#why is this post all deactivated it was alive when i saw it years ago :(

[gayrobos]

blessings upon the 2 people who liked my tfoc posts. have some torture and gore and betrayal.

for reference here’s diabolica’s alt mode. which she is not using in this. I just think it’s neat.

[ID: black and yellow robot mantis covered in circular saws and chainsaws and scythes and shit. end ID]

She gets taken to an unpleasant room that smells like congealed energon, mech fluid, and despair. And there in the doorway is a terribly familiar silhouette, so familiar that for a moment she wonders when this is. Mantix died six thousand years ago, before the operation, she couldn't possibly be seeing her. No, this is now. And that's not Mantix. Lots of people could have the same alt mode and color scheme. Anyway, Mantix would recognize her, even though she's changed her alt. But she really, really looks like her.

"Are you the bodyguard?" asks not-Mantix. She speaks in Mantix's flat, disinterested voice, like a fucked up parody of Hyla's millennia-dead best friend. It's not an affect Hyla ever thought of as frightening; it was just Mantix. Now it's extremely frightening. Hyla wonders whether she's finally starting to unravel.

"I literally don't know anything, I only know where we were going to transmit, and I'll tell you that for free. It's not important intel."

"Of course you don't know anything," says not-Mantix. "I wouldn't use torture if you did. It's a terrible interrogation tactic."

Hyla is really starting to freak out now. "Then what do you WANT?"

"From you? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. My bosses are interested in how you do what you do, but I'm not. I'm just here to hurt you."

Hyla considers bravado, but it wouldn't do any good, and it wouldn't make her feel any better. But there is one glimmer of hope---not-Mantix takes off the stasis cuffs after she's strapped down. She puts venom production into overdrive.

"---nent." Dull burning pain inside her chest, where she can't see, like something's come loose, sensors going wild, aware that this mech doesn't intend to kill her but also very aware that that doesn't mean she'll necessarily ever be fine again. Not-Mantix raises one of her alt legs and its disclike joint, which is---no, no---a circular saw. It dips toward her open chest and she deactivates her optics, not wanting to know when it's coming. The moment it does jerks a scream out of her, quickly muffled.

And then the pain is gone. Fans whirring loudly, she turns her optics on and forces her energon lines open again; she's not bleeding. The interrogator is still several feet away, watching her. Oh, this is bad. If the Decepticons find out what she really is, she's going to get her fucking brain dissected. She whimpers, playing up her fear, though it's only a matter of time before not-Mantix figures it out anyway. Her only hope is to make sure the interrogator doesn't leave here alive.

Not-Mantix steps closer, and Hyla tries not to flinch, because she'll get the timing wrong. But it's hard not to as her chestplate's opened up, when she already knows what's going to happen. "Don't worry. This will only be semi-perman---"

Hot energon drips over her internals, and the pain returns. She fucking wishes it wouldn't skip around, but it always does that more when she's upset, like her mind is trying to escape. Hyla's fans stutter and gasp, and the interrogator tilts her head. "It was as if you didn't feel anything at all," she murmurs. "What kind of monster did they make?"

Hyla steels herself. Says through gritted teeth, "I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to." She'll stay in the present, not that she really knows how to control that, but if she wills it it's got to happen.

Twelve minutes and another even longer absence later (she can now place this moment from a couple years ago), she's reaching the end of her tolerance. She hasn't been able to scratch the interrogator yet. If there's any chance it can throw her off... why not try? "I have to..." she says faintly. "Mantix... please..."

"What?" asks the interrogator sharply. As Hyla hoped, she leans in.

"I know you're not her," says Hyla even more quietly. "But you look so much like Mantix."

She doesn't think about the way the interrogator goes still, because her hand is leaned next to Hyla's hood. Quick as a flash Hyla turns her head and sinks her teeth into the mech's hand, pumping in venom.

She cries out and hits Hyla in the face, trying to pull her hand away and finally succeeding, although she totally mangles it in the process. "How do you know that name?" she asks, as if Hyla didn't just bite through her hand until teeth met.

"Just an old friend," says Hyla. "Just a distraction."

But the mech's eyes are burning into hers. "You got reframed." Doesn't the venom fucking hurt? It was meant to. "I didn't recognize you. I thought you were dead, Hyla."

A shudder goes through Hyla. "You're not her."

"It seems the war has changed you more than me."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Hyla snarls. The interrogator is standing close enough for Hyla to sink envenomed claws into her leg; she just fucking takes it. "If that shy awkward mech from geosciences saw what you've turned her into she'd go stick her head in a jet engine." She's /heard/ of this mech before, the torturer, the one who lets prisoners go when she's done with them just so the next Autobot she gets under her knife will be even more terrified. They call her Diabolica.

"They call you a monster," says Diabolica. "A machine for killing and nothing else. They say when you're hunting you let your prey run only because you know they can't escape."

The rest of the story everyone knows is that it's slow venom that makes sure no-one escapes. The Decepticon medics have enough corpses to put that together. Maybe Diabolica thinks this will be a slow venom too, but Hyla's injected too much of it. Diabolica slumps over her, trembling with the effort of holding herself up. "Guess you had it wrong who was the hunter," says Hyla.

"I'm sorry," says Diabolica. "Your intel mech is already dead. You should have at least an hour before anyone comes looking for me. Medical supplies are in the cupboard on the left. I can't tell you much... ab-bout the guard rotations... but, but you don't need me to." She spasms, obviously muting her vocalizer on a cry of pain, and falls off the slab onto the ground. Then she drags herself back up to enter a code into the slab, unlocking the cuffs. And Diabolica falls again.

Hyla rips through the open cuffs with her claws, as much to vent her sudden fury as to make it look like she escaped on her own. Can she trust Diabolica's word that Magnetron is dead? What does she even...

First order of business is to get back in fighting condition. She grimaces down as she steps over the collapsed mech, who set her free when she might have instead called the guards. If Diabolica had wanted to fuck her over, she could very well be dead by now. Instead it's Diabolica who has about two hours to live.

Hyla crouches down and turns Diabolica over to get a better angle. Sinks her teeth into Diabolica's neck to inject antivenom, just enough that her body won't entirely shut down; just enough to buy her another day or so.

Then she locates a medkit and gets to work.

[ladyrynofsunnydale]

Bo-Katan Week Day 4/ Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: References to Major Character Death, References to Mild Drug Use

Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, Koska Reeves, Boba Fett, Din Djarin, Cara Dune, Moff Gideon (Star Wars), Fennec Shand (mentioned), Ursa Wren (mentioned), Sabine Wren (mentioned), Satine Kryze (mentioned)

Summary: Post-Mandalorian Season 2 Rescue. Bo-Katan isn’t quite sure today could have gone any worse. She had failed to enact her revenge, she was in pain, and honestly, she wanted all these aruetiis off her ship now. And if Din Djarin tried to get her to take the Darksaber one more time, she might just lose it.

Author’s Note: Happy Day 4 of Bo-Katan week! I think this counts as Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss? Anyways, I couldn't stop thinking about how Bo-Katan would have reacted to the finale of the Mandalorian Season 2 so I cranked this out. I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Tags: @bokatanweek 

Click on the link up top to read or continue reading below

Bo-Katan hissed when she settled into the chair in the light cruiser’s medbay. She’d walked there on her own just on sheer force of will and anger, but now that the adrenaline was leaving her body she was left aching and in pain. She wasn’t thirty anymore and she felt those blaster wounds far more than she used to. Could also be due to the fact that she no longer used battle stimulants. While she didn’t miss the not sleeping for days and jittery energy high that accompanied the stims, she did miss the absence of pain.

She pulled out her knife to cut into her flightsuit and barely kept herself from crying out as she pulled it out of the singed flesh on her left thigh. Gritting her teeth, she leaned into her anger to help her through the pain. Anger at allowing herself to be distracted by the Jedi carving a path through the dark troopers. Anger at allowing herself to be thrust back in time into long ago memories, memories of a simpler time when her greatest worry was that her sister was ruining Mandalorian culture while a host of Jedi led a grand petty war at the head of an army of clones. How different things could have been if her sister’s Jedi love had been able to save her. How different things may have been had the Jedi not fallen. Her distraction had allowed karking Gideon to get the jump on her. Again. Six shots, four pinging off her armor and two hitting their mark in her mid and upper left thigh. To compound that, one of the shots had hit her left shin guard and had hyper extended her knee. The pain made her whoozy and she leaned over, holding her still helmeted head in her hands, and willed the world to stop blacking out at the edges and for the contents of her stomach to stay where they were.

She had lost the Darksaber. Her one shot at proving to her people that she was worthy to lead them one more time. Proving to herself that she was worthy to lead them again. That saber had consumed her life for years. She’d accepted it once without winning it, and she couldn’t do that again. Maybe that is why she had lost everything. Why her people had lost everything. She still remembered holding Ursa’s body as she died. Ursa, her oldest friend and confidant. After that, she couldn’t look Sabine in the eye. Not until she had avenged Ursa and her people by taking revenge on Gideon and winning the Darksaber back. And karking Din Djarin had taken that from her.

She pulled out her blasters and fired continuously at a deactivated droid in the corner of the room until it was just a smoking hole in the wall then removed her helmet and launched it across the room, screaming her rage and pain. Standing she limped her way to a cabinet and violently yanked the doors open and riffled through the contents until she’d found cleaning solution, bacta, and an elastic bandage. She sat down again and cleaned the wounds before spreading the bacta on them, grinding her teeth together to work through the pain, then wrapped the elastic bandage around her aching knee to stabilize it. Once her task was accomplished, all her energy left her and she dropped her head back into her hands and stared at the floor. The Darksaber. Din Djarin. Gideon. Sabine. Ursa. Ahsoka. Satine. Fenn Rau. The Darksaber. Her mind spiraled and spiraled until there was a knock at the door. She looked up to see Koska. And Boba Fett. The clone.

“Come to gloat?” she snapped out.

“Thought about it, Princess. But I’m not one to kick someone when they’re down,” he answered.

“Since when?” she snorted. He shrugged. She couldn’t see his face with his helmet on and the voice modulator masked any emotion.

“When the mood strikes me. Here,” he said and tossed her a loaded stimulant gun. She caught it and clenched her teeth together.

“I don’t use these anymore.” Fett crossed his arms over his chest.

“You might want to consider it.”

“I’ll take the pain, thanks.” She tossed it back to him. He shrugged.

“Suit yourself. Fennec and I are leaving. Good luck on your fool’s errand of retaking Mandalore.” Bo ground her teeth together. Staring at Jango Fett’s clone in Mandalorian armor and hearing that voice so easily dismiss her home planet made her blood boil. That voice that she had owed so much to when they’d helped her reclaim Mandalore, and then the voice that had just as quickly turned on them to claim Mandalore for the Empire. She’d hated the clones. Hated that they were based off a Mandalorian’s DNA and had gone against everything a Mandalorian stood for. They had no honor. They had gunned down her people, adults and children alike, to force the planet into submission. Even Ursa had submitted.

However, she could use Fett and Fennec’s skills. They were both true and formidable warriors. But Fett didn’t believe in her cause, didn’t believe in her, and how could she blame him? She couldn’t even reclaim the Darksaber and was just shot by the man who’d taken it from her. And where Fett went, Fennec went.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” she snarked.

“You too, Princess,” he answered back, and she was surprised to hear a note of sincerity. He then turned and was gone. Koska leaned up against the doorframe and she could feel her eyes on her as she pushed herself up to standing and tested her left leg. It held. Thank the gods. She limped her way to her helmet and picked it up.

“You alright, boss?” Koska asked. Bo had known Koska since she was ten. Her Aunt had been one of her most loyal Nite Owls, and after watching her parents get gunned down by clones she’d enthusiastically volunteered when she’d come of age. She’d quickly become one of her most trusted people, especially as the commandos around her had dwindled, and she was happy to have her by her side now. And proud of the woman and warrior she had become.

“Just fine, Reeves.” She turned around and saw Koska staring at her. She softened just a bit. “I’m alright. Just not as young as I used to be.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Koska said, smirking, coming into step beside her while she limped out the door and back towards the command bridge.

She prepared herself to once again be among the remaining people there. Din Djarin, the New Republic drop trooper, and Gideon. As she’d suspected, Fett and Fennec were already gone, and the trooper was speaking with somebody on the comms.

“I want both of you off this ship,” Bo snapped, limping into the room. Everyone turned their eyes to her, and she could see Gideon once again smirking. The Darksaber was just lying there on one of the control consoles. Breathe, Bo-Katan, breathe, she told herself.

“The Republic will meet us…” the trooper said and Bo cut her off.

“I’m not rendezvousing with any New Republic fleet. You can take Gideon and the shuttle and get off my ship.”

“You didn’t take this ship all by yourself,” the trooper said, narrowing her eyes.

“Get. Off. My. Ship.” Bo stalked towards her and loosened her blasters in their holsters. She saw the dropper’s eyes flick to her repeating rifle then back to Bo, and Koska stepped up beside her. Their stare off was finally interrupted by a voice from the console.

“Dune? Dune, do you read me?” The trooper, Dune, broke her gaze and stared down at the console and pressed a button.

“I read you. Slight change of plan. Send me your coordinates and I’ll meet you with the prisoner.”

There was silence for a while, then finally a response.

“Protocol dictates…”

Bo limped over and slammed her hand down on the button.

“I don’t give a damn what protocol dictates. If you want Gideon alive and not a smoking corpse, you will transmit your coordinates to Trooper Dune so they can get the hell off my ship.”

Silence again.

“Who is this?”

