope this is sufficient for now D:

[garyroachsanderson]

talking about my ultrakill oc (maybe.. sona??) because i feel like it anyway.

i’ll post an image of them later, but i started thinking of them after i had beaten ultrakill. their name is VVI-80 REROUTER, or VVI or Rerouter. technically, they’re v-6 (vi) but they like being referred to as how you would pronounce ‘Vivi’. their arm name is Rerouter, like V-2 Knuckleblaster or V-1 Feedbacker. their name is rerouter because they help other machines get back on track if they’ve strayed from their path, like adjusting programming or working on internal wounds. after the 30th model they were gifted with the knowledge of human anatomy so they could help them as well. they have two thin antennae on the top of their head, which are able to detect heartbeats. this was very useful in the war so they would not waste time trying to save a dead body under rubble.

their physical features are rather mismatched. their left wing is smaller, like a ‘lucky fin’ of sorts. this mean that they struggle to fly, and can only usually glide for 4 seconds or so. they have a grappling hook stored in the pocket of their arm which was supposed to be disabled when they were created but they adjusted themselves to keep it. they’re notorious for being a ‘field doctor’, of sorts, as the VVI line was.

the VVI model line was quickly discontinued as many began to stray from their original path and disobey their creators by adjusting their programming. 6-80 (our VVI) managed to stay under their creators nose and never disobeyed an order, despite often tweaking their programming and chips to keep certain appendages and abilities. after the 30th VVI was created, they quickly realized that these machines needed self-defense tactics. so, their forearms/hands were able to unsheathe and turn into blades. they also have ‘claws’ on their hand which they are able to sheathe. these ‘claws’ are knife-like blades that replace their fingers.

before the fall of humanity, the VVIs began to communicate with other machines. the VVIs were some of the only machine types created with a voice box. often, to soothe human children who found themselves in the machine’s care. their voices were soft and husky in order not to scare their patients. if activated with the correct words, most of these machines will enter a ‘child lock’ in which their blades were stalled and they were physically unable to bring out their blades, which was QUICKLY removed after the 83rd model when their enemies began to realize this, and started saying the words to deactivate them.

on their chest, these machines have a box-like compartment with the staff of caduceus on it. two snakes upon a pole with wings. upon the VVI fleet’s descent into hell, they were quickly confused with being machines of Minos himself, and they became most popular in the lust layer. they believed that the machines were some sort of sign sent by minos. when gabriel arrived, he destroyed as many of the machines as he could find, enraged by the symbol.

this machine thrives off blood but is able to survive for extremely long periods when they have it in their system. they usually steal a bit of blood from their patients.

i’ll write more later maybe

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Matrix Resurrections (2021)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

In its defense, The Matrix Revolutions did say that we might one day see Neo again so The Matrix Resurrections doesn’t come out of nowhere. It even introduces some interesting ideas in its first half - only to abandon them in favor of familiar territory.

Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves) is the creator of a video game series called The Matrix. Upon release, it revolutionized the gaming world and now, Warner Bros. wants another chapter. Having based many of the characters in the game on his real life, Tom worries revisiting the world will cause his past mental health issues to return in force. How could they not when his partner at the company, Smith (Jonathan Groff), irritates him, he keeps running into the woman that inspired Trinity (Tiffany, played by Carrie-Anne Moss) and events from the adventures in Zion creep into his psyche despite repeated sessions with his therapist (played by Neil Patrick Harris)?

I like what this film does in the beginning. What is this? Another layer of the Matrix in which Neo has been tricked into believing he’s just an ordinary person who dreamed up the war between humans and machines? Is this the next version of the chosen one after something went wrong and Zion was destroyed? Could it be something different altogether? The original trilogy defined the early 2000s action genre. It feels strange to see Keanu Reeves reprise his role in a world that’s so much like it was back then but also… not. People are glued to their cellphones and the originality of The Matrix is being turned into a soulless franchise by the corporate machine. It’s meta in a way that feels smart and seeing Tom in endless meetings where people insist this new Matrix can’t be just “another reboot, retread, regurgitated” while they provide no innovative ideas is an even more hellish prison than the cubicles we saw Neo escape from. The way the colour blue is so clearly present in each therapy session, combined with the parallels between the ordinary people and the icons from the trilogy of films (shown through archival footage) make you wonder what’s happening. Or at least, they would if the movie didn’t give it all away in a scene that introduces a bunch of new characters, played by Jessica Henwick and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II.

It’s pretty obvious that we are, indeed, seeing Neo and Trinity in some new digital prison. That’s not necessarily bad but it does show that director Lana Wachowski (more likely, the studio) didn’t have much confidence in the audience. Once Neo catches up to us, details about the world prove things have changed since we last saw these characters… but only superficially. By the time the second hour begins, we’re just seeing the same things we saw before: Neo and Trinity fighting against the Matrix, Agent Smith causing trouble and the artificial prison trying to keep everyone in check. I would’ve much rather seen some of the events mentioned in passing play out, like a machine v machine war for energy, a great purge within the Matrix that saw many familiar faces deleted (though not all; there are some eye-rolling cameos), or the rebuilding of the human civilization. What we get instead, I’m sorry to say, feels an awfully lot like “another reboot, retread, regurgitated”.

The action scenes are fine. There are a couple of new tricks brought up but nothing compares to the excitement we saw in the first three movies. The special effects are solid but again, they don’t dazzle the way they did back in the day. Everything feels nerfed because we know Thomas Anderson is just a cage Neo is trying to break out of, and the mystery comes to us half-solved. Say what you will about the Matrix sequels. Maybe not all of it made sense, maybe they weren’t as deep as they thought they were but they were memorable. You have vivid memories of that highway chase with the twins, of that endless wave of sentinels rushing towards those mech suits, etc. Resurrections does not feel like an uncompromised idea; it feels like another piece of an IP.

I actually watched the film twice to cement how I felt about it and enjoyed it more the second time. I still feel that we didn’t need another Matrix and that what it brings could’ve been used better elsewhere. At one point, Tiffany asks “How do you know if you want something or if your upbringing programmed you to want it?” and the picture touches upon this idea that when you become successful, fans will analyze something to death, finding all sorts of meanings in things that probably didn’t have any in the first place. Those are great ideas that don’t pay off. If you choose to watch The Matrix Resurrections anyway, do yourself a favor and skip the scene at the end of the credits. It’s one of the worst I’ve seen in I don’t know how long. (March 2nd & 3rd, 2022)

[flgproductions]

Blue: "Eh-?? What?? A Wizard?? The hell do ya-" Yellow: "Ey! Heads up! Some Marines are comin' 'ere!" Red: "Control said they're here to guard us. But if what Green said is true... everyone, keep your distance. I'll speak with 'em to-" Green: "No." The three other color coordinated dwarves glanced over at Green. Green: "...If anyone's gonna talk to 'em, let it be me." Red: "Wha-? Green?" Green: "Just gotta make sure they stay outta the castle, if we're to trust a Wiz-" ' C R U N C H - ! ! ' [ H O S T I L E I N R A N G E ] [ D W A R F D E T E C T E D ] [ K I L L ! A L L ! D W A R V E S ! ] Red: "DAH-!?!" Yellow: "OH-?!" Blue: "UH-! THE WALL!?" Suddenly, to the right side of the Dread Barons that were coming their way?! A force of at least 5 Nemesis Robots come smashing through the wall! A long tunnel-path behind them, being dug out and going unheard in the midst of the explosive battle around them! Green: "Urgh-!? BARONS, TO YOUR RIGHT!!" Dread Baron Soldiers: "UGHAGH-! AMB- AAAH-!!" "DAMNIT-!! HROOOO- UAGH-!" "UOOGAAH-?!" "FILTHY SCRAP! RELEASE- DUOGHUH-!!" Yellow: "Agh-! Hell on Hoxxes-!" Blue: "Should we save 'em!? We-" Red: "NO! WAIT! Green: "STAY BACK!" Blue: "Wha-?!" Several Patrol Robots and Shredders follow behind the Nemesis, turning their focus to the Power Scales while the Nemesis Robots are grabbing up the Marines meant to aid them! Blue: "AHHH-!" Yellow: "They're coordinating-!?" Red: "POWER SCALES: DIAMOND FORMATION!" The sounds of a turret being swiftly built can be heard on the line. Red: "I GOT PATROL BOTS! BLUE AN' YELLOW, SHREDDAS! GREEN, GET THE NEM-" Green: "No need." Red: "Wha-?!" Dread Baron Chief: " G r r r r r r - ! " Seeing his brothers in danger... the Chief of the Barons decides it was time for him to act. He reaches his left arm around his side to his back. He pulls forth an enormous slab of heavily refined, electromagnetic-shield producing plating that looked like a slab of black steel with handles on the back. An enormous tower shield that created its own barriers. His right arm reaches over his shoulder, grabbing onto a massive blast-jackhammer mechanism with a spearhead at the tip. Capable of launching the piercing projectile up to 250 meters in one swing to crush and pierce through multiple foes at once, and then pull it back just as quickly while exploding them from within. The scales would come to know how such a weapon worked... when the enormous dwarven war chief bounded through the air to rapidly approach the position of said Mining Squadron through the air to end up directly beside his bretheren of battle. He drags his arm with the spear back, the weapon produces steam as the pistons in the back of the weapon burst out, and- Dread Baron Chief: " D R I I Y Y Y A A A A A A A H H H H H ! ! ! " ' C R A A A C K - ! ! ' . . .

The spear head is launched out, attached to the weapon by a line of steel. Five Nemesis Robots. Pierced clean through, and out the other side. Frozen in mid-air. Shish kabobbed across the steel line through the gaping tears in their metal. Then, to add insult to their destruction: Dread Baron Chief: " M p h ! " ' W r o o o - ' ' S M A S H ! ! ' He drags the machines overhead, smashing them down into the rock and crushing them to scrap metal. Their cores remaining punctured on the spear. The Dreads that were captured hit the ground hard, but come out just fine otherwise. But that's not all-! Dread Baron Chief: " T O H ! " ' B a w i i f f - ! ' 'BOOM-crack-rattlerattle-BANG!' ...One swing of that shield. And the Shredder Cloud and the Patrol Bots were blown away by an elecric shockwave, SMASHING them into the wall behind them so they fall apart! The Power Scales stand frozen. Stunned by such effortless destruction. Except for Green... who just stood there, smiling with his arms crossed. After his work was complete, the Chief turns to his soldiers whom he just rescued. They stood to attention in seconds. Dread Baron Chief: " . . . G o . T u n n e l ." Dread Baron Soldiers: "CHIEF!" The soldiers run off down the tunnels the Nemesis bots came from to investigate. The chief, himself, turns to the Scales. Setting his weapons away again. Red, Blue, and Yellow do as Mission Control suggested. Lowering to their knees, kneeling before the chief. Green... steps forwards. Red: "Wha-? Green-?!" Yellow: "Ey, Green-!?" Blue: "Wha-?! What's that idiot-?!" Green raises his right arm in a fist, pounding the left side of his chestplate. Then the right side. Then his helmet's forehead before lowering his arm again. Green: "...Chief."

The Chief... follows the same motion. Dread Baron Chief: " . . . B r o t h e r . " Without another word, the Big Dread Baron himself marches off. Headed down the tunnel the Nemesis bots came from to watch over his brothers in battle. The Power Scales slowly rise. All 3 of the ones who knelt turn to Green. Red: " . . . Brother?" Green: " . . . Long story." Hmm... perhaps Control should look into that sometime...?

"CONTROL!! CONTROL, DO YOU READ ME!? WHERE DID- AUGH!!" 'POWF-POWF-POWF-POWF-POWF!" 'DAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAK-!!' 'BAMBAM-! BANG-POW-BOOM! CRACK-KABOOM!'

Mission Control finally re-establishes contact with Red of the Power Scales, and suddenly: It sounds like a damn warzone behind him. A common occurence with most missions that MC watched over, but this particular case was likely a nightmare after what he learned just moments prior. Especially with the familiar noises of-

"[ T A R G E T A C Q U I R E D ]"

"[ H O S T I L E I N R A N G E ]"

"[ A T T A C K I N I T I A T E D ]"

Rival tech?!

Red: "DUGAGH-! CONTROL!! WHERE DID YOU GO!? PLEASE COME IN! IT'S A MADHOUSE DOWN HERE! RIVALS-! RIVALS EVERYWHERE!! STORMING THE CAVE FROM NOWHERE!! SEVERAL NEMESIS-"

Blue: "RED, PATROL BOTS!! ABOVE YOU!!" Red: "Uh-!? DAMNIT-!"

'BANG!! BANGBANGBANG!! BOOM!'

Yellow: "THAT'S A LOT OF SHREDDAH'S-!!" Green: "BLUE! YOUR VOLTSWEEPERS-!" Blue: "ALMOST DRY ON 'EM!" Green: "HELL-!!" Red: "LURE THEM OVER THE GEYSERS! LIGHT 'EM ON FIAH!"

We’ve got a contingent of Marines inbound, Miner. Hold fast.

[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[little-fam-ily]

Build a Bear (Sanders Sides Agere Oneshot)

Read it on ao3

Rating: G

Word Count: 4,079

Characters: CG Logan and Patton, Agere Virgil

Pairings: Queerplatonic Analogical, platonic Analogicality

Warnings: Kink mention

Summary: In which Logan and Virgil take a trip to Build a Bear (brought to you by a Build a Bear employee).

Virgil’s eyes widened as he stared at the commercial on the TV. It was for Build a Bear, talking about how you can put different sounds in ‘your new furry friends’. He smiled around his pacifier. “Lolo!” He called to Logan, his caregiver.

Logan popped his head in from the kitchen, “What is it?” 

Virgil pointed to the TV. Logan was able to catch just the end of the ad. “Virgil, I don’t think-” He stopped himself as he looked at Virgil’s wide, pleading eyes. “Oh, oh Virgil, don’t,” He sighed, “You know what the puppy eyes do to me.”

Virgil just let out a whine. Logan looked at him sternly, “You know they’re very expensive, Virgil.”

He nodded, “I know…” He glanced away, cheeks red. Logan shook his head, thinking about it, “Well, it’s almost your birthday anyway, We’ll make a day of it.”

Virgil smiled wide, “Weally?”

Logan nodded, “Really really.”

Virgil jumped up and embraced him in a hug, squeezing tight, “T’ank you, Lolo!”

Soon the day came, and Virgil and Logan sat in the car, getting ready to go into the mall. Virgil was sucking his thumb, and Logan was looking at him with concern, “Do you think you can be big enough to pass?”

Virgil glanced at him, cheeks turning pink. He dragged his thumb out of his mouth, stopping at the tip where he could still bite down.

Logan sighed, “Better.” He paused before he spoke up again, “Virgil, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You don’t have to hide it if you don’t want to.”

Virgil whined, “I jus’, don’ wan’ people t’inking i’s kink.” He murmured around his thumb.

Logan nodded, “That’s understandable. But what we do is none of their business. I’m pretty sure the average person doesn’t care, and if they do, then they’re not a good person.”

Virgil glanced away. Logan let out a sympathetic breath, “Well, if you’re ready I’m ready.”

Virgil nodded. Logan stepped out of the car, then helped Virgil out of the car. They walked into the mall holding hands.

The line to Build a Bear was already a mile long. They got in, and Virgil was ancy with anticipation. The wait seemed like hours. Logan could tell he was getting impatient, so he squeezed his hand. They smiled at each other.

Finally they got to the door. They were greeted by a young woman with long brown hair and a wide smile. Her name tag read Valerie.

“Hey there! What brings you to the workshop today?” She smiled. Virgil panicked, looking to Logan for help.

“It’s his birthday next week, but I thought I’d take him early.” Logan turned to her. Her smile grew wider, “Wow, that’s great!” She got out a sharpie and a pack of stickers from her apron, “How old are you turning, sweetheart?”

Virgil took a deep breath, preparing himself to answer, “Twenty.”

“And your name?”

“V-” He started, but stopped himself, having to pause for another moment, “Virgil.”

She wrote everything down, tearing the sticker off and handing it to him, “And have you built a bear with us before?”

Logan and Virgil glanced at each other, then back to her, shaking their heads. 

Valerie kept her smile, “So to your left is the wall where we have our whole selection of bears to choose from. Once you pick your new friend you’ll head over to the sound station to pick any scents or sounds that you’d like. 

“Then you’ll come around over to that blue square where we’ll stuff your friend and perform the heart ceremony. After we get them stitched up you’ll go to the back wall to get their clothing and accessories, head to Station 4 to give them a name, and then you’ll be all ready to check out and take your new friend home!”

