#someone with a darkside but not here now to be suspected...

[theranilord]

• Now I admit, I care... about Bella Crawford.

• Hannibal didn't do it?! Will DOES have an admirer? Ohh, this just got juicy!

• Fucking Hell... it's Freddie.

[silvertws]

"Hermit craft" and other ccs because they are cool. STAR WARS AU (I think imma do different ones depending on like Prequels, Sequels, and Present or whatever it's called yk, droids, Vader and Kylo)...? Unsure I'm just doing Vader now.

*Cries in the amount of research I'm going to have to do*

Xiuma and Mumbo -> def mechanics, ships repairing, Mumbo never drove any of his fucking ships, he would suck as a pilot, Xiuma is good at it tho!

Grian -> one of the best, if not the best pilot in the galaxy -> does bro have the force? Yuh, does he know or use it? Nuh uh also Pearl's sibling, they got separated when little.

Scar -> co-pilot of Grian, has a motored wheelchair, he's the most curious one out of the two. He is the one that tells Grian to do something and join the rebellion.

Doc ->maybe some imperial scientist of some kind???? He scares me.

Scott... You scare me but! Leader potential? Scavenging with Cleo, Scott -> the brain, Cleo -> them muscles, she's a skilled blaster fighter, possibly Mandalorian..? We're there mandalorians of that species....?????Cleo is a Togruta def.

Pearl -> definitely started off as a Padawan, sister of Grian -> = older (aka, yes the gist of "mf is too old to be trained, but his sister ain't, YOINK"), yeah he was not pleased. Pearl basic doesn't remember him, like, she knows she has a brother somewhere, but yk. Yeah so, Master dies, obviously 🙄, cause you know order 66, still debating who that should be... Uhhhhh Maybe Impulse? Yes you're dying boi. Be sad. Someone has to. So yeah, she escapes, and then I'm going to presume she's going in hiding... With another surviving Padawan... Maybe Gem, yeah. Yeah shiny duo why not. So they go into hiding, they survive by themselves, somehow, a bit of thievery never hurt anyone... Oh wait.

Anyway happiness doesn't last.

Bye bye Pearl, to get captured and become a sith you gooo.

Sorry Gem <\3 you'll see each other again.

While Pearl is "busy" turning to the Darkside and Just not having s good time, Gem joins the rebels, not revealing her past, he's lightsaber was broken during her qnd Pearl's escape after all. She does still have her Kyber cristal (green..? They focus more on defending to my knowledge, plus healing? Something like that) Pearl's used to be blue.

So yeah, Gem joins the rebels, where she does missions here and there and meets people like Tango.

Tango -> Pilot, and one of the leaders of a small squad that usually does ambushes to the Empire. (This is due to how fucking mental this guy was with EVERYTHING last season, he deserves to have a leading and planning spot)

Etho is a spy for the rebels. No questions asked. He is. Why? Don't exactly know...? He gives me spy vibes. Mf works for the Empire but is a double agent.

Joel and Lizzie have a bar where they try to keep it neutral, they don't enjoy the empire but don't want to risk loosing what they have to actively fight. They do hide rebels from time to time and share some rations. They know Tango, since he's the one who usually contacts them and also hid there a couple of times. They also know Etho since he goes there whenever he's dispatched to the planet.

Yes. The "Etho stop being obsessed with me" joke lives on.

Now... Owen. You sir. Terrify me. You're very scary as a villain but very adorable as a hero which you know what that means.

BETRAYAL.

oh this mf is playing the rebels like fools!

Nobody suspects the nice mechanic and co-pilot to be an imperial spy... Definitely didn't install a tracker on the ship AND the droid.

Grian and scar + Cleo and Scott + Etho, Gem, Owen all know each other.

Cleo and Scott do not care to join the rebellion and probably never will.

Scar convinces Grian to help.

Etho squad and Scott team have often had fights because of one stealing stuff before the other.

Joey is a pirate with Sausage, Skizz and Martyn. The often had fights with literally all of the other teams.

Ren -> imperial general.

Jimmy -> you know what..? Bounty hunter. And you may think. Jimmy..? A bounty hunter? Bro u cray cray, Nuh uh. Listen. Listen. He's not HORRIBLE at his job, he's not super great either. But he does get enough cash to survive.

Now. Who has a bounty on them..?

Literally everyone I mentioned tbh-

But for plot, and because you guys love flower husbands, I'm gonna go with Scott.

So yeah goofy bounty hunter×the one mf who keeps on slipping away.

And yes, he does go to Joel bar to complain and Joel keeps on taunting him about it.

Ok now.

We did flower husbands.

So I think it's time for the Nature wives.

Shelby is indeed a force user... Or maybe a Witch from Dathomir??? Or maybe.. ok.

Let's say.

She goes to Dathomir.

And like, I remember basically nothing about that so please don't come for me for inaccuracies.