“I am Bo-Katan of Mandalore. I am taking over command of this ship as recompense for what the Empire did to my people.”

They didn’t respond for a few minutes. She was sure they were looking her up, and she figured she knew what they’d find.

“Lady Kryze,” the voice came back, and she wasn’t surprised. “As former regent…”

“Transmit the fucking coordinates,” Bo-Katan interrupted.

Silence.

“Transmitting now,” the voice finally said. Dune downloaded the coordinates onto a disk.

“We’ll meet you there,” she said into the console and took a step back. “Well, it’s been a pleasure,” she said sarcastically and Bo ignored her and walked further into the bridge. “Din, what’s your plan?” Bo turned to see his response. He was just sitting there, where she’d left him however long ago, his helmet on the console beside him and his head in his hands, staring at the ground. As much as she wanted to hate him, she couldn’t. She pitied him. She knew it had not been easy for him to hear what she’d had to say on Trask. Having grown up in a cult herself, she knew how it took over your persona. Djarin had forsaken everything he’d known for the foundling, and then had lost him. Just like she’d lost Satine. And Ursa. And her planet.

Djarin looked up. His eyes were red, and he seemed to be unused to focusing on people with his bare eyes.

“I…” he started, his voice rough, and cleared his throat. He looked between Bo, Koska, and Dune, then stared straight at Bo, then to the Darksaber, then back. “Please take it,” he pleaded. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. He dropped his head and stared at the ground again, a defeated man. He took a shuddering breath then looked up again. “I’ll come with you, Bo-Katan.” She nodded then turned to Dune and raised her eyebrow. 

“Very well,” Dune sighed, and walked over to Djarin and he stood and they clasped arms. “Good luck. You know where to find me.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

Dune turned and pulled Gideon up and dragged him towards the door.

“Let’s go, asshole.”

And then they were gone. A short time later she heard the beep that signaled a ship leaving the hanger and she watched the shuttle move away then jump to hyperspace. Djarin finally broke the silence.

“What’s the plan now?”

Without turning around from the vast expanse of space, Bo answered.

“We take back our planet.”

[ayo-cowbelly]

The Things We Do For Love ~ Part Five / Finale

previous part ~ masterlist

So. This is the finale! I hope you enjoyed reading this, it was fun to write! As always, comments make my day, and they are a HUGE motivator when writing, so I’d love to know what you thought! 

I’m sorry this took a while. Life got busy for a hot minute, but I wanted to actually buckle down and do this- hence why I’m posting this at like 2 a.m. (for some reason I am more productive in the dead hours of the night). 

Also, listen, I know Kix is in carbonite… but Kix isn’t in carbonite. So that’s that.

Taglist:

@likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @cacodaemonia @halfblood-demigods @ct7567329

@youngcreativenerdgoddess (to you: you are the best. I adore you. also one time on discord you said you wanted to be tagged so guess what. you’re included in this mess)

***

“Ani?” Padmé asked tentatively, knowing she wouldn’t get the answer she wanted. 

“Padmé. You’re alive,” Vader said, stepping closer. She didn’t reach out for him, just placed her hands over her stomach protectively. He seemed to notice her reluctance. Vader’s eyes flashed with something Padmé couldn’t quite name. 

“Yes, I’m alive. But you… what have you done?” 

Vader’s eyes narrowed. “What did Obi-Wan tell you?” 

“Nothing that I didn’t already know. Those things they’re saying… how could you, Anakin? Why?” 

“Because you were going to die!” Vader shouted. His voice was broken, a mix of rage and pain, and it reminded her too much of that horrible day on Tatooine all those years ago. “I did what I had to do.” 

“But I’m fine! The babies are perfectly healthy-”

“Babies?” He asked, sounding more familiar, softer. “As in plural?” 

“Yes,” Padmé whispered. “Twins. I’ve met with the medics, and they all say I’m perfectly fine.” 

“The medics. So you’re staying on board the ships. With Obi-Wan.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I am. Because we’re friends.” 

“He’s turning you against me,” Vader muttered, more to himself than her. “Filling your head with lies. The Jedi, they’re traitors, Padmé, you have to believe me,” He practically begged, stepping closer to her again. This time, Padmé flinched away. Flinched away from the bloodshot golden eyes that bore into her.  

“I don’t know who you are anymore. Listen to yourself, Anakin; this isn’t you.”

“You don’t believe me! You’d believe those- those traitors over me?” 

“Anakin, they’re not traitors. Palpatine is the-” “Palpatine can help you, Padmé. Help us. And when it’s all over, I’m strong enough to overthrow him, and you and I will rule.” Padmé shook her head at his words. This person, this stranger in front of her- he was nothing like the person she’d married years ago on Naboo. This man was a twisted, broken, shell of who Anakin once was. 

Padmé raised her chin defiantly, looking him dead in the eyes. “No. I will not be a part of some warped fantasy, Lord Vader. You are a Sith, a traitor, and a murderer. I won’t stand by and let you and your Emperor destroy this galaxy.”

Vader snarled. “Then you-” Before he could fire back, his attention got caught on something behind her. She turned, and saw Obi-Wan exiting the ship. 

All part of the plan. 

Padmé schooled her face into one of shock. The more theatrical she got, the more Vader would be distracted. “NO! You said you wouldn’t interfere!” 

Vader rounded on her, looking away from his old Master. “You brought him here on purpose! You LIAR!” 

From where she stood, Obi-Wan’s face remained passive. But she was close enough to see the flicker of hurt in his eyes as they fell on Vader. 

“Padmé didn’t lie, Vader. She just… hindered some of the truth.” It’s working, Padmé thought, as she slowly stepped away from the Sith in front of her. He looked more and more enraged every second. 

“You will die, Kenobi, I promise you that. I will kill you where you stand,” Vader bit out, the yellow in his eyes flaring. 

“You will try,” Obi-Wan replied, stepping in front of Padmé. 

Vader took out his lightsaber, but before he could ignite it, a blue stun blast knocked him down. He crumpled onto the desert terrain, unmoving. 

Padmé looked up to Ahsoka crouched on top of the shuttle, blaster in hand. 

“Good thing we have those extra escape hatches in the shuttle, right?” Ahsoka called, sounding lighter than she looked. Her shoulders drooped, and no matter how much she feigned composure, Padmé was a politician.

Ahsoka was breaking, she could see it. Just like Obi-Wan. 

Just like her. 

***

Obi-Wan stood on the other side of a one-way mirror, studying Anakin’s cell. His old apprentice had been placed in force-binding handcuffs while still unconscious, and put in the most secure cell they had on board. A steady guard rotation made sure he was watched at all times. 

For now, he was not a threat. Obi-Wan just hoped that it would stay that way. 

He didn’t notice Ahsoka enter the room. She placed a hand on his arm, guiding him towards the door. “Master, you’ve been watching him for an hour. You should rest,” She said gently. 

“I need to make sure he doesn’t do anything-”

“It’ll be fine. He’s out cold, for now. And there’s guards watching him at all times. Rest.” She managed to pull him out of the room and down the hall. 

“Ahsoka- I wanted to tell you,” He paused their walk, turning to face her. His old Grandpadawan looked up at him, questioning. “I wanted to apologize for everything that happened. With the bombing. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you, I should have-”

Ahsoka gave him a small, sad smile. “Master, it’s okay. We’re okay.” Obi-Wan knew she wasn’t excusing it, she was not fully forgiving the Council -their last few interactions had proved that- but right now, he was her Grandmaster, and she was his Grandpadawan. They needed each other, especially now. 

So Obi-Wan relented, and let her drag him to his quarters.

*** 

Padmé, Obi-Wan, Senator Chuchi, and Cody stood in the briefing room. The others had already left, leaving the four of them alone to review the plan one last time. 

Obi-Wan looked to the young Pantoran senator. “Senator Chuchi, you are aware of the risks involved in this plan?”

“Yes, I am, Master Kenobi. I am well aware of the potential danger. But if we are to succeed, we must all be put in a little danger. It’s part of every fight, and this is one we must win.” 

“Very well. We will depart tomorrow at 0600 hours, and no later,” Obi-Wan said to the group. 

“I suggest we all get some rest, then.” Senator Chuchi exited, though Padmé stayed behind to wait for Obi-Wan.

“If you don’t need anything else, Sir, I’ll be going over drills with the men,” Cody said, turning around. 

As the Commander walked away, Obi-Wan spoke. “Cody, I don’t suppose you’d like to spar later?” He watched as Cody stopped and turned around, and Obi-Wan kept his face as neutral as possible. 

He refused to think about that night, shoving down the memory and all the feelings that came with it.

“I’ll meet you in the training room later, Sir.” Cody gave him a half-smile and put on his helmet, walking out. 

Obi-Wan turned to face Padmé, who was grinning mischievously. “So, how long has that been going on?” 

He ignored the faint heat on his cheeks. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. And if I did, I’d tell you that nothing at all is going on. There is nothing between me and Cody.” 

Padmé laughed, the first true laugh he’d heard from her recently. “Keep telling yourself that.” She made for the door, still grinning, much to his chagrin. “Come on, let’s go.” 

*** 

After about two hours of sparring, Obi-Wan sat on the bench. “I think I’ve had enough for today. You?” 

Cody laughed tiredly as he sat beside his General. “Same here, Sir.” 

“Cody, you can call me Obi-Wan, you know,” his jetii said kindly.

“General-” 

“Cody, I insist.” Cody rolled his eyes at Obi-Wan’s words, but said nothing. The two of them sat in companionable, if slightly awkward, silence. 

For about two seconds. 

“Cody, we-”

“Obi-Wan, I-” 

They both stopped, and Obi-Wan gestured for Cody to continue. 

“Obi-Wan, I wanted to apologize for what happened that night. I was completely inappropriate, and it won’t happen again.”

He watched as Obi-Wan’s expression changed to one of surprise. “Cody, you don’t have to apologize. We were both tired that night, and stressed. I understand if any emotions were a bit haywire. And I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, with me being your CO and all. So, shall we agree to… put it behind us?” 

Cody hoped the jetii couldn’t sense his emotions at that moment. “Yes, Sir, I can agree to that.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, and faced forward again. The silence returned, this time thicker than before. They didn’t move much, except to glance at the other every once and awhile. 

Eventually, Cody thought he would burst, so he gathered all the courage he had, and faced Obi-Wan again.

His General turned to him as well. For a second, everything stopped, and neither moved, neither breathed- until the world crashed back to reality, and Cody was- 

Cody was kissing Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan was kissing him back. 

*** 

Senator Riyo Chuchi was not a coward. Not even close. But nothing could stop her hands from shaking slightly, or anxiety swirling in her chest, as the turbolift sped upwards. She swallowed, which turned into a small cough. Riyo faced forwards still, ignoring the side-eye she got from the Emperor’s aide next to her. 

The lift dinged. As the doors opened, Riyo’s eyes fell on the figures in the hallway. Their armor was familiar- but also not. The helmets were different, and no color was painted on, but Riyo assumed there must still be clones under there. And their chips likely deactivated as well, just like the men at the rendezvous. 

She walked slowly down the long corridor, and the Emperor’s aide sped up towards the office.

“Wait here, please,” The Aide said, and didn’t stay to hear Riyo’s reply. 

Riyo looked to who she assumed was the Commander- they had a shoulder pauldron, and stood closest to the office doors. 

The Emperor’s aide walked in, and as the doors slid shut, Riyo put the plan into action. 

Signing quickly to the Commander, she said, we need you. 

Riyo slowed her gait, careful to keep her hand as concealed as possible. The Commander signed back, almost imperceptibly. 

Pardon? 

You are you? Not your number? She messaged back. When met with a yes, her lips turned upwards slightly. 

Help us. Be prepared for the jetii and the vode. 

The Emperor’s aide opened the door again, gesturing Riyo inside the office. 

Her heart pounded, and she didn’t look at the Commander, but she was certain the message had been received. 

***

“Senator Chuchi, I assure you, the Jedi are not a threat,” The Emperor said to her. Riyo took a deep breath, one she hoped was interpreted as one of fear (which it was, but not of the Jedi). 

“And the Delegation of 2000? They will not try to… derail the Senate anymore?” 

The Emperor nodded. Riyo felt disgusted by all of this, but she kept it tied down. The galaxy needed her to play her part, just for a little while longer. 

“There is no need to worry, Senator. Everything has been taken care of.” Riyo nodded at Palpatine’s words. 

A new voice cut in, the door opening. “So sure of that, are you, hmm?” 

Riyo whipped her head around. Generals Yoda and Kenobi stood there, along with three of the four Commanders, and Ahsoka. 

Palpatine stood. “Guards!” 

There was no reply, though the guards stormed the room. But instead of pointing their blasters at the intruders, they trained them on the Emperor himself. 

Riyo adjusted the tiny holorecorder fit onto her tunic, and crouched behind a chair against the wall. 

The livestream began just as the battle did. 

*** 

A part of Bly wanted to run. Another part wanted to scream. But the bigger part of him kept him where he was. 

Which was the balcony of a skyscraper, with a clear vantage point into the Emperor’s office. Bly watched as the battle grew, sniper at the ready. 

The Emperor -oh, how Bly hated the Emperor- had his lightsaber ignited, cutting down members of the Coruscant Guard, blocking any attacks from the jetii, but the fight continued on. Each side would progress slightly before being pushed back. 

