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is-she-suffering · 11 months ago

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02/2003 - Black Velvet Magazine “Queen Adreena in Wonderland”

(Interview with Katie Jane Garside - Taken From Black Velvet 35 - Feb 2003)

By David Jackson

In Milton Keynes, roundabouts have names. While frantically searching for ‘Eagle Stone’, a giant illuminated mountain on the horizon grows ever closer, eventually turning out to be a snow dome. Only in Milton Keynes. In an idealistic reality, Milton Keynes Pitz would be a dark smoke filled rock venue, located somewhere deep underground, out of reach of daylight with filthy walls and sticky floors, perfectly recreating the image the venue’s name paints. The truth is much less romantic. Located in the Woughton Leisure Centre, the Pitz sits firmly alongside a swimming pool while sharing a corridor with the health club and sun bedroom. Doubling as a theatre it’s not unfair to say the Pitz is one of the country’s less charismatic venues.

The public perception of QUEEN ADREENA vocalist and spokeswoman, Katie Jane Garside is varied, never quite consistent yet always fascinating. Appearing somewhat removed yet mysterious, she stands unique. Following Katie into the depths of the Milton Keynes Pitz, we arrive at the band’s dressing room. Informing me that she’s in a good mood, Katie takes a seat while continuing to arrange a small bunch of flowers in a glass on the table.

Queen Adreena are on tour in promotion of ‘Drink Me’. As a successor to their highly acclaimed debut ‘Taxidermy’, in many ways the album sounds a comfortable follow up. Finally settled, Black Velvet proceeds to ask Katie how happy she is with the final product. “In a way it’s not for me to say,” she cautiously begins. “We went through a lot making it. You do with every record, but this one particularly was quite difficult. It was kind of a year of reckoning in a way, writing and recording it. A lot of things that sustained me prior to that all fell away. I have a real sense of vertigo, no ground under my feet. I can’t really say if I’m happy or not with the album. To be honest the day that I am will be the day I don’t do it anymore. “Being on a planet in the middle of infinity with six miles of water underneath you and then infinity above you it doesn’t give you much to hold onto,” referring to her youth, part of which was spent living on a boat. “On the flip side of that, there’s infinity but if you get on the wrong side of the coin you can get into free fall terror. That’s sort of how I feel about that record, it’s just a page in the diary.”

It was author Lewis Carroll in his book, Alice in Wonderland, who first penned the words ‘Drink Me’, written on a label attached to a bottle from which Alice drinks and is subsequently shrunk. Was it from this that the album took its name? “Yes, it’s not hard to get there. Know your own poison really, that’s all it is. I’ve always found the only useful thing to do with fear is to run headlong into it, and that’s the only way it transforms, otherwise it’s always over your shoulder in your blind spot, so you have to sort of wrestle it to the ground really. It’s about knowing your own poison… Drink me.”

Pausing for thought Katie continues. “It is just another page in the diary. A lot of the things I said were sustaining me fell away, all the things that were keeping me upright sort of fell away, during that part of my life, making the record, I think it’s reduced things to their baser elements. In a way ‘Taxidermy’ is tugging in a lot of different directions. For me ‘Taxidermy’ is quite existentialist where I’m observing and witnessing and ‘Drink Me’ I’m taking part. I do use sexuality and violence to sort of beat myself back into existence because I’ve felt perpendicular. I’ve found myself to be dangerously insular. That again is what I said about the only useful thing to do with fear is to run headlong into it, because I lived in a tree house for a long time, just lived above everything, not taking part and I want to be here. Well I have to be here, otherwise I might as well not be here. As a kid I could never come downstairs to my own birthday party. I wanna take part, I actually wanna be there now, but I’m sick of living outside of everything.”

One apparent difference between debut and follow up album is Queen Adreena’s frequent use of dark atmospheric vocals seems to made way for a general heavier rock feel to the record. “The subtler things have fallen,” begins Katie. “Like a boiling pot it has reduced down to its really basic elements; it’s very minimalist. We’re trying to break the shell of the seed so the plant can fucking grow. Like my own life, we always watch from the wings and we wanna play the main stage. I am using violence and friction to create a chemical reaction hopefully. The only thing I find to be true is fiction that creates combustion and therefore doesn’t mean it’s easy or painful but it’s a fountain of youth in a way. It’s the only thing that turns me on and drives me forward.”

With only one single lifted from album ‘Drink Me’ (so far), the unusual decision was taken to release non-album track ‘FM Doll’. Not the usual procedure of album promotion.

The title of the single itself is one of hidden truths, quickly revealing a dark sub-text to the song. “It’s actually called ‘Fuck Me Doll’ and is about female objectification. In a way I shouldn’t really talk about it cause we’re desperate to get it onto daytime radio.” Treading her ground carefully Katie continues. “I know because of the lyrical content it won’t get on there. It’s about child murder. Do you remember the JonBenet case in America? The child beauty queen who was supposing murdered by her mother and father It’s about that and the endemic infection in the female psyche.”

Despite the somewhat unusual decisions surround the single release, as ever it’s accompanied with a promotional video. Talk of which is immediately greeted with laughter. “Well it’s a performance video, but, it’s sexy, that’s it. The whole thing with this is that I’m trying to burn down the cross that I’ve nailed myself to. It’s always about that. The illness that endemic in the female psyche, it’s just the way of the world where you’re just valued as an object. I think there’s a lot of power inherent in the feminine. I’ve always known it, used it, abused it myself so I’m can’t really go down a militant route with it because there’s a lot of power and joy within it. But it’s also for someone that’s not strong enough to carry it. It turns people into victims. It’s a very peculiar state I think that we’re in at the moment in history in terms of female objectification because it’s all supposedly coming up roses, but women are more effected by it than they ever were and playing into that role. What I do is hold up a mirror up to people and break it really for them.”

The lyrical content of Queen Adreena is in places beautiful and consistently fascinating.

Talking about how the lyrics and music intertwine to make the final product, Katie Jane says “Crispin can get terribly upset with me. A song like ‘Silent Undoing’ I just wrote it at home. I’ve got a little wind organ I write stuff on. I’m not a musician, I can play a couple of notes very easily and there’s some chord buttons. For me I always write off an atmosphere. I’ve got six chord buttons and there must so however many combinations of those six chords so I can find that atmosphere that’s drilling in my head for that particular moment. Atmosphere’s everything. Everything that comes out I see in pictures. I’m just interpreting pictures, like snapshots but it’s always very vivid, it’s very much got a black line around it. In a way I have a hotline to the unconscious. Pity me, it’s not the best thing to have and I can’t turn it off. But that’s just intellectualising it. We always try to find clever words to make sense of what we can’t make sense of.” The live show is one forum where Queen Adreena leave the onlooker completely mesmerised. Talking of playing live, Katie Janes says “I’ll give you the most fantastic and obvious cliché. Things that are important to me are fucking, wine and playing music and that’s it really. This thing of reduction, it’s all been about getting out of the head and into the body so it beats the military drum and calls us to war, and let the war of the fucking psyche commence. Here we are, what else could I be doing that would be more fun?” With a notorious reputation for performance how important an element of your music do you feel performing is? “I’ve always known it’s a real privilege to take the stage, it’s a very highly charged thing to do cause it’s a very un-natural thing to do.”

Do you think so? “Yeah! Why would anyone want to stand up in front of hundreds, hopefully thousands of people and almost beg them to tear one to pieces? Or on the flip side, when you catch the right side of the wave you can run up the sides of buildings and stuff like that, you capture a certain pure essence of something and that’s when magic happens. You step into a different realm. You walk through a door that’s not open very often, but you know you have to walk the knife-edge and be willing to throw yourself off the cliff, and that’s why I mean it’s very un-natural. ”

Taking the stance that it’s un-natural to stand in front of thousands of people and perform, are there any particular messages you hope Queen Adreena convey to their audience? “You know I take absolutely no responsibility for how I’m received; it’s nothing to do with me. I have a profound sense of displacement, like I said before, witnessing rather that taking part. I’m desperate to take part. Maybe everybody feels that, but it’s really under the microscope in my case and I’m very very aware of it. I have absolutely no message. I write little stories and I put them like photographs around myself in order to believe that I exist, or challenge the idea that I exist at least and that’s the beginning and the end of it.”

Flicking through her copy of Black Velvet Katie spots a ‘My Vitriol’ interview and proceeds to reminisce about the band live and mentions her admiration of bassist Carolyn. Continuing to chat about music I ask if there is anything in the current climate of music that interests her. “I don’t listen. Things come my way and I’ll listen to them once, but the thing that really does it for me always is white noise and distortion. I’ll listen to a constant CD of the sea; I lived on a boat when I was a kid. But before that,” pointing into the corner of her dressing room, “even the noise of that fucking fan, I find it really… I find is so reassuring for some reason. The sound of any white noise, like a fan or running water. For me listening to that stuff is like looking in the mirror. There are so many different voices in there and frequencies and harmonics and they tell me what to sing. I don’t mean THEY the great THEY, or the spirits. Just within white noise. There’s just this whole spectrum of frequency and it is like anything, if you stare at it long enough you’ll find a reflection of yourself within it. There’s always a story waiting to be told in there. That’s what I love, the wind, the sea.”

And with that my time with Katie is over, feeling like seconds but transpiring to be minutes. With a gig in a sports theatre looming closer Queen Adreena seem as unsuited to play such a venue as much as the venue paints an unrealistic image of itself. The delicately spoken Katie Jane Garside is one of the most intelligently fascinating women in rock. Collecting up her bunch of flowers Katie proceeds to position them carefully one by one into her hair before returning to the rest of Queen Adreena. For a further insight into the band visit www.queenadreena.com We’re informed ‘Everything is not obvious… explore.’

#interviews #2003 #drink me

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hgghgfd · 11 months ago

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02/2003 - Black Velvet Magazine “Queen Adreena in Wonderland”

(Interview with Katie Jane Garside - Taken From Black Velvet 35 - Feb 2003)

By David Jackson

With only one single lifted from album ‘Drink Me’ (so far), the unusual decision was taken to release non-album track ‘FM Doll’. Not the usual procedure of album promotion.

“I didn’t want to look backwards. Making the record was kinda wrestling the thing to the ground,” describes Katie. “There was a great sense of relief. We’ve got a completely new rhythm section in effect now. I don’t want to sound like I’m doing my dirty washing, but we fired out old drummer after we did the album for the first time because it was not played very well. Then we went and recorded the whole thing in five days in a tiny demo studio. By the time we had the things in our hands it was, suffice to say, after finally getting the thing finished, we’d been writing like crazy and just thought there’s no point kinda eating yesterday’s dinner. FM Doll came out so quickly so natural and easily in a way. I feel like I kinda like parodying myself to such an extreme on that.” The title of the single itself is one of hidden truths, quickly revealing a dark sub-text to the song. “It’s actually called ‘Fuck Me Doll’ and is about female objectification. In a way I shouldn’t really talk about it cause we’re desperate to get it onto daytime radio.” Treading her ground carefully Katie continues. “I know because of the lyrical content it won’t get on there. It’s about child murder. Do you remember the JonBenet case in America? The child beauty queen who was supposing murdered by her mother and father It’s about that and the endemic infection in the female psyche.”

The lyrical content of Queen Adreena is in places beautiful and consistently fascinating.

“That’s very kind of you,” replies a visually pleased and smiling Katie. “It’s not difficult at all. It just insists on coming out my mouth. I’d rather somebody shouted louder than me to quiet my own noise really. I mean that’s what playing live does, it just shuts the head noise down for a while. There’s so much noise from every angle it gives me a day off really once it strikes up and gets loud. It’s maintenance for me, it helps with survival. You’ve gotta put all that shit somewhere otherwise it turns into cancer.” Talking about how the lyrics and music intertwine to make the final product, Katie Jane says “Crispin can get terribly upset with me. A song like ‘Silent Undoing’ I just wrote it at home. I’ve got a little wind organ I write stuff on. I’m not a musician, I can play a couple of notes very easily and there’s some chord buttons. For me I always write off an atmosphere. I’ve got six chord buttons and there must so however many combinations of those six chords so I can find that atmosphere that’s drilling in my head for that particular moment. Atmosphere’s everything. Everything that comes out I see in pictures. I’m just interpreting pictures, like snapshots but it’s always very vivid, it’s very much got a black line around it. In a way I have a hotline to the unconscious. Pity me, it’s not the best thing to have and I can’t turn it off. But that’s just intellectualising it. We always try to find clever words to make sense of what we can’t make sense of.” The live show is one forum where Queen Adreena leave the onlooker completely mesmerised. Talking of playing live, Katie Janes says “I’ll give you the most fantastic and obvious cliché. Things that are important to me are fucking, wine and playing music and that’s it really. This thing of reduction, it’s all been about getting out of the head and into the body so it beats the military drum and calls us to war, and let the war of the fucking psyche commence. Here we are, what else could I be doing that would be more fun?” With a notorious reputation for performance how important an element of your music do you feel performing is? “I’ve always known it’s a real privilege to take the stage, it’s a very highly charged thing to do cause it’s a very un-natural thing to do.”

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roseaesynstylae · 1 year ago

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Heir to the Empire: Chapter 1

We begin with the Star Destroyer Chimaera moving through space. On the bridge is Captain Pellaeon, who reflects bitterly over the loss of the Executor at Endor five years previously.

"Even after five years Pellaeon couldn't help but wince at the memory of that image, the Executor, out of control, colliding with the unfinished Death Star and then disintegrating completely in the battle station's massive explosion. The loss of the ship itself had been bad enough; but the fact that it was the Executor had made it far worse. That particular Super Star Destroyer had been Darth Vader's personal ship, and despite the Dark Lord's legendary -- and often lethal-- capriciousness, serving aboard it had long been perceived as the quick line to promotion.

Which meant that when the Executor died, so also did a disproportionate fraction of the best young and midlevel officers and crewers."

I guess that explains Piett, then. He always seemed much more competent than other Imperial officers, and certainly more competent that Ozzel (who I suspect may have been inflicted on Vader as a punishment by the Emperor). This also makes the sacrifice of Arvel Crynyd even more impressive; he crippled the Empire even more in the long run.

Pellaeon heads to Grand Admiral Thrawn's meditation chamber, encountering Thrawn's Noghri bodyguard Rukh. We'll get to the Noghri more in the future. Fun fact: They were originally intended to be called "Sith," but George Lucas vetoed that as he wanted to use the term in the future.

The reader accompanies Pellaeon into the mediation chamber, which is also Thrawn's personal art museum. "The walls and domed ceiling were covered in flat paintings and planics, a few of them vaguely human-looking but most of distinctly alien origin. Various sculptures were scattered around, some freestanding, others on pedestals. In the center of the room was a double circle of repeater displays, the outer ring slightly higher than the inner ring. Both sets of displays, at least from what little Pellaeon could see, also seemed to be devoted to pictures of artwork."

And here we are introduced to Grand Admiral Thrawn. The first sentence of his description -- "his pale blue skin looking cool and subdued and very alien on his otherwise human frame" -- makes it clear that, even in terms of his appearance, he's not like other Imperial officers. We don't learn much about Thrawn's origins in this trilogy; it isn't until the Hand of Thrawn duology that we learn that his species is called the Chiss. This lack of information actually fits with his depiction in this trilogy. The audience only knows a little more about him than the characters in-universe do, and that's mainly due to the multiple perspectives. Of course, future books have explained a lot, but when this book first came out, Thrawn was a total cipher.

Thrawn reveals that the artwork is holographic due to the originals being inaccessible, a nice little touch I appreciated. Pellaeon agrees with him (in a way that's basically him trying to push through a subject he has no clue about politely) and tells him that scouts have returned from the Obroa-skai system.

Here's some information on Obroa-skai!

Obroa-skai is terrestrial ice planet in the Borderlands Region of the Inner Rim. It's best known for its library, reputed to contain the complete knowledge of the galaxy. 16,787 years before this scene, the Celebratus Archive was founded with the goal of collecting the complete date records of over 30,000 species. A Jedi training academy specializing in data collection and analysis was founded on the planet, but obviously isn't present at this time. While Obroa-skai itself first appeared in this book, the Fusei branch of the library appeared in the Star Wars newspaper strip originally published in 1979.

Okay, back to the story.

The scouts were apparently able to partially tap into the library system and are being pursued. Thrawn casually switches the subject to art, mentioning "'Saffa paintings... Circa 1550 to 2200, Pre-Empire Date. Note how the style changes -- right here -- at the first contact with the Thennqora. Over there are example of Paonidd extrassa art. Note the similarities with the early Saffa work, and also the mid-eighteenth-century Pre-Em Vaathkree flatsculp.'"

While I couldn't find anything on the Saffa, the Thennqora, and the Paonidd, I did find stuff on the Vaathkree.

The Vaathkree are a mineral-based sentient species, noted for being covered in armored plates and their devotion to trade and bartering. They live 300-350 years and have two stages of life. Vaathkree start life as small, shapeless non-sentient beings called Stonesingers. Over time, they develop rudimentary intelligence and absorb minerals. As they become more developed, they lose their fluidity and have to choose a form.

Tangent over. Back to the point.

Thrawn's art exposition (which I would happily read a book of) is interrupted by a lieutenant telling them that they're under attack. When Pellaeon hears that there are four New Republic Assault Frigates and at least three wings of X-wing fighters, he decides that a single Star Destroyer staffed by inexperienced crewers against those numbers are not odds he relishes. He tries to tell the crew to jump to lightspeed, only for Thrawn to interrupt him and order TIE fighters deployed.

This is where Zahn's background in writing military science fiction comes into play. Thrawn tells the bridge to rotate the ship twenty-degrees port yaw and the Sector Four sentry line to reform behind the attackers and jam all transmissions. Then, the TIE fighters execute the Marg Sabl maneuver. This is where Thrawn's interest in art becomes significant.

He explains, "'You see, Captain, there is an Elom commanding that task force... and the Elomin simply cannot handle the unstructured attack profile of a properly executed Marg Sabl.'" Thrawn's most famous aspect is vocalized here: "'Learn about art, Captain. When you understand a species' art, you understand that species.'"

An hour later, Thrawn tells Pellaeon to set course to a planet called Myrkr, providing some foreshadowing when he says that both the Old Republic and the Jedi left it alone for at least three hundred years despite it being well within their borders. That seems a little low, considering how ridiculously long the Jedi and the Republic were in existence, but I'm not sure when Myrkr was discovered, so it isn't necessarily an inconsistency. The other bit of information retrieved from Obroa-skai is the location of a place called Wayland. When Pellaeon asks what puzzle Thrawn is trying to solve, the Grand Admiral responds with a truly badass and intimidating line:

"'Why, the only puzzle worth solving, of course. The complete, total, and utter destruction of the Rebellion.'"