Virgil’s breathing became shallow. That was a lot to keep track of. Logan sensed his anxiety, squeezing his hand, “Ready to head on in?”

He looked at him, hesitantly nodding his head. Valerie opened the rope barrier and stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

They stepped in, and Virgil was already overwhelmed by the large selection of stuffed animals. There were more than bears, there were rabbits and cats and monkeys and unicorns. There were themed bears too, like Frozen and Star Wars and Paw Patrol.

Virgil’s eyes scanned the wall, biting down on his thumb hard. Logan stepped up to him, “I know it’s a lot to think about, and there are a lot of steps, but I remember all of it, and I will be with you every step of the way.”

Virgil nodded, then his eyes widened as they settled on a fluffy brown bear with the Harry Potter logo printed on its back paw. He pointed to it, “Harry Potter bear.”

Logan smirked, “You want that one? We can put some Ravenclaw accessories on it.”

Virgil smiled wide, nodding. He grabbed the unstuffed pelt and felt the fur, holding it close to his chest.

Logan smiled at his little, then noticed the birthday sticker still in his hand. “Here, let me help you with that,” He took the sticker, peeled it off the back, and stuck it right on Virgil’s jacket, “There we go.”

Virgil smiled at him, leaning on his chest. They stayed like that for a bit, then a young man with an apron walked up to them with a smile, “Have we picked our new friend?”

Virgil looked at Logan, then at the man, who’s name tag read Terrence, nodding.

“Alright! Right this way,” Terrence beckoned them over to a white counter with computers on each end. He reached for Virgil’s bear, “Can I see him real quick?”

Virgil glanced at Logan, then hesitantly handed over the pelt. Terrence pulled a sharpie out of his apron and started writing on the tag, “I see your name is Virgil, is that right?”

Virgil nodded. Terrence put the sharpie away, “And I can also see it’s your birthday! Well, have a very happy birthday,” He smiled, then continued, “Now, we have some scents you can choose from. We have strawberry, birthday cake, cotton candy, and bubblegum.”

Both Virgil and Logan took some time smelling the scents. “Strawberry,” Virgil decided.

“Alright!” Terrence got out his sharpie and wrote some things down on the tag, then took an unopened scent packet, peeled a sticker off, then stuck the sticker on the tag. The scent was a plastic disk shaped like a bear head.

“Now we get to pick a sound we put in the paw of the bear right here.” He showed them the right paw, which had a little heart shaped patch on it.

Virgil smiled. This was the part he was the most excited for. 

Terrence moved to one of the computer monitors, “Here is the sound station, we have a huge selection of sounds to choose from. You can scroll up and down as well as side to side. There are generic animal sounds, themed sounds from movies and TV. I see you picked a Harry Potter bear, maybe you’d like a Harry Potter sound?”

Virgil thought about it, scrolling through the Harry Potter selection. He looked, but decided it would be best to just pick the theme from the movie.

He pressed the icon, jumping at the loud noise coming from the computer. Logan grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb.

“Alright, I’m just gonna scan his tag really quick.” Terrence moved the tag under the scanner. “Now you’re going to grab one of those chips,” He pointed to a hole in the counter which housed a bunch of plastic sound bytes shaped like bear heads. Virgil did as he was told, holding it tight.

“Place it right here,” He pointed to a little divot in the counter where the chip fit perfectly. Virgil set it right in. Then Terrence pressed the ‘buy’ button on the screen, which started loading. It only took a couple of seconds for the sound to be transferred to the chip.

“Great! Now press it to see if it works.” Terrence smiled. Virgil pressed it, holding it up to his ear. That was a bad idea, as he immediately had to move it away.

“Looks like it works!” Terrence chuckled, then took the chip and pushed it into the bear’s paw. “You’re all set! Once that group is done with their heart ceremony you’ll move right on up to that blue square where my friend Mr. Patton will get this little guy all stuffed up for yah.”

Logan and Virgil nodded. “Thank you,” Logan smiled, then turned towards the machine. Virgil tried to get a look at what was going on up ahead, but they were too far away to see or hear anything.

The wait seemed like forever, but soon it was their turn. The young man working the machine got up from his chair and turned towards them, “Alright folks, are we all good to go?”

Virgil smiled slightly as he noticed a shiny they/them pin on their apron. They had a mop of curly brown hair on their head, and circular glasses were perched on their freckled nose.

He looked at Logan, then nodded. Patton smiled, “Great! I’m gonna have you come around this way to that blue square over there.” They pointed to a large blue sticker on the floor next to the front counter. It had white paw prints on it.

They both stepped on the square, waiting to get started.

“See, the thing about this machine is that it needs energy to get it working, right?” Patton started as they put the pelt on the nozzle. “So that means you gotta either hop hop hop! Or clap clap clap! Or wiggle wiggle wiggle! To get the machine running. Do you think you can do that, kiddo?”

Virgil’s eyes widened as he blushed at the pet name. Yes, he did indeed want to clap clap clap, or hop hop hop, or wiggle wiggle wiggle, but he didn’t want to do it alone. He tugged on Logan’s sleeve. Logan blinked, “Oh, do I? Do I have to do it too?”

“If you want!” Patton smiled. Logan sighed, rolling his eyes, but nodded.

“Alright, let’s do this!” Patton exclaimed as they turned on the machine. Logan and Virgil started clapping, and Patton stepped on a pedal, moving the bear around the nozzle to get the stuffing in every limb, its chest, and its head.

“Alright! Great job kiddo!” Patton smiled as they took their foot off the pedal and the bear off the nozzle, checking it themself to see if it was the right softness.

“Now for the scent. Do you want it in the head or the belly?” They asked. Virgil bit down on his thumb. There were so many decisions to make! It was getting a bit much.

Logan sensed this, “We’ll do it in the belly.”

“Okay,” Patton smiled, taking the disc out of its plastic sleeve and slipping it into the bear through the hole in the back. 

“Now we get to choose a heart! There’s either a red satin heart or a checkered heart.” Patton picked up two felt hearts from two bins on the machine and held them up, “Which one would you like, kiddo?”

Virgil’s eyes flitted between the two. After a pause Patton spoke up, "I know, it's a hard decision to make."

After another moment Virgil decided on the red one, pointing to it. Patton smiled, "Alright!" They placed the heart to the side, then picked another heart up, this one big and plastic, "We also have a beating heart option! We put it in the chest of the bear, and when you press down on it, it beats like a heart!"

Virgil’s eyes widened. He looked at Logan with them, pouting his lip a little. Logan smiled at him, giving him a nod. Virgil turned back to Patton, nodding enthusiastically.

"Okay!" Patton smiled, taking a heart, peeling the sticker off, and putting the sticker on the tag. They then placed the heart right in the front of the bear’s chest where a human’s heart would be.

“Now,” Patton said as they got up from their chair and took the now stuffed bear and the heart to the counter Logan and Virgil were standing next to. 

“We are going to perform what is called the ‘squish test’. Which means you take your new friend and you give him the biggest hug that you possibly can!” They wrapped their arms around themself, “To see if he’s either as soft or firm enough as you want.”

They turned to Logan, “And if he’s too firm we can always take stuffing out, and if he’s too soft we can always put stuffing in.”

Logan nodded, then turned to Virgil, “Do you want to give him a hug?”

Virgil nodded, walking up to where the bear was sitting and grabbing it, feeling its arms, legs, chest, and head. He then embraced it in his arms, holding it as tight as he could. He smiled as he felt the pulsing of the heartbeat.

“Is he good?” Patton asked. Virgil turned to him, nodding. 

“Perfect!” They smiled, “If you would put your friend back on the hug station, we are going to perform the Heart Ceremony,” They put emphasis on the last two words, “The most important step in this entire process! You’re going to take your heart.”

It took a minute for the request to process in his brain, but Virgil went back to the counter, put the bear back where it was sitting, and grabbed his heart.

“Now we gotta get it beating, alright kiddo? So you’re going to take it, hold it up like this,” They held it high above their head. Virgil did the same.

“And you gotta wiggle it like this!” Patton started waving their hand around. A smile broke out on Virgil’s face as he mimicked their movements. They wiggled for a moment, Patton giggling, “Do you think you got it beating, kiddo?”

Virgil nodded, smile not fading. Patton smiled at him, “Alright, now you’re going to go to your new friend, and you gotta wave it in his ears so that he’s a good listener!”

Virgil stepped over to the bear and waved the heart over its ears.

“Wave it on his arms so he can give you great big hugs!”

He waved it over its arms.

“Wave it on his legs so he can run and play with you all day!”

He waved it over its legs.

“Now grip your heart, hold it close, and make a great big wish!”

He held it close to his chest, closed his eyes and made his wish, I wish for me and Logan to live together forever.

“Did you make your wish?” Patton smiled. Virgil opened his eyes, smiling back as he nodded.

“Great! Now you get to do the honor of putting that heart into your friend through the hole in the back.”

Virgil grabbed the bear and shoved the heart in as far as it could go. 

Patton gave a nod, “Alright, now if you would put your friend back on the hug station and step right back on that blue square, I’m gonna do the hard job of stitching him up, okay?”

Virgil nodded, doing as he was told. Patton stepped up to the counter and started pulling on the stitches. They glanced at Virgil's sticker, “I see it’s your birthday today!”

“In a week,” Logan corrected them. They nodded, “Oh! Okay, well, happy early birthday!” They looked closer, “And you’re turning twenty! Wow! I turned twenty this January!”

“Interesting.” Logan commented. Patton tied the last knot, cutting the extra string off. “Alright! This little guy is good to go! I’m gonna have you come around this way,” they pointed to their right, “to the back to pick out his clothing and accessories. Then you’ll take that tag to station 4 and scan it to give him his name!”

“Alright, thank you.” Logan smiled, leading Virgil around the direction Patton pointed them towards. Virgil looked back one last time to see Patton waving at him. He waved back shyly.

Thankfully the Harry Potter clothing section was right next to the stuffed animal section. Virgil’s eyes scanned the wall. He definitely wanted the traditional robes and a wand. But then he spotted a Quidditch uniform, along with a broom and a snitch.

He gasped slightly, turning to Logan, who nodded, “You can get both outfits if you’d like.”

Virgil whined, “But i’s ‘spensive…” He glanced away, biting his thumb.

Logan chuckled, “Virgil, it’s your birthday, and it’s you. You’re worth it. Besides, I’m getting paid soon anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.”

Virgil scrunched his nose, but took both the normal uniform and accessories and the Quidditch uniform and accessories off the hangers. He had to get on his tip-toes to reach some of them, but he got the hang of it.

“I’m guessing he’s a seeker, hm?” Logan hummed. Virgil nodded. Logan gave a nod back, “Alright, let’s give him a name, shall we?”

They walked over to the back corner on the other side of the store, where Station 4 was. Logan pressed some buttons, scanned the tag, and a menu popped up asking them to put in information for the bear’s birth certificate.

Now it was time to pick a name. Virgil bit down on his thumb, thinking very hard. Logan tilted his head, “What would you like to name him?”

Virgil smiled mischievously, “Logan!”

Logan scoffed, “Virgil, please. Pick an original name!”

“I’s original! ‘N Logan’s my favorite name!” Virgil beamed, turning back to the screen and typing in the name, “Logan the seeker.”

After the bear’s birth certificate was printed out, they walked up to the cash register. The young man standing at the register’s name tag read Joan. “Alright, are we all set?”

Logan nodded, putting all their findings on the counter. Virgil bit down on his thumb as he watched Joan scan the tags, starting to zone out. He wasn’t really interested in this part.

“Would you like to dress it here or when you get home?” Joan asked him. His eyes widened as he was snapped out of his daydreaming. He looked at them, then at Logan, then back to them. “Um, home,” He responded, now ancy to leave.

“Alright, would you like to hold it or put it in a box?” They asked. Virgil whined a bit under his breath. This was way too many questions for one day. “Box.”

Joan nodded at his firm answer. “Alright, with all of the accessories, your total comes out to one hundred and thirty five dollars, and forty five cents.”

Virgil gasped, looking at Logan with concern. That was a huge number. Logan just smiled at him reassuringly, “It’s alright Virgil, I really don’t mind,” He turned to Joan, “He’s a little concerned with money right now.”

“Oh I totally understand that,” They gave a smile, “I mean, I’m working two jobs and even I can’t afford to pay rent sometimes.” They turned back to the computer, muttering to themself, “Late stage capitalism.”

They took the bear and put it in a box, then bagged up all the clothes, “You should be all set. Oh! It’s your birthday! We have to ring the birthday bell!”

As they picked up a large bell from the shelf behind them, Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand, “It’s going to make a very loud noise, Virgil.”

Virgil looked at him as he braced himself. The loud ring of the bell crashed in his ears, running through his entire body. He cringed as he shut his eyes, stopping himself from covering his ears.

Then it was over, and he was able to open his eyes again. Logan leaned into his ear, “Good job.” He smiled. Virgil smiled back.

Then they were all good to go. Logan took the box and the bag, and grabbed Virgil’s hand as he led both of them out.

“Have a good day, kiddo!” Patton called with a smile as they walked past the machine. They both glanced at them. “Thank you.” Logan said before finally reaching the door.

“So, what did you wish for during the heart ceremony?” Logan asked as they took their purchases and headed for other stores, mostly Hot Topic.

“I tan’t tell you!” Virgil teased, “Or it won’t tome true.”

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

Patton smiled to themself as they walked into the back room, unlocking their locker and taking their backpack out. Once they made sure everything was still in check, they took their apron off and slipped it in their locker, closing it and locking it again.

Today was another great day at work. Patton loved their job, really loved their job. They got to interact with all the cute kids and families that came in, and they adored all the smiles and giggles the heart ceremony provided.

There was always at least one memorable family that came in, and today it was a young couple, one of which had his birthday today. His name was Virgil, Patton remembered.

He was memorable because of one fact. Patton could see it in his eyes, in his posture, in his energy.

Patton got to meet a little.

They themself had been a babysitter for a couple of years now. Their friend Roman was a little, and when her partner Janus was busy, Patton got to babysit her. It brought them a lot of comfort and happiness, and they one day hoped to have a little of their own.

A pang of disappointment hit their chest. Virgil seemed so adorable and fun and loving, but it looked like he already had a caregiver. But they were happy for him nonetheless.

They brought themself out of their thoughts as they headed on out, waving goodbye to their coworkers. Their brisk walking speed got them to the food court fairly quickly, where they planned to have sushi for lunch.

But their eyes widened as they caught sight of a couple across the food court. It was Virgil and his caregiver! A smile broke out on their face, and they knew they had to take this opportunity to get to know them better.

They rushed to Virgil’s table, slowing down a bit as they got closer, “Hey! You guys are still here!”

They both turned to them, and Virgil jumped, quickly taking his thumb out of his mouth. His caregiver nodded, “Yes, we took a bit of time to do some extra shopping and get some food.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I was able to catch you guys! It was just the end of my shift so…” They smiled, trailing off a bit. “We didn’t really get to actually meet. I’m Patton!” They held out their hand.

“Logan,” Virgil’s caregiver took it, shaking firmly. Virgil just waved slightly, “Virgil.”

“Yeah, well, it was really nice to meet you guys! I hope you had fun, I always do.” They laughed nervously, trying so desperately not to make it awkward.

“Yes, I can confirm that our experience was most enjoyable, don’t you agree, Virgil?” Logan said, then turned to him. He nodded with a small smile on his face.

Patton stood there for a moment. They knew what they wanted to do, they just didn’t know if they had the guts to actually do it. “Hey, I don’t usually do stuff like this, but, can I get your guys’ Instagrams?”

“Oh, I don’t have one, but, Virgil? If that’s alright with you?” Logan asked him. He looked to Logan, then to Patton, but eventually nodded. 

Patton smiled wide, “Great! Uh, here’s my phone, you can just put it in.” They handed Virgil their phone. He took it, quickly typing in his username in the search bar. He handed it back to them, a shy smile on his face.

“Great! Thank you! Again, it was really nice meeting you!” Patton beamed.

“It was a pleasure meeting you as well, Patton.” Logan responded. Virgil nodded in agreement.

Patton let out a sigh of relief, giving one last wave before heading down the food court the other way. They couldn’t help but continue to smile as they skipped along, soon reaching the sushi restaurant. They didn’t know how yet, but they knew this was the start of something special.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team,  and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.” 