Palpatine deflected any shots directed his way, with his lightsaber and the Force, parrying the Jedi’s attacks all the while. Bly watched as Tano was kicked sharply in the stomach, and was practically slammed against the wall before collapsing on the floor. Rex kneeled over his vod’ika, keeping his pistols firing at the Emperor. Wolffe did the same for Senator Chuchi on the other side of the office, who was currently live streaming the fight for the entire galaxy to see the true nature of their ruler.

Said ruler was now shooting lightning sparks from his fingers, directing it at the two Jedi Masters, who managed to block it- but only just. Bly could tell they were tired. 

This fight needed to end. Fast. 

He trained his sniper on Palpatine’s moving figure. Rage, so much rage, filled him at the sight. Pain, anger, heartbreak consumed him- he thought of Aayla, of how much he loved her, and Felucia- 

His hands shook. The sniper was almost dropped, and Bly’s vision blurred. He gripped his weapon tighter, growling, his jaw clenched. 

“I’m sorry, cyare, I’m sorry- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to-” Tears glided down his face. 

A warm, almost comforting feeling wrapped around him. It held him in its grasp, protecting him, and it reminded him of Aayla. 

Bly remembered her words on Ilum, before everything. 

“That was the first time I realized that sometimes you have to give up control to think clearly. Stressing will not achieve anything. Trusting in others, in the Force, having faith that they will guide you; that is how we can move forward.”

Bly took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Did he trust in the Force? Well, he didn’t know how to, really- but he trusted Aayla. He trusted his riduur.

And that was good enough for him. 

The sniper focused on the Emperor. He let that feeling of warmth wrap around him, and he pulled the trigger. 

The livestream ended, along with Palpatine’s life. 

~11 months later~

Padmé stood on the estate’s balcony, watching the Naboo sunset. It casted a glow on her sleeping daughter’s infant face, and she felt at peace. 

Padmé had never known what it was like to love someone so much- not in this way. The moment her children were born, she knew she’d do anything for them. Anything. Whether it be protect them, help them, guide them, or simply love them.

She studied Leia’s face. It looked so much like Padmé’s own, though Luke looked like his father. But from what she’d gathered these last few months, their personalities were the opposite. 

Luke was serene, and never made too much of a fuss, unless truly upset. But his sister was a different story. She was Anakin’s child, Padmé knew; there was a fire in her that was pure Skywalker. 

Padmé’s heart fell slightly at the thought of Anakin. He was currently in a comfortable (comfortable being a relative term) holding facility on Coruscant, visited by a mind healer in the mornings and a therapist in the evenings. Padmé had only seen him once, when the kids were born, but neither Obi-Wan or Ahsoka had been at all. 

Both the mind healer and therapist were adamant that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka might trigger things in Anakin, who was only recently taking a turn for the better- and they couldn’t risk his progress. 

Padmé felt lonely, sometimes, raising her children alone. She wished Ani was there with her; but she believed that one day, he would be. 

She reminded herself she still had Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan, and Cody, and Rex; along with everyone else who she considered to be family now. Obi-Wan and Cody were coming to visit soon, having promised they’d watch the twins while Padmé returned to Coruscant for (hopefully) the passing of the Clone Rights Act. 

She was wary of leaving Luke and Leia, but she looked forward to seeing her good friend again, Chancellor Mon Mothma. She’d also meet with Commander Bly, the now representative of the vode in the Galactic Senate.

Padmé couldn’t wait to see her friends again, especially Obi-Wan and Cody; it had been too long since their last visit. She was also aware of how romantic the lake country could be- the perfect place for a proposal. Perhaps there was a wedding in the future? 

She knew it was hypocritical, but Padmé had better be invited to Obi-Wan’s wedding. If she wasn’t, there’d be hell to pay. 

But that was a discussion for another time. For now, Padmé held her daughter in her arms and walked the house at the sound of Luke’s cries. 

She gathered him in her arms, and looked at each of her kids’ faces in turn. Yes, she’d always be there for them, no matter what. She was a fighter, and her children were very much worth fighting for. 

It was one of the many things she’d do for love. 

*** 

And that’s a wrap, folks! 

Again, comments are a HUGE motivator to write…. Soo… if it’s okay…. PLEASE COMMENT! okay sorry i’ll stop now. 

Hope you enjoyed this series! To anyone who reads this: I am very, very thankful for you. 

[eirenare]

Okay, soooo *rubs hands together* Now that I have the TLJ junior novelization, let's get to something very important:

it reveals the origin of the “Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise”

First of all, I have to say that I found out that reveal accidentally little ago before getting the novelization, thanks to this lovely Reylo art post over here , and it totally hyped me up (and made me cackle because I was writing a highly speculative fic piece that could kinda fit with this)

For those who don’t know, both in the TFA junior and non-junior novelizations, when Rey touches (or gets close to it, depending on the version) the legacy lightsaber and she sees the vision, what we see in the movie isn’t 100% what happens in the novelizations: in the books she also hears a familiar voice, described in interesting ways, telling her “Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise”, among some other changes

The TFA non-junior novelization has this, and the TFA junior novelization describes it too, but it also has minimum another moment where Rey thinks of this (I haven’t fully read the novels for now, so there might be more I’m unaware of as of now)

And this is where TLJ makes things interesting: there’s no mention of this in the movie, just like in TFA, and as far as I’ve read on the TLJ non-junior novelization there’s no mention there either—but the junior TLJ novelization has, at least, FOUR scenes where these phrases and Rey’s past appear

Sounds interesting? Well... buckle up guys, because this is going to be long (like... very long, because there are lots of paragraphs from the novelization, and then some discussion/speculation/theorizing) and it’s gonna end up in much feels for Rey (also, I’ll highlight some important or curious things):

CHAPTER 7

“The island was haunted. Rey was sure of it.

She stood outside Luke’s hut and watched the fog roll across the village. The haze was thick and held an eerie pre-dawn glow. She had the vague impression that something lurked within those mists. Specters whispering secrets from a long-lost time.

Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

The voice startled her. Those words were the same she had heard so many times in her drams on Jakku. Yet this was not Jakku. And looking around, she saw she stood alone.”

CHAPTER 10

“Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

The star freighter’s hatch closed, and its engines warmed. Rey tried to run toward it, but Unkar Plutt’s meaty hands held her back. No amount of squirming or wriggling would release her. She was only a small human child, while Plutt was an overweight, overgrown Crolute.

“Come back!” Rey shrieked at the ship. “Come back!”

Her cries caused Plutt to squeeze her arm so tightly it hurt. But that pain did not compare with the heartbreak of watching the freighter lift off. The ship roared toward Jakku’s sun, never to come back as promised.

Rey woke to the sunlight of another world. Dawn streamed through the doorway of the hut in which she’d taken shelter to escape the night’s rain. Fortunately, the rain had ended, as had the nightmare of her parents abandoning her on Jakku.

She blinked and the afterimages of the bad dream faded away.”

CHAPTER 21

“She didn’t want to listen to him. She wanted him to stop the charade and return to Leia. But she also wanted to know.

“Let it go”, he said. “You know the truth. Say it.”

She knew only what she feared. And what she feared was the truth of the voice from her dreams—the dreams that had haunted her since the day her parents abandoned her on Jakku.

Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

That was not the voice of her mother or her father, as she had long convinced herself.

The voice was her own.

She had imagined that voice and repeated those words over and over as a child until they became part of her reality, even her dreams. They had helped her fall asleep on a hungry stomach and pushed her to persevere when the future seemed bleak. When the years went by and her parents never returned to take her back, she never gave up the hope that someday soon they would and the nightmare of her youth would be over.

It was a false hope.

Was that what Luke had tried to prompt her to confess in the library? The truth she had locked in her heart and had never let herself admit? The truth that her parents were not hardworking space merchants trying to scrape enough together to make a better life for their family?

“They were nobody”, Rey said at last.

“They were filthy junk traders who sold you off for drinking money”, Kylo Ren said, spitting out the words. “They’re dead in a pauper’s grave on Jakku, like all the other junk buried there.”

Rey hadn’t known those details, but she had no doubt what Kylo Ren said was true. Her whole life had been one giant lie of her own making, a castle of dreams and echoes that had no foundation.

She shook all over. She might have survived Snoke’s mental thrashing, but this self-admission could break her for good.

Ren stepped toward her. “You have no place in the story. You come from nothing. You are nothing.” His tone became tender. “But not to me.”

He deactivated the blade. “Join me. Please.” He held out his hand to her.

She looked at him, pale and ghostly in the starlight of the window. His request was sincere. He wanted to teach her. She could learn great power from him. He could help her attain her true potential in the Force. Her past didn’t matter. All that mattered was her place in the future.

Rey reached out to Ren. He smiled.

Their hands never met.

Rey could never join with him. Not as he stood before her now. For he, too, had tried to erase his past, reinventing himself in the mold of his grandfather. The difference was that he had lost hope in his parents, while she had kept hope in hers, however false, alive.

Perhaps that was the very meaning of hope. It seemed false until it happened.

And if she wanted to save Ben, she would have to stop Kylo Ren.”

CHAPTER 23

“Rey saw stars. And lights. And more stars.

But the stars in the viewport began to fade away, as did the lights on the console. Everything was fading—even the sound of her breathing—into a quiet, dark nothingness.

Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

Jarred by the voice, she sat bolt upright in the cockpit of Snoke’s private shuttle. Of course there was no one else in the ship. Those words were just an echo in her mind. Something she had repeated to herself to stay alive on Jakku. A truth about herself with which she had reconciled.

Those words had just saved her, drawing her from what could have been a deadly slumber.

— — —

"Those words had just saved her, drawing her from what could have been a deadly slumber”

The absolute  s e r v e

* “Sleeping Beauty” vibes intensify*

Also, the reflection about how her past doesn’t matter, but that her future does? All the while she’s considering joining Ben? The fact that she can’t stay by Ben’s side specifically then, as the situation was in that moment?

And the fact that Rey, at that exact point between after the revelation and before the battle of Crait, clearly thought she wanted to save Ben— I’m—

*cries in Reylo*

But well, going back to the main point of all this...

Yep. That was Rey’s own voice

Not Ben from the future, not her parents, no one but herself��trying to shield herself from the pain and the truth to walk forward. I have to say this surprised me, but it’s interesting and it has me full of feels for Rey

Now the thing is, translations can be very interesting... and whereas in English you can probably just assume that Rey is saying “come back!” in plural, in Spanish (Castilian) it gets more interesting because the “come back!” is in singular

Worth to note how Rey doesn’t doubt Ben at all, she fully believes him. And honestly, I don’t think he lied either. But... could Ben had been mislead on accident by what he saw? Could have he seen something that, while true, wasn’t the whole truth, so he had an incomplete view?

I mean, that happens constantly—and we know how visions can be tricky things (something that, in fact, Snoke thinks about for a good while during a certain chapter of the TLJ non-junior novelization)

Also, another thing worth to note is that the TLJ novelization (both the junior and non-junior ones) expands on what Ben tells her in the turbolift about her turning. Here’s the TLJ non-junior version text (Ben’s words don’t differ, but the non-junior highlights in cursive some words—which is why I chose it, except I’m going to highlight them in bold for better visibility), starting from when Rey reveals her vision of Ben’s future:

“When we touched I saw your future,” she told him. “Just the shape of it, but solid and clear. You will not bow before Snoke. You will turn—I’ll help you. I saw it. It’s your destiny.

She watched the emotions chase themselves across his face, echoed by jitters and spikes in the Force. Anger. Confusion. Pain. Loneliness. Longing. Sorrow.

Then he lifted his eyes to hers.

“You’re wrong”, Kylo said. “When we touched I saw something, too. Not your future—your past. And because of what I saw, I know that when the moment comes, you’ll be the one to turn. You’ll stand with me. Rey, I saw who your parents are.”

Rey stared at him, but there was no lie in Kylo’s eyes. And a terrifying realization bloomed in her mind: Kylo’s churning emotions weren’t just about himself. They were also about her.”

So, what Ben saw wasn’t a part of her future, but her past—and we know what Ben told Rey about her past, about her origins, but as I said: what if the picture was incomplete?

With incomplete I don’t mean that we would be getting Rey being related to someone important, nor inheriting powers—I do think there are ways for Rey to keep being a no one chosen as a “vessel” of the Force, to keep her origins humble, while making something really dramatic and shocking with her past

I mean, think of that... while Ben told Rey that her parents are dead and buried in a pauper’s grave in Jakku, Rey is shouting “come back!” in singular, so either the devil’s in the detail and the parents didn’t die at the same time, with one leaving Rey behind (or dying trying to do so *looks sideways at the theory of Rey accidentally killing her parents*), or after her parents died someone who could’ve taken her out of Jakku but didn’t (or couldn’t) do so

Regardless of what we see in TROS, though—reading Rey realize the truth behind those words is so sad. This woman needs: a hug

And it makes me sad too that we’re probably not going to see anything about it in the TROS movie because it hasn’t been mentioned in TFA or TLJ outside the books *sigh*

But well, if the TLJ novels adressed this when the TFA and TLJ movies didn’t, I think there’s a high chance that the TROS novelizations will do, too

[ben-j-man]

Secret War: Chapter 19

Link to chapter 1- http://ben-j-man.tumblr.com/post/180097372453/secret-war-chapter-1

"What? Really?" said Arlathan as he looked at me, his brow furrowed in disbelief.

I met his look, pursed my lips and shrugged, why was he looking at me for?

+Yes really,+ said Karmen. +I encountered another psyker in out of body form near to where the conduit was. We fought all over the hive, but I managed to get the upper hand and make the other psyker retreat. I was able to track it back to its source.+

"Did you get a positive identification of the psyker?" asked Brutis.