#star wars #star wars books #star wars: read through #Star Wars: Heir to the Empire #heir to the empire #Star Wars: Heir to the Empire: Chapter 1

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inhuman-obey-me · 4 years ago

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Knowledge is Wrath

Word Count: 1.8k Description: The Avatar of Wrath had mastered the art of pleasantries and placid smiles, a mask he wears nearly perfectly -- but if you try and take advantage of him, he won't hesitate to let it fall. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Hereeeeee's Satan and his glorious wrath!! Note: Cabariel is a high-ranking demon named in the Ars Theurgia who has fifty dukes attend to him in the day, and another fifty dukes attend to him at night. Thalbus is one of the named night dukes, who are said to be deceitful and disobedient. Can also be found on AO3 here. content warning: gore gore gore, blood, body mutilation/horror

The Avatar of Wrath had mastered the art of pleasantries and placid smiles, burying the rage that always burned under his skin deep within the darkest parts of his soul. He would be more than wrath, more than the fury that everyone expected of him. At least, that is what he would constantly tell himself, knowing that many still found themselves on edge in his presence. It’s all an act, some who had witnessed his true self would say, others merely repeating it for his title and position alone.

There was a place where those whispers would fade away, however. The company of high-society, where he had gathered an array of acquaintances with whom he could discuss a variety of subjects, sharing his extensive knowledge and exchanging it for theirs. These connections only ran so deep, most never crossing the line into friendship -- but friendship is not what Satan sought. He wanted status, a curated image that placed him firmly in the echelons of the wise and out of the shadows of rage incarnate, out of the shadow of pride.

“Thank you again, Lord Satan. I can’t believe I’ll actually be able to see this scroll for myself!” A lesser demon eagerly walked alongside the Avatar of Wrath, accompanying him through the gates of the Demon Lord’s Castle.

“It’s my pleasure, Thalbus.” Satan gave the other his ever-polite smile. “Cabariel had mentioned multiple times that you were anxious to get a look at it, so I’m glad I can be of assistance.” Here he was, leading one such acquaintance to the Royal Archives housed at the castle. It was a privilege few had, one that Satan treasured greatly. He had been allowed by Lord Diavolo centuries ago to visit the archives as much as he pleased, and he did not let the offer go to waste.

They descend now, traversing through the grand passages of the castle -- both imposing and eerie, some corridors shrouded in darkness while others are aglow with flames. Portraits watched them pass by, whispered -- ‘a new visitor, how quaint’. Upon reaching the door that housed the array of treasured documents and scrolls, Satan whispers an incantation he knows well, the last of the words leaving his lips and turning into a spark of light that traces the intricate pattern carved in stone. With a click, the door opens, and the two walk in -- the door then heavily shutting behind them.

“Here we are.” Satan gestures to the main archive room, lined with towering shelves that nearly reached the domed ceiling. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

“It is, it is!” Thalbus gives him a grin, ever-so-slightly crooked. Clasping his hands together, his eyes scan the magnificent annals of the Devildom. “So … where is that scroll?”

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Satan merely smiles, though he feels the way his jaw wants to clench. “Come, it’s in one of the back rooms.”

Down a few aisles, through an archway, and they now are before a vitrine with a scroll neatly rolled out in full display, the parchment delicate from its age but its fibers intact due to restorative magic. It’s much smaller than one would expect, and thick ink is scrawled across it in ancient demonic tongue -- “The Word of the Regent”.

“Wow,” Thalbus gasps in awe, scuttling closer to the glass to get a good look at the prized artifact. “So it really does exist … “

“That it does.” Ah, what a smug look it was that now graced the Avatar’s features. “It really is fascinating, apparently written by one of the first kings. Many are still trying to decipher it’s more complicated and muddled passages, as it seems to speak of a series of powerful rituals that would grant whoever is able to perform it a great amount of power and wealth. Or, so say the urban legends, the actual validity is still debated and -- “

Satan continues to speak, showing off every bit of knowledge he has on the subject as Thalbus continues to admire the scroll. He gets a few ‘hmms’ and various other one-word acknowledgments in response, which is all he needs to continue his confident rambling. To be in the presence of another demon who understood the splendor of such a relic was refreshing, even if for only selfish reasons in that the Greater Demon could bestow an interested party in all his wisdom.

“Thank you once again, Lord Satan.” Thalbus gestures in great respect, hiding a rather satisfied smile as they both eventually leave the archive chamber. “I am incredibly lucky to have been able to be introduced to you, and to see the scroll for myself! Ah, what a dream come true!”

“Again, you are very welcome.” Picture-perfect smile, a steady gaze. They round a few corners, go down a flight of steps -- the portraits whisper again, “oh my, oh my”. They enter one of the dim passages, steps lost to shadows.

“Um, Lord Satan … forgive me, but is this the way back out?” Thalbus warily speaks up, eyes darting around the dark.

“Oh, no. No, it isn’t.” Satan laughs, shaking his head as a large smile stays plastered on his lips. A fool, the Avatar thinks to himself, he truly takes ME for a fool! How ridiculous, preposterous, outrageous. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice, Thalbus?”

“Pardon me?”

“Adorable, how you think you can feign innocence.” He laughs again, though malice bleeds through his voice this time. With a wave of his hand, the shriek of metal scraping against stone is heard -- a gate closes, and Thalbus now realizes he is trapped in a room with no escape. “So, why don’t you hand it over?”

“Oh … you mean, this?” The lesser demon produces a thin tube from his jacket, cocky grin splitting his lips. “I suppose you’re sharper than I realized. Didn’t think you would pay attention while you kept yapping and yapping.” How courageous, for him to act as if he wasn’t moments away from wrathful consequences, Thalbus would have one think. How utterly foolish, is what Satan knows.

Imperturbable smile still present, the Greater Demon steps closer and moves to snatch the contained scroll from the thief, but Thalbus has decided he’d much rather opt for more severe torment as he moves to hide it again. Were all demons of deceit this imprudent? The flames of wrath begin to grow within -- hotter, deadlier.

“How about we make a deal?” Thalbus tries. “You let me borrow the scroll, and I’ll grant you something in return.”

“Oh?” Satan’s smile widens, but his teeth grow sharper. “A deal you say? Truly, Thalbus, you continue to impress!” He begins to laugh, that laugh that sounded so melodic and cheerful and yet just a hint deranged. Satan tilts his head to the side, his eyes glowing a fierce green in the darkness. “You think that you of all demons can entice me with a deal? Just what could you possibly have to offer ME?” His laughter continues, growing more maniacal as his body continues to shift and distort. His claws grow longer, his tail thrashing about as flesh gives way at parts to bone, green flames tracing up his spine to match the searing verdant flames that now emit from his hollow eye sockets. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

Thalbus does not have time to respond, though the terror now present on every crevice of his being is answer enough. In an instant, claws are at his throat as he is held up against the wall, the sound of metal hitting the stone floor ringing out as the scroll slips from his grasp and rolls into the far corner of the room.

“Ah, looks like you’ve lost your bargaining chip!” There is a distortion to Satan’s voice, a grating echo. “That’s too bad.” His tail goes to flick at Thalbus’ cheek before roughly moving against his flesh, its sharp edges peeling away at his skin to reveal what lay underneath. The lesser demon tries to shriek, only to find no sound leaves him. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Satan laughs again, before the claws of his other hand immediately go to grip Thalbus’ jaw, wrenching it open and piercing a claw through his aforementioned muscle. “Oh, guess it’s actually me.” As the lesser demon struggles, Satan can make out a garbled “Please!” as he sees tears leave the other’s eyes.

Please?

PLEASE?

What could this pathetic excuse of a demon, this wretch, this absolute shitstain be thinking that begging “please” would help get him out of this? This situation that he only had himself to blame, for daring to think that he could outwit Satan. The flames that danced atop wrath’s form grew brighter, hotter, larger -- and he unhooks his claw from the demon's tongue to instead grab hold of his jaw once more and rip it clean off his skull. Blood gurgles up and spills from the deceitful demon’s open cavity of a throat, muffling his continued screams which only sounded like music to Wrath’s ears.

Rage overflowed through every fiber of Satan’s being, his mind now clouded and his vision blurred among the inferno. His blood boils as he descends into madness, a flurry of demonic curses escaping through grotesque fangs until words become unintelligible screams that shake the stone walls in his fury.

Idiot, idiot, idiot, IDIOT!

The sharp bony horn that now protrudes from Wrath’s forehead is lowered to skewer an eye, then the other. Piece by piece, Thalbus is torn apart -- claws ripping apart limbs, teeth tearing out his organs, horn impaling muscle, tail grinding bone -- all while the smell of burnt flesh fills the room as flames lick at the remains. The sickening sounds of the lesser demon’s body being completely obliterated fill the otherwise empty chamber, a song of violence.

He is long dead before Satan is finished with him, painting the walls and floor with ichor and tissue and ashes of whatever else comprised the once corporeal form of Cabariel’s duke.

Ah, right. Cabariel …

Deep breath, count to ten … and Satan feels his form shift again, sharp edges folding away as his more human form comes into place. The haze in his mind is gone, the flames put out, the wrath forcibly buried back down as rage subsides. He is himself again, he thinks, for obviously this was who he was and not that beast that had just reared its head.

Yes. Himself.

He walks over to the corner of the room, deftly picking up the nearly stolen artifact. Rage begins to unfurl within him once more, but he must keep it at bay. This problem had been taken care of, disaster avoided. Cabariel would not be pleased to know that he was short a duke, but that was the least of Satan’s worries -- after all, Cabariel should be glad that it wasn’t his throat Satan came for next.

Another look around the room, and a tired sigh leaves the Avatar’s lips. He had purposely lured Thalbus away from the Royal Archives, but still ...

… Barbatos was not going to be pleased.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me satan #om! satan #obey me fic #demons being demons #series: a demon's nature #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos #more of the angry wrathful satan that the game needs to give us #hhh I hope this is okay #he's the last of the bros for now though I'm gonna go back and do a second asmo one too #since these all got ... longer ...

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doctorslippery · 4 years ago

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The Pillar of First Blood – A 15ft dark stone pillar that has engraved writing on each side ‘The spot where the first blood was split between a batch of common devils”.

The Drawing Moss – A smooth stone with a bunch of growing moss on it. Touching the stone with a bare hand results in the moss slowing moving to wherever was touched. On the stone are several handprints and doodles perfectly covered over with the moss.

Curci’s Crypt – A small white stone structure deep in the woods with carvings of trees on each side. Entering brings you into the hidden crypt of Curci.

The Crumbling Shack – Far away from any civilization lays what once was a small shack. The windows are broken, some walls have crumbled away, and parts of the roof are open and fallen in.

Trio of Faces – On the side of a rocky cliff are a well carved trio of protruding faces all looking the same direction

Cone Shaped Prison – In the middle of a grassy field stands an 8ft slim cone made of iron bars, in the middle of the structure lies a sun-bleached skeleton bound in iron shackles.

The Tree of Sacrifice – A abnormally large and oddly pale brown tree where the branches are twisted, and the leaves are a sickly saturated green color. At the base of the tree lies a blood stained alter that the roots of the tree have grown around it and now hold it in place. The base of the tree as well as the ground around the alter are permanently stained a deep red. If the tree is cut, a thick blood sap seeps out of wound. If a creature is sacrificed on the alter, the blood pools near where the roots touch the alter and are absorbed while what appear to be veins appear on the tree that go up into the branches.

The Bone Pit – In an open field there is a 10ft wide and 50ft deep pit with no life growing around it. The walls of this chasm are lined with dark cobblestone and going down there are three uneven sized holes that are covered by iron bars. At the bottom there are a large pile of bones.

The Odd Stone Slab – A big square stone slab rests hidden near the side of the road. Carved into the slab is a symbol and a riddle that upon answering correctly leads to a small dungeon.

The Copper Fox – A 4ft oxidized copper statute of a fox with a small locked box in its mouth and two ruby eyes.

The Pointing Eagle – On top of a large rock formation is a big iron statue of an eagle pointing its body to the east.

The Feasting Table – Out away from any kind of civilization sits a large gray solid stone table with ancient carvings on the sides. Upon its surface are newly lit candles and a banquet of food that seems to be warm, fresh, and untouched by its surroundings. If one where to eat or take anything from the table, the next day it would be completely restocked and replenished.

The Jeweled Bush – A seemingly average looking berry bush that happens to grow small jewels instead of berries. If one where to try and consume one of the jewels picked off of the bush within 24hrs, that person gains a temporary magical effect or bonus, otherwise it’s a normal jewel.

The Ice Blood Spot – Located on the cliff face of a large mound of ice there is one spot that is dark red instead of the pure blue that surrounds it.

Dragon’s Graveyard – in a valley, there are 8-10 adult dragon skeletons, half-buried.

Petunia, the Land Whale – A large whale skeleton surrounded by petunias. The whale is miles away from the sea and the petunias aren’t native to this location.

Wondrous Obelisk – an obelisk, comprised of rose quartz and decorated with sylvan runes, appears to be of fey origin. it is surrounded in a 120-foot field of wild magic.

The Old Folk Hero – A half erected statue of an old folk hero. Either under construction or half crumbled.

The Hope Tree – It’s an oak tree with the word hope carved into it in large letters. No one knows who did it or why, but it’s turned into a useful landmark for the local village.

The Moon’s Egg – It’s a massive dome-like stone formation that shines pearlescent in the moonlight. It lays in a bare outcropping of rock and is warm to the touch.

Hollering Pit – A 50ft deep sinkhole. Well-hidden at the bottom is the lair of an accomplished burglar who calls himself the Jeweler. He’s too old to do much in the way of harm, but the countless traps he installed are not.

The Painted Cliff Face – A cliff that has been entirely covered in paint from hundreds of people.

Threeshades Tower- A weathered, ivy-mantled square tower atop a small hill. Has three levels, and each is built from a different kind of stone. The longsword stuck in one of the bricks on the top level is +1 and can project the bearer’s voice up to 50’ away.

Pigeons’ Chest – an ornate, but empty, chest of silver and pearl sitting by the road. It will not move by any means yet discovered, material nor magical.

The Ol’ Inn – The ancient ruins of a strangely ‘modern-looking’ tavern located in the deepest patches of forest. No path leads to it, no other buildings or ruins are found besides it, but dozens of deformed footsteps can be found heading out of the site. At night, the faint, muffled sound of a single viol can be heard coming out of the muddy floor.

The Forgotten Emperor’s Statue – An incredibly detailed, broken bust of a young wood elf, bearing a red crown. Its nose and left ear are missing and where its left eye should be, the socket is destroyed, and a monstrously decomposed snake eye can be found. The base has a bronze plaque which reads (in broken Celestial): ‘The only one truly meant to rule’, followed by a name which seems scratched out.

The Candle Trees – deep in the woods, a small group of trees whose leaves are bright red. They contrast starkly with the normal trees around them. The Candle trees appear otherwise normal, but the dried leaves can be brewed into a tea that warms the bones even on the coldest nights.

Tale of a Desert’s Origin – A granite obelisk in the desert with glyphs on it. It seems to tell the tale of a very powerful magic user stealing all the life from this area, killing all the plants and turning it into a desert.

The Waning Waterfall – a small waterfall that appears to reverse direction on every night with a bright full moon, running up instead of down.

The Sandmount – There’s a strange dune of sand in the middle of this grassy field, covered in scorpions.

The Awoken Stones – three stone pillars at the top of a hill, each engraved with a different rune of no known language. The pillars appear to change positions, but how this is done is unknown.

Ghost village – There’s a half-buried village in the sand, with sandstone walls being the only remnants… except for one house, which has a simple roof and door carved into the stone.

Impossible Shipwreck – Dashed upon the rocks are the remains of a large merchant ship. Weathered and ancient, the skeletons of the crew still scattered around though most everything of value has long since been looted. The most peculiar thing about this is that the rocks, and ship, are in a cavern 100ft underground, miles from the nearest navigable waters.

Sapphire Beach – a small stretch of coastline hidden between two nigh-inaccessible cliff faces. The sand is particularly fine and a brilliant blue. Rumor has it that the sand was formed when giants destroyed the jewel horde of a local dragon. There are also rumors of a dragon being sighted in the oceans nearby. Digging deep into the sands turn up giant bones.

The Lovers’ Spring – a secluded hot spring, with the initials of many young lovers carved into nearby rocks. Discarded and forgotten undergarments can be found on tree branches in the area.

The Arms of the Last Bard – A broken but thick 15ft wide half-circle embedded to the ground made of quartz and intricately laced with gold strips. An assortment of precious gems are embedded in its surface. Any attempt to collect and/or destroy this construct will cause severe psychic damage and a loud high-pitched tone to play loudly. The half-circle aligns perfectly with sunset/sunrise and every time it does, the most beautiful flute melody plays that is sourceless.

The Iron Tree – A big, old tree which seems to be made of iron, but as far as anyone can tell, is alive and growing, if slowly.

Hades’ Hand – A 15ft tall stone hand stretches from the ground, reaching for the sky.

The Stone Toad – A gigantic stone carving of a toad’s head, crumbling, half-buried, and covered in moss.

The Wrecked Ship – The sun-bleached wreckage of a ship that ran aground long ago. Inside the hull is a massive cage with thick steel bars that appear to have been smashed outward from the inside.

The Three-Sided Tower – A half-collapsed stone tower with curious triangular architecture. The bones of a lonely watchman sitting in a chair lie atop it. The watchman wears a helmet shaped like a triangular pyramid. Several towers of this type can be found around the same area.

Giant’s Playground – this field is entirely stone, and many massive footprints can be seen stomped into it. There are boulders laying around, some cracked.

The Fallen Hero – The legs of a giant metal statue standing beside the top of a waterfall overlooking the valley below. At the bottom of the lake below the falls, the head and torso can be found. It appears to be the likeness of a famous ancient hero that a PC might recognize.

The Charity Cave – A cave with a chest that says, ‘if you take something, leave something.’ It’s unlocked and has several trinkets inside.

The Eye of the Moon – on top of this hill is a pool surrounded with stone. The water is always cool, and at night the full moon can always be seen in its reflection, regardless of clouds or moon cycle.

Bigfoot – A large tree in the forest that bends and splits in such a way that the bottom looks like a foot, with toes.

Goddess of Death Statue – A worn smooth but still recognizable ancient statue of a goddess of death. At her feet sets a black stone bowl filled with fresh rose petals. If you were to kneel down at the bowl and look up at her, you would see her eyes stare unwaveringly into yours.

The Red Altar – in the middle of a copse in a strange swamp lies a smooth altar made of red stone, with strange carvings of trees and water all around its base. Upon touching the altar, you will hear a voice in your mind ‘sacrifice”, and you will feel a strange primal urge to sacrifice a creature on top of it.

Timnar’s Beard – A copse of trees growing in a single spot on an otherwise barren mountain. Unbeknownst to the world, it is the burial place of a great wizard of earthen magics. It is watched over by a trio of stone golems and a handful of slumbering treants to guard the immense knowledge held within the tomb.

The Sundered Mount – a mountain that appears to have been cleaved in two and creating two crumbling peaks with a narrow cut of a valley between them. It does not appear naturally created.

The Mage Wastes – A region where fertile grassland suddenly stops and abruptly becomes a barren wasteland of decaying grass and reddish soil. It seems as if it was the sight of some magical battle. The ground is pocked with craters and scorch marks, yet it seems as if this battle was an ancient long finished, but the battlefield has remained a wasteland frozen in time.