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @missmiimiie @stateofgracious @mooons-isabelle @doilooklikeiknow

[theasstour]

𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕.𝟕𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

Tuesday, 13 December 2017

Tooley Street was always busy, whether there were a horde of people walking to and from the riverside and underground, or cars driving by at a ridiculous speed. London Bridge station on the other side of the road to where Y/N and the gang sat at Caffé Nero, looked like a small insect in comparison to The Shard that reached like a pillar above the partly cloudy winter sky. The blue painted brick building beside it, The Shipwright Arms pub, was a lively addition to an otherwise very bleak street.

The winter wind by the riverside was horrendous, but Y/N had offered to come with Annalise on her cigarette break, so she had only herself to blame for exposing herself to more of the biting cold than completely necessary. From where the two were sitting, they could just make out Tower Bridge behind them, bare trees rising up along the streets that indicated summer was long gone and winter had arrived.

Y/N had spent a lot of time just sitting outside the last few days. Whether it was on a bench by Regent’s Canal, in the grass at Shoreditch Park, or at a table outside a café with a coffee in hand. She had just been sitting there, staring out at nothing. Thinking. All she had been doing since finding that watch was think.

She had tried to find some kind of logical explanation as to why that watch had the coordinates for her family’s Newport cabin, but there was none. What kind of connection did George have to Newport? To that cabin? Had he just fucked her and left it there because he knew who Y/N’s sister was? And where was George now? She had not seen him since that night in October, was he still around? Or had Y/N just missed him when he had been, and this had all just been a huge coincidence. But Y/N somehow knew, deep down, that this was far from a coincidence and she should not treat it as one.

“You have to come to Monnickendam,” Annalise said, blowing out a puff of white smoke.

Y/N looked away from a man across the street who was arguing passionately with someone on his phone. Shoving the thoughts of the watch that was laid on her desk in her room, out of her head. She had not told anyone about it, this was not something she wanted everyone to know about because she had no idea what it meant. The only person that knew was Harry, and she would like to keep it that way.

“I’ve never been to the Netherlands,” Y/N said.

“Even more of a reason to come.”

Y/N smiled. “Buzzing. I haven’t travelled much in Europe, mostly been to Brazil with my family.”

“When you come to Monnickendam, we have to take the train to, like, Germany or France. Andorra is also so beautiful, I think you’re gonna love it.”

“Make a roadtrip out of it.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N’s smile grew. “Had you been to London before you came here for school?”

Annalise brought the cigarette up to her mouth. “Loads of times.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we went here around Easter in 2012 the first time, and I fell in love. Went here four more times, then to an Open Day last year.”

Y/N nodded. “Was Helmond your first choice then? Did you like it the best?”

“No, Battersea was, but I’m happy I ended up at Helmond.” Annalise breathed out white vapour. “Helmond’s prettier.”

Y/N laughed. “The aesthetic is more important than the uni itself, innit? If you can’t take decent Instagram pictures there, what’s the point of spending the next three years at that place?”

Annalise laughed along with Y/N, taking a last drag. “I rarely use Instagram.”

“I used to. I loved to like document my life, to let all my friends and family know what I was doing at all times. But then I found Snapchat, and it’s just better.”

“You know that if you, like, save a picture or video in the Snapchat app, Snapchat owns it?”

Y/N blinked.

“At least what someone at home told me once.”

“Doesn’t Instagram do the same?” Y/N asked.

“Think so,” Annalise said, walking over to the litter and stumping her cigarette out in the ash tray on top of it. “Ground rule: don’t save anything onto social media. Anyone can save and see your pictures.”

“Basically,” Y/N mumbled, looking over at the man she had watched earlier. He was still arguing with someone over the phone.

“Ready to head back inside?” Annalise asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N got up and the two strolled back over to the Caffé Nero their three other mates were sat in. Thian, Hayden, and Chloe were all sat with their laptops in front of them and books in the centre of the table behind their screens. Chloe was talking animatedly as Y/N and Annalise approached, Hayden busy with something on the laptop in front of them while Thian sat with a book in his hands, looking at Chloe as she spoke. Y/N took off her puffer jacket, hanging it off the back of her chair as she sat down, adjusting her black V-neck jumper and loose denim jeans.

“…the problem isn’t that. The problem is the fact that they never clean up after themselves. That’s the problem,” Chloe said, groaning loudly. “And when I ask in the flat groupchat if anyone wanna be social, no one answers. I swear, all of them hate me.”

“Maybe they’re just busy,” Thian suggested.

“They always say that, but I know two of the boys are in Dave’s room playing something on that PlayStation.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “Should I learn how to play FIFA?”

“You don’t have to impress them,” Y/N said, turning her laptop back on to finish the essay for Critical Reading that was due that Friday.

“No, I know. But if I want to hang out with anyone in my flat, I gotta do something. What games do you play in the PlayStation, Thian?”

Thian stared at Chloe for a second, mouth working before he mumbled, “I didn’t bring one to uni.”

“Alright, then what did you play at home?”

“Call of Duty.”

Chloe scrunched up her nose. “Isn’t that a war game?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I’m not into that.” Chloe grimaced, looking at something further away. “I’ve never really played PlayStation. One of the blokes I dated in college gamed a lot, but I couldn’t be asked to sit around and just watch.”

“The three in my flat play GTA,” Y/N said. “At least that’s what Nathan wants to play, Harry and Mason just go along.”

Chloe’s face instantly lit up. “Oh, my word, Y/N. You have to make Harry teach me how to play something on the PlayStation.”

There was a slight pang in Y/N’s chest at the sound of his name leaving Chloe’s lips in that way. Y/N opened, then closed her mouth, then opened it again. “I don’t really hang out with them when they play it. I’ve had so much to do these past months.”

“That’s fine, Nathan can keep us company,” Chloe said, leaning back in her seat. “Make Mason come, too. God-“ She grinned, letting her head fall between her shoulder blades. “-Your flatmates are fit.”

“Harry’s fitter than Mason,” Hayden chimed in.

“No, definitely Mason,” Annalise said.

“I can’t choose. Depends on my mood,” Chloe mused.

Thian kept quiet, staring pointedly at his laptop.

“Can you do it? Make them teach me?” Chloe begged, sticking her bottom lip out at Y/N.

Y/N took a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

Chloe grinned.

“They might be busy, too. Might not get to it till after Christmas break.”

Chloe waved her hand. “That’s fine. I just want to hang out with someone from my flat eventually.”

Y/N glanced down at her laptop again, trying to forget the conversation she had just had with the other three. Chloe continued chattering on about something of no significance, Y/N did not care to listen as she wanted to finish her essay before she had to leave for home coming Saturday. Though her coffee was cold now as she took a sip of it, Y/N still appreciated the taste of caffeine. It woke her up, made her more alert and focused.

Ever since she was seven years old, her papai had made her coffee to drink. He always said “coffee is as vital to a Brazilian’s existence as tea is to a Brit’s” and she had drunk it ever since. She loved the taste of it much more than tea, but seeing as tea was much easier to make, she had come to resort to it here in London. Home in Nottingham, there was always a brew in the making or one ready for whoever felt like having a cup, made with a proper coffee machine that Davi had invested proper money in. He had bought it back in 2001, and it worked just as well as it did back then. Y/N, like her papai, loved the coffee from that old coffee maker more than anything else. She could not wait until she was home with her parents so she could drink proper coffee all the time without going to the nearest coffee shop to do so. The instant coffee Nathan often made smelled and tasted rank, Y/N would have no other coffee than her papai’s and a cup made at a coffee shop.

“I’m gonna go buy a muff,” Hayden said, getting up from their chair. “This essay is doing my head in, I need something to sooth the pain.”

“Oh, could you buy me a scone?” Thian asked, putting his hands together as if he was begging on his knees. “I’ll pay with five stellar knock knock jokes.”

“Make it six.”

“Deal.”

The two shook hands and Hayden grinned as they looked at the other three. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Y/N and Annalise chuckled. “No thanks,” Y/N said, Annalise saying the same thing.

“No, I’ll just add to this,” Chloe said, patting at her stomach.

“Add to what?” Hayden asked.

“A belly.” Chloe gripped the little that was protruding from her tight denim jeans. “I’m trying to start working out for bikini season, to remove that extra uni weight, you know?”

Hayden looked absolutely lost, so did Thian, and Annalise looked to not be paying any attention at all. Y/N, however, felt a familiar pang in her chest. It was a small explosion she had felt before, one that would taint the rest of her day. Instinctively, she put her scarf around her chest, letting it fall over her stomach.

Hayden did not comment, instead they just walked up to the till, ready to tell the lady working there their order. The table fell silent, but not for the reason Y/N wanted it to. No, they were all just busy with their essays. Y/N knew that it would be impossible for her to concentrate on the assignment now that the only thing she would be thinking about for the rest of the day was Chloe’s comment. Chancing a look over at her friend, she saw her flicking through a book in her lap, completely unbothered, Annalise was cocking her head to the side as she wrote something on her Mac, while Thian was watching Hayden pay for their food. None of them had batted an eyelash. Which was nothing new, Y/N was used to no one picking up on covered up fatphobic comments.

She knew that Chloe had not said those things with her in mind, that the statement had been about her own body only. But Y/N could not help but feel the comment in her very soul. She could remember her mates from school in Nottingham making comments similar to that one, so hearing it wasn’t alien, but it stung as much as hearing it that first time.

“Here we go,” Hayden said, putting the scone down on Thian’s keyboard.

“Scones are so bloody good,” Thian moaned, taking a huge bite out of his. “If we had to fuck a food, I’d fuck scones.”

The table went quiet, all looking at Thian. He just continued on eating, humming some Alesso and Conor Maynard song that was always playing on the radio.

“Why did you just say that?” Hayden asked.

“Felt like sharing my thoughts with the class.”

Hayden raised their eyebrows before looking at the laptop in front of them. “The class did not need to know.”

Thian shrugged his shoulders and Annalise laughed, Chloe joining in after a little while. Y/N smiled at them, but her thoughts still drifted back to Chloe’s comments just a minute earlier. She spread her scarf out over her stomach, wishing she had worn something that wasn’t so tight fitted.

Friday, 15 December 2017

“Sorry we’re late,” Mason said as him and the rest of the rugby team streamed into the seminar room. Hayden, Y/N, Thian, Chloe, Annalise, Nathan, and Annalise’s two friends were all sat around one table, already having started a round of Uno.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hayden smiled. “I’ve put Uno decks on the other tables.”

“Cheers.”

Mason and the rest of the team sat down, all chatting amongst themselves and letting go of heavy sighs as they took their seats. It was clear that the last training session for the team this year had not only been cold, but also immensely tiring. They all looked very ready to travel home for Christmas break, and it looked like a few already had.

Y/N felt their struggle with the cold. She herself was wearing a mini linen skater dress in black. The skirt was loose, making it comfortable to hide her belly in – she had not stopped thinking about Chloe’s comment all week, but it would not stop her from looking really fucking good – and the waist was open, baring some of her skin and rib tattoo to everyone. Her skin protruded around the straps that were wrapped around her waist, connecting her skirt from her top, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she just tried to stay out of Chloe’s vision. The plunge neck revealed a very deep cleavage and skin, making it so Y/N had put on two silver necklaces to top of the outfit. The rest of the top had long sleeves and a nice collar, which was why Y/N had bought the dress. It was slutty, but in a modest way.

The rest of the gang around the table had also dressed up, ready to go out after this. They all had their last lecture of the semester today, meaning that their Christmas break had just started, and they wanted to celebrate before everyone travelled to their separate locations the next day. Chloe to Oxford, Thian to Bristol, Hayden to Sheffield, Annalise to Monnickendam, and Y/N back home to Nottingham. It would be weird not to meet up with them, to not go to lectures and stress about assignments for the next month. Then again, Annalise had made a Snapchat and Messenger group to ensure that the gang would talk every single day. And knowing her mates, Y/N was sure they would.

During a break between rounds, Y/N got up from their table after making sure that her polyamide shorts underneath her dress didn’t roll down her stomach. She wore them to prevent chafing, knowing that if she did not wear them underneath her skirt, it would be hard for her to wear anything the next day. She did the zip of her chunky sock boots before making her way over to Mason’s table.

“Alright, Y/N?” Mason said as she came closer, giving her a small smile.

“How’re you lot finding the society?” she asked, looking around the table, meeting Kai’s eyes.

Kai beamed. “Good, it’s nice to spend some time with the whole team off the rugby pitch.”

“You’re dressed up,” Mason pointed out. “What’s the occasion?”

“Uno Society.”

Mason smiled. “Trying to pull some rugby players, are ya?”

“No. No, rugby players.”

Mason only raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe her, smile widening.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just as unbearable as Harry sometimes.”

“Nah, Harry’s worse than me.”

“Right.” Y/N took a big breath. “Chloe over there, the blonde,” Y/N said, motioning behind her with a nod of her head. Mason’s gaze immediately fell on Chloe. “She’s wondering if you and Harry can teach her how to play the PlayStation.”

Mason blinked, looking over at Kai as the bigger man clapped his hands together before laughing.

“Is that funny?” Y/N asked.

“No, it’s not. I just knew Kai would react like that,” Mason said. “But I’ll do it. After Christmas at some point.”

“Nice, I’ll tell her that, then.”

“Why does she need someone to teach her how to play PlayStation?” Kai asked, and though there was laughter in his voice, Y/N could tell his question was sincere.

“Some blokes in her flat never want to be social, they just stay in this one room playing PlayStation, and she’s kinda left out ‘cause she doesn’t really know how to play.”

“That might not work out,” Kai said, smiling still.

“Worth a shot, either way.”

“Maybe she just wanna spend time with this hunk,” Kai grinned, putting a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Or the other hunk that’s not here.”

“Speaking of him,” Y/N said, putting a hand on her hip. “Not that I care, but where is he?”

Kai grinned, sitting back in his chair. “You don’t care? Not at all?”

“No, Y/N doesn’t like Harry much,” Mason explained, completely unbothered. “He’s working. The team’s popping by The Stag’s Head later to check on him since it’s his last shift and all that.”

Y/N nodded, suddenly remembering how Harry had told her that a few weeks ago.

“What’s the bellend done to you?” Kai asked.

“Another time, Kai. We’re in the middle of a round,” Mason said. “I’ll find a day that’s good for Chloe to come over.”

“Wicked,” Y/N smiled. “See ya.”

“Later, mate.”

Y/N walked back to her table, sitting down in her seat again. “Sorry,” she said when Hayden gave her a look. “Chloe, Mason said he could teach you how to play PlayStation sometime after Christmas break.”

Chloe squealed. “Really?!”

“Yeah, he’ll text me saying when.”

“Ahh! Buzzing!”

Y/N gave her a smile before the gang went back to playing.

Though she was physically present over the next hour or so, Y/N’s mind travelled back to the flat and the watch on her desk. Besides assignments, Christmas, and what Chloe said on Tuesday, that was all Y/N had spent her time thinking about. She would be in bed, about to go to sleep, then just get out of her bed and look at the watch, study it carefully. Maybe there was another message of sorts on it, maybe she was supposed to do something with it. But other days she did not want to touch that watch. There was something about it, something about how it had just been left in her possession so casually, something about the fact that she had not seen George since that night, that did not sit right with Y/N at all.

Throughout the rest of the night, after the Uno Society, while the gang was sat at a pub, and then dancing at a club later, Y/N could not bring herself to enjoy herself thoroughly. All her energy went back to that watch. She wanted to understand what it meant, why George had it, and what she was supposed to do with the information. Was she even supposed to do anything at all? It only made her want to travel down to Newport even more. She had to now. Her parents might think about getting rid of that cabin, but Y/N had to revisit it one last time before that happened.

Y/N did not drink that night; she was afraid of the conspiracy theories she would form if she did. She had one cocktail at the pub they went to, but could not do more than that, and her mates did not ask questions as to why she was not drinking, something she really appreciated. It was late when she announced she would be going home, and so she called Nathan and made him stay on the line with her as she took the tube back to Haggerston Station. Once she reached Orsman Road, she could hear his snores on the other end, and hung up halfway down the road to the flat. However, in the distance, she saw a stag’s head sign hanging out on a metal pole, protruding from the building opposite her flat building. She suddenly remembered what Mason said, and crossed the road, making her way over to the pub.