+No, but it was exceptionally powerful. One of the most powerful human psykers I've ever encountered.+

"Where was the source?" asked Wesley.

+I was able to find a location, he has set up shop in a large abandoned mansion complex. On the upper hive forty-five kilometres north-east of here. It is well but subtly fortified and crawling with mercenaries.+

Wesley sighed and facepalmed, "if we weren't so busy with our own war, we would've been able to stop him earlier."

"That I think he was counting on," said Brutis. "Now let's just hang on a second here, Karmen. How can we trust you? How do we know that you're not just leading us into another trap? Like the one we just went through?"

I folded my arms over my chest and frowned, finding I couldn't help but agree.

+You do not,+ said Karmen. +But I swear to you I am not lying, but as of now there is nothing else you can follow. So you have very little choice in the matter. We need to take this risk if we are ever to stop Edracian.+

"This time we will be ready," said Castella.

I looked to Glaitis, she was now visibly brooding and glaring around the room at no one in particular.

A cold shiver crawled up my spine. I knew that expression, it reminded me disturbingly of my mother when she was having...problems. Had Glaitis finally snapped? She did just try to stab her longest-serving employee in the back, so perhaps so.

I decided to keep an eye on her, who knows what the hell she would do.

Suddenly her attention snapped to me, and I barely fought the urge to flinch away. Her cold blue eyes met mine, then again she was back glancing around the room.

I shuddered out a sigh, realising then how utterly terrified I'd been.

+Indeed,+ said Karmen. +Now we know of Inquisitor Edracian's capabilities we should be.+

I don't know about that, I thought.

Brutis and Wesley shared a look.

"Hmm," growled Wesley, stroking his chin. "I will concede your point I do feel we have very little choice in the matter."

"Still smells like a fething trap to me," said Brutis.

Wesley nodded, "I think at times a trap needs to be sprung to find anything. Look at what happened in the Underhive? Also, I have something else I should tell you. I sent out another communique. To another friend of mine, another Inquisitor, one who was also an Interrogator under Edracian. A woman named Jelcine Enandra of the Ordo Hereticus, I told her almost everything."

"You sound most upset about that," said Castella.

Wesley sighed and scratched his head, "a few years ago we had a falling out with her, and that is one of the reasons I think, why my master has lost his sanity. We found out she was a radical, one of the Attenlous Seculous philosophy."

I raised an eyebrow, that sounded a bit like my name. I also had no bloody idea what it meant.

Wesley saw me and shook his head, "Attenlous Seculous is a new and upcoming ideal within the Inquisition of the Calixis conclave. They believe that the holy Ecclesiarchy is a blight upon humanity and the Imperium. Believe we need to get rid of it entirely. She and my master almost came to blows over this, and we haven't been in contact with her since. He is a very religious man and despite being in the Ordo Malleus has deep ties within the Ecclesiarchy."

I hid a smile; I liked the sound of this Attenlous Seculous philosophy.

"Until now," said Arlathan.

"Indeed," said Wesley. "I am that desperate, I hope, I pray she will be able to get her to help in time. Even if she's still alive."

Castella nodded, "I understand, but at least now we know we've got someone, somewhere willing to help."

Wesley nodded as well, but still looked unconvinced.

"So what now?" I asked.

"I'd say it's obvious," said Brutis. "We attack Edracian's base as soon as we can."

He looked over at the Mimic as It was only just now climbing to its feet, trying shake away its dazed state.

"Finally, you're up," said Brutis. "We need to get moving; we'll need your mercenaries."

"Yeah, I heard," it growled, giving me an enraged look.

I just smiled back.

"Good!" Growled Brutis. "Hurry it up and get them organised then."

With a sigh, the Olinthre-thing deactivated the shield, activated his comm-link and began barking orders.

"So this is it," I said. "This could finally be the end to this farce."

Wesley looked at me wearily and said, "I think you were right before. This isn't the end kid; we're far from that. Edracian I doubt has done this alone. I think this is just the beginning."

Wesley, Arlathan and The Mimic were the first to emerge from the curtains, all three yelling orders at their respective underlings. The rest of us followed them in silence; I was smoking one of my last Lhos as I'd donated many of them to Castella, Hayden, Arlathan and even Darrance. We were all a bit spooked and needed something to help our nerves.

Glaitis had glared at me balefully as I'd given them out, by the Emperor I wished she'd go back to her old self.

Glaitis, Castella, Hayden, Darrance and I were the first in the elevator, and we began our descent, toward the bottom floor.

"Mamzel Glaitis?" said Darrance, uncertainly. "What are we to do?"

Glaitis didn't answer, she clenched her jaw and balled her hands into fists, and I instinctively reached for my sword.

"Mamzel?"

"I heard you, Darrance!" she snapped suddenly. "Damn it I am not deaf!"

"My apologies, mamzel," said Darrance.

"Your apology means nothing!" she snarled. "You disobeyed my direct order! I told you to stand down!"

"And we did," stated Hayden calmly. "Once the situation was defused. We couldn't stand idly by while one of us was being threatened."

Glaitis turned her attention to me, her eyes wide with anger.

"One of us? One of us? Because of this foolish boys' decisions, this world may end! He is a fool and a coward who deserves to be threatened!"

My attention fell to the floor, unable to disagree with her on that.

"Yes," agreed Castella which hurt me more than It should've. "Yes he was, and yes he did, but I think after what he just did, he hasn't earned our forgiveness. He has earned our respect. He deserved to be stood up for, and I'd do it again without any hesitation. Despite all the foolish mistakes he's made."

Glaitis showed her teeth and shook her head, "I will have you punished for such insolence, how dare you! I am your-!"

"You know you cannot do that," said Hayden. "Do not threaten when you have nothing to back it up with."

Glaitis growled in rage and reached for her sword but found all three of them already had her covered with their own. Hayden using his auto pistol sidearm and Castella her sword.

"See what I mean," said Hayden. "And you tried to stab me in the back if it wasn't for Attelus. You would've killed me. Thank you, by the way, Attelus."

All I could manage was a wide-eyed nod.

"We disobeyed your order, sure," said Hayden, then his expression darkened. "But I am not sure that your orders deserve to be followed anymore."

She glared at him, witheringly.

"This is just conjecture, but I know you, Glaitis," he said, "and I bet you knew exactly what we were going into."

"I did not," she said, now icily calm. "That I swear."

Hayden smiled and shook his head, "I doubt that you have made plans that are impeccable, you seem to know things before they happen. You've guided us with this foreknowledge. How do we know that this was any different? How can we tell you're telling the truth?"

"I didn't," she said sounding more urgent now. "I didn't know."

"I have worked for you for decades, Glaitis," said Hayden. "Never had I had such loyalty to a superior before, but over that time my loyalty has been stretched thin. What we just went through was the last straw, how do we know you will perform another stunt like this, huh? Before you almost stabbed me in the back? Literally!"

"You disobeyed me!" she snarled, she then looked to Darrance with wide eyes.

"Saderth!" she said, and it took me a second to realise that must've been Darrance's first name, never had I heard it before. "Saderth help me."

'Saderth' shook his head, "I am sorry mamzel, but as much as it hurts me to say it, I am inclined to agree."

Suddenly Glaitis expression turned into one of pure rage, and her attention snapped to me,

"I see!" she snarled. "I see now that he's manipulated you against me! The child has manipulated you. Can't you see! He's using you! I bet he doesn't even know it! If anyone should have your-!"

"No!" interrupted Castella. "He hasn't; this was all you, I'm sorry Glaitis this is all you. I'm sorry."

I looked away from Glaitis' intense glare, unable to handle it anymore. I couldn't believe this was happening, never had I thought these three would feel this way. It came out of the blue that's for frigging sure.

Deep down, though I couldn't help but agree with Glaitis, perhaps I did manage to manipulate this? I clenched my jaw at that thought. Did I do it...subconsciously?

Just then the elevator found the bottom floor and with a ding! The doors opened, and we walked out. Glaitis still at gunpoint. There were a few mercs and other employees in the lobby who watched with great interest.

"Move on!" said Castella, waving her hands. "Nothing to see here!"

Hesitantly, they did as told.

"Castella. Darrance and I will take Glaitis back to her tower," said Hayden. "You and Attelus stay here and watch over the preparations."

Castella and I nodded acknowledgement.

Glaitis laughed, "what? Where will you put me in my tower? Seriously, Hayden? All the men who guard it are under my employ. I sign their paychecks they will let me out, that I assure you."

Hayden turned to her, his expression as hard as steel, "you will find, Glaitis that you might pay them, but they are loyal to me because unlike you I've bothered to talk to them, get to know them and think of them as more than pawns, that I assure you. Darrance, take her weapons."

Darrance nodded and did as told, telling Glaitis he was sorry over and over as he did.

"You two will be alright?" asked Castella.

Hayden nodded, "see you soon."

Castella and I watched them leave.

I was unsure what to say, still utterly shocked by what I'd just witnessed.

"You okay?" she asked after a few seconds.

"Yeah," I stammered. "I just can't believe that just happened."

She laughed, "yeah, I understand that. I'd be shocked if I was you too."

"Even Darrance," I said, and turned to her. "How the hell did you convince him to take part?"

"You must understand, Attelus," she said. "We have been working under her for much longer than you have. We have had the same concerns as you for a long time now. The incident in the underhive was, as the old man had said, 'the last straw.'"

I nodded, aware that Glaitis didn't actually know about the daemons, as it was blocked to Farseer Faleaseen's sight. I chose to keep that quiet, of course.

"How did I not know?" I asked. "How the hell didn't she know?"

Castella smiled, "we're just way better at hiding it than you. We better get moving, we've got a bit to do, still."

"Wait," I said. "I need to do something."

"What?" asked Castella.

I grinned, "I need to find my friends first."

I called Garrakson and Torris over my commlink, and we organised to meet at Vex's office in fifteen minutes.

"How will they feel about me being there?" Castella had asked.

I'd just shrugged and said, "they can deal with it, I'm sure."

Then I endeavoured to find the mail room, I'd never been actually in there before, but I'd walked past it once or twice, but if I was good at anything, it was finding places and locations. Not things though, finding and locating things that seemed to be something different entirely for me.

It only took me a few minutes to locate it, and as I entered, I turned to Castella.

"Is it okay if you stay out here, while I do this?" I asked.

Castella frowned, "only if you tell me what it is you're doing, exactly."

I sighed and glanced around the corridor, "this might be the end of the world, Castella. I need to organise us to make sure we have an avenue of escape. Just in case."

Castella raised an eyebrow, "so you want to save the people who work in the mailroom?"

I nodded, "one in particular."

"How?" she said. "Do you have a ship capable of warp travel hidden somewhere?"

"We do," I said. "Up in orbit."

Castella sighed, "yes, but..."

"But what?" I interrupted. "We can surely afford to take on a few more."

"Yes but that's not the point..."

Castella paused in her sentence as a few workers wandered by.

"Yes but that's not the point," she said. "Do you honestly believe that they will believe you? What are you going to do, go in there saying that the world's going to end? They won't believe you, and even if they do, they'd most likely panic with fear and even if they didn't what would you have them do?"

I frowned, "you're sounding uncharacteristically cynical, Castella."

"No I'm not," said Castella. "If anyone's being cynical it's you. I believe we can stop this, so I find this irrelevant."

I shrugged, "I don't think it is, I have to do this Castella. I want her to live. She deserves to live."

She rolled her eyes, "alright let's just say this person; she believes you and Omnartus is destroyed and she manages to escape with us. What do you think she'd do? Her world was just destroyed, all her loved ones dead. Everything is gone."

I saw where she was going with this and my attention fell to the floor. "I have to try," I sighed.

Castella's expression hardened, and she opened her mouth to say something but stopped when the door to the mailroom suddenly opened.

An older man stepped out who was vaguely familiar to me. He frowned at us.

"We can hear you," he growled.

We just gaped at him stupidly.

"Get in here," he said with a twitch of his head.

We did as told, filing quickly into the large, brightly lit office and looking more than a little embarrassed. Three others sat at desks looking at us with scrutinising gazes.

One was Adelana; she sat the nearest. Her arms folded, her expression unreadable but her attention was firmly on me. The other two were a tall, lanky young man, not much older than me; he was looking at Castella with wide eyes, his jaw lolling dumbly. I couldn't blame him; Castella had that effect on me the first time I'd met her and I didn't think it often that an attractive woman wearing a very tight body glove would walk through his door. The other was an ugly weathered woman who may have been in her mid-forties, I couldn't be sure.

Again they were eerily familiar for me. My dream was now a blur I struggled to remember, in all honesty, I wasn't even trying to remember it.

"Adelana?" said the ugly woman. "Do you know these people?"

"Only one," she said quickly, she smiled at me. "Attelus?"

I smiled back, wondering if Karmen was watching this and dearly hoping she wasn't.

The old man sat at the desk next to Adelana, folded his arms and glared at me from under a hooded brow.

"Attelus Kaltos? You're Attelus Kaltos?" he said with a sneer, then he shook his head and muttered something about me being 'the scum of the 'verse.'

I clenched my jaw but let it slide, I deserved it, in all honesty. If he knew even half of what I've done, he'd think even lower of me, somehow. It also took balls to potentially insult someone so armed and armoured almost to their face. I couldn't help but feel a bit of admiration for him. He was just lucky I was so forgiving.

"Attelus Kaltos," said the woman. "You're quite infamous around here, after what you did to Vex. I have to say he is an arrogant little brat at times, but he didn't deserve that, no one deserves that. Can I ask you a question, young man?"