The Dragons Maw – A series of jutting tooth like spires of black igneous rock which rise out from the sea. These “teeth” have proven to be an extreme hazard to sailors and shipping which pass too near to them. Tearing hulls and ripping sails.

The Gods Sacrament Statue -A old weathered statue of a god with beautiful gems inlaid and surrounded with wicker basket offerings of gold, flowers, food, and trinkets. Stealing from the statue result in a curse (permanent level of exhaustion) from the deity until either greater restoration is cast on the thief or they repent and make an offering of twice the amount stolen. Award inspiration for respectful offerings or prayers given to the statue.

The Dragonblood – A massive artwork carved into a boulder placed some ways away from the banks of a nearby river. The artwork seems to depict a struggle between giants and dragons, with the giants as the victors. The faintly red runes which line it are giantish, and anyone who can decipher them will read that it marks a momentous battle between giants and dragons, over which should decide the course of the river.

The Daughter of the Sun – An enormous stone of a singular soft yellow color. It is hot to the touch but by day it is warm and comfortable simply standing near it. By night however the stone begins to glow brightly, illuminating its surroundings in radiant golden light. Large chips of the same stone can be found in the foliage growing around it. With similar glowing properties.

Would you kindly -A sentient door in the side of a mountain that has short term memory loss. He has no idea of his name or how to open himself but enjoys talking with travelers none the less. Speaking the magic word “please” will cause the door to open revealing a shortcut through the mountain. No form of magic or otherwise can lead through or get around this door without speaking the magic word due to an ancient magical barrier.

The Bread Boy – a small statue in a park depicting a street urchin. In one hand he has what is left of a small loaf of bread. With the other hand he is spreading crumbs for the birds, so they do not go hungry too. A place where the street kids gather.

Sculpture Garden – a small clearing in a forest, near a cave mouth, contains dozens of statues of humanoid creatures, many armed & armored, all with looks of surprise & horror on their stone faces.

Saben’s Cauldron – a large, circular pool off of a main river which is geothermally heated.

The Teeth – a series of vaguely conic stone spires lined up along a gentle arc. Each is over 15ft tall and 5ft across at the base, and tapers to a narrow tip. Nobody knows the origin of this formation. Some say the teeth are all that remains from some colossal dragon skeleton, others think the stones were placed there by a dragon cult, or as a sign from Bahamut.

Mage-Crater – a 120ft diameter crater. Now filled with water and inhabited by pond creatures.

The Old Man – a natural rock formation that just happens to look like the face of an old man with a long beard. Ruins of temples from several ancient civilizations can be found in the valley below, apparently attracted there to worship the face, or perhaps just to be under his watchful gaze. Most humanoid races in the region are sure the old man looks like their race and have their own legend about him.

The Deino Flats -roughly 40 acres of salt flats. A long dried up saltwater marsh from ancient times.

Grand Defender – a large, symmetrical hill where the site of a great battle once was. Stone rubble and ruins barely peaks out from the top. Flowers are left there every so often.

The Adventurers Billiard Hall – A stone statue of a Local adventurer rests on a green glass dome in the center of a public lake. The dome is lit gently from beneath. Somewhere nearby lies a dilapidated entrance which runs through a small puzzle focused dungeon.

Turned-Inn – An inn that has been carefully constructed to appear as if it was turned upside-down.

The Signposts – A collection of several dozen poles each with a dozen or more signs mounted to them pointing towards various distant lands, nearby businesses, and bizarre joke locations. It started with travelers who erected a signpost pointing to their distant homelands which other travelers added to. Eventually it got out of hand.

Worm’s Desert – A small sandy desert only a couple hundred acres in size of so. A great desert-making worm arrived from another world and sought to covert the world into an ecosystem like its home but caught a local disease it was unresistant to and died before it made much progress. The residual poison from the worm’s body deters plants from overtaking the sand.

Lightning Lab – A bizarre building with a strange mushroom-shaped metal lattice on top. It was the lab of a researcher studying non-magical electricity who died from electrocution.

The Sandlot – A square of property with no building where children come to play. A greedy landlord raised the rent on a long-term elderly tenant when they purchased the property, driving the tenant into poverty and eventually death. The tenant cursed the land with dying breath that no-one would never profit from the property. Every future tenant was driven out by terrifying haunts, and eventually the building was burned down.

Dwarven Monument – An enormous high relief of six dwarven warriors cut from a cliff pointing the way along, commemorating their epic journey.

Atlas Boulders A series of differently sized large stone spheres far too large for a man to lift. The strongest giants would lift them to prove their strength. They sometimes move, so perhaps the giants still use them.

Ancient Battlefield – ramparts, high hills, and trenches filled with water that stretch for mile marking the location an ancient battlefield. It has grown over.

The Epicenter – A large swath of woods where all the trees in a massive circle have been bent at a 90-degree angle towards the center but continue to grow that way. There is nothing (currently) anomalous at the center, but a powerful coven of druids hold it as one of their holiest places and guards it closely.

Ol Demons Place – a once portal to the abyss, sealed by hero’s long ago, now just a crumbling arch with an unsettling aura.

The Broken Hill – a hill that you need to walk uphill to get to and walk uphill to get away from.

The Rooster of Mourning – An enormous statue of a rooster, made from a strange metal, finely detailed and colored. It is hollow, and when the first ray of sunrise strikes it, a great, sad-sounding crow arises from it. Legend says that it commemorates a great battle in the distant past.

The Angry Spot – a small stone platform on the top of a hill, standing on the platform makes a person irrationally angry. Barbarians may involuntarily rage as a result.

The Alter of a Thousand Arms. – At a crossroads sits an unusual statue, made of stone it stands over 10 feet tall and has arms sticking out in every direction with their palm turned upwards. In nearly every hand there is a candle, some still lit but most are fully melted. Placing a candle in one of the hands and lighting it will give the player the blessing of ‘A helping hand.’ When a player next fails a roll, they may roll an additional d6 and add it to their total.

The Weeping Sister – A fifteen-foot statue of a girl unmarred by time. Next to her are the shattered remains of another statue, close enough that the body may have once held her outstretched hand. The feet of this larger statue are all that remain affixed to the earth – the rest is scattered throughout the clearing. Water, clean and pure, travels down her face in steady rivulets but leaves no erosion there.

The Sensible Stone Head -a large stone head protruding from the surface of a glacier. It is the head of an earth elemental and if you get his attention, he is friendly. If asked what he is doing their he replies ”swimming in the river”, given he exists at a geological place the slow flow of the glacier is like a river to him.

Glass Tree – A fairly tall an elaborate tree made entirely out of glass raises from the earth, at its base there is a plaque written in dwarven, it’s to commemorate a dwarf leader who fell in battle.

The Titan’s Blade – A 50 ft rust covered sword driven into the earth. The whole area has a magical aura and no wildlife lingers within a quarter mile of the sword.

The Well of Good Tidings – A well by the side of the road that is a base in a local hafling tradition that if one where to lose a tooth, that it is to be tossed in the well with a tip of the hat. When doing so, good fortune is sure to come. Characters that throw in teeth later find small amounts of wet coins in various locations on their person. Characters that throw rubbish, or are otherwise disrespectful of the well, find their respective objects on their person once more soaking wet and covered in bite marks.

Skilltown – A small but clearly once-bustling town lays abandoned inside of a titan’s skull. The skull is half buried in the sand; its eye sockets and mouth aim up at an angle. Walking through its mouth is the only way to enter the town. The skull looks to be that of an enormous version of whatever scariest creature lives in that area. It provides ample shade during most of the day.

Best Rest Graveyard – A cleric once prayed over a graveyard that all within would ‘rest well.’ Now anyone who falls asleep in that graveyard has the best night of sleep they’ve ever had.

Bird Hill – a grassy hill of noticeable height rises from the otherwise flat plains. On the hill are several lines of cobblestone that do not grow grass and have no discernible pattern from the surface. If flying, however, you see the cobblestone lines form the shape of a bird, along with some arcane symbols. If you happen to look up during the spring or fall, you’ll see migratory birds alter their course to fly over this hill.

Stairway to Nowhere – All that remains of an ancient fortress, the remarkably well constructed staircase rises for 3 stories out of the ground at the end of an ancient road, and then just abruptly stops.

The Crossroads – This is the place where four kingdoms meet. The main road for each lead to a massive stone pillar. Many years ago, all four kingdoms were at war, and a pillar was placed there as a symbol that none from neighboring kingdoms would be allowed to cross. It is now an annual meeting place for the four to discuss their continued amnesty.

Cloudland Canyon – It’s a canyon nestled in a northern mountain range that’s so high even the base of the canyon is a higher elevation than most of the other mountains in this world. Wondrously magical things occur here.

Stone Tree Garden – It was a garden from a former ancient culture, which vanished out of unknown reasons. One of the only things found was this tree garden. Are the trees made of stone or turned to, no one knows.

‘The Circle’ -There once was a meteorite which crashed into the land. The first to arrive found weird writing in a (Insert required size) diameter circle. No one could read what was written. In the center of the circle, where the meteor should have been, there was nothing, not even a small crater.

The Well – A seemingly normal well on the top of a hill. Anything that is placed into it is immediately tossed out of it.

The Pariah’s Mountain -One mountain among an otherwise unimpressive range, its only defining feature is its completely upside down. The base measures about 60ft across, but the peak 3,000ft up is easily a mile across. Stairs may have been carved into the side, but the climb down to the summit (or is it up to the base? The locals aren’t quite sure) is precarious at times. The locals are also similarly vague when asked about what’s on top…

Worried stones – A group of 3 standing stones with anxiety. When encountered in their clearing, they will disappear once all eyes are off them. Careful inspection will reveal them to hiding nearby – peeking from behind a nearby tree, bottom of a lake, hidden by bushes, behind where the party is now looking, etc. If discovered, they disappear again if not observed. The stones are not malicious, and do not harm the party. They would just rather you all left them to it, thank you.

The Quiet Creek – An otherwise ordinary creek that runs through a forest. It is abnormally quiet near the stream, in such that there is almost no echo around it, and it is surprisingly hard to hear from a distance. All along its course stand small boulders, almost fully grown over with moss.

The Shifting Hills – A large field of hills, dotted with rocks, grasses, and flowers. Careful study has found the hills are constantly moving, as though old creatures crawl along under a carpet of earth. Magics which call upon the earth always seem to produce unexpected results when among them.

The Devil’s Wager – A large disc shaped stone at the base of a long dormant volcano. Visitors toss a copper at it for good luck. There are a couple hundred copper around it. It is considered extraordinarily bad luck to take the coppers.

The Swordleaf Trees – there is a patch of trees here with a non-stop turbulent wind rustling the leaves and branches violently. The leaves’ edges appear to be razor sharp.

Beacon Mountain – A mountain that, on some nights, has a bright ball of light form over it which slowly dissipates over several hours. Local religion strictly forbids climbing the mountain.

Mist Valley – a short pathway of stone carved into a mountain, roughly five feet wide with names of couples and graffiti on the stone walls. The pathway always has a thick fog settled over it, making it seem eerie.

Ancient Battleground – Deep in a forest, trees are marred with years old axe and sword marks. Hundreds of skeletons dressed in rusted armor and weapons lie in this area. Taking a trinket, or even loitering may be unwise.

True Clarity Bridge – A bridge between two high places that, for many people, while staring off the side, provides answers for their most troubling issue or deep question, whether they were looking for the answer or not.

Lover’s Glade – Two sequoia trees whose bases are over a hundred feet apart have grown together and connect about 160 to 180 feet off the ground. The branches and leaves of these giant trees create a pleasantly shaded area below which is often used by the local populace as sites of wedding ceremonies.

Round Rock – A mysterious perfectly round rock that stands nearly 20ft tall. It is too heavy to roll and never seems to chip. It is the center of many local legends, varying wildly on their truthfulness.

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chokemeanakin · 4 years ago

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Misunderstandings - Anakin x fem Reader (angst +fluff)

Masterlist

Thank you for the request @artiza-n ! 💕

Wc: 6.4k

Summary: Anakin and reader get sent to Naboo to guard Padme and Clovis during a debate and some misunderstandings ensue. Mostly jealous angst, some fluff at the end— happy ending bc we all need that right now.

Gif from @swprequels

“I still don’t understand why they need both of us,” you grumble, rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you walk out of the cruiser. The day is hot on Naboo, but grey and cloudy with a promise of rain later. The humidity makes your skin sticky, worsening your irritation.

“Think of it as a vacation,” Anakin pulls the luggage from the transport cubby, setting it on the ground beside him. “You watch over Clovis, and I’ll handle Padme. It should be a breeze.”

“Exactly. Which is why I don’t understand why they need both of us.”

You had just gotten back from a long and grueling siege on Pontoon, another one of those vast, endless desert planets in the Outer Rims. You’d really much rather be sitting in front of an air cooler right now, resting your tired bones and trying to forget the taste of sand.

“These are two very important Senators, Y/n,” Anakin waved off your attempt to help him with the luggage. “If anything happens to them at this debate, the Senate will lose important advocates for peace and the end of this war.”

You knew this, of course you did. Not that you’d completely agree with his statement-- Clovis always seemed a little shady to you, his morals seemingly scattered all over the place. You guessed that’s why the Council sent you, a simple marksman, to guard Clovis while the beloved freedom-fighter Padme Amidala got the most powerful Jedi to ever exist.

“Besides,” said Jedi nudged you, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

Of course you do. Between the war and separate guild or Council missions you’d both been sent on, neither of you had time to even breathe in the others’ direction for months. The only reason the Council was able to wrangle you onto this cruiser was because Anakin was going to be there. Not that you’d even be able to spend much time with him during the day, although you were aware that you’d be sharing a room in between the Senators you’d be protecting at night…

You and Anakin meet the Senators at the hull of the ship. They walk down the ramp side by side, heads held high and hands clasped in front of them. Their movements are smooth, like they’re gliding on water, and the heat doesn’t seem to bother either of them.

“Master Skywalker. Y/n. Thank you so much for being here, it is so courageous of the both of you to be looking out for us,” Padme stands before you, beautiful as ever in one of her many extravagant, expensive gowns. The headpiece woven through her hair sparkles in the midday light, the warmth of her eyes capturing the rays of the brilliant sun. “However, I must say that I hope your services are not needed. I’d much rather this debate go by smoothly than have any dangerous interruptions.”

“I can assure you, we’ll take care of any problems before they arrive. Leave the dirty work up to us,” Anakin returns her smile, charming as ever.

Anakin shoots you a glance and then follows her away, carrying multiple bags of luggage in each arm as Padme shows him where to put it. For such a small woman, she seemed to pack heavy. Unfortunately, this leaves you and Clovis to stand alone together, an awkward stillness settling before you.

“Um, Anakin has your luggage,” you yawn into your arm, gesturing to his receding form with the other. “I’m Y/n, and I’ll be your bodyguard for this debate.”

“You?” Clovis doesn’t smile, instead he scans you up and down with hawkish eyes. “You’re such a small thing. What could you possibly be able to do to protect me?”

It’s not said unkindly, but it still irks you. Your eyes narrow and you bite back a nasty retaliation for the sake of diplomacy. “You’ll find I’m pretty good with a blaster. The best, actually, according to the Jedi Council. That’s why they have me work with the Generals in the war.”

“Are you a General yourself?” Clovis begins to walk, heading toward the senate building. You follow at his side.

“Not exactly. They offered me the title, but I declined. I’m more of a freelancer, and once the war ends, I’ll go back to taking odd jobs. Besides, there’s no use in having an army if I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Humble. That’s admirable,” Clovis’s mouth tilts into something of a smile. “I, myself, could never turn down an army. Or the status, for that matter. You could be holding a lot of power if you pushed your way with the Jedi Council, you know.”

“My way?” you questioned. “I just told you, I don’t have a way--”

“And that’s your flaw,” he mused, chin still pointed up, never quite looking at you. “How curious-- your Jedi counterpart seems to have stolen all the ambition.”

You roll your eyes. You never had a thirst for power, or status, or influence, or any of that. Your power came from behind a blaster, when your focus was trained on a single target and your finger was glued to the trigger. One simple twitch of a muscle, and you could end a life from miles away. That was your power, and it was all you needed.

He is right about Anakin, you have to admit. He was always looking to be better, not just for himself, but for the good of others. You love that about it, in fact it’s one of your favorite qualities about him. Sometimes, though, you wished he could see that he didn’t have to try so hard all the time to believe he was enough.

The blast of cold air that hits you as you enter the senate building wrenches you out of your thoughts. It whisks away the perspiration that had built up on your skin, cooling your body and calming your mood almost magically. The sounds of your collective footsteps tap along the glossy marble floor, echoing throughout the empty chamber.

“Aren’t you going to ask what we’re doing here?” Clovis leans against his podium, marked with a nametag spelling his name. Next to him is your seat, and on Clovis’s other side is Padme, followed by Anakin on the end. A cold dread fills your veins, just now realizing how boring tonight’s debate is going to be.

You sigh inwardly, tracing the engravings of your nametag with the tip of your finger. “My job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to observe.”

“Well, observe away,” he pushes himself off the podium. “Although I don’t think it will be very entertaining.”

He’s right. You sit in your seat, legs crossed on top of your podium as you inspect your nails. It’s been three hours since you’ve arrived, the sun is setting, and all Clovis has done is stroll around the debate room, muttering to himself and pondering through his position. You’re bored out of your mind. Pulling out your holocom, you wonder if Anakin’s situation is any better.

“Y/n?” he picks up a long moment after you send the call, and his face projects blue before you. It’s loud where he is, and his eyes are looking at something else.

“Where are you?” you question. He sounds like he’s a party, but you know that can’t be true. “Where’s Padme?”

“She’s with me,” Anakin tilts his head, signalling that she’s sitting in front of him. “We’re at a restaurant getting dinner. I was just going to ask-- did you and Clovis go somewhere to eat yet?”

You drop your legs from the podium and lean in close to the com, speaking quiet so Clovis can’t hear. “No, he’s barely said a word to me since we got here. He’s been walking around the debate room all afternoon, just talking to himself.”

“You think he’s nervous for tonight?”

“Maybe,” you spare a glance at him. He’s staring at the domed ceiling, as if he’s counting the pillars coming out of it. “Or maybe he’s just psycho.”

“Oh, Clovis knows what he’s doing,” a femine voice interjects. Anakin’s eyes shoot forward again, immediately smiling as Padme speaks. “His pre-debate ritual is long and gruelling-- I should have warned you. He’s simply getting into his headspace, that’s all.”

“How long does it usually take?” you mumble.

“It shouldn’t be much longer. Make sure he eats beforehand, otherwise he’ll be crabby during the debate. And trust me, you don’t want to have to handle a crabby Clovis.”

Both Padme and Anakin laugh at this, and you force yourself to smile along. “Yeah, I’ll go see what he’s up to now.”

“Good,” Anakin says, momentarily drowned out by an uproar of cheers behind him. “We should get going, too. Padme needs to get dressed for the debate. See you soon.”

Anakin ends the call, and you’re left wondering how exactly the topic of dressing Padme came up.

Shoving down your irritation and self-pity, you pocket your com and stand from your seat. Clovis’s head whips toward you like you had pulled a blaster on him.

“What?”