A small group of lads made their way out of the pub as Y/N reached it, the last one holding the door for her. She smiled and thanked him before walking inside. Now that she wasn’t affected by alcohol, Y/N was finally able to take in the pub properly without having the slight haze of alcohol taint it. The lights were comfortably dimmed, not too much so you could not read the menu, but just enough so that a person’s facial features would be a tad blurry. The red that ran along the wall behind the dark bar counter was subtle, giving the bar a sense of holding onto the secrets of each person who walked through the front doors, like a Victorian murder mystery. Y/N could see Sweeney Todd’s barber shop trapped in the same colours.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man walking out from behind the counter said, grey hair and broad shoulders. “We’re closed.”

“Oh,” she said, looking around the dark pub. “I… I thought I might find Harry here.”

The man narrowed his eyes a little. “He’s got a new girlfriend? So soon after the other ones?”

Y/N felt herself narrow her eyes back at the man. Girlfriend? Harry’s had girlfriends – plural – since he started working in The Stag’s Head? There was a very strange combination of a lot of different feelings that swarmed around Y/N’s body, suddenly making her feel seasick. She was about to abort her mission, to say she would just catch Harry at home, when there came a voice from the door leading out into the smoking area.

“Y/N,” Harry said, turning the lights off outside and closing the door. It looked as if he could not quite believe his eyes as he saw her standing there, like he had not thought she would ever show up to his work like this. Without seemingly able to help himself, his green eyes fell down to her green dress and her exposed legs. He quickly looked to his other co-worker, clearing his throat as he walked behind the pub counter. Y/N could swear she saw a slight pink hue to his cheekbones.

“I’ll leave if you’re busy.”

“No,” Harry said, the word coming out a little too quickly as if desperation got the better of him. “No. Not busy.”

The grey-haired man raised his eyebrows at Harry. He must have seen something in Harry’s demeanour, because he said, “You’ll be alright to close up on your own?”

Harry smiled. “It’ll be a nice way to end my time at Stag’s Head.”

“Nice,” the man Y/N now suspected was Harry’s boss, said. “Pop by with the keys tomorrow, will ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man gave both Harry and Y/N a smile each before he started on his walk up to his office. The pub was suddenly very quiet, not a single sound came from inside, just the distant siren outside and the low buzz of the city. A place that was usually bustling with noise, energy, and anticipation, was now left with the latter. Y/N looked around the place, unsure of what to do with herself now that it was only her and Harry there. Harry watched her, picking up the Cif spray from where it stood under the counter. She felt his gaze on her as she walked along the booths, touching the red velvet cushions, a rush of goosebumps travelling up her spine at the knowledge that she had his full attention.

She turned around, leaning her bum against a table as she took in the liquor behind Harry. He was washing the counter, looking over at Y/N again, eyes falling to her mid-area that was expanded slightly at the pressure the surface behind her was providing. He quickly looked away again, biting his lips together as he focused on the counter in front of him. Y/N could not help a small smile.

“What made you show up to my work, then?” he asked.

“Can’t a friend show up to another friend’s work?”

Harry let out a strangled chuckle. “Alright. That’s very nice of you, but I don’t buy that for a single second.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “You don’t?”

“There’s gotta have been another reason as to why.”

“Okay…? What’s that?”

Harry shrugged his shoulder, spraying more Cif onto the counter. “You were bored. You didn’t want to be around your other mates any longer. You wanted to see a delicious man with an irresistible Northern accent clean up a pub since it’s his last shift ever here tonight.”

Y/N let out a laugh, placing her hands on either side of the table beside her. “None of the above.”

“Alright,” Harry said, coming out from behind the pub. “What didn’t I cover?”

“You weren’t at the Uno Society meeting.”

The answer came so effortlessly, as if her subconscious had been holding onto the answer for Y/N until she was strong enough to know the real reason. Her hands instantly gripped the table harder, feeling embarrassed for admitting vulnerability so easily. She blamed how easy it was to talk to him, how he just seemed to throw a lasso around her deepest secrets, her most private desires, and drag them out of her.

Harry looked over at her from where he was cleaning the tables a bit further away in the pub. “Had work. Would’ve been there if I didn’t have to be here.”

She nodded, looking down at her black boots. For some reason, his words warmed something inside her. Hearing someone care about something she cared about made her feel special. Then again, someone she just met on the street could tell her they hated Marmite, something Y/N also did, and she would feel equally as fuzzy inside. Finding small bonds, small preferences, small somethings that connected you to other people, made you feel like you weren’t alone, but it also made you feel special, made you feel seen and understood. It was as if someone opened a door into their soul, and giving you a warm handshake, welcoming you into them and their life.

“The lads had a blast,” Harry said, now closer to Y/N as she had zoned out for a minute and some.

“They did?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to just sit down and relax like that. We don’t really get to do that.”

Y/N watched as Harry hovered by a table, leaning over it to clean it. His black tee shirt stretched over his broad back, his shoulder blades visibly working as he ran the cloth over the table in front of him. The outline of his muscles, the way they were so hard against the soft fabric of the tee shirt, made Y/N’s body feel very hot all of a sudden. He worked so carefully, sliding his hand holding the cloth so slowly over the table, paying it his undivided attention. She adjusted her position against her table, looking away from Harry as he stood back up, his black trousers that had been tight around his buttocks, slacking at the lack of pressure on the material. Get a fucking grip, Y/N screamed at herself in her head, focusing on the wall in front of her. She saw Harry look at her over his shoulder, gaze lingering on her for a few seconds. Y/N suddenly found it very hard to draw a proper breath.

“You’re mad I didn’t show up?” Harry asked.

Y/N was silent, her brain completely blank. “Didn’t show up…?”

She could see his smug smile in her peripheral vision. “Yeah.”

“To what?”

His smile widened and he focused on a table closer to her. “The Uno Society.”

She closed her eyes. Her checking out Harry while he had his back to her had not just made her forget the whole reason why she had showed up to The Stag’s Head in the first place. His body looking the way it did, him caring about the society, him teasing her to get a reaction out of her… Why the fuck did he have that effect on her?

“No,” Y/N said, refusing to look at him still. “I’m not mad.”

“Then why won’t you look at me right now?”

Y/N could feel her hands instinctively grabbing harder onto the table behind her. “No reason.”

“You know,” Harry started, she could hear the smirk in his voice. “You can try all you want, but I still know you.”

She huffed. “You wish.”

“I don’t gotta,” he said, chuckling a little. “Don’t gotta wish when I already do know you. Wish I knew you better, wish you’d just open up to me like you did so easily before, but that’s for a later time.”

That made her look over at Harry, her eyebrows drawn together as she just watched him clean yet another table. He… Did he really think she would one day open up to him again and they would go back to being friends like they used to? Was he really that optimistic? Had he thought about it? About them and their friendship? And what a future with her alongside him at uni would look like? Her eyes landed on his bicep as it flexed, holding his body weight as he leaned against the table again. Her gaze following his arm all the way down to his hand, long slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, and the thick veins over the dorsal part of his hand made something in Y/N’s brain short circuit. That along with the casual way he was leaning his hips against the table, staring down at it with his head cocked.

What the fuck, Y/N said to herself again, looking away from him. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?! How was she supposed to stay neutral, to not find him attractive, to not want to sink right back into old habits when she allowed herself to study him and look at him like that. She had to stop. This was getting out of hand.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight,” Harry said, working slowly as he cleaned up the table in the booth beside the one she was stood leaning against.

“No, I’ve just got things on my mind.”

“What things?”

Your broad shoulders. Your hands. The way you stick your tongue out of your mouth when you are concentrating. But Y/N said none of those things, as doing so would sentence her to a lifetime of humiliation.

“Insignificant things.”

“When they’re taking up a lot of space in your head and preventing you from being present, they’re not insignificant,” Harry said, sounding a little serious all of a sudden. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing inherently bad on my mind, just… I’ve got a lot of… thoughts,” Y/N said, not knowing how else to explain it without giving something away.

“What thoughts?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Thought you did Architectural Studies, didn’t know you also had a degree in being Nosy.”

Harry let out a laugh, coming to stand in front of her with the spray and the cloth in his hands. “I’m very nosy.”

“Glad to hear you’re self-aware.”

“But right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Bloody hell, Y/N thought, could he just fucking stop being so nice? So fucking adorable? And fit? It made hating him so much harder than it already was.

“I’m okay.”

He took a step closer. “What’s been on your mind then?”

“Just… life.”

“Has uni exhausted you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not what I’m thinking about.”

Harry took another step closer. Y/N’s palms were suddenly very clammy.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked again, a small smile on his lips as if he was challenging her.

“Maybe you just have to face the fact that I won’t tell you and you can’t figure it out on your own.”

“Nah,” Harry said. “I’ll figure you out.”

Y/N watched as Harry took another step closer, her heart suddenly beating very fast inside her chest.

“I just gotta…” He trailed off, now standing directly in front of her. Tip of his shoes against the tip of hers. Without a warning of sorts, he leaned closer, bending over her until his head hovered beside her own. Chest wavering above hers, touching as she drew in a precipitous breath and he did the same. Their bodies did not brush against one another again, an invisible, burning shield was built to keep them apart the second their upper bodies made contact. As if the universe was telling them that by touching like that, the world would go up in total flames around them.

Harry’s sudden closeness made her breathe in a little too harshly, she was sure he must have heard it but she simply did not care. The reaction her body was having to him being so close was electric, it made all the hairs on her body stand on end. She didn’t know what he was doing that close to her, thinking at first that he must have wanted to whisper something in her ear, to say something to her that would undoubtedly make her glad she was leaning against something solid for support.

But she heard the familiar sound of the Cif spray, and a second later, Harry reached his cloth behind Y/N’s back, cleaning the table. She felt his breath against her neck, triggering something radioactive inside her. The oud aroma of his cologne, with notes of cedar, patchouli, and spicy saffron filled Y/N’s nostrils. In those seconds when Harry hovered above her like that, his warm body inches from hers, breath fanning against her skin, his aroma, and aura mere inches from hers, Y/N was conflicted as to if she wanted time to speed up or slow down some more. She knew that if she stayed like that, with Harry so close to her, for much longer she would go absolutely mad and have an impossible time resisting him if he were to try something like he had done in the living room the week before.

No sooner had she thought that, he pushed off, face lingering just centimetres from hers. “I just need to take a look,” he said, speaking as if he did not mind if the whole world was watching them. He raised his hand, about to touch her chin. For what reason, Y/N did not know, but she didn’t ask any questions. However, he stopped, as if touching her was something he could not do. Y/N was glad he hadn’t, because God knows how her body would have reacted had he tenderly touched her jawline like it looked like he wanted to.

“Take a look?” Y/N mumbled.

“At you.”

A small breath left her lips.

“Maybe the answer to what’s been on your mind is somewhere in your eyes,” he said, eyes suddenly falling to her lips. “Or your lips.” He glanced at her forehead. “Or in the slight lines that appear between your eyebrows when you’re deep in thought.” He looked down at her hands on the table edge. “Or the way you’re gripping the table so tight right now.”

Jesus Christ, she was about to explode. Y/N let go of it immediately, standing up and forcing Harry to take two steps back. His intense glance lingered on her, falling to her lips as she opened her mouth to take a breath.

“It’s getting late,” she said, fingering the hem of her leather jacket as her heart continued to hammer away inside her chest.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Harry walked over to the next table to clean it, doing it way faster than all the other ones. Biting his lip and moving his hand with the cloth over the table as if to make up for time spent on something else, cleaning very slowly and standing too close to her.

“No, I can walk home by myself.”

“I know you’re capable of walking, but I don’t like you being out in the streets all alone late at night.”

Y/N looked over at Harry as he cleaned the last booth, seeing the determination to finish as quickly as possible.

“It’s just across the road,” she said.

“Please just let me walk you across the road, then.” Harry walked behind the bar counter, putting the cleaning supplies away.

“You make me sound like an old lady.”

“Just-“ He appeared from behind the counter. “-Wait.” He then disappeared into the backroom where he only stayed for a few seconds. Y/N would have thought that since he enjoyed working at The Stag’s Head, he would have at least lingered for a few moments to take in the last time he would ever be back there. But instead, he emerged wearing his coat, locking the door behind him, mere seconds later. He turned the lights off, and, walking over to where Y/N was standing, placed a gentle hand to her lower back, guiding her in the direction of the door that she could only barely make out in the dark. Goosebumps instantly ran up Y/N’s back and she inhaled at the pressure of Harry’s hand on her body. He held the door open for her and Y/N stepped outside, watching as Harry locked the front doors to The Stag’s Head for the very last time.

He looked around them after locking the door, checking up and down the three streets that came to a crossroad just outside the pub. Once his eyes finally met Y/N’s again he gave her the smallest smile, then motioned for her to lead the way back to their flat. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she could not find it in herself to do just that in that moment. Though it was just across the road, she very much appreciated Harry’s company back to their flat. Distance was nothing when the roads were dark and the faces of the figures walking past were left blurred by the dim streetlamps.

Harry held the door for Y/N once again, letting her be the first to enter the building. She strolled upstairs, unlocking their front door and watching as Harry gestured for her to walk on inside. The flat was dark, except for the warm yellow lights Nathan had twined around the railing of their terrace and the changing colours of the luminous Christmas tree in the living room. The kitchen was usually left in darkness, as was the rest of the flat, but since their eyes were used to night outside, it wasn’t hard to navigate their way to the stairs. They took their jackets off, and without her leather jacket on, Y/N was very aware of how much of her skin was exposed to Harry. Her dress showed off her legs, arms, and parts of her back to him, and she knew that, if he walked behind her up the stairs, he would get a good look at her bum.

She took her boots off and started up the stairs with her purse in her hand, hearing Harry make his way up them as well. If any man were to walk behind her up the stairs, Harry was one she trusted not to take the mick, to not look up her skirt and make her feel uncomfortable. But… after everything… she still didn’t want him to see her knickers. However, facing her door, she heard Harry walking up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face him once he reached the first floor. What happened next happened so suddenly that Y/N barely managed to wrap her head around it before the moment was gone.

She had just turned around to face Harry when he walked up over to her. Taking a step back at the sudden closeness, she felt herself breathe in sharply as Harry’s face lingered only centimetres from her own again. Though the person standing in front of her was a man, a completely different person, something inside her brain took her back to that night when they were 16. He hadn’t been this close to her since then, had not touched her or looked at her like this since then. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and then to meet hers, wet lips parting as if the anticipation was killing him.

And Y/N had to painfully admit, it was killing her, too. As much as she had tried to fight it, it was impossible to now. She wanted Harry to kiss her. Not tenderly kiss her like you would peck a person you were in love with, or to gently rub his thumb over her cheek as a show of affection, or to hug her tight when they met up for lunch. No, she wanted him to fucking kiss her. She wanted him to grab her face and kiss her hard; desperately, needily. She wanted them to fumble to take each other’s clothes off, and for him to make up for how bad that first time together was. There was absolutely no denying it, Y/N wanted Harry. She really wanted him. All these months, all those moments spent trying to push the thought away, she simply could not anymore. There was a hunger inside her for him, but only in the sexual sense. She could never fall in love with this man, she just wanted to fuck him. And she wanted to fuck him bad.

Her own lips parted, and she looked into his eyes with an expression she hoped he could read, because she needed him to understand. Once again, Harry raised his hand, hovering between them as if he were unsure what to do with it. Fingers twitching, she could see he was conflicted, whether he should touch her cheek as it looked like he wanted to, or if he should stop himself. Y/N let her eyes fall to his hand, to tell him she wanted him to touch her. She wanted to feel him somewhere, anywhere on her. Just looking at him, she could see he wanted the same as her. He wanted to feel her body, to explore it in a completely different way to last time.

Harry’s hand fell out of view, and just as Y/N thought he was going to let it hang limply, uselessly, at his side, she felt something on her waist. A warm pressure, snaking around the black linen of her dress. She waited for him to pull her closer to him, for their torsos to connect, but it never happened.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, eyes falling to her lips again.

She did not answer, instead just tilted her head so it would be easier for him to kiss her. With her eyelids hanging low over her eyes, her body language not showing any sign of protesting, and with her lips parted, Y/N hoped the message was coming across clearly. Harry leaned in closer, his nose almost touching hers. Her heart was beating so fast and hard it hurt. Her hands were clammy. All her attention focused on Harry and the electricity they created on that spot where his hand rested. He leaned down, lips hovering just over the crook of her neck, making her close her eyes. Breath against the hair of her shoulder, lightning shooting up Y/N’s back. He slowly leaned back out again, nose hovering beside hers. The anticipation was absolutely killing her.

“I…” But he drifted off, eyes falling to her lips again. She could feel his breath on her mouth, could smell his cologne. The tension was making her dizzy, she just wanted him to bloody kiss her already.