I sighed, put my hands behind my back and began to pace. I could think of quite a few people who deserved that. Myself being on the top of the list.

"Sure," I sighed. "Fire away."

"Why did you strangle a kid? I don't understand it. Why would you do that?"

I swallowed and stopped my pacing.

"I thought he'd betrayed me," I answered hesitantly. "We had an agreement, and I'd thought he'd sold me out. I let my anger get the better of me, and I regret it ever since."

The old man sneered again, "and I bet he bloody well didn't," he growled.

I shrugged, trying hard to keep the smile from my face, "as it turned out, he actually did."

Indirectly and unknowingly but theoretically he still did, the best way to lie is, to tell the truth.

The old man just smiled coldly and reclined back in his chair

Adelana frowned, "I heard, we heard about how Vex punched Attelus before so I think he got him back."

"Yeah!" laughed the old man. "I'd say it was least he deserved!"

"It was enough for Vex," said Adelana. "If it was enough for him, so it should be enough for us."

"Enough for you, anyway," said the boy.

"That's enough," said Castella. "My name is Castella Lethe; I am Attelus'..."

She paused and glanced at me, "colleague and there is much to tell you."

The old man laughed again, "another bloody merc, eh? You're all the damn same."

I clenched my jaw and took a step forward, "now can I understand how you can hate me, I really, really can," I said softly, " and you can insult me all you want and I'll let it slide, because, as you know, I deserve it, but don't you even dare insult her. She's done nothing. Now show her some respect and introduce yourself or I may make you do it. Okay?"

The old man very abruptly straightened in his chair.

"Grayhelt, Solvej, I'm the manager here, this is Seleen Gorret," he said, indicating the ugly woman, then the young man, "the kid's Velg Tevven and you already know Adelana Halgen."

"I do," I said with a smile, nodding again to Adelana, she smiled back and averted her attention to the floor. I managed to catch in the corner of my eye Tevven bristle slightly at that.

I pursed my lips shrugged to myself, fair enough, I thought.

"Mr Solvej," said Castella, "are you by chance, ex-guard?"

Grayhelt's eyes narrowed, "yeah."

Abruptly she unclasped her auto pistol sidearm from its holster and handed to him. Hesitantly he took it then she took three clips from the pockets on her belt and placed them on his desk.

'You do know how to use that, right?" she asked.

Grayhelt slammed a clip home and racked the slide with practised ease, "I do," he said. "Although it's been many years."

"We heard some of what you said," said Adelana, her large blue eyes wide with fear. "What in the God Emperor's name is going on?"

I sighed and slipped my hands into the pockets of my flak jacket, "we can't tell you much but, but..."

I trailed off, and yet again I sighed then glanced at Castella, who met my gaze.

Then an idea hit me.

"If and when anything happens," I said, starting to pace the room again. "Anything even slightly untoward, in the next few hours. Promise me, swear to me, that you'll go, without a second's delay, straight to Vex's office, and there you must stay until we come for you, understand?"

"Why?" asked Tevven.

"Because there you'll be protected, please promise me you'll do this," I said.

With wide eyes they shared glances.

"Uhh okay, sure," said Gorret.

"You're weirding me out here, Attelus," said Adelana, nervously.

"I'm sorry," I said, and tears suddenly welled in my eyes. "I'm sorry, Adelana. I didn't want this. I didn't mean for any of this. I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me."

They looked at me with utterly confused expressions.

I sniffed, wiped away the tears and turned for the door, "please just do as I say."

Then I left.

Castella followed me out and side by side we started down the corridor. For quite a while we walked in silence.

"I see why you want to save her now," Castella said eventually. "She's pretty, seems nice too. I like how she stood up for you."

I didn't answer, just frowned.

"Speaking of which, I hope you are aware that I don't need you to standing up for me, right?"

I stopped and turned to her, "I'm sorry," I stammered. "I didn't mean to..."

She grinned, "don't worry I'm kidding! I thought it was sweet! That guy was a smug jerk; he deserved it. Thank you, Attelus Kaltos."

I grinned back nervously, "it's the very least I could do. After all, you've done for me, Castella Lethe."

She pouted and shrugged, "well it's a start I guess. You've still got a crap ton left to do before we finally break even."

We started to walk again.

"What will it take for me to make it up to you, Castella?" I said.

She smiled, "how about you helping stop the Exterminatus before it even starts. That'd do it."

I nodded, sounds about right, I thought.

We walked through the lines of cogitators toward Vex's office. I could see much to my relief the stormtroopers that the poor, deceased Olinthre had ordered to guard Vex was still there. Still ever stoic and disciplined. I couldn't do that, it'd bore the bloody hell out of me, and my mind would wander making me less attentive. That was yet another reason why I'd make a frigging terrible soldier. Despite what Garrakson and before him, Estella, claimed.

As we approached, I again glanced around the cavernous room, seeing the serfs were still at their cogitators, working attentively away. None sparing even Castella a glance and I couldn't help but wonder, were they all bloody eunuchs? Did they have no soul? No humanity?

I shook my head; I just couldn't comprehend it. I might be a ruthless killer, struggling to cling onto the last vestiges of my sanity but I'd much rather be that than anyone of them

We reached the entrance of the box office as one of the stormtroopers raised his hand, making us stop and activated his vox link saying.

"Attelus is here, but he has another with him named..."

"Castella Lethe," said Castella.

The Stormtrooper nodded and repeated her name into his vox, a second or two later he looked at me.

"Sergeant Garrakson asks if she can be trusted."

I smiled and said, "more than many, more than myself."

The stormtrooper nodded repeated my sentence and after a few seconds, wordlessly waved us through.

The others parted to let us through, their potential emotions hidden behind their helms, but this close I could tell by their subtle body language they were bored and annoyed.

So they were human after all, more than the seemingly mindless automatons sitting at their cogitators anyway. That horrid, constant crashing of working cogitators must've been wearing on their nerves. Hell, it was hard enough for me to bear and I've only been in the room for a few minutes.

The poor bastards have stood around here for hours.

We finally entered the large, stark white box office finding Garrakson and Torris standing around while Vex sat, lazily typing at one of the many cogitators inside.

"You're late," growled Garrakson. "I hope you're aware we're about to move into another battle, right? Olinthre is ordering almost the entire contingent to move we don't have the time to wait around for you..."

"I know," I interrupted, raising my hands in compliance, "and I'm sorry, we had to make a detour on our way here. An important one."

"More important than this?" said Garrakson.

I said nothing, just clenched my jaw.

"Well it better have been bloody damn important," said Garrakson. "Anyway, what did you want to tell us, kid?"

I sighed, glanced at Castella then took the last Lho from its ceramic container and pulled out my lighter but was stopped as Vex suddenly shouted.

"No smoking! The smoke could damage the circuit boards!"

I frowned, fixed the kid with a withering glare, but still did as told.

"I see you've smoked through most of that pack, already," said Torris.

I shrugged, "gave out a few to my friends just before, but I am responsible for smoking the good majority."

Torris' already large eyes widened in mock disbelief, "Attelus Kaltos for once, actually sharing out his precious Lhos. Never thought I'd ever live to see the day!"

I sniggered and shook my head.

"Desperate times," I said.

Castella's sudden snorting laughter made me blanch and turn to her.

"I like this man, he's funny!" she exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes and slipped my hands into their pockets; she was back on her crazy side now.

Frigging great.

"Enough mucking about!" snapped Garrakson. "Attelus get your latest girlfriend in line, we haven't the damned time! And you too Torris!" Garrakson turned back to me, his eyes hard, "why did you call us here?"

"Alright, alright," I sighed and glanced around the room, wondering where to start before it finally hit me.

"Jeurat, I was honest with you, I think it's about time you're honest with me."

Garrakson's brow furrowed in bemusement and he folded his arms across his chest, "what the hell are you on about?"

"Do you have access to Taryst's quarters?" I asked.

"What? No," he said.

"Really? Are you sure?" I said.

"No!" he bellowed. "I don't know what you're on about."

I smiled knowingly, "I know now of the relationship you and Taryst once shared, that you were both close."

Garrakson gaped and gave Torris a glance, "how did you learn that?"

I shook my head, "It's just one of the many, many truths I've learnt today. Now answer me, Jeurat. Now do you have access to Taryst's quarters or not?"

"How many times must I tell you!" he snarled. "I don't! Now tell me how you found out about that!"

I blanched, despite myself, pretty sure he was telling to the truth now. I'd asked because I still thought he might have gone back to Taryst's grotto to investigate the bunker. But it seemed that suspicion had been wrong.

It certainly wasn't the first time I'd been wrong, and I was pretty sure it wasn't the last.

+He does,+ came Karmen's voice suddenly through my thoughts which made me flinch in fright. +His retina is capable of opening the lock.+

I opened my mouth to reply, but she quickly shushed me.

+Only you can hear me now; I do not want you suddenly talking to yourself and making everyone suspicious. He still has access, but he doesn't remember it because Taryst had me erase that from his memory.+

Typical, I thought.

+I suggested that Taryst just change the password, but he refused. He wanted to keep Garrakson as it.+

Or he could've just lied and said he changed it, I thought, then I felt a pang of sympathy for poor Garrakson. The person he loved had ruthlessly ordered his mind psychically manipulated just so he could keep a damn password. Taryst could you have been any more of a bastard?

"Attelus!" snarled Garrakson, knocking me from my reverie. "Answer me now!"

I sighed, "Jeurat, I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry about what?" he demanded.

"You do have access to the bunker," I said. "You just don't remember it."

"What?"

"Taryst, he had your memory of it erased," I said.

Suddenly Garrakson's eyes widened, and he straightened with a gasp. As I assumed Karmen brought back the memory as she'd done in the top of the tower a few hours ago.

"Jeu? You going alright?" asked Torris.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm alright," said Garrakson. "I remember now; I just can't believe he'd do that to me."

I frowned and dropped my gaze to the floor.

"This world may be ending," I said. "Sooner or later it might be destroyed by exterminatus, that bunker might be our only way of survival."

"Exterminatus?" said Torris. 'How?"

"It's hard to explain," I said. "I don't have the time to explain it all, but..."

I hesitated, sucking air through my clenched teeth.

"It's not just that down there," said Garrakson. "There's also a ship we can use."

"A ship?" asked Vex.

"Yeah," said Garrakson. "A well maintained and fast system ship, we could use to escape."

He looked at me, his eyes watering, "Attelus, please tell me, I need to know. Taryst is dead, isn't he?"

All I could manage was a half-hearted nod.

Garrakson sighed, "I'd thought so. I'd known so. Now I won't ask the how or the why, but tell me this, did you kill him?"

I met his gaze, "no, I swear on my life. I swear I didn't kill Taryst."

Garrakson didn't say anything for a long time; he just studied me intently.

Finally, he straightened, "no you didn't, I didn't think you did."

I sighed, "I'm sorry."

Garrakson shrugged and sighed, "I knew it was going to happen sooner or later, there's nothing to be sorry about, kid. I just wished you'd told me sooner."

"I just thought..."

"Yeah, I'm sure you thought a lot of things, kid," he interrupted but sounded more sad than angry. "It's alright I'd have probably done the same if I was you. Thanks for telling me, at least."

I couldn't help but sigh with relief, pleasantly surprised that Garrakson was letting me off so lightly.

"I hate to ask this," said Torris, "but how long have you known?"

"Just today," I said, swallowing back the guilt.

Torris nodded and folded his arms across his chest, "I also have to ask. What's wrong with Olinthre?"

My eyes widened despite myself; it was only a split second before I controlled myself.

"I wouldn't know," I said, glancing at Castella to see how she'd reacted. She met my eyes but showed me nothing.

Torris smiled and shook his head, beginning to pace the room.

Garrakson shook his head as well and groaned, "you wouldn't know how long Taryst has been dead for?"

I clenched my jaw, "no."

"And still you lie, Attelus," Torris said. "Olinthre isn't himself, Taryst isn't himself, what the hell is going on?"

I froze in fright as it suddenly hit me, I was backed into a corner. Especially because Garrakson now knew he had access and the password.

I sighed and slid my hands into the pockets of my flak jacket. I had no choice I had to tell them. I had to tell them everything.

So I did, I told them everything. Well, almost everything.

If you enjoyed, please like and reblog! And perhaps even follow! It would help my work get out there and I’d very much appreciate it! Thanks for reading!

[speedygal]

Not a logical intervention - part 2

A/N Meant to be a short long fic being oms reunion but since tonight the Orville was coming on tonight, I had to split it up into parts.  The first part had to be posted. (and the first part written) It was minutes before the Orville’s newest episode started airing. . . So here I go, making a fix it fic!

“Here is your temporary quarters, Ambassador,” George said. “the quarter master will come in to give you some Vulcan decent clothes in the next five minutes. You look like you didn’t come with anything so consider this the captain’s parting gifts.”

“Tell your captain that he has sound logic,” Spock said, then he walked forward into the room.

“Don’t mind if  I do,” George said, pleased.

The quarters were familiar yet a little different to the Vulcan. The doors had closed behind him with a soft woosh. The colorful scenery stood out to the Vulcan. He warily looked over in the direction of the computer stationed on the desk. The room held no forms of comfort for the elder. No sign that someone once lived in there. Spock briefly closed his eyes with a heavy heart then reopened them to see the vastness of space. He approached the large windows watching it pass the ship. A familiar, nostalgic sight. Spock’s shoulders shrank with a depressed sigh. Sure, for being a member of the diplomatic corps, he had a knack for bringing as few things as possible. Which is why he barely had anything with him except for the clothes on his back including the ones inside the duffle bag back in the future. The meditation mat that was left behind. All he had was a photograph and his holo-emitter.