“It’s getting late,” you stretch your arms over your head, working out the kinks and aches from sitting so long. “I was wondering if you were hungry at all.”

“I can’t eat before a debate,” Clovis looks almost angry for a second, and then he glances down at his watch. His expression smooths into one of urgency. “Ah, we should head to the apartments. It’s time to get ready.”

The night is still warm, and the sidewalk drips with a rainstorm that you missed while you were in the senate building. The fresh air is nice, though, and you breathe in the smell of sweet flowers and savory restaurant food. The grumble in your stomach is hard to ignore, but you know you’ll manage.

Clovis leads you all the way to his suite, the temporary apartment that sits in conjunction with yours and Anakin’s, and Padme’s on the other side. Staying in this apartment complex made more sense rather than finding separate housing units, as keeping everyone together would aid in ensuring their safety.

Padme’s mansion would have been a nice stay, you think, but these apartment sweets are also quite luxurious. You walk into the master bedroom to find a formal, dark blue gown laid out for you on the bed. Next to it is a rumpled space where you assume Anakin’s suit had been, but instead there’s a note and a box.

Padme wanted to get to the senate building early, so we’re probably going to just miss you. Too bad, I won’t get to help you into this sexy blue dress. Maybe I can help you out of it later.

You laugh softly, smoothing your thumb over the inked-on smiley face before finishing the note.

I’m not sure if you had time to get anything to eat, so I got you something while we were out. See you soon.

You don’t need an “I love you” scrawled into the paper in order to know he wanted to add it. That would have been too risky, and there was no way you’d be able to make an excuse if anyone were to find it. Still, you rip up the note and throw it in the trash before opening the box underneath. Your nose is instantly filled with the smell of food, still warm, and you sit next to the blue dress, digging in unceremoniously.

You scarf down as much of the food as you can and then store the rest in the fridge before getting to work on making yourself presentable. You have to look put together, yet not so much that you stand out. You slip a couple of silver clasps into your hair and do your makeup, opting for a bold lip color because you don’t have much time to do anything fancy with your eyes. You’re running short on time-- you know this because of the knock on your door, and then the irritated sound of Clovis:

“Y/n, we have to leave now or we’re going to be late. You know how bad it would be to arrive late to this event?”

You stand in front of the mirror, desperately reaching behind you to grasp at the zipper of your dress. It would be so much easier if Anakin was here to reach it for you, but you make due and quickly pull it up. The dress is form-fitting and flows down into a puddle around your feet. A bit long, as you opted not to wear heels in case something went awry, so you bunch the skirt up in your fists and jog to the door.

“My apologies,” you open the door to find Clovis, now dressed in a pristine black and white suit with his hair gelled back. “I was making sure I had my equipment all in order.”

Clovis ignores your excuse, eyes instantly moving to take in your figure. You could swear they blow open wide for a fraction of a second before he composes himself, clearing his throat and masking his approval with his usual grim expression.

“You clean up quite elegantly. Now, we should head to the lobby, the limousine is waiting for us.”

…

You’re not sure what the point of a limousine is, as the walk from the apartment buildings to the senate building is 10 minutes tops. Probably for formalities, you decide, as Clovis helps you out of the vehicle. The building that had been vacant only a couple hours earlier is now swarming with Senators, all dressed in lavish, extravagant gowns. Everyone is holding a flute of some sort of drink, and they congregate in small groups, making small talk before the debate starts.

Clovis wastes no time with socializing, and beelines for his seat.

You hang back, searching the crowd for Anakin. Without heels, many people tower over you and it’s hard to focus with the deafening sound of chatter filling your ears. But you’re trained for this, have spent your whole life blocking out the unnecessary, so you hone into your patience and scan the crowd closer.

There.

You’d recognize that head of golden-brown curls anywhere, even if it was tamed down for this event. He’s standing tall among the Senators, eyes gleaming bright as he engages a whole crowd of them in some wily story. He and Padme look at each other and laugh, his hand on her shoulder and her hand finding his waist. Your blood suddenly turns hot, and you push your way through the crowd to make it to them.

If you could, you would march right up and pull him away from all those greedy stares. They’re practically drooling all over him, and Padme’s hand is still on his waist. But you know better-- you can’t let anyone know you and Anakin are familiar, so you stand at the edge of the crowd, meeting Anakin’s eye.

You glare at his face, then at Padme’s hand, then back to him. His eyes narrow into a warning, extremely fleeting, and then he continues on charming the crowd. You know what he wanted to say-- it means nothing. It doesn’t stop the heat from blossoming in the pit of your stomach, the irritated glare you shoot Padme before looking down.

Way to stay under the radar, you think, slipping away from the crowd and deciding it’s better to keep your eyes on Clovis than get angry over a move on your boyfriend that was probably innocent.

Clovis is sitting at his seat, still as stone, surveying the crowd before him.

“You nervous?” you take your seat beside him.

“Not at all.”

“Good. You’ve been preparing all afternoon, I think it’d be ridiculous if you still doubted yourself.”

“You… have faith in me.”

“Of course,” your eyes softened at the vulnerability in his statement. “You’re a powerful Senator.”

He huffed, the crack in his green eyes immediately cementing over. “I know.”

And, there he is. Back to being gruff and dismissive.

It’s quiet for a moment longer, but you’re okay with that. Small talk is not an interest of yours either, and you’d much rather sip on the flute of drink that a servant had given you than join the crowd on the floor.

Unfortunately, you have trouble wrenching your eyes away from Padme and Anakin, who are still surrounded by drooling Senators. Padme looks like an angel, dressed in a floor length gown spun out of gold thread that you’re pretty sure came directly from the sun. It shimmers and sparkles as she moves, standing out like a beacon of light among the rest of the room. She is radiant, with a matching headpiece that glitters like a chandelier, the jewels braided in and out of her chocolate curls. Even her makeup is minimal yet blindingly beautiful, with a gold shimmer staining her eyelids and cheekbones that reflect the warmth of her topaz eyes.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Clovis murmurs next to you, so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

“Who? Padme?”

“I believe she’s taking quite a liking to the Jedi.”

Heat sparks in your blood again. The fact that even Clovis notices how handsy Padme is being… then again, it’s a known fact that Clovis and Padme have a history, and he could just be reading too far into things out of jealousy.

“You shouldn’t call him that,” you choose to ignore his concerns. “Anyone could be listening.”

“You see that smile? That’s the smile she only ever gave me. I wonder if she even knows she’s doing it…”

“Clovis, Anakin isn’t allowed to form attachments. You have nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not him that bothers me,” he admits. “It’s her. Look. Look at the way she leans into him when she laughs.”

You take his advice and… now that he says it, she does get a little too close for your liking. Every time Anakin finishes a punchline, the crowd erupts in laughter and Padme joins in, bracing herself by gripping onto his arms and grinning into his neck. He catches her, ever the gentlemen, but he’s smiling too.

It’s a little more than innocent, and you can’t tell who’s fault it is. But that doesn’t help the jealousy steadily rising in your chest.

“The debate should be starting soon,” is all you say, leaning back in your seat and scowling into your flute of drink.

The only thing keeping you rooted to the seat instead of launching out of your chair to rip Padme away from Anakin by the hair was the fact that you know you’re the one who’s going to be sharing a bed with him tonight-- not her.

You’re just hoping he even makes it back to your bed. Or will poor Padme need help with something else that requires Anakin’s doting attention?

A bell rings just on time, signaling for the Senators to take their seats. Anakin leads Padme over, arms hooked around each other, and she smiles at you as she approaches.

“Y/n, you look wonderful,” she whispers, and then slides into the seat between Clovis and Anakin.

Your cheeks burn in shame. How can you harbor such awful feelings toward her when she was so sweet? But the anger is worsened by the compliment she had just given you-- it’s one thing to be drop-dead stunning, why does she have to be so kind, too? What are you to compare?

After tonight, Anakin’s probably going to think you are so difficult-- always complaining, always tired, never as pretty or gentle or kind. You don’t have a laugh that twinkles like wind-chimes, or eyes that reflect the light like soft glowing pools of honey. If she is the sun, you are just a cold, hard, chunk of ashen moonrock.

The debate goes on for an eternity. You zone out for a lot of it, stewing in your anger and drowning in self-deprecating thoughts. A few times you’re brought to the brink of tears before you remind yourself you’re here on a mission, and throw yourself into scanning every nook and cranny for something that could be amiss. Eventually, a break is ordered.

Senators begin to rise from their podiums to stretch their legs, including Padme. She tells Anakin she’s going to the washroom, and your eyes zero in on the fingers lingering on his arm as she leaves. You stand as well, meaning to walk a little and stretch your legs, and Anakin follows you.

“Padme’s right,” he catches up to you easily. “You do look wonderful. Blue really is your color.”

You stop by the open window, breathing in the fresh air as you search his eyes for truth. Does he truly mean it? Does he look at you with that same light he had looked at Padme with? Or is he only saying it because he has to? Because he’s used to complimenting you because you’re his girlfriend?

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you lower your gaze, picking at the marble stone engravings of the windowsill.

“Y/n,” Anakin lowers his voice. He’s concerned now, picking up on how upset you are. “I said you look beautiful. What’s the problem?” “No, you said I look wonderful. It’s different than beautiful.” You mean to leave it there, but can’t help but add, grumbling under your breath, “Padme looks beautiful.”

It’s immature. You know it as soon as you say it, but for some reason you can’t stop yourself. You just want Anakin to take more notice of how strong Padme’s coming on to him, to assure you that it means nothing. You know it means nothing, but you still need that confirmation.

“She does,” he says, and your heart drops. You look up at him, and he’s staring back with an intensity you can’t decipher. “She’s a Senator, Y/n, this is her debate. Of course she has to look beautiful.”

“She’s more beautiful,” the words fall from your lips and taste like poison.

“What’s this about?” Anakin’s voice is dripping in irritation. Once hearing it himself, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he speaks again in a softer tone. “Why are you comparing yourself to Padme?”

Gah, even the sound of her name coming from his mouth is like nails on a chalkboard. But you decide to do the first smart thing you have all evening, and take a lesson from him. You breathe deeply and bite down on your anger before answering.

“I’m not trying to,” you admit, eyes falling from his face to trace the exposed skin of his neck. “I just-- she’s flirting with you.”

“It’s harmless.”

“I-- I know. But…”

“It still bothers you. You’re jealous.”

“I have nothing to be jealous about,” even saying this, you can hear the lie in your voice. You repeat the statement, more to yourself, trying to believe it. He’s yours-- for now. He could just as easily be Padme’s. What if he wants to be Padme’s?

“Look,” Anakin takes another grounding breath, then fits a finger beneath your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “I can see you’re trying to think rationally, so I’m not going to tell you that you’re being ridiculous. But… you’re being ridiculous.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“You have to understand, I do not like Padme like you’re thinking. I--” he cuts himself off, eyes flitting around the room before leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “I love you.”

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin, making you shiver. His lips ghosting over your ear, the whispered promise of his devotion to you… suddenly, you feel very stupid.

“Okay,” you accept, and the bells ring again, signalling everyone to take their seats. You head on over with him, but not before putting as much heart into your next words. “I’m sorry for getting jealous.”

“It’s okay,” he gives you the first warm smile of the night, smoothing your hair down quickly before breaking off to take his own seat.

You sit next to Clovis, considerably calmer, replaying Anakin’s whispered “I love you” over and over in your head, the touch of his gentle hand in your hair. There was no need to make such a fuss, and honestly you were upset with yourself for ruining the night. You decide to make another smart decision for the night, and push away all of the negative thoughts to the deepest corner of your mind. No more, not tonight-- instead, you would focus on a way to make it up to him for being so ridiculous, and to thank him for being so patient with you.

It’s as you’re planning the rest of your night out, that you see Clovis’s knee bouncing under the podium. You know his time to speak is coming up soon, and his actions betray his mind. He’s such a liar. He is nervous.

“You’ve got this,” you tell him, reaching onto the podium to give his hand a squeeze. His palms are clammy, and he looks at you like you’ve struck him.

“I know I do,” he spits, but doesn’t move his hand from underneath yours. “It’s just pre-performance jitters.”

His next words are so quiet, you almost don’t catch them.

“It doesn’t help that I have two gorgeous women sitting next to me to witness this all.”

Now it’s your turn to look like you’ve been struck. You know he means for you to hear it, otherwise he wouldn’t have said it. Anakin seems to be thinking the same thing, as you can see him give Clovis a sidelong glance just as Padme takes the seat between them again.

“I-- um… we’re rooting for you,” you fumble. “No need to get nervous now.”

Clovis blows out a long breath, and then covers your hand that’s squeezing his palm with his other. “Thank you, Y/n. You’ve truly been so patient and accommodating this whole night. I must find a way to pay you back afterwards.”

“Oh, there’s no need--” your words are cut off as the delegates call for order, and then the debate resumes. You don’t miss the way Anakin’s back stiffens in his seat.

Clovis works up a nervous sweat in the minutes leading up to his speech, but when he gets up, he delivers it without a flaw. Everyone claps, and then Padme goes. You clap along once she’s finished, trying not to calculate if Anakin is clapping harder or faster for her than anyone else. He’s not… but you just had to be sure.

There never seemed to be any threat for the entire night, except for one instance. A young man stood by the door, eyes shifting around for a moment too long to be casual, and Clovis seemed to notice as well.

“Where, exactly, is that equipment you were speaking of earlier?”

“There’s a strap on my thigh, and it holds my blaster to it. Look,” you pull your skirt back to reveal your leg up to your thigh, where the tip of your blaster peaks out. “See, nothing to worry about.”

It doesn’t even cross your mind that Anakin would notice, or that he’d even mind.

Finally, the debate ends, and the senate room is dismissed. You let out a long breath, ready to just get out of this dress and relax in the suite with Anakin now. However, you stand to leave your seat but Clovis is in your way.

“Y/n, like I said before… I must show my gratitude for your services. Please, let me buy you dinner.”

“Oh-- Oh geez… um.... I can’t,” your eyes flit from Clovis to Anakin, who’s standing behind him. He’s got his back turned, bidding farewell to the new friends he made, but you know for sure that he’s listening. “I really need to go to bed, we’re leaving early in the morning.”

“You can come to my suite, we can order room service. They’re right next to each other… besides, you can always just stay over at mine for the night. There’s room.”

That tone. Those eyes. You know what he’s insinuating, and it sure as hell isn’t just dinner.

“Clovis, I’d love to, but I really can’t.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The green cracks of his eyes are hardening again, the soft daisies growing from them being wrenched out in clenched fists and stomped under a boot. You want to stop them from freezing over in that insufferable ice again, and decide it might be nice to humor him for a job well done tonight. After all, he was a lot kinder to you than you thought he’d ever be, and part of you likes being one of the few people on his good side.

“How about I walk back with you to the apartments? We can do that much.”

Clovis smiles, and holds out an arm. “I’ll take it.”

As Clovis escorts you out of the debate room, you turn to look back at Anakin. He’s ushering Padme out of the crowds, staring after you as you leave. He doesn’t smile, or wave, or do anything really. Except look angry.

A sudden ball of nervousness forms in the pit of your stomach. Oh no. Offering to do this was a mistake, that much is becoming clear with every step you take with Clovis latched onto your arm. You can feel Anakin’s eyes burning into your back the entire way out of the senate building, until you’re on the streets of Naboo and he’s off in a limousine with Padme.

Of course he’s going to be angry at you now. You were mad at him for allowing Padme to flirt with him, and now he’s going to think you’re making a move on Clovis to get back at him for it. Even though that’s not at all what’s happening… Oh how the tables have turned.

You’re jittery the whole walk back. Clovis tries to make conversation, but you only offer him short, clipped answers. Really, you should have shut down his advances in the debate room. No matter that you pitied him for being rejected by Padme and yourself, you should have said no. You didn’t owe him anything. But here you are, and now you are going to suffer the consequences from Anakin when you get back to your room.

“Are you sure you can’t stop in? Not even just for a drink?” Clovis asks as you make it to the top of the stairs. You turn the corner, and Anakin is leaning against your apartment door, arms crossed, clearly waiting for you.

“Uhh,” you unwind your arm from around Clovis’s. “I really can’t. Sorry.”

Clovis follows your gaze, and sees Anakin. His tone turns steely. “Is it because of that Jedi?”

“No, oh my-- no!” you feign the most incredulous expression you can, nerves growing more frenzied as you grow closer to your apartment door. “I really am just so tired. Please Clovis, I have to go.”

“Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like this--”

“You’re right,” a deep voice cuts in. “It doesn’t.”

Anakin takes the arm that Clovis refused to let go of, and slips it out of his grasp. Thankfully, for Clovis’s sake, he lets him. Anakin pushes you behind him and stands before Clovis, towering over him by a couple inches.

“It was a pleasure serving you and Senator Amidala. Hopefully we can work together again soon. Have a good night”

Each word that comes from his lips are dripping with venom. Clovis grows red in the face, and you can tell he’s trying hard not to retaliate. In the end, he decides to turn and stalk back to his own apartment door.

Once it slams shut, Anakin turns to you. You meet his eyes with the most innocent expression you can put on.

“None of that,” he hisses, and steps past you to walk into the apartment.

“Oh, come on!” you follow close behind, closing the door and jogging to catch up with him. He’s standing before the bed, roughly loosening his tie. “Anakin, please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Really? How am I supposed to believe that after what happened earlier?”

“Yes, okay, I admit I was jealous of you and Padme. But I got over it! I swear I wasn’t trying to get you back for it, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Anakin pulls the buttons off his shirt so hard, you’re afraid they might break. Suddenly, he is shirtless, and so very mad, and so very tall… and muscular… and… wow…

“You can’t even look me in the eye when you say that,” he argues, stopping to stand before you. You wrench your eyes away from his toned midriff and meet his eyes, which are blazing with hurt and anger. A warmth is rising in your veins-- a different kind than earlier-- but it’s beat out with something stronger. Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, trying so desperately to ignore the heat that’s radiating off his chest. “I really am. Clovis was just… kinder than I expected him to be--”

“Was he? Was he kind when he had you sit in silence all afternoon in the senate building? Was he kind when he refused to let you eat? When he guilt-tripped you into spending time with him?”

“That’s not exactly what happened,” you cross your arms and size him up. “And you’re not totally innocent either, you know.”

“Really?” Anakin cocks an eyebrow at you, sitting down on the bed roughly. He leans back on his arms, daring you to continue.

“You let Padme flirt with you, and you never told her to stop. You could have set some boundaries, told her to back off a little...”

“And you could have told me you were leaving with Clovis before gathering your skirts and skipping away,” Anakin bites back.

“I wasn’t planning to! Anakin, please, both of us made mistakes tonight. Can we just agree on that?”

He frowns, eyes flickering over your still-dressed form. He motions for you to come closer and turn around, so you do. Gentle fingers work at the zip on your back, dragging it down to free you from the constraints. You remember the note he wrote from earlier, how he couldn’t wait to take the dress off of you, and grow disappointed at how the night had gone. This was not the context you had been expecting.

The way his hands linger on your waist, you know he’s thinking the same thing.