She was just about to do it herself when she felt his warm hand drop off her waist. She blinked, and the next second, Harry took a step back. He only looked at her, mouth working as if he was trying to find the right words to say, but there were none. So, as if blinking himself awake from a sort of dream, he took another step back. Suddenly, he opened the door into his room. He stopped in the doorway, looking back at Y/N. Again, he tried to say something that must have died on the tip of his tongue, because again, he did not utter a word. It looked like he physically could not say them out loud. Instead, he closed the door, leaving Y/N standing alone out in the dark hallway.

Y/N’s eyes rested on the door to the bathroom, trying to go over in her head where it had just happened. Had… Had Harry just walked away just now? Had he teased her in the pub, then done almost the same just now, only to walk away? What had gone wrong? Why had he not kissed her? What had made him step away? What had made him stop? Y/N could not answer a single one of the questions, and she doubted Harry would give her any. She closed her eyes, resting her head against her door behind her. This was exactly why she had not wanted to live with Harry, this was why she had not given in to his charms and flirts before. Now, because of what had just happened, because of how awkward that had just been, they were back to square one. Just living under the same roof as him infuriated her. She could not fucking stand Harry Styles.

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[potentialbreakupscng]

"i know i don't have to, remus. i want to."

there was an edge to her voice that most people were familiar with. hot headed, tempered, stubborn. several words that had been used to describe her over the years, which made it easy to bat away his insistence that he didn't need help. no, maybe he didn't. maybe he had done this thousands of times, but she'd be damned if she'd let him do it by himself again. never again. no matter what -- unrequited feelings she may have for him. she cared about him -- and it was what she did for people she cared about. helped. as much as she could.

with her own small bandages on the tips of some of her fingers -- having destroyed the skin on her fingers as she often found herself doing on full moon nights since meeting remus. worry. want to be there -- and knowing that she couldn't help someone she cared about. her pink hair is tied back from her face -- a few loose strands falling into her face as she finished replacing one of his many bandages. blood stained her unbandaged fingers and the flesh colored bandages on the others. blood never had an effect on her -- especially not after working on the field. blood and daeth were expected -- and at least she could get used to one of them. fierce eyes flicked up to his face as he began to protest again.

"stop." her hair turned a bright red as she snapped, eyes not leaving his. "you've done this thousands of times, and i'm doing it for you now. you've gone and made me care about you -- so i'm going to care about you and help." there was an unspoken truth behind her words -- a subject she's danced around but it wasn't the time for that. not when she'd noticed how little he'd been taking care of himself -- and she couldn't imagine how it felt, getting his only childhood friend back to have him ripped from his hands again a few years later. she winced slightly at the memory of sirius; her cousin. her family. to hide it, she moved to wash off her hands for what felt like the millionth time that evening, tugging off her own bandages and replacing them before she returned back to him -- with a vial of dittany in her hand. dittany she could've used on her own fingers, but saved specifically for him.

"and if you're worried about me seeing your bits, i've seen a few in my life, and once you've seen one you've seen them all," a joke, to ease the tension as she sat beside him. by then her hair had returned back to the pale pink she'd worn it in since the battle at the department of mysteries. she carefully unwrapped the worst one of them -- the one on his arm but doesn't wince at the sight of it. her lips purced, glancing up at him for a moment before she brings the vial up and uses her teeth to pull the cork out -- putting some of the dittany into her hand. "this is going to hurt," she warned, before carefully spreading the dittany onto the wound while her other hand instinctually finds his to let him...squeeze it or do whatever he may need to work through the pain. tonks carefully wrapped the arm back up with a clean bandage, her hands tender and trying not to cause any more pain than he's already in. a sigh escaped her, and she looked up at him. "tea?"

@lupiinee continued from x

[amonrawya]

The Greatest Gift of All

(Inspired by^ for the people who asked :D hope it was worth the wait!)

*

Long before the war, before Captain America or the Winter Soldier, there was simply Bucky and Steve. At least, that's what history says. But they missed out one very important person, a girl called Y/N.

Women in those times often found themselves with little opportunity, and only two easily attainable pathways in life: wife and mother. But Y/N carved out a life for herself that defied all expectations, and it all started in Brooklyn.

She dived headlong into scuffles, usually next to Bucky in defence of Steve. Regardless of the opponent, Y/N stood by them both, and often held her own quite impressively.

Her dress style borrowed from more masculine cuts, and Y/N was never seen without her cap. A lot of people had a problem with this, but she shut them up fairly swiftly.

Everything about this girl drew Bucky in, a battle he fought with little effort. They reveled in each other, flaunting their love at every opportunity. More than a few were jealous that the rough and tumble girl got the best looking boy in town. 

In a way, before even coming of age, they started an adult life together. The three of them moved into a flat. Y/N and Bucky took hard labour jobs, or anything they could get. They had little room to be picky. 

Both managed to hook steady summer jobs at the local docks. They used most of their money to keep a roof over their heads, buy food, and pay for Steve's medical needs. He attended art school, and sold his work every now and then; but physically, he was in no condition to work.

The war appeared on the horizon, just as they started to pull themselves an inch above the poverty line. Y/N saw it coming, the inevitable. She treasured every second they spent together, and dreaded the day when the draft came.

A lot of the older women she worked with were disrespectful, looking down on her pre-marital relationship with Bucky. They claimed she couldn't possibly understand their grief, despite the fact Y/N had seen Bucky off at the docks that very morning. 

In truth, they already planned on being married, but at the time, they simply didn't have the funds. Bucky promised, once the war ended, that ring would be on her finger.

Except, he never came home. Not properly. The person Hydra gave back to Y/N was damaged and jaded, angry at the world, angrier than she ever saw. But still, they loved each other. Though she never forgave them for stealing away his innocence, for trying to snuff out the light in his soul. A part of him would always belong to them, and she hated it.

Refusing to stay home while they risked their lives, never knowing, Y/N trained as an army nurse, working specially with the Howling Commandos unit.

Then one day, she went out to welcome them back from a mission. Every face looked devastated, but none more so than Steve. His eyes, red-raw and streaming, seemed incapable of rising from the ground. At first, the realisation didn't process, the idea simply incomprehensible. He promised.

Dugan was the one to finally break through and catch Y/N as she fell, holding her as the tears poured. Once he shook off his daze, Steve took his place, sharing in her grief.

Her world fell apart so quickly, with no warning and no mercy. Their commanders celebrated the capture of Arnim Zola, while Y/N and Steve sat, staring at an empty place at their side.

Everyone mourned Bucky, and swiftly after, began to mourn Y/N, too. The loss took a part of her...the sparkle, the happiness, the laugh that lit up her face. It all vanished. She worked hard, looked after them all, but only Steve was able to make her smile. Even then, it looked pained.

So when Steve went down with the plane, the very last shred of Y/N died with him. No tears left her eyes, no screams ripped up her throat. A cold numbness took over, freezing the woman from the inside out. 

V-Day came and went. The Commandos stood and drank to their lost comrades, and Dugan silently drank another...for the loss of a bright, fiery girl who had virtually nothing to lose, and still lost everything.

She spent her days as a robot, doing nothing but going through the motions of badly imitating life. The flat was empty and quiet, yet somehow, bursting with the ghosts of her loved ones. Nightmares plagued her, terrible images of Bucky's body, forever trapped in a freezing hell, nothing but food for the birds. And Steve, his body...was it cast adrift in the ocean? Or destroyed, burnt to ash in the belly of a metal beast. 

They were simple folk before the war turned them into soldiers, into weapons. Before symbols and flags stole away their names, driving them to sacrifice their lives for a greater cause.

Y/N knew their fight against Hydra was important...knew the honour behind their sacrifice. But when it's you left sitting at an empty dinner table, it's much easier to be angry and bitter.

She never married, never settled, bouncing around countries working as an army nurse. The Commandos slowly died around her, each one fading to grey as the curtain drew the show to a close. Each death, each funeral ripped open her wounds, bigger and deeper each time. Until eventually, Y/N let the blood flow freely.

Or at least, that's what would have happened. But one choice, one decision, made by a boy she thought dead in the far future, changed it all.

*

Bucky Barnes struggled to find himself again. His memories were mostly all returned, if a bit hazy and fragmented. He had Steve there to right any wrong recollections, and connect with on their shared experiences. But something always seemed to be missing, a piece of the jigsaw that hadn't been found.

He remembered Y/N. He remembered her clearer than anything. She was glowing like honey in the sun when Bucky closed his eyes and brought her back to mind.

Face covered in muck, hair tousled and streaked with grease from the boats, soot on the very tip of her nose and a cap perched jauntily on her head; wearing the deepest expression of concentration as she aimed a hanful of rotten fish guts at the sleezy Connell boy from Fifth, who decided his opinion on her backside mattered. The image shone crystal clear. Her laughter, rolling out from between curved lips, beautiful and full of mischief. 

It never failed to make him smile. Or cry. Or sometimes, both. He missed Y/N than he thought possible for a human being. 

Bucky often wondered about her life, whether she went on to marry, or maybe even have children. Was she happy? Did she bury him and move on? If they met today, would Y/N even recognise the man he was now? 

More importantly, in his mind, something he both feared and longed to know: would she still love him?

Unbeknownst to Bucky, Steve saw all this. Understood, to a degree, his pain. But he and Peggy never got the chance to bond so strongly. He knew Bucky needed him, but Steve also knew he needed Y/N more.

So once his goodbyes were said, he looked one last time at Bucky, and smiled beneath his suit as he vanished into time.

*

The living room looked exactly the same as he remembered. Bucky's coat, slung over the back of the chair, his sketchbooks strewn around the desk. Every rip and chip. His heart swelled with nostalgia, and pain, thinking of the life they were supposed to have.

What must have been in their heads...running off to fight, so eager to throw everything away. And who was left to stare at empty beds and eat breakfast alone every morning? Y/N.

His chest constricted, hearing the keys in the door, the lock rattling three times before letting her in. His nerve faltered for the briefest second, wondering if he was ready to see her again.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Time's up.

Slowly, he turned, and watched as Y/N's eyes widened, all the bags in her hands falling to the floor with a crash.

"...Stevie?" The name came out as a whisper, nearly inaudible.

He grinned, laughing as tears stung his eyes. "Hey, spitfire. Long time no see."

"Steve!" She launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck and clinging on for dear life. 

Catching her by the waist, he swung Y/N around, burying his face in her hair. They held onto one another as if they might vanish if they let go. But after a minute, Steve gently pushed her back.

"How? How are you here? What are you wearing? I don't understand, Steve, they said you died! Your plane went down in the ocean," she stammered, hand on his forearm with a grip like a vice.

"I survived. The serum kept me alive in the ice for seventy years," he said, questioning his own sanity momentarily; standing in the flat again made everything that happened seem like a distant dream.

Y/N frowned, brows knitting together. "What? Did you hit your head? Steve, this is 1945."

"I know, I came from 2023. I'm alive," he said, and saw her mentally backing away, so added, "I'm alive, and so is Bucky."

Her head snapped up, eyes immediately filling with tears. A dozen emotions whizzed through them in a second; disbelief, pain, hope. It shone clearly in her face as she stepped closer.

What did you say?" She asked, voice choked as she brought her shaking hands up to her mouth.

"Bucky's alive," he repeated softly, "and I can send you to him, in the future. But we don't have a lot of time. You need to listen to me, carefully, and do what I say."

She spluttered, struggling for words. "I, but...what about you?"

"I've made my decision," Steve said, and gently took her hands in his, "now, please, listen."

*

Bucky watched the machine, feeling a wave of numbness wash over his insides. Nothing was a better deal than the pain, the cruel sting of betrayal fighting to be felt. But he beat it back, unable to allow those thoughts validation.

Steve gave up so much for him, he fought for years to get him here. Steve deserved this. And no matter how wrong those words sounded in his head, he resolutely stood by them. 

The seconds ticked by, noted by Bruce's countdown. A flash of guilt almost made Bucky explain what was going to happen, explain that Steve left them. Left him. But he possessed no energy to speak, they'd see in a second, when no one appeared-

Zap. A blinding flash of light.

There's someone there.

Bucky frowned, hands falling from his pockets. Did Steve change his mind? Did he...

All the thoughts in his head stopped as the figure stepped down. Too small, too lithe for it to be Steve. Bucky's heart rate quickened, something in his unconscious already registering his recognition. 

The suit fell away, and if he weren't frozen in place, Bucky wouldn't have been standing. A quiver shot through him, nearly buckling his knees. Shock, fear and pure disbelief all delayed his reaction.

Y/N looked around, amazed, but turned to stone as she set eyes on him. Her face went utterly blank, a strangled sound leaving her lips.

Wearing her yard slacks, with a small bag on her shoulder, her face covered in dirt, hair streaked with grease, cap perched on-top, slanted to one side...she was everything he remembered, and his heart tried to leave his chest to go to her. To be whole again.

But fear held him back. She didn't know the things he'd done, the person he became after the train accident. What if-

"Who is she?" Sam asked, glaring as he stalked towards her, an accusation rising on his lips.

Bucky answered without hesitation, or thinking; the question had been asked countless times over the years. It always recieved the same reply. "My doll."

Sam stopped short, glancing between them, the way neither took their eyes off the other. He nodded, brows still closely knit, and backed off.

Slowly, Y/N approached, encouraged by the sound of his voice. She reached out carefully, when she got close enough. Trembling fingers brushed his cheek, and a shudder ran through her. 

"My Bucky..." She said quietly, eyes roaming over his face, a small smile tugging at her lips, "...you're here, in front of me. Alive."

He swallowed dryly, heart thundering away beneath his skin. "I'm different...you don't know..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that her eyes found the cold metal where his flesh used to be. In reaching to hold it, she'd been taken by surprise.

Gently, Y/N took the hand in her own, examing the limb with a careful gaze. Moments passed, and she met his eyes again. Bucky steeled himself for rejection, for the disgust and horror.

Her hand went back to his cheek, and he involuntairly leaned into it. The warmth seeped into his blood. She stood on her tip toes, the smile on her lips blossoming into a bright beam of sunlight. "You've always been my Bucky, and always will be. Metal appendages and all."

He fell apart and dove down to capture her lips, clutching her to him with the hunger of a starving man. She pulled herself in, hands tangling in his brown locks, and both tasted salt on the others' lips.

So filled with joy his heart could burst, Bucky revelled in the feeling of holding his girl again. Laughing through the tears, he buried his face in her neck.

Thank you, Steve, for the greatest gift of all.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “World War V.”

I realize the title would be a lot more clever if V wasn’t also the roman numeral for 5, but whatever.

I know this one is a bit over the top but in the immortal words of one of my favorite authors “err on the side of awesome.” and I will not apologize.

But I am interested, at the end, comment what two songs you would use in this scenario. I am intrigued. I will tell you the songs I imagined at the end of the story :)

“So, your plan is to…. Intentionally wake the dead?”

“Wake the, very long hibernated, and then blast them with hard rock music while we mow them down with machine guns? And…. remind me YOU are the GA armada Admiral? And this is your tactical genius.”

Admiral Adam Vir adjusted the chestplate of his space suit, “Well say anything in that sort of voice and it will sound stupid, but hear me out. It is much easier to take something out all at once than it is to go hunting them down one by one and having to worry about missing something. We bring in the helicopters, and the vibration of the rotors will disturb the ground causing the infected vrul to rise. Now knowing the Vrul, and knowing that complicated beats affect their ability to navigate, move and completely wipe out their fine motor control. Furthermore, they seem attracted to vibrations in the air and through the ground which means we will be able to confuse them even more and keep them away from the city. Barring that, the Vrul have their force fields up, which are more than a match for light machine gun fire and will even keep out the strange pollen.. There is no better time to deal with this.”

He tucked his helmet under one arm, “I trust that makes sense to everyone?’ he turned around to the docking bay where over fifty men and women stood in neat rows of polished flight suits, helmets tucked under their arms. As he spoke, their heels snapped together with a loud crackle, and their hands rose into a salute.

Behind them double the amount of marines raised their hands into the air and chanted with loud voices that rose into the air with a roar.

Admiral Vir turned to the commander of the 113th graduating class of Earth’s UNSC Airborne Helicopter division, which he had brought in on special loan. These men and women were yet to fly any real tactical missions though they had all logged thousands of hours of flight already in their careers. Many of them had never left earth until this moment, and their first mission was going to be on the face on an alien planet.