Spock unzipped his coat then slid it off placing it onto the chair across from him.

He slipped out a large photograph  from his coat sleeve pocket. It had a extra layer in the sleeves that made one assume that he hid it within his sleeve when in reality, the ambassador had hidden it inside a pocket. He left the object onto the counter alongside him. There was enough room in the well lit cabin to perform meditation to collect his thoughts. He had annihilated a entire species. And he was still alive to talk about it. He promised them that everything would be all right. He promised. His trembling hands were having difficulty remaining steady. His emotional control was falling to shreds. Meditation had helped him in the worse of his emotional half. Trying to save the planet and he willfully aided in its destruction. A sun that went supernova too soon. He sat down onto the rug beside the counter.

He looked over toward the photograph of his deceased crewmates.

Spock shook his head in shame.  Spock closed his eyes cupping his hands together into his lap. He cleared his mind then slowly submerged himself into his typical meditation routine. His fingers stopped trembling. His demeanor changed from the most vulnerable, emotional state to a calm, relaxed aged Vulcan. The doors opened behind him. A young man looked over toward the Vulcan then placed the outfit onto the counter.  His mind slowly put together a elaborate plan to handle the oncoming future. He could always take two short cuts. The guardian of forever or slingshotting around the sun. Kaiidth. Perhaps he had been in the ancient hall of thoughts before applying for it while making his will. A stable time loop. Perhaps he applied under a different name to make it not as confusing with his younger self. His younger self might be different now that he has arrived.

Only Surak would know if he had done any damage with his bondmates future. The Kirk family would remain alive and well. Spock listened to the man’s heavy footsteps walking out of the cabin. The Vulcan seemed to be visibly relaxed by his meditation. He used the counter as his support to help himself up. He slowly strolled in the direction of the  outfits. They were unique for visiting Earth. He felt the warmthness of the freshly cleaned attire. A warmth that he once held in his youth. A warmth that he once cherished and loved. A warmth that he had accepted he would outlive. Just not in the chain of events that had happened between him and his T’hy’la. Spock reeled himself  back gaining control over his emotional half. Spock rubbed his shoulder visualizing his husband. Holding him within his arms in bed.  His curly graying hair face planted by the Vulcan. He can still feel the man’s hair against his face. Hands wrapped around the younger man’s stomach.

A painful reminder of what he had lost. Warmth to the Vulcan’s fingertips reminded Spock of who he had lost. It was so long ago.  He thumbed through the attire selecting what his next attire should be in the morning. The Vulcan hadn’t been happy. Not since McCoy left the plane of the living. His dearest, cherished friend. Someone he enjoyed arguing within their mind-skype (as the dear doctor liked to call it) realm. Someone Kirk and Spock courted at the same time only for the offer to rejected because 1) Not ready,  2) Over his dead body, 3)  He doesn’t need another telepath invading his brain twenty-four-seven. But Spock knew they were all excuses. They were almost there when Jim vanished from Spock’s life. Jim would say that they were there but they hadn’t gotten the ceremony ironed out. Spock believed McCoy was scared or either stalling because he was suffering from ‘Am-I-cramping-up-their-marriage?’ angst. A familiar one seen typically in interspecies Andorian marriages.

The other members of the bridge crew, the remaining ones, stuck around for a few years  before falling flat into the grim reapers arms in a domino effect after the fateful transporter incident that took Jim away in the late 2370′s. Spock glanced over toward the photograph. He can hear their insistence and reassurances regarding the matter. Spock took off the holo-emitter from around his neck then hit the side button. The holo-emitter, well worn and aged, began to play a old man singing. He missed his husband. There was a small throb in his heart and numb aching in his mind. A healed broken bond that could be repaired at any moments notice. Spock wiped away a tear that formed at the edges of his eyes. One day he would join his crewmates, his family. The holo-emitter deactivated and back it went around his neck. Spock  saw a box across from him. He approached the box. It was a puzzle box. 

It was decided.

He needed to put this puzzle together.

Spock always did like a good challenge.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Daddy’s little girl; Peter Quill x child reader

In honor of Chris Pratt’s 38th bday I’m going to be posting up all my Peter Quill/STARLORD oneshots that I have because this hyperactive cupcake deserves it, today is all about him HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHRIS PRATT HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD ONE :) Besides some swearing no other warnings really hope you guys enjoy.

_______________________________________________________

Peter Quill aka Star Lord, Leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy was frantically looking around his ship for someone very special and very near and dear to him. His heart was racing frantically as he looked in all the usual places only to come up empty on finding her. As he got to the flight deck he took notice of his team looking at him.

"What is it Peter?" asked Gamora.

"Have any of you guys seen (y/n), I've been looking everywhere and I can't find her". Peter said.

"You checked everywhere?"

"Yes Gamora, all the usual places, all the strange places, I've even bribed her with her favorite candy and came up with nothing".

"Maybe she's finally caught up with your act, seriously that kid is smarter than you thanks to me". Rocket boasted.

"I am Groot".

"Oh come on it's true, but I guess you're right this isn't the time to be saying things like that".

"Incoming transmission" Gamora said as she took notice of one of the screens blinking signaling a message has been sent to the Milano.

"On screen Gamora" said Peter. As Gamora played the message on screen they were surprised to see Yondu. 

"Yondu?"

"Hello Quill, I see you still have your new crew on board, and I thought with that music you always listen to you would've driven them insane by now".

"What do you want Yondu?"

"Simple, you still have an old debt to pay boy. And nobody walks out on a debt without paying a hefty price," the camera was then showed a shocking sight.

Peter's daughter (y/n) was tied to a chair with a cloth over her mouth to prevent her from screaming.

"(Y/N)! IF YOU LAY A HAND ON HER I WILL END YOU!!" Peter cried out as he charged towards the screen but Drax and Groot held him back. Yondu smirked and laughed.

"Then how about we do a trade? Your daughter, for the 50,000 units you once stole from me. Bring it here within 48hrs or your daughter's gonna be put to sleep".

End of transmission.

Peter's breathing deepened in anger as he pulled himself out of Drax's and Groot's grip and flipped over the table making it explode as it landed and he continued walking out of the deck. The team all looked at each other then slowly one by one followed behind Quill into the one place he's probably at by now.

His daughter's room.

Peter was sitting on his daughter's bed holding her (f/a) stuffed animal that he bought when he and the team visited Earth just to see how advanced it had gotten ever since Peter was abducted by Yondu as a kid. He held the (f/a) in his hands softly stroking it's fur as tears began to form into his eyes.

"Quill" started Gamora.

"Am I really a bad parent?"

"Peter, don't—"

"He's using my own daughter as ransom. If only I hadn't been to careless back in the day, then Yondu wouldn't choose now to have a reason to get back at me for spending 50,000 units".

"We'll get her back Peter," Gamora gently placed her hands over his and the two of them locked eyes with each other and Peter got back that hope that he would see his daughter and again.

Because he wasn't alone.

24 hours remained in the deadline and Peter still hadn't found away to come up with the full 50,000 units for Yondu. So far they tried to do betting on fights, selling some old engine parts, and maybe illegal gambling and through all the times they only came up to 1245 units. As the Guardians all gathered around to try and think of a quicker way to come up with the remaining units they needed when another transmission from Yondu came through.

"Please don't tell me he's going to need it now!" Rocket whined.

"Play the message Gamora" Peter firmly stated. Gamora opened the transmission and Peter snarled, "what is it this time Yondu".

"Boy I tell you this, your girl's definitely got your mouth. Which is why I need you and you alone to get on board the ship, now send me your current coordinates so I can get there, and no games with me boy!"

End of transmission.

"I swear if any of those guys harmed even one hair on my baby's head I'll end their worthless lives!"

"Easy Quill, we don't know what Yondu was even talking about, maybe he's simply stating that (y/n) is a lot like you and can be incredibly annoying". Rocket stated as he fiddled around with the units counting them out again.

"I am Groot".

"I know I like that kid, but sometimes she can be a bit of a pain in the ass like her dad".

"Quill, do you even trust Yondu to go aboard his ship alone?" Drax asked.

"I think it's a trap". Gamora stated.

"Yeah it maybe, but it could also mean that something's happened, because if Yondu had any sense for keeping me alive when I was first abducted, then he sure as hell wouldn't allow any of the other Ravagers to harm her. I'm sending him the coordinates". Peter went up to his seat and sent out the coordinates to Yondu's ship.

Within a few minutes, the Ravager's craft had arrived.Peter placed his gear on and collected the units they already had and Drax said.

"Are you sure you won't need any of us to come with you Quill?"

"Yondu says only for me to come onboard and me alone, if it is a trap I won't risk the life of my team again, and if anything does happen to me, take care of (y/n) for me, and don't screw her up".

"You have our word Quill" Drax stated.

"I am Groot".

"Do it Quill, bring her home, and kick Yondu's ass for me when you get onboard".

"Just bring her back safely Peter, both of you come back safely". Peter nodded to his team then he left the Milano and activated his helmet and flew towards the Ravager's craft and was beamed inside.

He deactivated his helmet and was greeted by a few of the Ravagers.He was then taken onto the main deck and there stood Yondu.

"Welcome back boy".

"Cut the shit Yondu, where is she? And I don't care if I don't have the full 50,000 units yet I will get her back even if it kills me! So you better tell me if she's alright as I give you the 1245 units I already have!"

"That's the thing Quill, one of my boys went a little crazy after your girl mouthed off on him, I distinctly told these boys to keep her alive for the 48 hours you had but he went insane and I dealt with him already, but you might as well take your girl and go, she's more trouble than you were Quill, and I don't want no trouble on my ship or among my crew".

It was then Peter took notice of one of the Ravagers carrying his daughter but his worst fears had been realized.

His baby girl was almost beaten senselessly and almost seemed barely alive. Peter's eyes widened as he quickly took his daughter in his arms and gently shook her praying that she would open her eyes.

She didn't.

Peter turned to Yondu with fire in his eyes. Peter was beyond pissed because Yondu couldn't stop this from happening in time, even thought he gave them an order to keep her alive, he still allowed it to happen. He took out his daughter's earpiece from her jacket pocket and placed it on her ear and pressed the button that created a similar helmet like Quill's to appear around her face.

But before he left, he really socked Yondu hard across the face before leaving the ship and heading back to the Milano.

As soon as he arrived inside his ship, he deactivated his and his daughter's helmets and brought her to the upper levels of the ship.

"What happened to her?" Gamora asked urgently.

"One of the Ravagers went crazy and beat her senseless, that's what Yondu meant because she pissed off whoever it was that was watching her and beat her. I haven't gotten movement but I can still feel a heartbeat".

"Okay, Peter just take her to her room, Groot and I can create a special remedy made from Groot's tree sap to heal her wounds" Rocket stated.

"You sure it'll work?"

"Guarantee, now just get her there, Groot and I will be there in just a few moments". Peter nodded and took her to her room and gently set her down on her bed. He softly stroked away her hair that had fallen across her face and couldn't help but let a few tears fall out as he whimpered.

"I'm sorry baby girl, I'm so sorry".

"Alright Quill, step back, we've got the sap ready". Peter moved aside so Rocket could gently place the sap over any wounds that could physically be found around her face, arms or neck and once he was done he explained, "now give it a few minutes to soak in and she'll be as good as new".

"Thank you Rocket, you too Groot".

"I am Groot".

"No problem, anything for this munchkin, did you lay one on Yondu for me like you promised?"

"He'll be pretty pissed off later on but I did, hard hook right across his face".

"That's what I like to hear, come on Groot, let's leave them be for awhile". Then he and Groot left as the doors shut behind them. Peter looked down at (y/n) and saw the sap actually healing up her open wounds, taking down the swelling on certain parts, and the bruises just disappearing slowly but surely.

Soon (y/n) woke up.

"Where—where am I?"

"It's okay sweetheart, you're back on the Milano. You were banged up pretty badly but Groot made a special sap that's healing your wounds".

"Well I'm gonna have to thank him later".

"How you feeling now?"

"Still hurts around some areas, but other than that I'm fine daddy".

"That's good, I guess. Sweetheart how did Yondu capture you?"

"It was while you guys were doing your trading back on Nowhere, some of the Ravagers came by near the ship and when they spotted me I ran through the alleyways trying to lose them, but eventually they caught me. I'm sorry papa I shouldn't have left the ship, if I hadn't—"

"No, no, no baby girl I'm the one who should be sorry, truthfully it was for a ransom I conned out of Yondu a few years ago before I met your mother. He at first thought nothing of it but ever since you came, he finally found a reason to bring back that old debt, if I wasn't such a back-slider back in the day then none of this would've happened". He stroked her cheek gingerly before saying, "do you forgive me?"

"I'll always forgive you papa, I love you so much". She hugged her father and Peter smiled as he hugged his daughter back.

"And I love you my little precious gem, my Star girl".

[sapphyrambles]

AN: Hey guys! First piece I’m posting. Saw a prompt about Harley shooting the Joker in Suicide Squad instead of running off with him, and this came out out it. Basically it’s her shooting him and dealing with her life afterwards.

Word Count: 4,010

(TW for abuse, mentions of abuse, suicidal ideation/attempted suicide, and death).

(Note I’ve seen SS like, twice, and only bc someone else was watching it. Most of my knowledge of these characters is going off comics and wiki info. Enjoy!)

  “Kill him! Now!”