“Okay. We both made mistakes.” You feel his soft curls against the bare skin of your back as rests his forehead against you. You hold your dress up in the front so as not to expose yourself. “I’m sorry for letting Padme flirt with me. I should have put an end to it-- I know it hurt you to watch.”

“It did,” you whisper. “But I’m also sorry. For getting so jealous even though you never accepted her advances, and for making it seem like I was trying to get revenge. It wasn’t my intention.”

A soft “it’s okay” is kissed into your back. His hands grip your waist, turning you in his grasp. He’s looking up at you now, hair mussed up and eyes wary. “You good?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

What were you guys doing? At the end of the day, it’s you and him. Padme is out of the picture, and so is Clovis. Everything is alright, and that fuss you both put up throughout the night was virtually pointless.

Looking into his eyes, the ones you love so much and could never picture yourself ever parting from, suddenly this whole thing seems elementary. How terrible, disastrous, and ironic this night turned out. Replaying the events in your head, you find a smile begin to crack at your lips. Anakin can’t keep a straight face either, the ridiculousness of it all beginning to catch up with you both. You begin to laugh, and he follows, burying his head in your stomach as you hug around his neck.

“We must be back in training school,” you giggle, feeling his shoulders shake beneath you. “How pathetic of us.”

“Ahh,” he groans, suddenly wrenching you off your feet and onto the bed on top of him. He nuzzles his face into your neck, pulling you as close to him as possible. “Let’s just forget this night ever happened. It was dreadful and embarrassing.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I was never even here.”

“Me neither,” he presses a line of warm kisses down your neck, stopping at the strap of your dress. “Let’s get this off. Do you still have your blaster on you?”

You pat the metal strapped onto your thigh. “Locked and loaded.”

“Well, gee, thanks for telling me. I definitely didn’t want to get my head blown off.”

“Safety’s on, wisecrack,” you help him shrug your dress off, kicking it from your legs and off the end of the bed. You unclasp the band from around your thigh and distribute the blaster onto the nightstand.

“I’m the wisecrack,” you don’t miss the way Anakin’s voice deepens, attention suddenly captured by the bare skin of your body beneath him. His eyes follow the path his fingers are tracing up your leg. “Careful, or I’ll have to report that to the Council.”

“For what? Being right?”

“For creating conflict of interest on the job,” his fingers skim the soft flesh of your upper thighs, tickling their way past the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, up and up and up… “It’s terribly naughty of you.”

His words are teasing and corny, but somehow the deeper insinuation of them still cause your cheeks to burn red.

“Anakin,” your voice is hoarse, causing your blush to deepen. His long fingers cup your chin, keeping your lips ghost over his as his other hand pulls the silver clasps from your hair. “I need a shower.”

“I can meet you in there?”

You clutch at his shoulders, bringing him forward to close that gap between your lips. His mouth is warm against yours, pliant and soft and generous. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for all night, all this time you’ve been apart. The smell of him, taste of him, feel of him— you could never get enough.

“I’ll save you a spot.”

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x fem reader #anakin angst #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker fic #jealous anakin #soft anakin #Anakin x fem reader smut #anakin fic

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brawler1993 · 2 years ago

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RWBY Volume 8 - Deliciously Dark or Dreary and Dismal?

Ahead of Volume 9's premiere, I've finally completed by very extensive review of RWBY Volume 8.

RWBY Volume 8 is a weird one, because when I watched the final episode, I was left feeling really unsure of how I felt about it. If you listened to the RWBY recaps on The Entertainment Dome, you’ll know that my co-host and I were otherwise enjoying it until that last episode. For a short while, I reconsidered whether Volume 8 as a whole was actually quite bad and I just hadn’t realised yet. This…

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#roosterteeth #rwby volume 8

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miscellaneous-bnha · 4 years ago

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A little “Christmas Magic”

Kirishima x Fem!Reader x Denki

This is my piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten’s Citrus Dome “Snowed In” Collab.

Link to the Collab: https://tomurasprincess.tumblr.com/post/637531853698547712/citrus-dome-server-snowed-in-collab

Warning: slightly Scumbag Kiri/Denki, dubious consent (at the start), Possessive/FeralDenki, Smug Kiri, some exhibitionism, lowkey yandere Denki if you squint, dumbification, a little tongue pulling, light cum play

Also, I write Denki as someone who pretends to be stupid but is actually extremely intelligent.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP

Being childhood friends with Denki had it’s perks; knowing how intelligent your best friend is compared to how stupid he likes to act is one of them, so you knew that it was no accident he kept you distracted long enough for the blizzard to roll in.

Effectively trapping you in his home with his roommate Kirishima.

“Aww come on! It’s not that terrible! We’ve got good heating, enough food n’ snacks. The world’s BEST portable charger,” he points to himself dramatically, “And, if you do get bored of me, Kirishima’s here too.”

“You say that like you were planning on excluding me from your plans.” Kirishima looks at his roommate unimpressed. You stifle a giggle.

“Even if he was, I wouldn’t let him.” You nudge the redhead with your shoulder, making him snort a laugh.

“Fair enough.”

“So you agree it’s not that bad?” Denki bats his eyes at you, causing you to push his face away with a scoff.

“Alright alright. It could be worse.” He grins.

“I’m glad you agree!”

The three of you spend the night talking about the latest games the three of you have been following. They had both just convinced you to download a multiplayer rpg when the power suddenly went out, leaving you all in the dark.

“Oof, unlucky. I guess even state of the art homes still get black outs.” You mutter.

“More likely than you think. Here, why not get closer before the temperature starts to drop.” Kiri offers.

“Sure, why not. I’ll be thankful for it later anyhow.” You sandwich yourself between Denki and Kiri laying on your back as the three of you bundled together.

“Everyone’s phones charged up?” Denki peeks at your phone, still going strong at 95%

“Yeah, it should be good for a while longer. Anyone up for some music?”

For the next 3 hours, you continue to talk until you find yourself growing sleepy. Comfortably warm, you can’t help the way your eyes slip close.

————

When you wake up again, you can still hear the wind whipping around outside. You grab your phone only to be met with the no battery signal. Both boys on either side of you completely knocked out.

You tsk at your own stupidity. ‘I should have turned it off when I realized I was getting sleepy.’ You thought to yourself, leaning over Denki to use his phone to check the time.

The numbers 9:27am stared back at you. Just as you move to settle back into your spot, Denki’s arms suddenly wrap around you.

“Mm… five more minutes…” the angle at which he grabbed you made it so you were lying on top of him, your legs straddling his hips.

“Uhm… Denks…” you try to shake him gently.

“Noooo… jus’ five mmm….” he starts to snore softly again, and you’re left stuck on him.

You sigh, accepting your fate. With your phone dead, you decide whether or not you should stick the charger into his mouth and plug your phone in or if you should just go back to sleep. Unfortunately, with how restless you felt, sleeping wasn’t an option, and you’d feel pretty guilty for disturbing him from what must be a good dream.

A really good dream.

Your face erupts into flames when you realize there’s something hard poking at you. The blush darkens when he groans and his hips jerk up to grind against you.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t ever attracted to your childhood friend; blonde hair, golden eyes, killer smile. You saw how popular he was back then, and you can see it in his hero ratings now. Even aside from his looks, his goofy, lovable, secretly intelligent nature made it impossible not to fall for him all those years ago.

But you also knew he tended to be a flirt, which made it hard to tell if he was genuine. Especially since his advances were never directed at you.

Wishful thinking made it easy to believe that he didn’t flirt with you because “he didn’t want to think the one person he cares the most about to think he was playing with them”, but reason told you otherwise.

You’ve met some of his exes, and none of them were like you.

So, in the friendzone you stayed. ‘Better than nothing’, you reason, and— much to your own surprise— you’re satisfied with that.

You shake your head and squirm. “Denki…! Wake up you idiot!” He snorts when you headbutt his chest, head sitting up as he let you go to rub at the spot you hit.

“Awww… I was having a good dream…”

“I’m sure you were!” You spit, embarrassed.

You make an attempt to hide it. “Also, I need a favor, my phone died while we were sleeping.”

“Ah, yeah. I tried turning your music off, but I guess that didn’t work.” You hum, but nod.

“Thanks for trying. Mind charging it for me?”

He taps a finger to his chin, pretending to think about it before he grins. “Sure, but it’ll cost ya.” You snort.

“Ha ha. What do I owe?”

“A kiss.” You roll your eyes. Even as a kid, Denki always liked to say stuff like that.

You lean down and press a kiss to his cheek.

“There, your kiss. Now can you charge my phone?” You have to bite your tongue to hold back a yelp when you’re suddenly flipped over on your back, Denki hovering over you.

“You can do better than that!” He grins when you snort.

“Oh really now?” You plant another, wetter, kiss to his cheek with a smack. “And is that good enough for you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh come on!” You whisper-yell, fake exasperated, “I give! What more could you possibly want??”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes!”

He pauses, eyes watching you for a moment before suddenly his lips are on yours. One hand cupping your jaw, thumb circling the underside of your chin, the other bracing himself over you.

You don’t expect it, nor do you expect the way he deepens the kiss so effortlessly even while you’re still floundering for steady ground. He almost seems to be intent on trying to keep you stumbling.

You gasp and pant when he parts from your lips with a wet smack; head foggy with confusion, you don’t have any time before his lips are back on yours, smothering you into another blissful, naïve cloud.

You whine when the hand cupping your jaw trails down slowly, fingers intertwining with yours and giving a gentle squeeze, bringing it above your head to pin it there.

“W-Wait!” You gasp, trying to come back down to reality, still not believing what’s happening.

“No.” He nips the side of your neck, making you groan softly, “Waited long enough.”

“Wh- what do you mean??” You don’t get your answer. Instead, he presses more hot kisses to your lips, each accompanied with a soft smack.

“Denki—!” You hiss through your teeth when he bites down on your neck again, harder this time. He covers your mouth with one hand, hushing softly.

“Waited too long for this. Should’ve just said something a long time ago.” His breath is hot against your ear, making you squirm when his teeth nibble on the lobe. “Should’ve told you how I feel ages ago.”

You can’t help the excited thumping of your heart, especially if his words mean what you hope they do. You gasp when you feel his hard on grind against you, sound stolen from you when Denki presses another deep kiss to your lips.

“Fuck, need you. Need you so fucking bad.” He borderline growls as his free hand disappears below the blanket covering the both of you. You’re just about to let the haze overcome you when you suddenly hear Kirishima snort from next to you, making your blood freeze.

“Denki..! Kirishima’s right there—!” He groans burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck..! I know! ‘S fine!” He flips you both again so that you’re on top, tugging at the pair of sweatpants you borrowed and your panties.

“We can’t!” He bucks his hips into yours, making you inhale sharply. He tugs you down so your chest is pressed to his. You can feel the way his heart is pounding through your thin shirts.

“For fuck’s sake, please, baby girl. I can’t. I can’t wait anymore.” He groans into your ear, hands pinning your hips to his, moving you to grind against him.

“But Kirishima—!”

“Kirishima—” He growls his roommate’s name with disdain, making you shudder with fear and arousal, “— won’t know if you stay quiet.” He hisses when he finally manages to slide the sweatpants off of you, bare cock nudging against your panty-clad pussy.

“Please. I need you so fucking bad it hurts. I will combust if I can’t fuck you right fucking now.” You shiver when you feel his fingers pull the crotch of your underwear to the side, fingers sliding through your slick and circling your clit.

“Okay, okay okay okay— wait!” You bite your lip when he shoves his leaking cock into you, growling into your shoulder.

“Fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck…” he groaned, hips fucking up into you with soft ‘paps’

“Den—ki!” You whine, grinding down on his cock as much as he would let you.

“That’s it, baby…. jus’ keep sayin’ m’ name.”

“Or maybe mine.”

The shock of hearing Kirishima’s voice right by your ear has you clamping down on Denki’s cock, sending you over the edge when he thrusts roughly into you.

“Kiri—“ Denki slaps a hand over your mouth, cutting you off.

“Seriously?” Denki growls, pissed. He doesn’t pull out though, opting to fuck into you still,

“Aww, come on. I’m not the one breaking promises around here, Denki. Don’t get a little salty because I wanted to join in on the fun.” You shudder and moan, overstimulated.

It’s hard to focus on the conversation as yet another orgasm builds. You can barely focus on the fact that you just got caught fucking your childhood friend by his roommate, at least until two hands grab you by your shoulders and pull you against a firm chest.

“Kirishima! Wh—” You whine when one arm wraps around your neck, not squeezing, but keeping you pinned to his chest, the other pinching and pulling at your nipple,

“Kaminari here can’t keep a promise, so I’m just having some fun touching you.” He laughs, seemingly unbothered. Then he whispers into your ear,

“But don’t worry; I’ll give it to you later.” You squeeze and clench around Denki’s cock at the sound of that.

Kirishima’s hand trails down your body, leading a trail of goosebumps until his fingers pinch and tug at your clit. He activates his quirk, the rough sensation of his hardened fingers add to your pleasure until you’re creaming on Denki’s cock all over again. You whine, trying to pull away from the stimulation, but Kiri just holds you there, letting Denki rut up into you until he’s cumming, hissing through his teeth until he can’t bring himself to pull out anymore.

You’re vaguely aware of the fact that he isn’t wearing a condom, but you don’t dwell on it. You don’t have time to as you feel yourself falling asleep again.

————

When you wake up, you’re cuddled in Kirishima’s arms. He gives you a bright, toothy smile when he notices your eyes opening.

“Well good morning, sleeping beauty! Well, good afternoon now.” You groan, feeling a little sore.

“What time is it?”

“About 2pm. You didn’t actually sleep that long.” You grunt.

“Where’s Denki?”

“Grabbing some snacks together. Your phone finished charging, by the way.

He presses the device into your hands and you stare at it owlishly until your brain catches up with your body.

“Ah, thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

You set it off to the side, sitting up and stretching. Your face twists when you feel something leaking out of you.

“Ugh.. I should go and get cleaned up… well, as much as I can anyway.” You throw the blanket to the side, but you don’t have the opportunity to stand before Kirishima’s hands are on your hips.

“About what I said earlier…” he murmurs softly. It takes you a moment, but you blush when you finally remember.

“Wh-what about it?”

“Do you mind?” He squeezes his hands gently.

You chew your lip. Everything considered, he’d watched and helped Denki fuck you, and you certainly were curious…

“... alright, why not?” Kirishima grins before patting his lap, pushing his shorts and boxers down. Your eyes widen when his cock stands,

“Have you been hard this whole time??” As smug as he’d been acting earlier, he seemed to get a little shy at your question

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“You were!” He sputters, but pulls you into his lap.

“Look, of course I’m going to be hard.” He teases the sharp points of his teeth against your neck,

“Thinking about all those noises you made, the way you looked on his cock…” he growls playfully, biting down on your shoulder until you whine softly.

“Shit... just hurry up then!” You grumble, giving his cock a couple of good strokes.

He flips you around so your back is against his chest again, slowly sinking you down on his cock as you both groan.

“Christ... I see why he wasn’t keen on sharing.” Kiri raises you by the hips, slamming you back down on his cock with a hiss,

“So fucking tight baby girl…” he groans as you whine, falling back against his chest. Your body shakes with his laughter.

“Awww… already stupid from my cock stuffing your tight little hole?” He groans, but you can feel the way he grins against your neck,

“That’s alright, baby. I’ll take care of ya.”

Your whines and moans do eventually attract Denki, pulling him away from his task. He scowls at Kirishima, who only continues to lazily bounce you on his cock.

“You could have at least waited until I came back.”

“And miss a chance at fucking her cute little pussy? I don’t think so.” You whine when Kiri forces your hips to still, instead rotating your hips so his cock grinds deep inside.

You feel Denki grip your jaw with one hand, the fingers on his other hand slipping inside your mouth. You yelp when you feel him pinch your tongue, tugging it out and forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him.

“You’ve always had such a pretty little mouth too…” Denki says more to himself than to you, letting go of your tongue in favor of tugging his cock out of his sweatpants.

“Mind if I use it?”

He taps the tip of it against your tongue, groaning a soft “good girl” when you suck on it, only for you to choke when he pushes more of his length into your mouth.

“Hey, take it easy man.” Kiri starts to bounce you on his cock again, making you moan with each drop of your hips. Denki grunts, cupping your cheeks with his hands,

“She’ll be alright, won’t you baby?” You whine softly, too busy focusing on the rising heat in your core.

“Either way, I don’t think she’s coherent enough to even notice if my balls smack against her chin.” Denki says as he snaps his hips forward again, making you gag.

“Well… don’t make her sick.”

“She’ll be fine.”

You moan and gag with every drop and rise of your hips respectfully. In some ways, Denki was right when he said you’d hardly notice him shoving his cock down your throat; come later, it’ll be sore as hell, but for now, it added to the curling pleasure that only seemed to build the more roughly they treated you.

You feel Kirishima reach forward to pinch a nipple, making you gag out a yelp around Denki’s cock. Both of them hiss in unison.

“Shit, I think she liked that.” Kirishima gives it another painful tug, causing you to whine and your cunny to flutter.

“Fuck.. keep doing that.” Denki groans out, forgetting completely about your comfort for a moment when he shoves his dick all the way down your throat, making you choke when Kirishima buries himself balls deep.

You feel like your head is floating aimlessly by the time they start to lose control. Between Kiri’s thick, heavy cock splitting you open and Denki fucking your face, your eyes roll back as you cum hard, whining and moaning through your choked noises.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s it baby! Just tighten up like that!” Kirishima growls as he abandons your nipple, opting to rub your clit instead to keep you cumming.

Denki hisses and pulls his cock out of your mouth, instead leaving the tip on your tongue as he strokes himself to completion.

Both men are loud when they cum, and you can only whine when you feel your body turn to gelatin again.

You grimace when Denki pushes his cum around on your tongue, only removing his finger when he’s satisfied with the look of it. “Swallow for me, yeah?” He pets your cheek when you comply, smiling in satisfaction.

You can feel Kirishima’s cum leak out of you the second he pulls out. He lets out a low whistle, lightly patting your ass. “What a sight to behold.”

You flop back against Kirishima’s chest, groaning softly. “Now can I get cleaned up?”

“Of course. Just give us a sec, yeah?”

“Or you could just stay like this for-“

“No thank you, Denki.”

“Party pooper.”

#bnha collab #citrus dome collab #snowed in collab #Denki x reader x Kirishima #Denki x reader #Kirishima x reader #read the warnings please!#will add more tags later

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djarrex · 4 years ago

Text

Countermeasures || 1

Archives

Fives x ofc!reader

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| main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 |

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of lust? is that a warning? otherwise, nothing yet ;)

chapter summary: Renna (you), an intern who spent the entirety of her internship thus far filing paperwork in the archives of Tipoca City’s medical wing, finally is able to work with a real patient - that patient just so happens to be Fives.

note: Renna will basically be taking the place of AZI-3 in the Conspiracy arc. A lot of the dialogue I wrote is from the episode, and of course I added more to dig deeper into Renna and Fives as characters. When this idea came in my head I was only planning on writing it as a oneshot. As I starting writing this, however, I realized there was so much more that could be done with it since this arc is both a good one and a sad one. If you’re ready to go on this journey with me, then keep going under the cut! <3 Also, I wanted to add that there will be POV changes in this chapter. I don’t know if I’ll stick with that going forward, but we’ll see.