He smiled, “if you knew as much as I did about aliens, Major, you might understand why we are doing something that seems so ludicrous, but sometimes when dealing with extraterrestrials, this is what we have to do.”

He turned to where a line of fifty pod shaped objects were being loaded one by one onto a rolling rail leading towards the airlock. Beside it half a dozen small fluffy shapes were busy overseeing the attachment of fifty identical Sonic cannons to the front bottom of each. There was a break in their work as one of the small creatures came waddling across the deck.

Admiral Vir Knelt down setting his hand on the floor and allowing Lord Avex to step onto his hand and then onto his shoulder as he stood back up.

The rest of the crowd watched in wide eyed awe, though they were, luckily, well trained enough not to do or say anything stupid despite their large eyes and quivering lips, which suggested they wanted nothing better than to cuddle the stuffed-animal esque alien that rested on his shoulder, “The cannons are in place, Admiral, and I have examined each of the pods, and the yare ready to be deployed.”

“Thank you Lord Avex, your work is much appreciated.”

It was just then that Sunny walked across the deck to join them. She was wearing her space suit as well and carried her helmet under one arm. The new recruits staired on in shock as she walked over to stand next to him, “The machine guns have been mounted and are ready to go Admiral, A few of our number have volunteered to go with the marines as extra support. Behind her at least a dozen other Drev raised their fists into the air and chanted their excitement not all that different from the line of marines on the far end of the hanger.

Admiral Vir nodded turning back towards the group of young pilots, not much younger than himself, and stepped up onto the nearest crate.

“On behave of the Galactic Assembly and the Vrul council, I thank all the men and women here for agreeing to accompany us on this mission today. You will be the first airborne unit in history to participate in an operation off Earth as their first assignment. You are thousands of lightyears away from home, orbiting an alien planet thousands of years older than our own, and today your mission is not one of destruction, but of liberation. For thousands of years the Vrul have been trapped inside their walls, until time and tradition made them forget about the dangers lurking outside.” he turned his eyes to look over every last man and women that stood before him, “What we are about to face is like nothing humanity has ever faced before, below the soil of this planet lies a plague dormant for thousands of years, a horde like locusts ready to rise up and infect the city. Now we have our protections, we have our suits, and the Vrul have their shielded city, but it is our job to start riding the planet of it’s plague.” He smiled, “Plus it always helps to have door mounted machine guns and a little rock ‘n roll.”

There was a sharp cheer from the men and women before him who raised their fists into the air. Behind them the marines joined in, and so did the Drev, who, he was pleased to say, had taken to rock like they had guitar solos for breakfast.

Still grinning, he reached up, pulled on his helmet, “Right, let’s get this done.”

He pointed to Sunny, Ramirez, Maverick and a few others, “With me in the elad chopper. The rest of you split off and gear up.”

His words were obeyed almost immediately as he stepped  over to what had once looked like a pod, but was now clearly a very specialized sort of chopper. 

As he slid into the pilot’s seat, and the others strapped in behind, he heard, “I thought you were a fighter pilot, not a helicopter pilot.” They pulled on their helmets.

Adam adjusted his harnesses, “I can fly anything from space ships to paper plans, you can bet your ass if it leaves the ground, I know how to fly it.”

Maverick buckled herself into the door gunner position, “Yeah, but if it has wheels, you better bet he’s probably gonna back it over your mailbox.”

“Put a sock in it Maverick, that is hardly my fault. I never really got the opportunity to practice.”

The door at the back shut and locked tight.

All around them other doors were being locked into place, and once all of the pilots had indicated they were ready to go, Admiral Vir gave the signal, and he felt the ship change course. He adjusted his comms set and called up to the bridge where Simon would be piloting them into position.

“How are we looking, Somon.”

“Almost in position Admiral.”

“Now remember to pull back into low orbit once you let us drop, or else the gravity well is going to pull you in, and it is going to be a bitch to get her back out.” “Yes sir, I know sir.”

“Good.”

He turned his eyes forward as a red light burst into life above their heads. Everyone evacuated the airlock as the fifty pods were brought by rail towards the doors. Behind him he could hear the others chanting something, though his heart was hammering so hard he could hardly hear what they were saying.

Funny thing is he bet he felt like every one of those new pilots getting ready for their first mission. He didn’t know if it was just him, but it felt like this every single time, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He ignored the tingling sensation in his bladder as the light blinked green before the airlock door, and the ramp slid open.

All went silent, and below him he watched as the light of the vrul homeworld washed over the deck before him pouring like golden honey.

The sight was breathtaking, steeling the air from his lungs as he looked down.

“Damn.” 

It would just never get old.would it.

“Prepare for drop, in three, two, one, drop.”

The latch on the back of the rail released, and suddenly they were falling away from the ship. Adam was pressed back in his seat as they accelerated downwards towards the open atmosphere.

Lights blinked on the console ahead of him and the tracking screen picked up his target.

They were approaching, and they were approaching fast.

They were entering the atmosphere now, and he felt it as their pod began to rock and rattled around him and fire began to lick up on the southside of his pod. It was almost deafening as they roared into the atmosphere. He turned on his comms watching as other pods roared into the atmosphere back and behind him. He could see them on his radar as they roared downward.

He had to wonder what it must be like for them.

Their first mission, and they were doing a high altitude drop onto an alien planet.

He almost envied them their excitement. Because he had done stuff like this before, and he was still grinning like an idiot.

Light rose up around them as the sky behind them turned blue. Clouds passed below them in great swaths, and he reached down to the controls ready to deploy.

He set of a general count for the rest of the pilots.

Three 

Two

One.

He pulled the release, and the engine roared to life. There was a sudden firing as the engine spurted downward, lifting them airborne for a second and slowing their descent. His innards dropped as G force allowed his stomach to crawl into his feet. Then the rotors deployed like a fan. There was a sharp chunk and then a whirr as they began to fall again, and then the rotors caught, and began to spin. The rear rotor did the same sliding into position. Both caught with a roar, and he whooped with adrenaline.

He toggled his radio.

“Alright, ready the door gun.”

Behind him the doors were slid open, causing a rush of air to blast into the open carriage as Maverick rolled the gun into position and locked it at the door with a loud snap. On the other side Maverick was doing the same. Beside him. Sunny took control of the extra rear mounted guns set in place especially for this mission.

Adam had the guns already built into the chopper, as well as missiles if he felt like it.

Beside him and below him, he watched as the fifty other choppers deployed like his. Some of them were a bit wobbly, but everything he saw seemed to go well.

“Alright everyone take it in low, and on my mark deploy the cannons.”

He angled them lower roaring towards his target.

Below them, the Vrul city was a glassy blue purple bubble against the orange, brown landscape.

He took point, and the other choppers fell into flight beside him, clustered in ten open groups of five helicopters each, and together they rolled in low over the landscape, not twenty feet above the ground in some cases, though those were only the pilots who were comfortable getting that close. From here he could see the thudding of their rotors causing the dirt to shake and the strange trees to quiver. 

The wildlife began to roll out in different directions, racing across the ground and away from the roaring choppers as if they knew what was coming, He scanned the ground, with Maverick and Ramriez leaning on the machine guns behind him.

“See anything yet?”

“Not yet.”

He opened his comms to everyone else, “Alright everyone, deploy sonic cannons in three, two, one go.” 

The first line of lyrics, and the first drumline rolled from the directional cannons, blasting the ground with a focused beam of sound like a laser for noise.

He whooped bobbing his head to the music, the sound so powerful he was able to hear it over the roaring of the rotors.

He sure hoped the Vrul had taken his advise and hidden in inside bunkers for this.

They roared over the landscape turning in a huge clockwise circle over the landscape.

“Report if you see anything.” he ordered.

At first, it didn’t seem like anything was going to happen, and he worried that his idea, which had seemed so cool and tactical to begin with , was nothing but a waste of resources. How embarrassing was that going to be to explain to the UNSC.

Yes, I borrowed the entire 113th graduating class to go on a joyride around the Vrul capital city, yes here is my rank and gun, I will now go live on the moon in exile never to show my face again.

“Sir! I have something.”

“Go.”

“Just south of the city, sir. I have movement coming from the trees in thermal.”

“Same here sir.” 

He was at the point of the circle, so he wasn’t likely to see it, made sense.

“Alright , let’s give it a pass. I want as many of those bugs out of the ground before we start shooting.”

They roared over the ground with the sound of the base rattling the stone below them. As he watched, one of the strange animals he had seen running, tipped over as the cannon passed over it and fell to the ground twitching. Apparently pattern tolerance was not something that many things on this planet had.

“Sorry guy, but things are going to be better when we are done.”

Rocks jumped and rattled as they took a wide turn around the city.

He could see the shield pulsing against the sonic waves that were bouncing off the ground and back into the air.

The blades of the helicopters cut through the air so fast it was like a light grey translucent wall against the sky.

They had almost made a full rotation.

“Holy shit.” for a second he wondered who had spoken until he realised that it was himself.

They were everywhere, swarming like ants over the landscape, turning the ground black in some places as they crawled over each other in confused circles. As the music got closer, their purposeful movement turned into awkward confusion.

“Stagger!.”

The formations staggered, falling behind each other so that everyone was always covering one segment.

“Ready to deploy the  sonic attack on my mark, in three, two, one, mark.”

It was a guitar solo this time, one that he had listened to thousands of times, and one that he couldn't have resisted using to kill zombie Vrul.

Th drumline cut in as the third obvious pattern in the song, and as it roared over the wave of Zombified Vrul, there was an immediate reaction as they all began staggering and falling to the ground, behind him he felt as the guns opened fire on either side with a sharp burrrr as the rotating barrels started spitting hot lead at 1,000 rounds per minute.

He laughed with something like maniacal glee as the powerful rounds poured into the infected creatures ripping them apart sometimes four at a time sending a wave of yellow pollen up into the air, to be kicked up by helicopter blades as they passed over. His circle kept him closest to the wall, so he was able to catch the majority of them before they could even attempt to make it to the city.

He toggled his own guns, and stitched a line of bullets over a completely black mass, which erupted into a burst of yellow. His circle took him around to where the Vrul had managed to make it to the wall of the city, and had begun climbing each other like they planned to create a ladder using bodies to the top of the wall. He gunned them down with great prejudice. As they moved along the wall, more and more of the creatures had piled themselves higher and higher, but that is not a trend that they allowed to last long. One of the piles managed to make itself three quarters of the way up the wall before their sonic attack hit them, causing the tower to collapse as both glorious drum lines and bullets roared into them.

He carved a circle through the sky coming over their first line of attack, where dark bodies were doing the best to crawl over their fallen brethren and pools of yellowed pollen having fallen to the ground. Ahead of him he could see a cloud of yellow where the following helicopter was stitching tis way over the landscape with great prejudice.

Behind him, he thought he heard Maverick cackle like a swamp witch as she loaded another belt of ammunition.

Yeah sure people back home were cool, but they would never be this cool, flying over an alien landscape, killing alien zombies while listening to a little ACDC, They could dream but nothing would ever be more awesome.

He couldn’t wait to tell his siblings.

His sister would be so jealous.

She had always been a fan of the zombie genre.

“Admiral, Admiral I think some of them are starting to fly.” Came the nervous comment over the com.

“Alright, remember the drill, just keep calm, and go higher if you can, then when you have enough clustered below you, drop one of the canisters.”

There was an acknowledgement over the comms.

With that announcement still running through his head, he got ready to drop one of his own canisters.

He was in view of the last helicopter as it rose into the air pursued by hundreds of little black dots that would erupt into yellow spores as they were hit by machine gun fire, and then something dropped from the bottom of the chopper, and then exploded just above the rising infected.

Thousands of tiny organic needles rained down on the vrul, cutting straight through their helium sacks, and sending them crashing downwards, into their companions, and finally to the ground where they erupted on impact, killing even more of their companions.

Up ahead, a wall of black rose before him, but he was faster.

They rose into the air and he roared over the wall, dropping one two and then three canisters in quick succession causing a wave of them to drop to the ground. The following helicopters followed his lead. He was having to rise higher and higher into the air, but still he was managing to keep ahead of them, they were slow and he was fast, but that didn’t stop a few of them from getting in front of him. 

There was a jolt as his rotors hit one of them, and he gritted his teeth, it was fine, one or two was fine as long as he didn’t allow them to gum it up.

He pulled back and up and continued to drop more and more of the caisters.

One or two of them floated high enough to make it close to his sonic cannon, but they were blown back and the pressure caused their helium sacks to rupture.

***

The Vrul council stood on the wall overlooking the outside of the city as a wall of the Vrul infected rose into the sky obscuring everything in a wave of dark bodies. Human helicopters roared in a wide circle around the city, and everywhere they went yellow spores erupted into the air. All of them wore safety masks as a precaution, but that didn’t stop the fear that rose up in them as they stepped back arms held out in shock. Dr. Krill stared on in fascination and awe. He wasn’t wearing hearing protection like the others, he could handle human music to a certain degree, and it was pretty muffled through the shielding.

He watched in shock and awe as one of the helicopters cut too low, and rolled right into a dense thicket of the floating bodies. There was a horrific eruption of yellow as the rotors caught hundreds of the creatures, and then the helicopter itself began to spin out of control crashing and rupturing Vrul as it roared towards the ground.

The emergency systems deployed firing one last time to slow the chopper’s crash. The sudden burst of flame ruptured a line of the Vrul infected before it finally plowed into the ground sending up a wave of yellow spores.

“Sweet Nebulon.” one of the council muttered.

Two more helicopters went down, and it looked as if there weren't going to be enough bullets.

What had they done!”

***

“Everyone, On me, increase sonic cannons! Now!” he had seen the three choppers go down, and he had seen all three of their safety measures deploy, but he couldn’t be sure if any of them had survived. “Avoid the crash sites. Everyone on me!”

The entire fleet of remaining choppers clustered together turning up the volume on their sonic cannons, and the combined force was so powerful that some of the bodies began to rupture even without gunfire though it still tore downwards.

They took two more passes before he saw his ammunition running low. That was fine. The Vrul bodies were no longer coming in waves and it would be harder to hit them from above, now that they weren’t just coming in a wave.

He aimed for one of the crash sites.

“I want a group of us to set down. Only choppers with Drev on them!”

There was agreement as ten choppers split off to the three crash sites.

Adam roared down from the sky, and set down on a smoking heap of yellow coated bodies.

He cut the engine , and reach back to pull his spear from where it was attached to the floor of the chopper. It wasn’t a Drev spear and it wasn’t a human spear but something in between, with the reverse spike on the end like they had done with the NeoSpartans.

He turned in his seat just in time to see the two marines push their machine guns out of position and one of the infected Vrul to come charing at Ramirez.

A spear appeared in his hand in that moment, and he ran it through the face.

Sunny was behind him a second later, and together they were out the door, three of them armed with spears, maverick armed with her assault rifle, and together they made their way towards the downed chopper.

Making it there just in time to see as a pile of clustered Vrul was ruptured from within, and a very angry Drev came roaring out.

He recognized from the height who it was.

“Kanan!” he heard Sunny yell.

They ran over to help, sweeping through the cluster of Vrul zombies before they began fanning out across the open plane.

He turned up the speakers on the outside of his suit and allowed it to blare music as he raced towards anything that still looked to be moving. A few of them were still floating into the sky, but the remaining helicopters were taking care of those, and Maverick from the ground on occasion.

He ran one through the face, turned and clubbed the other in the head like he was swinging  for a home run.

His blad sliced straight through the neck of one as he staggered over the uneven ground.

To the side of him, sunny was cutting through them with impunity like a god of war, touching them though they never touched her, the yellowed gore spattering her suit.

As more and more of the Vrul were cut out of the sky, more and more choppers landed, and men and women filed out, running in open lines, using whatever the could to dispatch the remaining bodies.

He saw one of the new pilots grab a Vrul by the neck, and twist it like he was breaking the neck of a chicken, surprised when the entire head came off. He kind of hoped the Vrul council did not see that.

By the end of the battle. Four of their choppers had been downed. Two humans were dead, both of them in the crashes, and at least four more critically injured.

He felt bad about it.

But he couldn’t have predicted that.

At least none of the pilots had died.

Two of his marines had though, tossed from the choppers as they were falling from the sky. It made him sick to think about their families, the ones that he would have to send letters to, but he tried not to think about that for now.

Thousand upon thousands of the vrul zombies were dead, and even as he thought this dozens more were being dispatched by hand by humans who were no more than walking radios at this point, having chosen their own theme songs to fight zombies.

Some of thor picks were quite surprising, though he couldn’t blame them for their humor or their irony.