It’s not the first time she’s held a gun in her hand, not by a long shot. Not the first man she’s thought to kill. Not even the first one she doesn’t really want to kill. But this is different. This is wrong.

Everything went according to plan. Except for this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He deactivated all the kill switches, everything was down. There were no limits. NOW, was the green bubble on her phone. Her signal, her cue. The curtain rose.

It was their time.

Deadshot saw her, hiding behind the rubble together, out of the line of fire. He saw her smile, the look in her eye. She was far too happy to notice he was sad, the slight shake of his head.

She jumped up without a second thought.

“Puddin’! Puddin’!” she saw him in the door of the rescue helicopter, a machine gun in his hands. He’d gone on a killing spree for her. He rained fear and terror down on Gotham just so someone would send her back to him to make him stop. Her Puddin’.

“Ah, my prize has been returned.” She could hear him from where she was, even over the noise of the helicopter. She broke into a run, making a clean leap from the edge of the building into his arms. Her Puddin’ was back, they were together again.

“I knew you’d come for me,” she’d told him.

“My most valuable prize,” he’d said, not even seeming to be speaking to her. He held her like some kind of glass object, like some eight-generation old crystal vase. Precious. Valuable. For a moment, she wished he held her like this more often.

They should have taken off then, away in the helicopter. Away from Suicide Squad. Away from Amanda Waller. Away from the prison she’d been locked in for so long. Back home to Mistah J. But of course it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing ever was.

Deadshot was standing on the roof of the building, in the spot where she’d started running. She felt a pang of sadness. Between Puddin’ keeping her to himself, and being locked away for so long, she hadn’t had a real friend in ages. She and Deadshot clicked. It wasn’t like what she and Puddin’ had, but it wasn’t bad either. She was gonna miss him.

It was her hesitation that killed all their plans.

Mistah J saw her, she didn’t have to see him to know. She wasn’t a thousand-year-old crystalline vase anymore, he wasn’t afraid of breaking her. His hand tightened into a fist around her arm, and she bit he tongue to keep from crying out. The mood in the helicopter jolted from happiness to anger and fear in that split second. She saw Mistah J glare out at Deadshot, and raise his gun.

“Wait, don’t—” She shouldn’t have tried to stop him, she knew this, but she didn’t think. She just saw a gun pointed at her friend and reacted. He’d done this before, killed people he thought weren’t good for her, but Deadshot was her only friend since prison, helping her out while she was trying to get back to Puddin’.

Time seemed to stop, in that instant. Deadshot on the roof of the building, in some midway point between Amanda Waller’s forces and Mistah J’s henchmen. Mistah J, with his gun aimed right at him and his hand around her arm like a vice. Harley herself, frozen, no idea if he was going to lower the gun and leave or fill him with bullets first. Or even turn it on her.

Slowly, he lowered the gun. She thought that would be that—she hoped that would be that—he’d leave Deadshot alive, and they’d go home. They’d go home and things would be like the used to. Before prison, before the police were on their tail and setting him off and making him angry. Back when she would listen to him go on about his shitty dad and how awful his life was until she came into it. About what a treasure she was to him. Before he was too busy with his work to pay attention to her. Back to when they were happy.

He spoke slowly, threateningly. Harley Quinn wasn’t afraid of anything, but goddamn if Mistah J didn’t have some kind of effect on people. “Do you care about him? Does that man mean anything to you?”

She couldn’t lie to him. If she told him Deadshot was nothing, he’d fill him with lead. But she was afraid of what yes would cause, what he’d do to both of them. “He’s a friend,” she told him. “He helped me get back to ya.” Let him live please let him live.

It almost seemed to work. Almost. He lowered his gun, he took a step closer to her, she felt the blood flow return to her hand. But then his face changed—pure rage. Harley thought her heart stopped for a moment.

He yelled and shoved her hard, and she dropped down to the roof of the building, all the air leaving her body on impact. He jumped down behind her, shoving a hand in her hair and yanking her to her feet while she was still trying to get a lungful of air. Mistah J threw her forward again, and she stumbled into Deadshot. He held her up until she caught her breath, and when she turned back to her Puddin’ she was met with the barrel of his gun.

      “Kill him, now.”

      She couldn’t speak for a moment. “I—wha? Puddin’—”

      “Kill him now, Harley. You are mine and mine alone and if you know that you will shoot him dead right now.”

      “I know I know, Puddin’ please—” she tried to take a step towards him, but he didn’t waver. The barrel stayed where it was, against her forehead, a twitch of a finger from ending her permanently.

      “Kill him, now.”

      “Puddin’ I love you please he didn’t do anything he doesn’t need t’ die—”

      “Harley if you really do love me you will shoot him dead right now.”

      She couldn’t move. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t stand Puddin’ being upset, she didn’t want to think of what he’d do if she refused, but she couldn’t shoot Deadshot either. She couldn’t do it. “Puddin’ please, he helped me get back t’ ya. He kept me from going off and dyin’ before you could come ‘n get me. Ya don’t have to kill him please—” On some level, she knew bargaining was futile. Mistah J never changed his mind on something like this. But shoot Deadshot? Her friend? He couldn’t make her do that, she couldn’t do it.

      “Either kill him now or I will do it myself, then I will put a bullet in your brain too and throw you off the top of this building,” he shouted, pressing the barrel of the gun further forward, forcing her back a step.

      Threats. It was always threats with him. But only because he cared, right? She wouldn’t make the choice so he was trying to make it for her. Push her to make the right choice. She took a breath, turned, and pulled out her gun. The cold metal familiar in her hand, as familiar as Mistah J’s hand on her arm was. She felt the barrel of his gun at the back of her head, but couldn’t seem to make herself raise her own.

      “Harley,” Deadshot got her attention. “Listen, I’m not too keen on going back to prison when this is over. But what else are a bunch of cops gonna do with a hitman, you know? It’s okay but just...” he pauses and swallows, mustering up some part of himself to say whatever it is he has to say. “Just take care of her for me, okay? Get out of here and take care of her.”

      Take care of her for me. He talked about her so often, Harley felt like she knew her. Deadshot’s daughter, who was living with her not-so-great mother, since her dad was in jail. When this was over, he wanted to walk free and raise her himself. He wanted to get her free rides to the best schools’ in the country, so she could have the best education and achieve anything she wanted to. He wanted to take care of her like he had before he’d been locked away. And now that he couldn’t, he trusted Harley with her.

      “Okay?” He asked again. Her first friend in years. Her partner in crime while Puddin’ was gone. The friend who, in the end, just wanted the same thing she did—a happily ever after, with a family and kids.

      “Kill him! Now!” Mistah J roared behind her.

      And now here she is. Stuck with a man she can’t kill and a man she can’t betray. She felt her curtain fall, their time was over. This isn’t how this is supposed to go. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end.

      “Harley, promise me.” Deadshot meets her gaze. There is no fear in his eyes, just a sad acceptance.

      “Harley!”

      She raises her gun, shakily, until it’s aimed right between Deadshot’s eyes. A shot he’d be proud of. Pull the trigger Harley. Before Mistah J does.

      “Now!”

      And she makes her decision.

      She is fast, she always had been. She’d gotten faster living with Mistah J, dodging blows at any split second out of nowhere. Sometimes avoiding possibly lethal hits by inches. She moves, and she fires.

And a bullet hole appears in the center of The Joker’s forehead.

      Time seems to slow. Puddin’s face frozen in shock, as his body shoots back and falls to the ground. Deadshot, in shock behind her. All of Suicide Squad and Amanda Waller’s forces, who just a second ago had been planning to snipe Harley and replace her and Deadshot, frozen. Harley herself, barely comprehending what she just did. The gun falling from her hand, landing on The Joker’s body below her. His limp body hit the roof, and time sped up again.

      “No!” She cries out, and drops down beside him. “no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” She shot him. She shot him. The Joker, her Puddin’, the man who had destroyed an entire city to get her back. Who wanted her so entirely that he killed anyone who wanted even a piece of her. He made her chose and she can’t believe she chose wrong.

      She starts sobbing, oh god she hasn’t cried in so long. Of course she’d cry over Puddin’. Why did I do that how could I have done this. He came for me and I killed him I killed him it’s all my fault.

      Her impulse killed him and she decides it’ll kill her too. Her gun is still loaded. She grabs it and turns it on herself, fully ready to join Puddin’ wherever they went afterwards. Would you die for me? He asked her once, a long time ago. And he pushed her into a vat of acid to make her prove it. She was ready to drown in the vat then and she is ready to follow him now. But as she raises the gun, someone grabs it and wrestles it away from her.

      “No, no give it back! Let me go to Puddin’! Give it back!” She’s shrieking, her voice cracking, barely escaping through sobs. But Deadshot has the gun now, and he clicks the safety on and crouches down to face her.

      “He gave you a choice and you made one, Harley,” he says softly.

      “I—” she swallows a sob. “I shot my Puddin, I shot my Puddin’ I made the wrong choice I messed up I shot him.”

      “He had a gun pointed at your head. He was going to kill you.”

      She wants to tell him he doesn’t understand, that’s just how he is, how he makes a point, but she’s sobbing too badly to talk anymore. She goes for the gun once more, but Deadshot keeps it away and holds her while she cries, neither of them quite able to do anything else.

And that’s how the world exists for a moment. Harley Quinn, criminal queen of Gotham City, sobbing in Deadshot’s arms, while The Joker’s former henchmen and Amanda Waller’s forces watch in a state of pure, unadulterated, shock.

      Waller’s forces shatter the moment first. They’re coming in. The Joker’s dead, mission accomplished. Time to ship all their used criminals back to their cages. Deadshot and Harley slowly stand up, while men in riot gear with guns close in on them—wild criminals with no more kill switch to stop them. “Hey Deadshot,” Harley says, wiping away the last of her tears.

      “Yeah Harley?”

      “You’re not going back to prison after all.” Fast as ever, she grabs him by the hand and makes a break for the helicopter again. She pushes him up first, and she hesitates again for a second. Waller’s forces are closing in, she doesn’t have much time. But Puddin’s body is lying there not feet from where she’s standing. His head in a red halo of blood, eyes still wide open in shock. Tears start to fall again, and she makes a move for his gun—but Deadshot calls her back. And again, she chooses him.

She jumps up to the helicopter and he’s there to pull her up. They stand there, two criminals, two friends, his hand on her shoulder. Soft, but firm. Not like Puddin’, not like The Joker. Not like she’s some fragile ornament or an old beat-up toy. It’s comforting, grounding. Helps her keep her head on straight. Keeps her from thinking about what she would do with a lethal weapon right now. Keeps her from thinking if she made the right choice or not. Keeps her thinking about how she saved him, instead.

The helicopter flies away on Harley’s order, and the two watch as Gotham, and its damn prison, and Amanda Waller and Suicide Squad and The Joker’s body grow smaller and smaller until they’re all just another dark spot on the horizon.

-

They hide out for a while, in an old warehouse on the edge of Gotham. Harley cycling between hysteria, and intense states of self-loathing, and occasionally thinking maybe she didn’t make the wrong choice, only for it to crash down again when she remembers it was her who shot The Joker. She took him out of her life, out of the world, forever. Deadshot keeps her gun hidden from her, and does his best to talk her down. After a while, she goes a little comatose, and sleeps for a while. A long while, getting up only when Deadshot coaxes her into eating something.

Sometime after—neither one is quite sure how long they hid—Harley becomes somewhat functional again, and once she can be trusted not to shoot herself, the two move back into the city. They stay quiet for a while, not exactly eager to have the cops and Batman on their tail again. And, likely, The Joker’s men, who are probably out to murder the woman who killed their boss. No matter how much they may have respected or feared her before.

Deadshot starts ducking out to visit his daughter, who’s more than glad to see him again. Harley, with nothing else to do, starts her life of crime up again. It’s different without The Joker around, and sometimes she’s hit with memories vivid enough to shut her down. Most of the time, she evades capture, relying on pure instinct. It’s how she survived so long with Him anyway. But one day she completely shuts down, and Batman doesn’t fight her. He knows she needs help. And Harley, back in the place where it all started, knows that too.

Arkham isn’t the best place to be. No institution is, really. But some of the doctors seem to know what they’re doing and, in time, Harley begins to heal. I made the right choice, savin’ Deadshot, she thinks sometimes. But she still thinks maybe The Joker didn’t have to die. Maybe she could have helped him. That was her original job, wasn’t it? To help The Joker? She tries not to dwell on it. She doesn’t want to, not yet.

Harley slowly heals. Puts her identity back together from the pieces The Joker left her in. Separates the parts of herself that he took, from him. She’s Doctor Harleen Quinzel. She was a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. She wanted to have a nice job and settle down with a spouse and a couple of kids. She likes flowers, her favorite color is red, she likes Christmas lights even though she doesn’t celebrate Christmas. She’s Doctor Harleen Quinzel, psychiatrist and former doctor to The Joker. She’s Harley Quinn, currently the most confusing criminal in Gotham City. Not a hero, or a villain. Something in the middle. Something good and something illegal. And that’s okay with her.

Deadshot visits her a lot, and he brings his daughter with him sometimes. He talks about getting custody once he has his own place, once he has some kind of stable living. Harley says he should just take her. He probably will. Even his living situation would be better than where she is now. It’s not horrible, but it could be better. It should be better. “Just make sure you stay outta prison,” Harley tells him. “I never liked my dad much, but maybe things woulda been better if he’d been around, ya know?” By the time Harley is released, Deadshot has a place in Gotham and is living with his daughter. Harley’s happy for them.