* tbh special thanks to @bvcketfvcker for coming up with the series title and being da Best™

***

The archives of the medical wing in Tipoca City, the capital of the watery planet Kamino, were always so cold and lonely. Every single day of your internship thus far has included you being nearly drowned in paperwork, no real field experience to show for it.

You’ve been on Kamino for your medical internship for what, close to six months now? You were still stuck doing paperwork. Maybe at the six month mark you’d be moved up to sterilizing all the medical equipment, which would seem terrible to anyone else, but at least you’d be in proximity to anything remotely “medical”. You were longing to get your hands dirty, to start real field experience, to learn how to heal. You wanted to help people, to help anyone in need. You wanted to learn the practices for saving someone’s life. Everything you wanted, you could not get if you were stuck in the archives with paperwork as your only companion.

You decided within your first month that you would not let the paperwork and lack of real purpose get to you. So, you made your situation better by wearing - to the best of your ability - a positive attitude. On the day that marked the end of your first month here, the Kaminoans told you that music can be played in the archives as long as it’s not too loud, so you brought in a small radio the very next day. The start of your second month was a little better than the day before. You hummed to the music playing on the radio as you tried to make a game out of filing the paperwork. Turns out, not even a simple game could be made out of something so boring and tedious as filing paperwork.

You lost count of the days you’ve been in Tipoca City, within the archives shelled by the stilted dome structures, after your second month. Every day was exactly the same; you filed and shredded paperwork, organized reports, and finished filling out medical reports that the Kaminoan doctors didn't even want to bother with. Every day you woke up early, headed to the archives, and spent your entire day there in solitude until it was time to head back to your quarters for the night. Lunch was always dropped off to you by a couple of guards from the Kamino Security Team. The guards were always in full grey and white armor but you already knew what they looked like; they were clones, and you’ve seen their face in every file. They were handsome, sure, but there were literally hundreds of thousands of them out there.

You were pretty sure you were coming up on month six of your monotonous internship. Waking up and getting ready was a routine ingrained in your bones. You were taking the regular route to the archives from your quarters when you were stopped by a couple Kaminoan doctors on the way. To your surprise, they asked you to follow them, which you were hoping translated to you not having to work in the archives anymore. Maybe month six was the lucky number.

You walked behind the tall and slender creatures through unfamiliar halls. You had no idea where you were following them to, but anywhere was better than where you were originally heading.

They kept walking, with you in tow, when you passed by the only Jedi you’ve ever really spoken to - Master Shaak Ti, a calm and collected Togruta who was known to have a soft spot for the clones here on Kamino. The Jedi nodded in greeting to the Kaminoans in front of you, then over at you. With no words spoken, you were now following the Jedi through the halls, still unsure of the destination.

Just around the corner, you saw two very decorated troopers coming towards you. They donned blue and white armor with a ton of other accessories. As they got closer, the one trooper removed his helmet and carried it at his side. This trooper had the usual dark brown hair and kept the common clone cut style. The way this clone walked with his helmet pressed to his hip had awoken something in you, though you couldn't put your finger on exactly what that something was.

“General Shaak Ti.” The other clone removed his helmet as he greeted the Jedi. He was blonde and sported a closely shaved cut; despite having the same face and body, the two clone troopers looked completely different. They were unlike any clones you’ve ever seen.

That’s when you noticed another trooper laying on a stretcher behind them; his hair was long enough to be worn in a bun, a tear drop was inked underneath one of his closed eyes. He was also unlike any clone you’ve ever seen - especially since he appeared to be unconscious, He was hooked up to oxygen, you also noticed, as two guards pushed his floating stretcher right by you and around the corner, out of sight once they went down the hall.

You realized how zoned out you were and quickly snapped back to reality - only for only a second, though - as you became transfixed on the clone in front of you on the right, the one with dark hair. You scanned his features a little more now that he was closer; he had a dark goatee that framed his chin and his right temple had the number “5″ inked on the skin. His armor was crazy different from the armor the guards here wore. He looked... good. Uh oh.

For just a brief moment, the “good looking” trooper’s eyes broke away from his conversation with the Jedi and met yours. Slightly embarrassed, you snapped your head forward and glued your eyes to the Kaminoan’s ankles in front of you.

Just as you started listening in on the conversation, the two clones, the Jedi General, and Dr. Nala Se broke away and turned the corner in the same direction they took the unconscious trooper.

Kriff. You missed the entire conversation. The Kaminoans started moving forward, and you assumed you were still supposed to follow them, so you did. You still had no clue where you were going, but you’ll get there eventually.

***

Fives’ POV

Fives walked to the left of Rex, a long-neck doctor in between them, while Tup’s unconscious body was guided by two Kamino guards behind them.

“You will have to say goodbye to your friend now.” The long-neck broke the silence. Fives was worried for his friend. No one, not even Kix, could figure out what was wrong with him. Why would Tup shoot and kill General Tiplar? Fives noticed Tup was acting somewhat strange right before it all happened, but didn’t think too much of it at the time, Now, he’s racking his brain, trying to understand what set Tup off. He’s a good soldier, a good man. He’d never do such a thing in his right mind.

It was suggested that Tup be sent to Tipoca City, to Kamino, back to his roots, for a better chance of figuring out what was wrong with him. Fives gladly accepted the offer to escort his friend there, and was overjoyed that Rex came along with them.

General Shaak Ti came into view, and the troopers came to a halt. Captain Rex greeted the General, and she turned her attention over to Fives.

“Fives, am I correct?” He nodded. Tup was being pushed from behind them and then around the corner in front of them, quickly going out of view. The General spoke again, her eyes glued on the unconscious trooper being led down the hall. “You’ve served with Tup?”

Fives was desperate to be by his friend’s side right now. “Yes.”

Then he saw you. You, a foreign species to Kamino. What were you doing here? It had been a while since Fives was last on Kamino, but he was sure there weren’t any others like you here before unless they were Jedi - but the only Jedi known to hang around Kamino was General Shaak Ti.

He had noticed you tailing the long-necks before you had even come entirely into view. Fives let his eyes flicker over to you as Tup was being taken away, only to have locked eyes with you for but a second. He noticed you blushed right before you snapped your head forward, obviously embarrassed that you’d been caught staring. General Shaak Ti’s voice broke Fives’ trance - didn’t even notice he was losing focus once he caught your eyes - and it was all over in less than five seconds.

“You must come with me.”

Fives quickly snapped his attention back to General Shaak Ti, “with... all due respect, General, I can’t just abandon him now.” The Jedi General smiled reassuringly, and turned to lead Fives and Rex down the hall in the same direction Tup was taken.

Fives knew where his undivided attention should be, and that was on Tup - his friend - his friend that for some reason just gunned down a Jedi in the heat of battle in the space station just outside of Ringo Vinda, only to come to with no memory of what he had done. Fives cursed himself for thinking of you when his friend was about to be strapped to an exam table, being poked and prodded like some kind of lab scurrier.

***

Renna’s POV

Dr. Nala Se, the Chief Medical Scientist on Kamino, approached you once you had gotten to the head medical lab and informed you that you’d be the one who would start procedures on a clone trooper who had potentially been exposed to a virus of some kind. You nodded, all too giddy as you gladly accepted the task.

You were escorted by two guards to where you’d be working with the patient. When the door whisked open, you slowly made your way into the quiet room, the door shutting quickly behind you. You glanced to the right, noticing the window that would normally allow you to see into the room next door was blacked out - put into the privacy setting. Strange.

“You?” The deep voice - a voice that sounded like honey in your ears - put a halt on your thoughts about the darkened window. You knew it was the voice of a clone; the only voices you ever heard were either the slow, drawn out words of the Kaminoans or the clones’. Of course a clone would be in that room, of course a clone would be the subject of your testing.

Who you didn’t expect to see was the clone trooper you saw in passing not even a half hour ago - the one with the dark goatee and number 5 tattooed on his temple - the one who made you blush when he caught you staring.

You felt yet another blush heat your cheeks before you even registered it was happening. What the hell were you blushing for? He’s a clone, and you’re here to take blood samples and body scans to make sure he’s okay. You knew you were staring at him like a fool, and for way too long. You shook your head slightly in an attempt to reorganize your thoughts.

“You ok, Miss... miss?” He stood up from his seating position on the cot, and cocked his head to the side with his arms folded across his chest. You nodded your head slowly.

“Renna,” you nearly whispered your name to him - the words almost came out choked - for some reason you had forgotten how to speak in Basic for a moment.

“Look, Miss Renna, I am not a threat. Neither is Tup.”

Your brow raised as you studied the clone’s expression. It was hard; his eyes were piercing and his brows were furrowed. Crossed arms flew to his sides, hands tightening into fists. No doubt he was feeling angry and confused.

“T- Tup?” Was that the name of CT-5385? “You’re referring to CT-5385?”

“Tup! The trooper in that room right there?” He pointed over to the darkened window, “He’s a good soldier, my friend, and he’s in the room next door getting - getting tortured by those long-necks.” A beat. “None of us clones go by numbers anymore, by the way.” You closed your eyes for just a moment, trying to think about what to say next. You inhaled deep through your nose, then slowly out through parted lips, watching as his expression went from angry to more... afraid? Worried?

“Trooper, I promise Tup is in good hands. I’ve been briefed on his- his condition... they - we - just want to find out what made him kill Jedi General Tiplar, that’s all. They’ve asked me to do a couple of procedures on you, take some notes, since you were close with Tup. Maybe we can find something in you that will help your friend.”

The trooper’s expression changed again, softening as his fists unclenched at his sides. Surely he had to understand the gravity of the situation; when you were briefed, it was mentioned that no one on Kamino had any idea why CT-53 - Tup - shot a Jedi General in cold blood, or why he keeps floating in and out of consciousness, murmuring things like “kill Jedi”. Clone trooper Tup seemed to have no memory of what he had done; and so far, no scans were showing anything wrong with him, though his health was deteriorating.

You walked over to the counter where the sterilized needles and scanners resided and started to prep the equipment, reading over notes to see what it is you needed and what you were supposed to be testing him for. Reading through the notes, you realized this trooper’s designation was ARC-5555, and the tattoo “5″ on his temple made sense now. It was actually kind of... cute.

It was silent for a couple minutes while you were getting everything ready when a loud, airy sigh coming from behind you made you turn around to face ARC-5555.

“The name’s Fives.”

***

Fives’ POV

Fives was getting more worried for Tup by the minute. His rising frustration didn’t help, either. General Shaak Ti had engaged the privacy setting on Fives’ only view of his unconscious friend, leaving him in the dark as to what the long-necks were doing to Tup in the room next door.

Fives sat in the room in silence, alone with his worries and doubts. You were out of his thoughts at this point; the worry and fear he felt for Tup swallowed him whole - until you were the one walking through the door. It could have been any Kaminoan, any droid, yet you were the one they had sent.

His eyes wide, he watched you slowly walk in as you immediately set your attention to the darkened window to the right side of the room. Fives wanted to know if you knew what they were doing to Tup, why they were hurting him, why Fives wasn’t able to be there by his side. He had a million questions, almost all of them relating to Tup, except for the ones he had about you.

Fives was sitting on a cot on the other side of the room, and you hadn’t noticed him yet. What is she doing here? Who is she? She definitely isn’t a long-neck. He wanted to ask you all kinds of questions, a mix between wanting to know more about Tup and wanting to know more about you, but all he could muscle out was one word.

“You?” Fives shook his head in disbelief as the first word he said to you left his lips. It did manage to get your attention, though, because you turned away from the dark window and were now staring directly at him. Fives felt his heart beat just a little harder when he could finally take in your whole figure in more than just a quick glance. You were beautiful - more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen, and wearing the same thing he saw you in earlier; a tucked-in dark grey skin-tight top that came up your neck like clone under-armor blacks did, a white lab coat that came down to your ankles, hugging your curves in all the right ways along the way. The coat was open in the front, save for the one buttoned part right at your waist, just barely keeping the coat together. Your black boots were knee-high, your black leggings tucked into them. You stepped closer to Fives and his heart started racing; he was completely in awe of you, but there was something else, and it made warmth head straight to his groin.

***

Renna’s POV

Fives. That was his name. Not ARC-5555 , just like Tup wasn’t CT-5385. “No clones go by numbers anymore,” he had informed you. Being waist-deep in paperwork all the time never gave you an opportunity to actually work with the clones. All you knew about the clones were their designations, along with whatever the paperwork was filed for. It didn’t occur to you that they had names.

“Look, is Tup gonna be alright? Have they found anything out?” Fives’ eyes were pleading, begging for some kind of reassurance.

“Please, sit down.” He huffed, but obeyed. “We’re using hyper level tests, so we should get the results fairly quickly.” He nodded his head, thankful for any little crumb you could give him. “I’m gonna need to get started now, okay?”

Needle in hand and ready to go, you preemptively apologized.

“Wh- ow!” You jabbed the needle into the side of his neck, a sympathetic smile on your lips.

“I said I was sorry!” You chuckled quietly. Fives rubbed at his neck and you made you way back over to the counter, inserting the needle into the port next to the computer.

“Well?” His hand still rubbing at his neck, you squinted your eyes to read the results displayed on the screen.

“Everything... seems normal.” You weren’t exactly sure what to expect, but you were happy your very first patient wasn’t immediately dying on you.

“Oh, great! That means you can let me out, right?” The excited tone in his voice made it quite difficult to relay the next part to him.

With an apologetic smile, you walked back over and sat on the cot across from him.

“Actually... I’m afraid that’s not possible right now, Fives. I was instructed to keep you in quarantine until we’ve pinpointed the exact cause of Tup’s breakdown. We can’t risk any further casualties.” You couldn't bear to look at him now, so you glued your eyes to a fresh scuff mark on the toe of your boot.

“Like I told you before, I am not a threat, and neither is Tup!” You looked back up at him when his voice raised. Fives wasn’t angry, or at least it didn’t appear that way. He was worried for his friend.

“I- I believe you, Fives. Unfortunately, I’m not the one to make those kinds of calls. I’m just- just an intern. This is my first day not filing paperwork in the archives. I don’t- I don’t want to mess this up. You’re my first real patient.” You stood up to leave the room, letting your hand rest on his shoulder for just a moment in an attempt to comfort him. Something you never thought you’d be doing - comforting a clone. You told him you’d be back later to check up on him and to perform any tests the doctors deemed necessary. Then you left.

***

As you headed for your quarters for the night, you couldn’t help but think back on your introductory meeting with your very first patient. You replayed your short conversation over and over in your head; you transfixed on his voice, the raw emotion in it that went straight to his facial expressions, and the way he looked at you. You’ve seen his face many, many times in the files you were doused with daily, but most of the clones on Kamino didn’t have anything significant to mark them apart from one another - no scars, tattoos, different hair styles, and were generally clean-shaven. When you first saw Fives, his tattoo and facial hair was what did it for you. You hated to admit it, but you may have just accidentally gotten a crush on the ARC Trooper.

This was all new to you. You never realized clones had such... emotion. Or capable of such emotion, for that matter. You were kept in the dark for the entirety of your internship on Kamino, and now you understood why. You weren’t Kaminoan, you weren’t a Jedi, you were just an intern. In their eyes, there was no reason as to why you should engage the clones, so they kept you busy with paperwork every day. You wondered if you were physically kept away from the clones because you were also human, and therefore were able to share the same emotion and ideals as them. That idea wouldn’t have made sense to you if you thought about it earlier today, but now that you met Fives, it made sense.

Maybe the Kaminoans were fearful that you would be a distraction to them, or them to you.

***

Tags: @bvcketfvcker @deewithani @chromia7567

#djarrex writes #countermeasures series #arc trooper fives x you #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x oc #fives x reader #fives x oc #fives x you #fives smut #arc trooper fives smut #the clone wars fic #conspiracy arc #the clone wars conspiracy arc #arc trooper fives #captain rex #clone trooper tup

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hgghgfd · 11 months ago

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02/2003 - Black Velvet Magazine "Queen Adreena in Wonderland"

(Interview with Katie Jane Garside - Taken From Black Velvet 35 - Feb 2003)

By David Jackson

As the interview continues Katie’s fingers are in a constant state of activity, be it continuing to arrange flowers or further looping straps on her bag. However, every so often, Katie looks up, wide-eyed, with one of the MOST mesmerising stares I’ve ever seen. Many of Queen Adreena’s unique traits have carried over to the band’s second album. In many ways ‘Drink Me’ can be seen as an extension of ‘Taxidermy’. Or is it a completely new entity? Pausing for thought Katie continues. “It is just another page in the diary. A lot of the things I said were sustaining me fell away, all the things that were keeping me upright sort of fell away, during that part of my life, making the record, I think it’s reduced things to their baser elements. In a way ‘Taxidermy’ is tugging in a lot of different directions. For me ‘Taxidermy’ is quite existentialist where I’m observing and witnessing and ‘Drink Me’ I’m taking part. I do use sexuality and violence to sort of beat myself back into existence because I’ve felt perpendicular. I’ve found myself to be dangerously insular. That again is what I said about the only useful thing to do with fear is to run headlong into it, because I lived in a tree house for a long time, just lived above everything, not taking part and I want to be here. Well I have to be here, otherwise I might as well not be here. As a kid I could never come downstairs to my own birthday party. I wanna take part, I actually wanna be there now, but I’m sick of living outside of everything.”

With only one single lifted from album ‘Drink Me’ (so far), the unusual decision was taken to release non-album track ‘FM Doll’. Not the usual procedure of album promotion. “I didn’t want to look backwards. Making the record was kinda wrestling the thing to the ground,” describes Katie. “There was a great sense of relief. We’ve got a completely new rhythm section in effect now. I don’t want to sound like I’m doing my dirty washing, but we fired out old drummer after we did the album for the first time because it was not played very well. Then we went and recorded the whole thing in five days in a tiny demo studio. By the time we had the things in our hands it was, suffice to say, after finally getting the thing finished, we’d been writing like crazy and just thought there’s no point kinda eating yesterday’s dinner. FM Doll came out so quickly so natural and easily in a way. I feel like I kinda like parodying myself to such an extreme on that.” The title of the single itself is one of hidden truths, quickly revealing a dark sub-text to the song. “It’s actually called ‘Fuck Me Doll’ and is about female objectification. In a way I shouldn’t really talk about it cause we’re desperate to get it onto daytime radio.” Treading her ground carefully Katie continues. “I know because of the lyrical content it won’t get on there. It’s about child murder. Do you remember the JonBenet case in America? The child beauty queen who was supposing murdered by her mother and father It’s about that and the endemic infection in the female psyche.”