They still had a long way to go, but at least he knew how it could be done.

Vrul past, hopefully, would never come back to haunt them. 

The two songs I imagine Adam picked for this was 

First: Raise Hell - Dorothy

Second: Thunderstruck - ACDC

[houseboatisland]

Is Elizabeth on your island, and if so how has she adjusted after decades abandoned?

She is! And here's my headcanon for her:

Topham Hatt I, (The Fat Director,) had by 1926 accumulated a small fortune as General Manager of the North Western Railway. Reputed as a workaholic, (or boss-aholic,) Topham had sunk considerable amounts of money into his sprawling Wellsworth estate, Topham Hall. Topham was inspired by the undertaking of his sometime friend Sir Robert Walker, the Baronet of Sand Hutton. Walker's estate utilized war surplus one foot and three inch gauge locomotives to carry distinguished guests, agricultural produce, and coal to and bricks deriving from the nearby brickworks of Claxton.

The resulting pet project, the Topham Hall Railway, is where Elizabeth's story begins.

The T.H.R. was laid to what had essentially become the Sudrian "standard narrow gauge," of two feet and three inches. The line started from its Exchange Siding with Wellsworth Station, and made several crossings through the streets of that town's suburbs, before reaching the estate grounds. Hall Station brought passengers within a stone's throw of the mansion itself. Moving on, the line dove into the woods through a magical tree tunnel, with a spur at its opening for the engine and carriage shed. Crossing a brook over a three-span wooden trestle bridge, another station and a few sidings known as "Orchard Station" served the fruit and vegetable orchard. Another mile or so, and the railway stopped again for "Bowler's Station," where the Hatts and any guests could detrain for the estate's cricket pavilion.

Another half a mile, and the railway terminated at the Wellsworth Brickworks. This had been a puny operation before the THR linked up with it, employing only three men or so. After the railway's arrival, it expanded to employ a few dozen, and three more kilns were added. Throughout the Great Depression, Topham kept the Brickworks open and its employees onboard out of his own pocket, even as the bricks accumulated unsold. This was far more humanitarian than his treatment of NWR employees and three of his engines!

The railway had one locomotive, a royal purple Kerr Stuart 'Tattoo' class, named "Little Barford," technically a brother of the Mid Sodor Railway's No. 4, "Stuart." Little Barford arrived also with several v-tipper wagons, a dozen ex-War Department bogie wagons, four-wheel trucks and two ambulance vans. The ambulance vans were thoroughly rebuilt by the estate's woodshop to become an elaborate passenger coach, and a "Dining Car," which was quite identical save for the fewer seats and teeny gas cooker. The passenger coach saw constant use, but the Dining Car mostly sat in the siding at Bowler's Station as it cooked. The line was so short, it never could've done more than boil an egg while moving to timetable!

Capping off this complement of rolling stock was one Sentinel DG4 "Overtype" Steam Lorry, quickly named Elizabeth, after the Duchess of York's newborn daughter. Elizabeth was absolutely coveted by Topham, though he wasn’t exactly a steady hand at the wheel. Elizabeth was kept polished to perfection, even when her work involved carting such grubby loads as soil, clay, and coal. She was in every respect a "father's princess," but she worked dutifully and loved Little Barford like a twin brother. She also learned from her Victorian old master her favorite catchphrase, "We are/are not amused!" depending on the context.

The Second World War began in September 1939, and this national shift in priorities turned Elizabeth’s devil-may-care youth on its head. The Wellsworth Brickworks shuttered as many of its men volunteered or were called up, and housing construction all but ended. Little Barford was kept on at the Hall as the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries set to increase production on Topham Hall’s farms. Elizabeth on the other hand was, for the first time, moved away from her only home. As the civilian petrol rationing situation tightened, and private motoring was eventually banned, Elizabeth was suddenly very valuable as a coal-fired road vehicle.

She was commandeered and relocated to Tidmouth Harbour, working night and day as a dockside lorry. This was a very stressful period for her, for she was utterly friendless and out of her element. Although Sodor was never bombed, the routine blackout drills and stories of other ports destroyed, such as Liverpool, took their toll on her mentally. At some point however, she "bucked up." Elizabeth realized she was no longer an aristocrat's toy. For all she knew, Topham had probably forgotten her. As the military lorries she came face to face with daily were almost all of the internal-combustion type, who was to say that when, if ever the war was over, that he'd want her back if he remembered her?

In these circumstances, Elizabeth adopted her more familiar, stiff-upper lip personality. There was no time for polish or quaint little rides to the cricket pavilion, there was a war on! She became grubby, and liked to be grubby. She worked like the devil, and loved that even more. Her posh accent never left her, but she was now in every respect out to be a working girl. Elizabeth would never admit it to herself, but this huge change of self owed much to her upset at being removed from her only home. Did she legitimately like being a working lorry, rather than an estate owner's princess? Certainly she did. Was it an easy and completely voluntary change of character? Of course not. But it was done, and Elizabeth spent many nights assuring herself that it was the right path, the only path to have taken.

1945, the end of the war. Everyone was so jubilant. Elizabeth was cleaned and polished like a crown jewel, decked out with flags and bunting, and allowed to participate in the Tidmouth Victory Parade. In several colour newswreels of the event, you can spot her amid the cascade of tickertape and throngs of soldiers, nurses, longshoremen, civilians, tanks and lorries. It was no doubt a fun day for her, but now she thought a great deal about the future.

The war, which had been everything to her for six years, was over. Soldiers were being demobilized and coming home. Industries were retooling for the postwar world, to make consumer goods rather than several airplanes an hour. The Attlee Government, in conjunction with the devolved Sudrian Parliament established in 1946, had a grand vision for The Mainland and Sodor, where the welfare state for the long-suffering people and machines was vastly expanded, their jobs would be increasingly unionized and their bosses answerable to them, rather than the other way around.

Despite the historically harsh winter into the New Year of 1947, Sudrian workers, bouncing back much quicker than their Mainland counterparts, were delighted with PM Attlee's "New Jerusalem." Tidmouth Harbour was still very busy, as Sodor's biggest gate in and out for the world, and Elizabeth kept calm and carried on as time marched on. She was much busier than she had first feared, and that winter was her time to shine as so many petrol lorries were out of commission with "head colds." Elizabeth convinced herself, somehow, that these thousands and thousands of war surplus petrol lorries wouldn't take over. If so many had taken ill in these conditions, maybe Sodor, or even the whole world, would consider turning back the clock and restoring steam to the roads completely.

She feared and resented petrol lorries something terrible. When the petrol ration which had enabled her life all this time, was finally ended, she was heartbroken. Every worry she had seemed to come to pass all at once. First, the Tidmouth Harbour Authority decided it would be much cheaper to stack its fleet with war surplus lorries, and she was out of a job. Her next owner, a furniture mover, didn't keep her long, and neither did the next, a man who planned to fit her out as a bus and ran out of money.

By 1956, when the now-knighted Sir Topham Hatt I had died, Elizabeth had already been accumulating dust in a shed for two years. She never saw her last owner, who by now had failed to pay rent on her storage. Anopha Quarry, who owned the tumbledown little shack, seized her to make up the difference, but never once came to inspect the lorry who was now their property. Eventually, the Quarry forgot about her too.

It wasn't until 1961, when a little blue puffer deputizing for Toby on the Quarry Tramway carelessly had a coupling rod failure, that she reemerged. She made a heartstopping journey down the line for the necessary spare rod, pins, oilpot and tools in Ffarquhar Sheds, where she stirred up quite a scene, before an even more uncomfortable journey back. Elizabeth's Sentinel heritage thankfully preserved her for the whole ordeal, when Thomas' Driver, then at her wheel, worried that she'd explode and take him with her.

Back into the shed she went after this good deed, for how long, if ever to come out again, she didn't know. Until of course, that same night, a man very like her old Master, named Bertram just like his son whom she had given so many rides through the orchards and to cricket games, came to make a visit...

You can guess the rest :3

Sir Bertram Topham Hatt I was reunited with his childhood friend, and his father's favorite lorry. He immediately sent for her with his own money to be restored, and at once moved her back to Topham Hall, where she was herself reunited with the closest thing to a brother she'd ever had, Little Barford, who this whole time had been working as well as ever, and wondered why no one had ever gone to look for Elizabeth despite all his questions. It had been assumed, wrongly, that Elizabeth had perished on war service. That's how the Tidmouth Harbour Authority wrote it, after they pocketed her sale money! (Sir Bertram was LIVID not to get his hands on the now deceased Harbourmaster responsible.)

Elizabeth is now back to her childhood home hauling farm produce and any visitor willing to get dirty, for she still insists on carrying a bit of grime as a testament to her labours. The Wellsworth Brickworks has reopened, on a much smaller scale, as a "living museum," and Elizabeth takes great joy in carrying clay and coal again. Her, Little Barford, and Sir Bertram are now tighter than they've ever been, and Sir Bertram is the only man allowed to polish her. He's a much more sedated force at the wheel than his father, she notes, and quite often!

We ARE amused to see her <3

[damn-stark]

The Jedi Master

Chapter 2 of Unfrozen

Summary: You once were a General and Jedi Master fighting against separatists alongside the clones, the next, darkness clouded over and life passed in flash, and before you knew it you’re waking up with no memory running for your life.

A/N- next part, I hope you all like it!!

Warning- Angst, SLOWBURN.

Pairing- Since Poe and Rey were tied, what I’m going to do is let you all choose which you like more as the story continues and chemistry’s unfold!!!

————

“So this is our key? A Jedi Master?” Finn asks Rey in a horrible whisper. Your drift your gaze up to the trio and pull your hands from your head, looking to Commander Dameron as his gaze remains on you.

“Do you have a starfighter?”

Commander Dameron blinks in surprise, not expecting you to speak, he shifts in his seat and shakes his head. “Have you seen the ship we’re on? Doesn’t really fit a starfighter now does it? Plus it seems like you may have some type of amnesia, you can’t fly.”

You sit up straight to stand to your feet, looking to the end of the hall and feeling the strong urge to not do as he says and attempt your sudden made up plan. “I can fly, I need to go save my Commander. You heard what they said, they have him.”

Rey stands up and gets in your way as you attempt going out to search for some sort of escape pod. “I can’t let you do that. You can’t, you don’t know if they’re lying—”

“I do,” you remark with a cold gaze. Even if you didn’t have an idea how, you knew. “Search your feelings, citizen.”

Finn beside her looks between the both of you with his eyes peeled and Commander Dameron steps in. “We can’t go back on just a hunch.”

“And he’s my Commander, I leave no man behind.” You interject sharply. “And it’s no hunch, they said it, aren’t you paying attention?”

The Commander sighs and nods, grabbing your shoulder to attempt and assure you. “I understand that, trust me, but getting you back to our base alive is our priority. If you go back there's a possibility that you’ll get killed.”

You step back away from him and begin to pace as you think of a plan.

“Plus, if it’s you they want, they won’t kill your Commander,” Rey continues, “they’ll use him as bait. Besides don’t you want to remember your past first?”

You stop your pacing and lift your head to look at her, frowning and letting out a deep sigh. “I do.”

“Well I can help, but only if we go back to base.”

You hum and sit back down to put your head in your hands again. “At least please tell me what year it is? I,” you pause and swallow thickly at the feeling of a sharp pounding pain in your head, more memories flash, but they’re like if you were looking at someone else’s memories. It was all surreal. “I can’t remember.”

The three of them look at one another and commander Dameron answers for all of them with a sympathetic look featured on his face. “It’s thirty-four ABY. It’s been fifty four years since the fall of the Republic and jedi order.”

Your frown deepens and it seems that at the mention, at the knowledge of how many years have passed your headache heightens. You cover your whole face with your hands and tilt your head down, part of you wants to cry, but the other part doesn’t know why exactly. Your head was in thousands of pieces with only small fragments of it pieced together.

“General….Heart, is it?” You hear Finn's voice ask. You proceed to look up and meet his dark gaze, at that moment seeing another vivid flash of someone else.

“Y/N!”

You whirl around and a smile instantly widens on your face at the sight of Anakin Skywalker, your best friend; you see he mirrors your gesture and you both rush towards one another to meet each other halfway with a big, warm bear hug. “Ani! Haha. It’s so good to see you!”

Anakin pulls away and his grin widens as you two begin to pace around each other in a circle, as if it was the most unbelievable thing in the whole universe. “And it’s so good to see you! Damn, it’s been so long! Wow! Look at you! Jedi Master and all!”

You grin and just shrug, “what can I say? But look at you! Look at your hair!” Your eyes scan his shoulder length light hair and you can’t help but giggle at the memory of his previous cut. “It suits you.”

“What can I say?” He mocks you, both of you finally coming to a complete stop in front of each other, still sharing the same gleeful look. “But you, wow, I’m so proud. Turned Jedi Master at nineteen. You’re the youngest Jedi master, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“It’s no problem, it was a year ago, I’m over it.” You assure him.

Anakin rests his hands on his hips and his grin falls a bit, but not completely, his childlike joy still remains. “What is it your clones call you, General Heart is it?”

Your smile turns shy, and you nod, “yep, it’s silly, but they insist on it, so I’m letting it slide.”

“Well, General Heart not to brag, or anything, but I was the youngest Jedi knight to become a general.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Definitely,” Anakin says smugly as he crosses his arms over his chest. “So I guess we’re both making history.” He begins to approach you and wraps his arm around your shoulders to walk you to the briefing room. “We’ve definitely come far, I never imagined becoming war Generals so young.”

You wrap your arm around his shoulders and agree with his statement. “Nor I.”

Your eyes widen and tears sting your eyes, you look away from Finn and grab onto your chest as this sudden heart aching pain starts within you. Hundreds of memories flash through your mind, all having to do with that same young blue-eyed, brunette that just suddenly appeared in your mind. You suddenly remember his name and what he meant to you, you acknowledge your name from that memory but even that seemed insignificant at the time. You hear the three people before you begin to worry over your current state, but you block them out as the memories of Anakin Skywalker just resurface.

Just the memories that had to with him and nothing else.

“Anakin….” you mouth, feeling the subtle taste of salt in the corner of your lips.

“Did you just remember something?” You hear Rey ask in a concerned tone.

When you look up to her, you make sure to wipe away your tear before speaking. “Uh, yes, my name and a friend.”

“Oh...what is your name?”

“It’d be pretty ridiculous to ask if either of you had knowledge of my friend, would it not?” You ask desperately avoiding her question.

“Uh, depends what friend.” Commander Dameron answers.

“Anakin Skywalker.”

Again they look at one another and share a look you couldn’t understand, when they turn back to you, Rey suddenly has this assuring look on her face that is basked by the yellow light from the hall beyond the cockpit door. “We’re almost at base, it’s best if General Organa helps you with your questions, she’s much more reliable than any of us could be.”

You nod slowly and grip onto your knees as you reveal your name. “My name is Master Y/N L/N.” You offer them a kind smile.

“Oh well it’s very nice to meet you, Master y/n l/n,” Rey formally greets you with her hand extended out towards you.

You look at it and wrap your hand around her forearm. Which confuses her slightly, leaving her a little stunned and unable to think of what to do until a couple minutes later where she does the same. You pull away after a few seconds and stand up to take Finns arm and then Commander Dameron’s; who seems a little starstruck now. He has his lips parted and keeps his hand on your forearm longer than the rest had.

“I, I just want to say that I’m a big fan,”

“Huh?” You quirk your brow and look at him nervously.

He draws in a deep breath and then swallows thickly before releasing his breath and explaining. “You may not remember, but you’re actually a very amazing pilot, my mother used to look up to you, she would tell me so many stories of you and Anakin Skywalker.”

“Oh,” you grin, feeling a warmth begin to burn under your cheeks, “well I’m very flattered.” You use your other hand to grab his forearm with both hands and just suddenly become very flustered. “Thank you,” you pull your hands away and rest them on your hips, “I’m very honored, as well as proud and upset because I can’t rub it in my friends face.” You smirk, “regardless, thank you.”

“No wonder you seemed so familiar,” Commander Dameron added with a more confident smile.

You look to the other two who just look at the commander with a teasing look, and before they could say a thing, the same blue and white droid as before rolls before you and beeps before showing a hologram screen of a scoreboard that read, “Skywalker v L/N.”, and had a line in the middle that each side kept a score of ten tally marks. You narrow your gaze on it and can’t help but grin brightly at the memory. “Ah, yes I remember now, Ani and I had a racing competition going on, we restarted every couple of months because he couldn’t handle not being the best pilot in the galaxy or whatever he called himself.”