She makes friends easily in Arkham. She’s charming, to say the least, the kind of person you naturally gravitate too. Not many people dislike her, but those who do still respect her. She’s the woman who killed The Joker. She was completely under his control, and she still turned around and shot him. No one can quite fathom the strength that took.

Her most prominent friend seems like an unlikely one. Most seem to avoid her—you’ll probably wind up eaten by some plant who’s name you can’t pronounce if you don’t. But Harley Quinn isn’t afraid of anything, and goddamn if she isn’t a sucker for a cute girl. And, in her experience, cute girls tend to be a sucker for her too. Pamela Isley, and her horde of murderous plants, are no exception. It doesn’t take long for Harley to melt Ivy’s icy exterior, and before long she’s once again falling for a patient at Arkham Asylum. But this time it’s different. This time, the one she’s fallen for cares about her in return. She’s not a prize, or a possession—she’s Harley Quinn. A person. Harley Quinn—whoever, exactly, Harley Quinn is.

It’s Ivy who helps her realize how truly awful Harley’s relationship with The Joker was. Ivy’s been there, it’s how she became who she is now. “He took away who I was,” Ivy tells her. “I’m not human anymore. Not completely. But I’m not a plant. I feel closer to them—humans are vile creatures—but I’m still human, I guess. On some level.”

“Sometimes I don’t even feel completely human,” Harley replies. “He shaped me like clay, made me into what he wanted. And I let him, because I thought we were in love. But all he did was hit me and throw me in a vat of acid and try to kill me. Over and over and over.”

There was a pause, then Harley speaks again. “Is it wrong that I still love him? As much as I hate him and I know he was a vile human being and I did the right thing shootin’ him, there’s still some part of me that wishes everything had stayed how it was at the beginning.”

“It’s not wrong. I felt like that at the beginning, wishing things had stayed how they were before he tried to poison me. It passes. It just takes time.”

So, Harley takes some time. She still has flashbacks, she still has moments of wishing she could take everything back and go back to the day The Joker asked her to smuggle him a gun. But she copes. And she moves on, in her own way. She reaches a day where she can confidently say she made the right decision. No hesitation. I was one hundred percent right in shooting The Joker. Her only regret is not doing it sooner.

Eventually, she and Ivy both leave Arkham Asylum. And the first day they’re both out, Harley asks Ivy to stay with her, to be with her. And she does.

Harley moves in with Deadshot, who she considers a cool older brother at this point. She’s a great help in raising his daughter. And, after a while, Harley’s girlfriend moves in with them too. And some years later, after an outdoor ceremony covered in red flowers and Christmas lights, Harley lives with her wife and Deadshot. And the three of them and Zoe are a weird little family, but a good one. And they all have problems, they’re all still criminals and aren’t afraid to turn to crime when they have to. They’re not good guys, but they’re better than they were. They’re healing. They’ll never be who they used to be, whether they want to be or not. They can’t turn back the clock, but that’s okay. They still have now. This moment.

If you could, you would go back and change anything? Deadshot doesn’t have any regrets. Ivy isn’t really sure. She loves her powers, her plants, but the negatives that caused it and came with it? If only she could get rid of that.

Harley’s answer is usually a long one. Yeah, there’s a million and one things she’d change if she got the chance. She wouldn’t go to Arkham. She wouldn’t take The Joker as a patient. She would have left him sooner, seen the signs she’d been taught to see. She would have killed him sooner. She would have pushed him into the acid. She would have helped Batman capture him during the car chase that got her arrested. She wouldn’t have hesitated when she shot him on that rooftop, so long ago now. But if she did any of that, she wouldn’t be where she is now. She wouldn’t know Deadshot, The Joker would still be alive, maybe some other girl would have become Harley Quinn instead. Maybe there would have been many Harley’s, dying and being replaced on a whim. She wouldn’t have met the love of her life. Things would be different, so, so different. But would they be better? “I really don’t know.”

But in the end, The Joker is dead. A bullet stuck right between the eyes, fired by Harley Quinn. The girl he shaped to be his perfect doll. The woman who was tired of being controlled. And Harley is alive. She’s Harley Quinn, and she endured The Joker for years and came out alive. She shot The Joker in the face and if there’s any moment in her life she’d never change, it would be that one.

Years and years later, she's put herself back together. One some level, because of trauma, part of her will always change. her identity will never be quite stable . But she's managed to carve out bits of pieces. She's Doctor Harleen Quinzel, psychiatrist. Her favorite color is red, her favorite flowers are sunflowers, she loves soft things and indie music. She's Harley Quinn, good guy criminal of Gotham City. The woman who saved Deadshot on a rooftop so many years ago, and killed Jack Napier, Gotham City’s most vile and notorious villian. And she will die before she defines herself by him ever again.

She's Harley Quinn, and all these years later, she's free.

[voidwizerd-archive]

Wiz: Think About Work ==>

It goes further back than work, actually. Maybe a lot further. Maybe even years and years, planets and planets, people and people. But where you come into the fray is just a short while ago.

Three Thursdays back, you went to work. It was supposed to be a single overnight gig, a followup on a lead with Dana, you’d be back in time for breakfast.

It was a trap.

A trap good enough that not even Dana had an inkling of something being off. It nearly killed you and them right there, and the two of you spent six days trying to shake some sadistic hacker off your trail.

You couldn’t shake the doubts that you’d really succeeded. You stopped talking about work in any detail online, and locked all your posts where you had talked about it before. Just to be safe.

A few lights ago, your doubts were proved to be right.

Being right can be so fucking awful.

Maia had asked you to come by for dinner. You’d thought it was a Fuentes group thing again, they’d invited you to stay for dinner before and it was always some loud bustling thing taking up three or four tables in their own pub.

Maia met you outside the pub, alone, and took you down into the prosthetics shop instead. She locks the door and heads to the back, to the blackout room where she debriefs the crew on jobs. No signals in, no signals out.

“What’s wrong.”

You asked it as soon as the blackout room was sealed. Maia just... stared at you. She looked more afraid than you’d ever seen her.

“Wiz,” she said, and then hesitated.

Somehow... somehow you knew. You just knew, down to the dread in your bones, just what this meant. You looked away from Maia a moment, closing your eyes as your fingers curled into fists. Sighed.

“It’s our pal the hacker, ain’t it.”

Maia sat at the table then. You sat next to her, staring intently down at your hands. There’s a lot of scratches in the wood; Julio once told you they were from her, when she was little and everything was meant for talons, obviously.

“They have all of our information, Wiz. Every last goddamn bit.”

You stared, eyes wide in shock. “Dana didn’t see em comin?”

“No, they did, but...” Maia laughed bitterly. “Well, apparently we’re all just that much out of our league.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” You dragged your hands down your face. “So why ain’t we all dead yet?”

“Because we’ve been given a proposition.” Maia met your stare. “Our pal wants to play a game. Dana, you, and me all qualify.”

You didn’t mean to, but your own blunt nails tore their own grooves into the table. Your teeth gritted.

“I don’t do games.”

“I know, Wiz, but listen. They’ll give us everything we need to destroy this corporation and all of its brother companies, so long as we beat them at the game.”

Maia then tapped a smooth pad on the table and a small hologram loaded at the center, showing Maia talking to... a white rabbit? A white rabbit with glowing red eyes and a mechanical, amused voice.

“I mean, obviously if you die you can’t play anymore. That’s the real flaw with you organic types. But since you’re asking, I’ll clarify just for you, Maia Alfaro-Fuentes!”

The holo-rabbit’s ears wiggled as it cocked its little head to the side and... smiled. Wiz shuddered. Present and holo-Maia didn’t react at all.

“The invitation I’m extending so generously, out of the boredom of my own debatable soul, is exclusively for yourself, your treasured student Dana, and your new hire Wiz Lalonde. Let’s be honest, everyone else you’ve got is too fucking stupid. The point of the game is to break through my systems and acquire this nifty folder of information I’ve compiled for you, without me catching and killing you first!

“The rules are that whoever accepts my invitation acts entirely alone, no silly fabricated cons, and no bringing in government or authoritarian types. If you cheat, you lose! And if you die, well. You die. Simple enough for you, Maia Alfaro-Fuentes?

“Also I want my invitation responded to in a week or all of this gets released.”

The glowing red eyes shut off and the holo-rabbit seemed to... disintegrate? Holo-Maia lingered a moment longer before present Maia shut the projector off. Silence, for a moment.

“...You don’t lose by dying.”

You never told anyone here about your whole immortality thing, but you weren’t surprised that Maia somehow knew. It figured.

“I’ll do it.”

“Wiz, that’s not what I’m--”

“Ain’t it?” You spat it harshly, and felt bad as you saw Maia flinch. “Dana’s a good fuckin person, but they don’t strike me as the type who’d be willin to die for the sake of justice. Hell, if dyin was a permanent thing for me, I prolly wouldn’t be willin neither. An you’re willin I’m sure, but you’ve got a family. Kids an husbands--"

“Who all know that my line of work could get me killed, and we all came to terms with that a long, long time ago.” Maia sounded calm. There was still fear in her eyes, but it wasn’t for herself. So who? “I was a cop before this, Wiz. This risk has been a part of my life longer than you’ve been alive.”

“But you don’t get to come back. I do.” You shrugged. “Simple as that.”

“Will it be?” Oh god. Was the fear for you? “What happens when you die the first time, Wiz, is our pal gonna continue the game or tell this damn corporation that they’ve gotten their hands on a creature that comes back to life. Maybe you won’t die, but there is a very real danger of you never coming back, and pardon my mortal ass for saying so I guess, but that sounds a hell of a lot fucking worse.”

The stubbornness had set in. Maia wouldn’t change your mind.

“I’ll get out of it.”

“What if you don’t.” Maia was urgent. “Wiz, have you talked to your lovers? Your friends? Are they at terms with the possibility of losing you because of this job?”

You said nothing. Maia looked unsurprised.

“The thought never even occurred to you, did it.”

“I’M TAKIN THE GODDAMN INVITE!” Your shout startled you also, finding yourself on your feet and your chair knocked back across the room. You struggle to calm. “I’m takin it. What’s the point of bein immortal if I don’t take the bullet for the rest of y’all anyway.”

“That shouldn’t be why you’re doing this.”

“Yeah, well. Suck it.”

Maia didn’t say anything more. She also didn’t stand back up, just staying in her chair staring at the deactivated projector. You wanted to ask what she was thinking, but your mouth never opened.

You had let yourself out of the blackout room, out of the prosthetic shop, back out onto the street. And then you just... you went home. Hive.

You’ll only get a few days to prepare. A few days to say goodbye to who you can.

It won’t be goodbye forever.

[kuyakhanya]

I was scrolling down Instagram. I am actually on a social media detox, I de-activated Facebook, twitter and deleted whatsapp and instagram from my apps on my phone. Thing is I have a page that does daily readings called Aquarius Nation and it always resonates with me so much, so not getting those daily readings is kind of a slurp, that slimy slurp. So this morning when I got to work I went straight to the page and read yesterdays reading which was on point as always and explained the way I am feeling right now. Heavy energy! Just need to relax and rest and see very little of people. I just decided to scroll down my instagram, and that is when I bumped into the above post by mommabearearthquake, her name is Ariana Peschke. I found her by chance some time ago and theres this post she had that hit the spot for me because it was exactly what I had been going through or rather feeling. I have found so many inspiring people on instagram that are spreading such goodness and soul feeding. Those are the kind of posts I love bumping into on my timeline, that is why I need to be more cautious in terms of who I follow. There is just too much garbage out here that is not needed in my space, really low vibe.

I want to see things that feed me and make me a better person. One of the may reasons I go on social media detoxes. To disconnect and [re]connect with myself. It gets too much and I end up feeding from all this exterior [no]n-scence. It is so vital that I connect with myself and what is actually around me, not the screen. My thumb is probably breathing hahaha shame. Whenever I go on a detox of some sort, it reflects through my body. The first few days my body gets really painful, I get headaches and feel tired. I woke up like that today and was wondering why I was feeling that way. I then remembered I am on a detox, that is definitely why. So amazing really! It goes to show how much things can have an influence on us without even realizing it. I first felt a whiff of lightness the moment I deactivated everything then followed by pain, of which I know will pass soon and the reconnecting space will open. I will feel even lighter and more alive again. I Love what this detox does as I start viewing existence and universe in a whole new light. More filling up myself with meaning full things and watching illusions fly over my head.

Back to the post by Ariana. I am so glad I saw it as it is EXACTLY what I needed to see right here and right now. It was so delicious I decided to dish up and put it here so I can eat it anytime. I resonate with it so much in all levels. The opening line: “I am attracted to destruction because it is imperative to growth’’.In my own words, “I am here to experience, I don’t have the manual but I know everything is a lesson to grow’’. My interpretation to being attracted to destruction is being attracted to learn, to jump in the deep end, the unknown, living dangerously and thus peeling off layers that do not serve me, in turn growing and realizing there is so much more to existing, in both the known and further more the unknown realm. 

I myself have put me in bizarre scenarios that I regret with all of my being. I am slowly learning to drop regret as all I have done keeps leading me to my higher self, and all that I do happens because it has to, always at the right time and place, no mistake to existence. It just is! No need to push anything it is happening, it is the resistance that causes pain. Every single thing that happens carries a message and it is up to me to listen and listen really clearly. This year it has been more intense but I am diving deep and not looking back. What happens, happens, what has happened has happened. 

Nothing in existence is a mistake.

Learning to move in absolute F R E E D O M. Heck, then why am I here?

                                                                                                    -31 March 2017