The lyrical content of Queen Adreena is in places beautiful and consistently fascinating. “That’s very kind of you,” replies a visually pleased and smiling Katie. “It’s not difficult at all. It just insists on coming out my mouth. I’d rather somebody shouted louder than me to quiet my own noise really. I mean that’s what playing live does, it just shuts the head noise down for a while. There’s so much noise from every angle it gives me a day off really once it strikes up and gets loud. It’s maintenance for me, it helps with survival. You’ve gotta put all that shit somewhere otherwise it turns into cancer.” Talking about how the lyrics and music intertwine to make the final product, Katie Jane says “Crispin can get terribly upset with me. A song like ‘Silent Undoing’ I just wrote it at home. I’ve got a little wind organ I write stuff on. I’m not a musician, I can play a couple of notes very easily and there’s some chord buttons. For me I always write off an atmosphere. I’ve got six chord buttons and there must so however many combinations of those six chords so I can find that atmosphere that’s drilling in my head for that particular moment. Atmosphere’s everything. Everything that comes out I see in pictures. I’m just interpreting pictures, like snapshots but it’s always very vivid, it’s very much got a black line around it. In a way I have a hotline to the unconscious. Pity me, it’s not the best thing to have and I can’t turn it off. But that’s just intellectualising it. We always try to find clever words to make sense of what we can’t make sense of.” The live show is one forum where Queen Adreena leave the onlooker completely mesmerised. Talking of playing live, Katie Janes says “I’ll give you the most fantastic and obvious cliché. Things that are important to me are fucking, wine and playing music and that’s it really. This thing of reduction, it’s all been about getting out of the head and into the body so it beats the military drum and calls us to war, and let the war of the fucking psyche commence. Here we are, what else could I be doing that would be more fun?” With a notorious reputation for performance how important an element of your music do you feel performing is? “I’ve always known it’s a real privilege to take the stage, it’s a very highly charged thing to do cause it’s a very un-natural thing to do.” Do you think so? “Yeah! Why would anyone want to stand up in front of hundreds, hopefully thousands of people and almost beg them to tear one to pieces? Or on the flip side, when you catch the right side of the wave you can run up the sides of buildings and stuff like that, you capture a certain pure essence of something and that’s when magic happens. You step into a different realm. You walk through a door that’s not open very often, but you know you have to walk the knife-edge and be willing to throw yourself off the cliff, and that’s why I mean it’s very un-natural. ” Taking the stance that it’s un-natural to stand in front of thousands of people and perform, are there any particular messages you hope Queen Adreena convey to their audience? “You know I take absolutely no responsibility for how I’m received; it’s nothing to do with me. I have a profound sense of displacement, like I said before, witnessing rather that taking part. I’m desperate to take part. Maybe everybody feels that, but it’s really under the microscope in my case and I’m very very aware of it. I have absolutely no message. I write little stories and I put them like photographs around myself in order to believe that I exist, or challenge the idea that I exist at least and that’s the beginning and the end of it.”

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increasethythunders · 4 years ago

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the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 1/?

- sephiroth/reader

- sfw

“The hell, man?”

With a sharp jerk of your wrists, you flipped the headset above your eyes, roughly shoving your hair up at the crown that gave you the vague appearance of a hastily arranged bird’s nest. Seconds ago, you were cutting down Shinra grunts on the Midgar highway like they were nothing but flowers. And now you were standing in a dome, adrenaline still buzzing through your veins. As the sim around you dissolved in a shower of 1’s and 0’s, the source of the interruption blotted out the light from the training room’s exit. Standing across from you - draped in black and wearing a grave face that would’ve made a skeleton shiver - was your mentor.

Sephiroth was an obelisk of a man, tall and lean and not unlike one of the statues you’d see guarding the churches in Sector 5’s slums.

“Least you could do is give me a warning before you pull me out like that.” you whined as you rolled your shoulders with a satisfying pop. “I was doing just fine before you rudely interrupted.”

“‘Just fine’ won’t cut it when you’re face-to-face with Wutai soldiers.” he said, crossing his arms. “You can do better. I’ve seen you do better.”

Sephiroth always spoke in a calm manner (as if he wasn’t already a pain in the ass to read), but since taking you under his wing you had come to recognize the many different flavors in which that calm manifested itself. And this was specially reserved for when he was very, very tired.

Feeling your palms prickle, you shoved your pair of shortswords back in their scabbards.

“Right.” you nodded curtly, setting the headset back in its charging port and already meaning to leave before he could cite some vaguely-worded and slightly cryptic advice. “There’s always tomorrow, right?”

Sidestepping in front of you in one fluid motion, Sephiroth peered down at you with an icy gaze. Craning your neck upward at an uncomfortable angle so that you weren’t eye-to-chest, you ground your foot into the floor.

“So we’re good tomorrow?”

He was as rigid as a glacier, and just as vocal. You sighed.

“Permission to return to quarters, sir?” you grumbled.

“Denied.”

You wheezed out a bitter laugh. Sometimes you wondered if he got off on bossing you around, but the notion of Sephiroth getting off to anything was enough to send you reeling.

“I thought you wanted to make 1st.”

A pithy breeze flashed in front of you, and it took you a second too long to realize there was a sword directed at your sternum. You stumbled backward, only barely finding your balance.

“What-“

“Don’t worry, this won’t be a fight.” he said, slowly inching Masamune forward until you had no choice but to walk backwards. “Think of it as a dialogue.”

You steadied the heavy thump of your heart as you straightened yourself, lifting your chin maybe just a little too high in a feeble attempt at hiding your nerves. The only time you had ever faced your mentor in a fight was the day he chose to train you out of a flock of other SOLDIERs. It was a punishing session, and in the end he had disarmed you in three moves. You had heard later from the other recruits that that was the longest anyone had lasted.

“Isn’t that the opposite of what you should be teaching me?”

“A SOLDIER isn’t just their kill count.”

Unsheathing your swords, you let slip a snort. “Easy for you to say.”

“I mean it.” he said, fortifying his stance as the room melted back into the sim.

“You’re getting sloppy. Good form, but no tact. When you accept those as parts of you,” he said, nodding toward your swords. “And not just a tool, everything else becomes an afterthought.”

He was awfully serious today - and he had practically cornered the market on being serious - but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you just a little nervous. You were used to aloof Sephiroth - succinct nods of approval and pointed glares of disapproval, both marked by a signature silence that could fill a room. Talking someone’s ear off wasn’t something Sephiroth was known for (or particularly good at, if you were being honest), but when he did, man was it weird.

In that time, you were back in the sim, now finding yourself standing outside a Shinra facility - a mako refinery, if the acrid odor drifting beneath the thick, briny scent of seawater gave you any indication. The two of you were standing on just one of the massive metal-plated pipes that fed into the factory. Jutting out the side of a cliff like a blossoming giant, a mess of pipes and valves, it faced a sea.

The environment around the facility was in a perpetual state of dusk, the sun sitting just above the water’s horizon, with clouds in shades of pink and gold that hovered wistfully in the sky. The last of the day’s blue disappearing into a day that would never come. The sea itself was dark, lazily churning against the face of the cliff, the sun’s light refracting into thousands of tiny gems on its surface.

Sephiroth took no time to admire the sim’s flawlessly randomized recreation - raising the hilt of his sword up to his eye level while keeping his right hand close to his body, shifting his weight on one foot while the other stayed back, ready to spring him forward at a moment’s notice. Taking his cue, you balanced yourself, holding your swords out in front of you in an x-shape.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a tiny, self assured smirk (though, to the untrained eye, resembled more an involuntary twitch of muscle than anything), blinking long and slow. Your teeth worried at the inside of your cheek. Had he made you wait any longer and you think you would’ve broken skin.

But before you could worry a hole through your cheek, 7 feet of sinewy muscle charged at you like a bullet shot from a gun. His sword clashed against yours with an ear-splitting clang, the ringing of metal running down the tips of your fingers. Grunting at the force pushing back at you, you slid one sword out from under Masamune, slashing the air between you and effectively getting him to step the fuck off.

He bounced back, landing gracefully on the tips of his toes like a dancer coming down from a leap. His eyes narrowed, but there was a twinkling in his pupils. Normally, a beaming Sephiroth would’ve been a sight to commemorate, preferably behind a neat little frame set on a desk somewhere. But it only gave you one thought: Shit.

In a very short space of time, you were standing face to face with your superior once again, his sword slamming into the broad, flat side of your right hand’s blade. You had barely raised it in time, and he had only given you a moment to prepare yourself against a barrage of attacks, somehow managing to parry each one.

“You block too much. You’re a sword, not a shield.” he said, almost sounding bored.

You would’ve responded with any number of pieces of crude backchat that you’d accumulated since training under him, but the man hardly gave you time to breathe let alone think.

Each twitch of his sword was a masterpiece of technique. He fought like a well-oiled machine, inevitable, bloodless, with absolute awareness of the power he held. It was beautiful, or, it would be if you weren’t on the receiving end of his advances. He was fast, inhumanly, unfairly fast. And with his equally unfair reach, it was a miracle if you ever came close to landing a hit on him. The man had some cruel agreement with gravity.

After your nth parry and a last minute pass back, you held Masamune in place, running your left blade down its length. His eyebrows briefly twitched upward before flicking his sword up, sending your blades down and away. But in a flash, you lunged forward, cutting just beneath his chin and hacking away thin slivers of his bangs. You were about to allow yourself a smirk, maybe even a ‘hmph’ born from pride and amusement.

What happened instead was something so irritating it didn’t register with you until you were slammed to the floor. Pivoting away from an overhead slash, he - very gently - tucked his blade underneath yours, sending another bone-ringing clang through you like a bell. And (incredibly obnoxiously) he used your weight against you, forcing you backward. But, in a last-ditch effort to not look like a fool, you stuck one leg out - effectively killing any chance of recovery but by Gaia were you gonna take him down with you.

You staggered backward like a flimsy piece of rubber, hitting the ground with a thump as your swords clattered on either side of you. Of course, Sephiroth landed with grace - hardly falling at all so much as shifting himself in tune with your otherwise graceless tumble. And yet - despite being perfectly fine, actually - he wore an uncharacteristically poleaxed expression, his lips hanging slightly open like a man caught mid-practical joke.

The sim had already disappeared, the panel next to your head flickering off and on before completely shuttering off a few seconds behind the rest.

That was when the sound of cracks splitting across the floor met your ears. His sword had pierced the tile mere centimeters away from where your forehead was, drowning out the sound of blood rushing to your ears. Sephiroth stood hunched over you like a gargoyle, one knee drawn up to his abdomen while the other pressed hard into the floor, effectively caging you in black leather and silver hair. Tucked between cold tile and an even colder man, you couldn’t get back up if you wanted to.

“Was that good enough for you?” you wheezed, feeling like a pair of bricks had been shoved in your rib cage.

He studied you with close scrutiny and a blank expression, hardly winded but breathing quietly, evenly. You could never tell what he was thinking, even this close. You had resigned yourself with the thought that you never will.

“Dismissed.” he ordered, finally.

Pulling himself up, he tugged Masamune out from where it had wedged itself, stepping over you without so much as a look back.

You tried to sit up, only managing to lift your head before a singular phlegm-raddled cough sent you thudding back to the floor, dazed and hot - uncomfortably so, like you had been tossed in a furnace. Feeling the muscles in your arms and legs cry for mercy, you decided to lay there. Just for a few minutes more.

#sephiroth #sephiroth x reader #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #ff7 crisis core #my fics

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deepwoundsandfadedscars · 4 years ago

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No. 28 - IT’S NOT JUST IN YOUR HEAD

“Good. You’re finally awake.” | nightmares | panic

Original Character - Michael - 681 words

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

---

The waning light of the evening sun bathed his skin, giving what warmth it could before the cool breeze overpowered it. The wind chased through the grass, swaying it around Michael's knees as he stood on the hilltop overlooking the city. The landscape looked weird, the city skyline black and contrasting against the colorful orange and pink of the sunset that glowed like fire on the horizon and reached across the sky, a last fight against the darkness of night.

“Hey, buddy.”

He tore his eyes from the horizon and finally noticed the man sitting in the grass nearby. The stranger wore a loose white shirt with a long v-neck, a pair of black Ray Bans perched on his nose and a small purple flower tucked into the hair above his ear.

Michael knew he should recognize this guy, he knows this face, but a name or any context of a memory eluded him.

“You don't know me, do you?” The man asks.

Michael pursed his lips and shook his head.

“I'm Rene,” he said, getting to his feet and brushing off the seat of his pants.

“Okay,” Michael says. He looked back towards the city, realizing he didn't know the name of it, though it felt like he should. “I think… Something's not right. And I don't know what it is.”

“I think your brain is playing tricks on you, man.”

“Did something happen to me?”

“Something like getting shot in the stomach and bleeding out in the trunk of a car?”

Michael mulled it over. That sounded vaguely familiar. He lifted his shirt to look for a wound or a scar and found only a tanned and muscle bound abdomen, a little hairy but otherwise smooth and scar free.

“Is this a dream?”

“In a way. You stopped breathing for a few minutes and your new friend had to do CPR for a while. They aren't sure if the lack of breathing for a few minutes caused brain damage. Did it?” Rene quirked an eyebrow at him.

Michael considered this seriously. He really hoped not, but the fact he can't remember anything… he almost doubted if he even had his own name right. Was it Michael? Or maybe Titan? He couldn't be certain. Why Titan? It felt vaguely familiar, right even, but he couldn't think of why.

There was a haze in his mind that seemed to grow, crowding his mind, threatening to take over completely. Around him on the hilltop, a fog rolled in, encroaching on him and Rene. Rene paid it no mind, staring intently at Michael even as the fog surrounded his legs. He could see other figures deep in the fog, shadows seemingly watching him, watching him lose the last fragments of himself.

Just before the fog reached his feet it stopped, as though it had struck a glass barrier and couldn't pass it, stacking higher and higher upon itself. It poured up and over Renes' shoulders, nearly surrounding him completely.

“Did it, Michael? Did it cause any damage?” And with that Rene is gone, his figure obstructed from view entirely by the fog. If he said anything more, Michael couldn’t hear it.

It continued to build, growing higher and higher against the barrier around Michael. His heart pounded in his ears and he fought to remember what had just been said to him, and who said it. Hadn't someone just been here? He can't remember any more.

The shadows in the fog scared him, but they were starting to fade and that scared him even more. If they faded entirely, would he be alone? Trapped here?

He reared back and punched the barrier with all his might, a roar tearing itself from his throat. A tiny hairline fracture appeared and he pulled back again, landing another punch in the same spot, over and over again, yelling frantically as cracks shattered across the dome.

One final blow and the dome disintegrated. The fog rushed in, blinding him with grey and permeating his lungs as he gasped. He felt himself falling into blackness and then nothing.

#whumptober2021 #no.28 #whumptober #nightmares #sorta lol #original characters #Michael #Rene #everyone meet Rene #I'm kinda hyped about him #here's a thing I wrote

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 4 years ago

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Trinkets, 38: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A worn mercenary banner consisting of one rusty old spearhead atop a long wooden shaft. Five feet down from the head there rests a cross-piece four feet long tied to the shaft. From that hangs flag itself; A field of scarlet with nine hanged men in black and six yellow daggers in the upper left and lower right quadrants, respectively, while the upper right quadrant features a shattered skull and the lower left boasts a bird of prey astride a severed head. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize it as the Standard of the Black Company a free mercenary company who can trace their history back hundreds of years through their well-documented archives.

A corrupted magic charm made of the skull a human who died in terror and with regrets. The bone is wrapped with dried kelp and algae, and the skull’s forehead and dome is inscribed with strange sigils made from flower pigments. The entire bonecharm hums with power, creating a faint but distinctive ‘song’ that the spiritually perceptive can hear.

A scroll covered with depictions of constellations.

A shattered mask, once belonging to an ecclesiastic of the occult. Though broken this mask still retains a trace of its original purpose. It hums with faint whispers when worn. They demand an offering.

A one gallon cask of Brewer's Pudding, an alcoholic “drink” so thick that the bartender needs to cut it like a loaf of bread to serve it. Bartenders typically put it in a bowl with lager poured over top, which slowly changes the "drink's" consistency similar to that of pudding. More squalid taverns sometimes serve it between slices of bread as a sandwich.

A gnarled pipe smells strongly of cinnamon and fish, disturbing your digestion. Its bowl has constellations etched around it.

A small, ragged figure crafted from human bone and hair, posed as though shading its eyes to see a long distance.

A charm bracelet of silver chain with five shield-shaped charms. The shields have various religious icons for luck. It's covered in dried blood on it, suggesting the previous owner wasn't that lucky.

A shifting monochromatic geometric, glass prism.

An ironwood skeleton key inlaid with spiraling lines of silvery mithril, and etched with flowing Sylvan script that reads “May this world know some measure of my skill as I depart to the next.”

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A scroll covered with depictions of constellations.

A gnarled pipe smells strongly of cinnamon and fish, disturbing your digestion. Its bowl has constellations etched around it.

A small, ragged figure crafted from human bone and hair, posed as though shading its eyes to see a long distance.

A charm bracelet of silver chain with five shield-shaped charms. The shields have various religious icons for luck. It's covered in dried blood on it, suggesting the previous owner wasn't that lucky.

A shifting monochromatic geometric, glass prism.

An ironwood skeleton key inlaid with spiraling lines of silvery mithril, and etched with flowing Sylvan script that reads “May this world know some measure of my skill as I depart to the next.”

A smoking pipe made with a stem of gnarled wood and a deep bowl made of yellowed bone. The bowl has mystical lettering and runes carved into it.

A porcelain teapot inscribed with ancient symbols. A blue snake-like dragon coils around the pot, its body forming the handle and its mouth forming the spout.

A psaltery made from the darkest ebony wood. Its back is slightly curved with an indentation in the base so that it sits nicely on the player's lap. Inlayed in its face is a twisted branch covered in beautiful cherry blossoms. As the instrument is played the blossoms seem to fall away to reveal that the branch is not a branch at all but the bony hand of a skeleton.

An ornate lacquered box containing a set of spoons, thirteen in number. Each is topped with a tiny figure that represents one of the Immortal Heroes of an eastern cult that is thought to be extinct. In that cult, the spoons are considered a valuable prize that proves the courage and skill of its members. The set would be decently valuable to a collector or otherwise interested buyer.

An alabaster vase that has bas-relief figures of goddesses in skimpy clothing in provocative poses. Knowledgeable PC’s can identify the goddesses are in fact the handmaidens of the Martyr Prophet and even to depict them clothed is a right arrogated to the Prophet’s priesthood. The vase itself would be counted a blasphemy by the Prophet’s followers.

An oil lamp no larger than two cupped hands that’s both delicate and fearful. Unlike more common lamps of brass or even common earthenware, the lamp is forged of hair-thin and glittering black iron, cool to the touch. It bears a single looped handle, and is covered in finely rendered etchings of arabesques and stylized wings.

A number of sealed oval tins containing fillets of true monkfish in brine. The fish’s bland pale flesh travels very well and is an imperishable as a saint’s, hence its name. The fillets are filling an nourishing and there are enough tins to equate to 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A large, cracked, spiral horn of some great beast, bound in silver and caked in blood. When blown, hot winds and swirling sands erupt from the mouth. All who hear the horn’s call are urged to fight with the unrelenting fury of desert storm.

A cerulean-blue semi-solid stone that is nearly translucent, and shines with an internal blue light.

An onyx hair pin topped with a golden sphere accented by ivory flowers. It's covered in dust and the sphere is a bit oxidized, but with some proper cleaning it might be a suitable gift for the daughter of a noble.