The droid remarks your comment and you laugh for the first time before glaring at him. “Don't make me throw you out of this ship you old fried machine, because I will. Anakin isn’t here to stop me.”

The droid goes on a burning ramble and you recall your relationship with this droid and just ignore him and sit back down to look at the three people just watching your interaction. Rey chuckles, but still looks at the droid with concern. “Wow, I’ve never heard him swear, it’s new.”

You scoff, “new is understatement.”

“Well,” Commander Dameron sighs as he turns to the control board, “enough of that, the ship should jump out of hyperspace in three, two and one.” He jumps on the pilot seat and maneuvers the ship down to a beautiful, green jungle planet that soon showed a small hidden base on the ground, hidden amongst all of the greenery. When the ship lands you can’t help but feel a tight stomach churning feeling, or as if something was going to happen. You walk out as normal as possible, you disguise your nerves and walk through the tiny base, seeing the stares and hearing the murmurs. It’s not until you walk inside a building does your gaze focus on one person, on the General they were speaking of.

Upon sight of you she dropped what she was doing and approached you and the four walking beside you. You studied her and noticed she was very small, old and pretty, yet her determination was unmistakably reconzible. Her brown eyes locked on your eyes and her eyes widened a bit as her face turned paler, as if she was seeing a ghost. Once you all finally came to a stop in front of one another, she managed a warm assuring smile that matched her greeting. “Master y/n l/n, welcome.” She grabs your hands and her gaze turns more sympathetic, “everything must be so confusing at the moment, I’m sorry, but I can assure you that we can help with any of your concerns.”

You tugs your lips into an understanding smile and nod. “Thank you, General. And as far concerns, I have plenty,” you swallow thickly and sigh, “I can’t seem to remember a lot of my past, I’ve been getting some memories back. Piece by piece, but there's still a lot I’m missing.”

The General nods and walks you further into the base. “Well to ease some confusion, I’m General Leia Organa Skywalker.”

You drop your smile and a new wave of confusion spills all over you. You blink and freeze in your spot. “Skywalker?”

“Yes,” she confirms, turning to face you as the others watched curiously, “you may have known my father, Anakin Skywalker.”

A faint smile tugs on your lips and you nod, “yes, he was my best friend, he was like my brother, and,” you suddenly cut yourself off and stare blankly at the ground as the memory slams into you. “And I knew your mother too. She was a good friend too,” tears well in your eyes and your voice sounds shaky, “you-you’re their child. I knew of you, of course you were only a fetus before, but I knew of their secret. It’s such an honor to meet you.”

The general's face expresses different emotions, but she ends up smiling softly. “And it's an honor meeting you. I’m sorry for what happened, to be thrusted into such a new place, a new year, everything must feel like a crazy dream.”

“Yeah, just about,” you nod, clasping your hands behind your back.

“And I’m sorry to put you in distress, but it seems the force has brought you here for a reason. The galaxy is yet in another war and we need your help.”

You frown and keep your gaze downcasted. “Hmm.”

“And before I go into much more grave detail, I think it’s better if we ease your mind and help recover what you've lost.” Her gaze drifts to Rey beside you and she gives her a small nod, “Rey if you could, please.”

“Of course.” Said girl responds kindly, turning to you and offering a warm smile, “we’ll find more peace outside, I can take you somewhere.”

With no choice in the matter you follow after her, leaving the two men and the General behind; walking back out to the blazing sun and the humid jungle air. Even if you knew it was impossible, part of you searched for something slightly familiar, a face mainly. But nothing, you were surrounded by new unfamiliar people. All from a different generation apparently, all just purely new.

“We can stop here,” Rey spoke up, breaking you from your train of thought and stopping in a clear spot. Proceeding to turn to you with a sweet and assuring smile, “I’m just going to need you to clear your mind and meditate. I’m going to just help you remember, heal you in a way.”

“Okay,” you nod, looking down at the new change of clothes she had let you borrow before straightening your shoulders and closing your eyes to take in deep breath, breathing them out and clearing your mind, falling into a deep state of meditation. Not feeling as her fingers gently touch the side of your temple and she slowly begins to use the force to ease your confused state; to heal what was damaged and reel back everything that had been lost in the inner corner of your brain, bringing back a huge wave of emotions that used to be well put away. Causing a pain and disturbance within you.

“Something doesn’t feel right, I sense a disturbance in the force.” A new pain shoots through your head and you fall to your knees, screaming and hearing voices and other shouts, feeling a heartbreaking pain and a breakaway.

“Execute order 66.”

The order passes over your head as you’re on your knees in pain, all you could say was just. “No...Anakin.”

The heartbreaking pain finds its source and the face of your longtime friend fades through your mind and displays an unfamiliarity in his now yellow sith eyes. As hard as you try to hold on and just confuse it as some trick, the blue eyes that belonged to Anakin were gone. You were left suffering until it was too late to notice what was actually happening around you.

“General General run! Get out of here!”

“Ahhhh!” You scream out and fall to your knees, grabbing onto your chest and crying out in pain and heartbreak as everything resurfaces and you remember yourself, remember your time before it froze. Literally.

“Y/N! I’m so sorry!” Rey exclaims as she falls on her knees before you, grabbing your hands and trying to help ease your situation.

You fall on your hands and knees and cry out to the ground. You punch it and punch it as if that was going to do anything. You last in your own little secluded, painful and heartbreaking world for a while, until you could grasp what was currently happening, where you were, what time you were in. You speak up hoarsely and unintinally startle Rey. “I remember, everything,” you croak out, slowly picking up your head to look at her with your bloodshot eyes. “The force, it kept me alive when I fell in the ice,” you sniffle, “my commander pushed me to save me and I pulled him down with me. The force kept us alive.”

Rey’s eyebrows knit together and her light eyes search you for her response. She’s caught lost, unable to find the exact wording to help you. She can only seem to cup your shoulder and try to share an assuring look. “I’m sorry. I really am. I wish I could say something to ease your pain, but I feel like there's nothing I can say.”

“Don’t worry,” you assure her before you clear your throat and push yourself to your feet, “I understand. Thank you for helping me,” you express kindly, grabbing her hand and failing to smile, “I appreciate it.”

You drop her hands and then begin your mission and walk past her, hearing her quickly catch up. “Wait, Master, don’t you want to know more? I know a way you can talk to your previous master, talk to any master and...Anakin Skywalker—”

“Don’t,” you cut her off sharply, “don’t say that traitors name again.” You whirl around and glare at her, “don’t you dare.”

Rey stops in her tracks and looks at you stunned and mouth agape, gasping at the new sudden change at the mention of his name. She wants to apologize, but you walk off towards General Organa before she could.

“General.”

“Yes, Master?”

“I need a ship.”

“Wait,” she blinks, “what?”

Your gaze drifts to Commander Dameron and Finn behind her and then slides back to her. “Rey helped me remember what I had forgotten and now I need a ship to rescue my friend. My commander.”

“But, we—”

“And I understand you need me help,” you cut her off in a cold tone, “but I need to save my friend before I can help. Your fellow soldiers promised and I promised my friend I would help him. What kind of General would I be if I can’t keep my promises?”

“Master, l/n, I know you’re desperate, but there's still much you have to learn, to know before you go running off.” General Organa tries to calm you down, “I can help, you’re struggling, you’re confused and hurting. Please wait until everything makes sense.”

You fist your hands and shake your head, “no, I can’t, but I'll hear you out after.”

“You’ll hear me out?” She questioned with a pointed gaze.

“Hmm.”

General Organa looks at Rey behind you and then at the two behind her before looking back at you with a sigh. “Fine, but I can’t let you go alone.” She turns to Commander Dameron and her face softens, “Poe, I know I may be asking a lot, but I trust you to fly her to her location and bring her and her Commander back. All of you.” She turns to Finn and Rey with the same look.

“I don’t need help,” you interject, “I can fly myself.”

“You could,” General Organa says as she turns back to you, “but I need reassurance that you’ll return, I need you.”

You look to a ship parked a few feet behind you and then return your gaze to her, adding a feigned smile and a lie. “I will.”

.

.

.

.

A/N- again depending on the interactions with Rey and Poe you guys can choose which ship you like better :) Rey and him tied so I feel like choosing as the story proceeds would be fun.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #171

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the Berserker of El Dorado, a.k.a. the CEO of Amazones, a.k.a. yet another reason why Type Moon should stop designing teenage characters. Like several other servants from Agartha her true name is hidden when you meet her, so expect spoilers below the break.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: The reason they call him that is because you have to resist punching him in the face.

Penthesilea, queen of the Amazons, is a Zealot Barbarian for a whole lot of anger issues and godly boons.

Race and Background

Penth’s the daughter of a god and also fuckign terrifying, so that’s why she’s a Fallen Aasimar. When she fell she got +1 Strength and +2 Charisma, as well as Darkvision which explains the black sclera, Celestial Resistance to radiant and necrotic damage, Healing Hands to keep her golden body in top condition, and the Light Bearer cantrip. Your weapons are glowy, this’ll take care of that for now.

You’re queen, but a queen of the amazons, so modify that Noble background to get History and Intimidation proficiency.

Ability Scores

If you want to be the daughter of a war god you’d better be able to war good, so make sure your Strength is as high as possible. Your Dexterity also better be good, I know jumping is strength-based, but running around in half a suit of armor is dex based. It definitely doesn’t look like armor, but it’s spiked, and a +2 to dexterity will let you use medium armor efficiently. After that is Charisma, you’re a shrewd businesswoman and also fucking terrifying for anyone vaguely greek. Your Wisdom’s also pretty solid, you’re good at sniffing out Achilles, and you’ve got an even keener business sense. Constitution isn’t that solid, you’re kind of a glass cannon, but you’re still pretty solid. Finally, dump Intelligence. Half the time you’re a raging ball of teeth and spikes, the other half you’re a CEO. Neither of those make me want to put much faith in your smarts.

Class Levels

1. First level barbarians start of strong (pun intended) with Rage, beefing up as a bonus action for advantage on strength checks & saves, damage resistance, and a bonus to attack damage. You also get Unarmored Defense, making running around in that outfit a slightly less bad idea. Or it would, if your constitution modifier wasn’t +0.

You also get proficiency with Strength and Constitution saves, as well as two barbarian skills. Athletics because you’re literally an amazon, and Perception to help you find that damnable greek hero.

2. At second level, your Reckless Attacks will help you pierce through that jerk’s magic skin, giving you advantage on all attacks for the round, at the cost of taking attacks at advantage. To be fair, your AC’s probably like 12 right now, so it’s not like it makes him more likely to hit you.

You also get a Danger Sense, giving you advantage on dexterity saves you can see coming, like a fireball. Or a giant careening chariot. Either or.

3. Your brand new Primal Knowledge gives you proficiency with Survival. It’s a dog eat dog world, and now you know how to cook that dog. You also get a Necrotic Shroud as a bonus action, adding necrotic damage to your attacks once per turn for a minute and when you transform you scare the crap out of people nearby if they fail a charisma save. You can transform once per long rest.

On top of your divine blood activating this level, your divine blood activates this level, making you a Zealot barbarian. Your Divine Fury adds even more damage to your attacks once per turn while raging. Pick either necrotic or radiant damage, I’m not your mother, it’s your choice. You also become a Warrior of the Gods, so now reviving you doesn’t cost money. You don’t have a guts skill, so this’ll come in handy.

4. Use your first Ability Score Improvement to become a Dual Wielder, letting you attack with both sides of that giant mace thing using your bonus action. It also gives you +1 AC while dual wielding, that’s nice. Some barbarians have to die to attack with a bonus action, and you got it as a feat.

5. If you want to attack even more, Extra Attack lets you attack twice with your action, so now you can attack three times per turn. Your Fast Movement also adds 10 feet to your movement speed to catch up to that carrot.

6. Your Fanatical Focus lets you re-roll a failed save once per rage. Your golden rule means it’s hard to mess with your body, and this will help with that.

7. Seventh level barbarians get a Feral Instinct, giving you advantage on initiative checks. You can also ignore being surprised if you rage immediately on the first turn of combat. You also get an Instinctive Pounce, moving half your speed when you start a rage. Your rival is basically a manic the hedgehog humansona, so you’ve got to be able to keep up.

8. Use this ASI to bump up your Strength for more damaging and accurate attacks.

9. Ninth level barbs get Brutal Criticals, giving you an extra die of damage when you deal critical hits. Shockingly, giant metal balls hurt when slammed into people. Wild.

10. Tenth level zealots have a Zealous Presence, spending a bonus action once per long rest to inspire nearby creatures to get advantage on attack rolls and saves until your next turn.

11: Eleventh level barbarians get a Relentless Rage to avoid death while raging. If you pass a DC 10 constitution save, you drop to 1 hp instead of 0 and the DC goes up by 5. When you finish a short rest, it goes back to 0. I guess you do have a guts skill after all.

12. Use this ASI to grab the Mobile feat for even more movement speed and the ability to ignore difficult terrain and opportunity attacks. Achilles is really going to have to step his game up here.

13. Another level, another Brutal Critical, making your critical hits even more brutal. Don’t really have a joke for this one, it’s pretty self-explanatory.

14. Fourteenth level zealots can Rage Beyond Death, meaning you can’t die until you stop raging. Damage that takes you to 0 hp still starts the death save train a-rolling, but you don’t die until your rage ends, and even then only if you’re still at 0 hp. It’s a good thing you don’t have the ability to heal yourself right before your rage ends, or that would be busted. Wait...

15. Fifteenth level berserkers get a Persistent Rage, so now your rage only ends if you want it to, or if time runs out, making you immortal for a full minute of combat. Or until someone casts Sleep, a first level spell.

16. For this ASI we’re getting a little experimental with Flail Mastery, a feat from an old Unearthed Arcana. Technically it only applies to flails, but if you can convince your DM to use UA this old you can probably convince him to extend the definition to morningstars too. Anyway, you get +1 to attack rolls, can use your bonus action to negate a shield’s defenses on your attacks for the turn, and your opportunity attacks force a strength save, on a failure the creature gets knocked prone, which eats up half their movement. Not a big deal for a halfling, very big deal for Achilles.

17. Did somebody say Brutal Critical? I did, just now. Speaking of, you get another one of those, meaning your critical hits now deal double the amount of dice plus three extra.

18. Your Indomitable Might means all your strength checks are now at least your strength score, which is pretty freaking good. It’d be even better if we could bump that up higher though...

19. Your last ASI is going towards your str- no, sorry, it’s another feat, now you’re Menacing. This rounds out your Charisma, doubles your proficiency in Intimidation, and you can replace one attack from your action with a contested Intimidation v Insight check against a humanoid. If you succeed, the target is frightened for a turn. Really we’ve just been giving you better versions of the Berserker class features. Shame we couldn’t get that strength up one last time though.

20. Just kidding! Primal Champions get +4 to their strength and Constitution, and your maximum for both scores increases by the same amount so you don’t have to worry about capping out. You also get unlimited rages, so just pop a new one whenever the old one’s about to run out.

Pros:

Your race, plus all those feats you took, give you a lot of options in the middle of combat, even while raging. You can heal yourself, scare people, attack... okay, it’s three things, but that’s two things more than most berserkers.

By the end of the build, you have unlimited rages, and you can’t die while raging. Tack on your healing hands at the end of a battle, and you’re effectively immortal to anyone not packing Sleep. It’s a first level spell, so a lot of people will be packing it, but by the time this combo comes together most people will be using 9th level spells, so they’ll probably overlook it.

You’re also pretty speedy, even compared to other barbarians. 50′ of movement speed and the ability to ignore difficult terrain will make it hard for your to get space between you and it. Even moreso when your opportunity attacks knock it flat on its ass.

Cons:

Before you become an immortal rage machine, you’re pretty squishy thanks to your low constitution score. I mean, squishy compared to other barbarians. You’re still rocking almost 200 HP and rage protection, but it means you’re not quite as tanky as Herc. Until you hit level 20.

We picked up a lot of Feats in this build, so that’s a good part of the reason why your ability scores are so low compared to other builds. Your fighting style only cares about strength and charisma, but if you get in a business meeting you can’t scare your way out of you’re going to have a rough time.

You have absolutely no way of dealing magical damage. You might be able to eke out some chip damage with Divine Fury and Necrotic Shroud, but if you go up against something with resistance or immunity to nonmagical weapons you’re going to have a bad time. It’s lucky you’re not super pissed at someone who literally has that as their defining feature, huh?