A black-green beeswax candle decorated with carvings of birds. The wick seems to be made out of gold threads. It faintly smells of ash and seawater.

A constantly-shifting jigsaw puzzle made of of muscle and viscera.

A dull green glass bottle, filled with transparent oil that rolls about like the sea's tides. Its label, written in Undercommon, reads "Immortality." It is sealed with a deep black cork, and if opened reeks of skunk spray.

A small stone that ticks evenly like a finely wound clock. Everyone who hears the stone becomes convinced that the stone must remain locked away or something very bad will happen.

A commemorative porcelain plate of the last royal wedding.

A jigsaw puzzle consisting of occult symbols that when fully completed opens a portal to that which the user desires most in the world. There are three pieces missing.

A black robe covered in tattered and worn crow feathers, almost giving the illusion of wings when the arms are raised.

A flexible skin tight, black-silk mask that covers the bearer’s face with just a slit exposing the eyes and perforations at the nose and mouth.

A wide iron-studded dog collar.

A sealed one gallon cask filled with a smoky, spicy spirit akin to weaker tequila. This aperitif is made from a flowering cactus found deep in the deserts heart. When drunk, it causes memories to flow more freely to the drinker's minds forefront, often sparking intense feelings of nostalgia or regret. If overindulged, it could even dislodged repressed memories, forgotten dreams, and other things forgotten (deliberately or otherwise).

A gilded wineglass fashioned from a human skull and set with lapis lazuli.

A set of seven humanoid shaped obsidian pendants.

A dark green egg-shaped stone has been worn away on one side to reveal a rough, vivid purple interior. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as a geode.

A metal mask resembling a deformed man with a protruding tongue, often worn by wrong-doers before they are paraded through the streets as punishment.

The "alchemical" recipe and blueprint for a "Big Mama", a strange series of nested barrels filled with gunpowder and nails and designed to detonate from a fuse.

A bloodstained scrap of parchment with a list of several names, including a couple of the PC’s. All but one of the non-PC names are crossed out.

A small silver bracelet fashioned in the style of a serpent with two small cyan-colored stones for eyes.

A beautiful, multicolored glass sculpture that seems to take different shapes depending on the angle it is viewed from. From one angle, a mother and child, from another a proud warrior, all in vibrant color and exquisite detail. There are eight distinct scenes visible, one from each cardinal direction.

A delicate tea set made of beautifully shaped glass. Each cup has been blown to look like a pair of child-sized hands clasped together, and the tea pot itself has the appearance of a cloaked human female kneeling in offering. Her hands reaching outwards act as the spout for the pot, and her pulled back hood acts as the lid. No liquid ever flows out of the teapot unless one of the cups in the set is directly beneath the spout.

A medium sized hourglass fashioned from dark walnut and brass. Inside, the sands shine in a variety of iridescent colors. There is a slight tinkling sound as they fall, almost like the sound of a music box, carried on the wind.

An exquisite scrimshaw design of dueling dragons made from a harpy claw.

A scepter made with scorched wood, that has an orb of solid, coagulated blood on it's edge.

A floating spherical chess board that when opened, reveals intricately crafted pieces inside it. The pieces magically adhere to the sphere as it floats, and allows you to play without the chessmen falling off.

A small, golden chime, tied with a red ribbon around the handle, that rings softly of its own accord with a bittersweet melody. It makes those who hear it think of sunlight on a coastline that they've never seen, holding the hand of someone they’ve never known.

A battered tin kettle, slightly warm to the touch. Any liquid placed into the kettle will become something almost, but not quite, exactly nothing like tea.

A pair of goggles that allow the bearer to see from the point of view of a random reef fish in some far off sea.

A black and purple scale of some enormous horror of the far realm.

A thick piece of leather on which was branded a prayer of contrition. It says that it is not enough to ask for absolution, penitence must be forced upon the impure. Some sins can only be forgiven with consecrated flame.

A stoppered, green glass bottle wrapped in grimy stained leather and cord. It is filled with an inferior moonshine containing alcohol distilled in the worst possible conditions. The liquor tastes worse than it looks, but provides a small degree of resistance to the horrors of daily life

A rather intricately filigreed belt buckle featuring a stylistic rendering of a heroic figure standing in defiance of a formless darkness looming above it.

A wine bottle sealed with wax containing a rolled vellum scroll.

A burlap pouch containing a handful of wooden tokens marked with a skull and crossbones on one side and "One Grog" on the other.

A jade carving of a flying fish, inexpertly done and with poor detailing.

An invitation to a charity ball rewarded for substantial devotion and contribution to community and individual well being.

A royal decree ordering all land-holding families to send one armed soldier to an official army muster. Any family that fails to respond is in danger of having their ancestral land titles revoked.

A leather plague doctor's mask with silver frames and buckles.

A copper-plated tin badge of a winged heart.

A wooden flute made of red wood with etchings of leaves around part of its base

An oddly shaped curved wand with elven writing carved within. When held at nighttime it helps its owner sleep peacefully to the sounds of nature.

A large wooden chest with many unique pelts, wrapped one inside the other. In the center a small jade figurine of a humanoid with a fish-like face. It is extremely cold to the touch.

A fancy gold coin with two crowns on both faces. It is literally embedded in a small cube of clearest crystal.

A bright red square tablet of unknown material about three inches to a side with a metal plate that slides to open a tiny window through the tablet that reveals a sheet of black material within. It is lighter than stone, metal, or wood and bears no markings other than a rectangle of gummy residue on one side and a small circular metal coin on the reverse.

A rose quartz paperweight shaped like a crushing fist.

A toy horse carved from bone.

A letter with the following written inside "We only need 300 more gold until we can bring her back and live peacefully once again as a family."

An ivory spoon with teardrop handle.

A miniature portrait of a young chestnut-haired beauty set in a silver frame. She appears to be set against the skyline of a metropolitan city on a sea, as though the portrait was painted from a tall building or hillside.

A tin box decorated with an embossing of a ship in a bottle, containing precision woodworking and knot tying tools with telescoping handles.

A fist sized ball of melted copper coins.

A bronze statuette of a chariot, with horses and charioteer.

A child’s painting framed beautifully. The art itself is fairly lacking but the frame is worth a decent amount, even more to someone who appreciates the juxtaposition of incredibly classy and messy.

A silken caul hair net decorated with small semiprecious stones.

An ebon walking stick with a monogrammed silver handle.

A bone pipe carved with intricate crimson sigils; its smoke appears as writhing shades of the damned.

A scrap of dirty parchment bearing a list of names, some of them crossed off. Investigation reveals all of the names on the list are dead people, mostly buried in the Gilded Graveyard. Those who have been crossed off have recently have their graves’ plundered, their bodies stolen. Further investigation still reveals that these were all jurors in the trial of Isabella Rasping, a necromancer convicted of using a zombies as murder weapons during the infamous “Meatpuppet Murders” two centuries ago. She was executed for the crime by her own creations. Isabella has returned as a revenant with unfinished business; she maintains her innocence and believes she can now prove it, and so is gathering the previous jurors for a kind of “retrial."

A ceramic dining plate edged with copper.

A bandolier from which hang a half dozen small securely stoppered flasks. Each is filled with a noxious substance, preserved at the height of its foulness: Human diarrhea, spoiled milk, vomit, cat urine, skunk stink glands and rotting fish. The flasks are flimsy and designed to break apart when they hit something solid and each stopper has a small eye-hook screwed into the cork. They can be thrown, shot from a sling or flask launcher (A modified light crossbow) or a length of twine has be tied to the eye-hook, creating a tripwire trap.

A brass bust of a famed scholar and medic.

An anklet of braided gold and silver worked with small carnelians.

A set of bagpipes made from the skin of a displacer beast, with the drones and chanter carved from its bones.

An antiquated torture device designed for mutilating hands and fingers.

A leather eyepatch with a turquoise stone surrounded by white agate resembling a crude eye.

A stuffed cockatrice clutching a sculpted marble hand in one talon.

An egg, roughly the size of a goose egg but navy blue with mottled flecks of gold leaf, mounted on a round wooden base with a tiny placard that reads "Imaskari Sun Hawk". When touched, the golden flecks on the egg gently glow that grows brighter and softer in time with the heartbeat of the one touching it and there is the sensation of rustling movement from within.

A fragment of a painting torn from a larger canvas depicting an unfamiliar princess.

A family portrait of an infamous noble house whose eyes seem to follow onlookers.

A pale gourd with ornate glyphs painted in black around the cork at its apex and twine braided about it. Try as one might, nobody has ever been able to open the stopper. A thin metallic clinking can be heard when the gourd is shaken.

A delicate pink flower, carefully preserved with magic and will not wilt or break yet preserves its natural beauty.

An old withered hand, no more than skin drawn taut across bones, and tarnished rings hanging loosely from the fingers. The bearer can rattle the rings on the hand which causes the smell of lilies to fills the air around him.

A small metal top seems like an everyday child’s toy except for the skull engraved into a button in the middle.

A sturdy wooden travel case containing a popular board game known as Roundels. It has similar elements to chess but is played on a circular board with a stylized keep. The game is abstract and is supposed to loosely simulate a siege. There is an attacking player and a defending player and each side has some unique pieces in addition to their common pieces. The etiquette of playing Roundels requires players to participate in two games, one as the attacker and the other as defender.

A horse femur that is as light as a feather.

An old yellowed skull that in spite of its lack of eyeballs, seems to be constantly eyeing the bearer.

A length of ivory shaped like a bone, covered in small onyx spiders that look all too real. The arcane rod can be used as an magical focus and is a grisly sight to behold.

A burlap bag large enough to hold a coconut. It is smooth to the touch and found in the color purple with a golden strap.

An arcane wand that is rough to hold and twists like a wild vine.

A translucent green stone the size of a fat grape. The item is sea glass, a fragment of a bottle that washed around the world and back, until it had no sharp edges.

A satyr statuette which increases the libido of everyone within line of sight of it.

A bewitched letter which appears to be addressed to whoever is currently holding it, describing their features and personality in adoring terms.

A small crystal which, when peered through, appears to show alternate universes. Actually a fragment of a much larger crystal, part of a complex device deep in the Old City.

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tessiete · 4 years ago

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HELLO. *Yeets at you with no expectations or pressure* The grass reached for the sky in uncoordinated brambles. Flowers sprouted in the voids, gasping in relief in the sun. If one was to lay within it, they would be completely hidden. "I thought I might find you here, little one."

OH HI! No, I’ve not completely forgotten about prompts, and yes, I will post at midnight again.

I fear no gods.

Anyway, thank you @kyber-erso for letting me make this about my boy, the Korks, and his dumb grandpa.

ILU Your gorgeous prose is such inspiration!!! (It was the only part @lieutenantmittens praised :sunglasses:)

Let’s have a title....um...

TO FORGET OURSELVES

The grass reached for the sky in uncoordinated brambles. Flowers sprouted in the voids, gasping in relief of the sun. If one were to lie within it, they would be completely hidden. Qui-Gon Jinn, however, was a large man, and though he crawled forward on his belly, and twisted to lie on his back, his knees still arced above the grassline like ancient monuments on a foreign plain.

"I thought I might find you here, little one.”

Beside him, couched like a barah fawn in a nest of broken reeds, and soft needle greens, Korkie Kryze grumbled out a paltry welcome. He snapped the twig in his hands then launched the pieces into the air above him. They arced high, then fell out of sight, disappearing into the long grass surrounding them.

“No one knows this place,” the boy countered. “It’s secret.”

“Ah,” Qui-Gon said, suitably chastened. “Do I need a chain code, or civil chit to stay?”

Korkie frowned. The dry litter crinkled beneath his head as he shifted to consider Qui-Gon with all the seriousness of a Mand’alor.

“No,” he decided. “Just a password.”

“Oh,” Qui-Gon said, nodding sagely. “What is it?”

“I can’t tell you,” Korkie sighed. He kicked his feet out straight, flinging a handful of needles into the sky to emphasise the impossibility of Qui-Gon’s request. “You have to guess. Otherwise it’s not very secure, is it?”

Staves - small brown and green slivers of yesterday’s sunlight - fell like confetti around them, pricking the skin of his cheeks and brow. He closed his eyes, as beside him, Korkie flinched away to shield himself.

Once recovered, Qui-Gon considered his options.

“What password shall I guess?” he asked.

“If you can’t guess it, then you don’t know it, and you can’t stay,” Korkie decreed.

“A fair judgement,” Qui-Gon said. “But I am so very old that perhaps I just forgot it. Would you be kind to an ancient, aged fossil such as myself, and give me a clue?”

Korkie sighed again, loud enough that he nearly gave it voice, just to be certain that Qui-Gon was quite aware of the inconvenience of his request. Still, he relents, and he cupped his hand to Qui-Gon’s ear to breathe the secret between them.

“Oh, I see,” the Jedi said. He opened his mouth, and exhaled, the confidential code a near corporeal thing in the world before Korkie slapped his hand across his mouth, preventing the sound from escaping.

“You can’t say it out loud,” he cried. “You have to whisper it to me. Otherwise anyone might hear it.”

So Qui-Gon held his own hand to the boy’s much smaller ear, and murmured the password back.

“Okay,” Korkie said, satisfied. “You can stay.”

“Thank you,” the master replied.

For a while, they lay in silence, staring up at the wide expanse of sky above them. The firmament above was a bright blue, but to those two votaries it appeared bruised, and dark as the heavy dome of Sundari arched high to dim the effulgent rays so that mortals, too, might bask in them.

Between them, there was perfect accord, both content to rest in the company of the other. There was a meditative peace in the sound of grass, and in the touch of the sun. But, at four, Korkie had little patience for the beauties of the world. Instead, he was much preoccupied by his own troubled thoughts, and unlike the heavy evergreen needles, they refused to settle softly beneath his head.

“It isn’t fair,” he houghed, another twig straining to reach the escape velocity of their orbit.

“That is true about many things,” Qui-Gon agreed. He reached his hand to the earth beside him, digging until the litter gave way to fine silt. It ran over his fingers like silk, weighed down by the oils of his skin, and left a dusting over his palms. “What, in particular, are you most troubled by, my boy?”

Korkie sighed again. His sighs contained whole systems within the bounds of their expulsions. He rolled to his side, facing Qui-Gon, curling his legs, and tucking his hands beneath his head. His entire aspect was bent toward the consideration of his most serious complaint.

“It isn’t fair that Bebu must leave again when you only just got here.”

Qui-Gon rolled to face him, equally considerate.

“Well, that’s not entirely true, is it?” he asked. “After all, your father and I have been here for nearly four months. Since before your mid-break. And we shall not be leaving until after Holyhod Day. That is quite a long time, don’t you think?”

“If I were in school the whole time,” Korkie agreed. “But break doesn’t count. And plus, I was in school for some of it, so I didn’t get to see you as much.”

“Your buir saw you every day, Kiorkicek,” Qui-Gon said, quite firmly. There would be no slighting of his own evergreen, and erstwhile padawan by anyone.

Korkie felt the justice of Qui-Gon’s correction, and thrust his lower lip forward in tremulous defiance.

“I said, not as much.”

“So you did,” agreed Qui-Gon, quick to acknowledge his own fault. “Forgive me. Go on.”

“I am only saying,” continued Korkie, “That it isn’t fair that Bebu is going so soon, and taking you with him.”

“As I am the elder, perhaps it is I who is taking him.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Korkie said.

“No, I suppose not,” Qui-Gon said. It was his turn to sigh, as he rolled to his back once more, and stared up at the sky, watching it ripple behind the glossy dome, like light over water. “Do you know, when your father was little he used to lie in the grasses at the Temple, just like this, and look up at the vaulted claricrystalline of the Coruscant day?”

“Bebu did? Like me?”

“He did.”

Korkie screwed up his mouth, riddled with scepticism. “No, he didn’t,” he said. “This place is much too dirty for Bebu. He always tells Belli that I look ‘a wild creature unfit for civil tables’ when I come back like this.”

“And what does your mother say to that?”

“She says she loves wild and untamed things the best. And Bebu always laughs, and -” he added, leaning near to confess - “he never gets actually mad when I get mud on his trousers or his tunics. He just pretends.”

“Well, I tell you quite truly,” Qui-Gon murmured back. Korkie’s eyes were brightened with expectation. “When your father was not much older than you are now, he used to hide in the grass in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and look at the sky.”

“Really?”

“Really, really,” Qui-Gon vowed. “And I can recall several instances where he found himself covered in muck up to his ears!”

“You’re tricking me,” Korkie said.

“I am not,” Qui-Gon denied. “On one occasion, he dropped your mother into a great puddle of mud, and she was covered, too!”

“And then what?”

“What do you think,” Qui-Gon said, his eyes glinting with mirth. “He reached in to help her out, and then -”

“Then?”

“Then she pulled him in after her!”

At this, Korkie burst into a riot of laughter, so bright and clear as to startle a flock of dozing echo’lanaar from the trees.

“Bebu was covered in mud!” he shouted, alive with joy. “And Belli, too! They must have looked so silly!”

Qui-Gon grinned. “They did,” he swore. “Quite silly. Much sillier than you look when you go home covered in needle greens or clay. And do you know what else?”

“What?” Korkie asked, falling silent and reverent again, caught in the grip of Qui-Gon’s voice.

“Every time we left the Temple he missed his home, and his friends, too. Just like you miss him when he’s gone.”

“It’s different,” Korkie said, feeling slightly betrayed by the way Qui-Gon has turned back to beckon his troubles join them in this den. “Because he left his friends. His friends didn’t leave him.”

“What is the difference, Kiorkicek, if everyone is still parted?”

And that is something he had not thought.

Korkie frowned, trying to puzzle it out, but Qui-Gon spared him the struggle because the lesson to be learned was difficult enough for a master, fully grown, never mind a boy hardly older than a few revolutions of the earth.

“Don’t you think that your Bebu misses you?” he asked. “Don’t you think he’s sad when you’re not there?”

“Maybe,” Korkie conceded. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” Qui-Gon said. “And I can promise you that when you are here, and he is there, he always wishes you close.”

“I don’t think so,” Korkie said. “Because if that were true, then he wouldn’t leave at all. He’d always be here, and he wouldn’t care about there.”

“But he has many duties and responsibilities to do there,” Qui-Gon countered, his voice soft as the brambles below. “You know he saves lives. You know he frees people. You know he changes whole wide worlds, Kiorkicek. And he can’t do that from here.”

Korkie breathed deep, and exhaled. Needles scattered. The curving back of a tiny strill appeared in the dirt beneath his finger, gaining a wide jaw and a long tail as Qui-Gon watched, and Korkie thought about things.

“Are you sure he misses me?” he asked, at last.

“I am certain,” Qui-Gon said.

“How do you know?”

He looked at Qui-Gon then with such belief, such faith, and all at once, the Jedi saw another little boy who’d looked at him much the same for years, who also hid in brambles when upset, who also longed for the reassurance of desire, and he knew that this time, he would not hold back.

“I know,” he said, his voice solemn, and his gaze steady, “Because when your father is here, and I am there, I miss him just as much.”

#korkie kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #my fic #prompt fill #thank you

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