If I remember, from Star wars fallen order (I have not played survivor yet.), the witches are dead. Except one yk, our beloved girlypop, so idk if I should do Shubble being the last one, and meeting Katherine as she crashed down on her planet. Or idk.

Also Katherine is a princess 100%

Think about her like Leia, cool, badass, and fights, I'm thinking for her to be a Mandalorian, because fighting you know. Wither that or she's just the princess of idek. My memory of the planets and systems is very limited ok? I'm very bad with names...

So yeah, maybe a bit of a black lightsaber situation could happen? Idek.

BigB and B-Dubs... I again have no idea.

I don't watch these two- they could be bounty hunters...? Merchants...???? Mercenaries....???? No clue- I mean, I have basically 0 villains planned but I don't think either of them could be an inquisitor or a general/commander of some kind- and I don't know how I wanna do the stormtroopers so... They could be Jedi masters? Maybe one died and the other didn't? Maybe they both died to protect the Padawans? Maybe they're both alive..???? Ughhhhhh ToT

I definitely need to put more villains-

But I don't wannaaaa ToT like sure, the pirate gang, sure, bounty hunter Jimmy.

But the inquisitors brooo.

Like other than Pearl idkkk

She slays so hard she doesn't need other inquisitors-

Like idek know who to make the BBEG

cause like... Scott could definitely be Vader ok. I know. I Know........ And Cleo be an inquisitor??? But I like Jimmy and Scott possible dynamic as bounty hunter×that one mf-

Likeeee arghhhhh

Ren is just too Goofy to be plays as a BBEG

Owen just has to betray someone ok? He needs the switch up.

Uhhhhhh...

Literally idek-

Do I randomly put Kier and Dev into this???

Quackity?????

Philza and Tommy could definitely be Jedi Master and young Padawan...

Like Ranboo is not giving villain.

Technoblade definitely would but, I don't want to put him in... In case I get yelled at TwT

Niki could be an inquisitor- definitely giving "the Jedi are corrupted at and so I decided to kill them all as revenge for taking away my childhood and my right of choice". So yeah.. definitely a "Padawan indoctrinated by the Darkside becomes inquisitor". Kinda like Pearl? But she didn't get tortured- it was kinda her choice sooooo. I guess I'm putting Niki in

FableSMP members???? Do I just put Fable as the BBEG????He could be more like Palpatine than Vader tho, since the manipulation and being well, powerful as fu- like, he works...Ok now I have ideas for FableSMP characters... Enderian would def be a witch of Datomir, my only issu with that is that I don't exactly know how that would work with Centross.

But. For what does work.

Wolf/Fenris??? Idk how it's written.

Used to be an imperial general, betrayed Fable. When he realized his kingdom was not safe even if he stayed with him.

Rae -> in this universe Enderian is out of the picture, like not even mentioned, sorry girly.

Rae is the child of Isla, who was the queen of whatever because again, this is just me writing down dumb ideas. So, Rae and Icarus were sent away when he was little by Isla, who wanted to keep him away from the empire's arms due to his connection to the force.

Icarus -> older sibling to Rae, has no connection to the force, (no Quixis, you're not doing shit this time >:(), when them and Rae were sent away, they didn't understand why fully. As he got older they resented Rae because they felt like if Rae didn't have a connection to the force then they'd be able to be a family. But that resentment soon moved to the force itself, the stores about the Jedis, the sith, all that chaos. They don't know exactly how to help Rae, all they can do is try to protect him from the empire. (I'm giving Rae and Icarus a good-ish relationship ok? We all need that)

Momboo and Ocie -> are sisters, both use the force and both were trained by the Jedis, needless to say they are not like 20 yo, I think imma make them around 35/40..? (Safe to say Icarus and Momboo won't have a relationship.No.)

They both survived order 66 but got separated.

Now for the angsty part.

Momboo during her travels tried to find and protect kids gifted with the force. She would then proceed to die, leaving Jamie and Uhh fuck I don't remember their name, well, her other kid ok? With one message, to find Ocie, she could help them.

Ocie did not have as much maternal instincts as her sister, but, she picked along a small child, Oscar, a child made orphan by the empire. I'm figuring out the species still. She would settle down, she thought she was away from everything, that she could heal. Then Momboos kids came, and boom, training arc for those little shits. (/Sarcastic /not mean /please I'm not serious)

Centross -> now, I know in FableSMP he's not on Fable's side but Enderian's, the problem with that is that I think that the only thing that fits Enderian is a Dathomir's witch. And I don't exactly know how that could work. Like sure, let's make her a sith, but she's supposed to be like on Fable's power level, and she's definitely not a Jedi. So. For Centross, he could 100% be an inquisitor. 100% not even questioning it. This is based upon when he was violet reaper, yes yes, I am aware he was not on Fable's side, but I believe Fable is more fit as Palpatine than Enderian, sorry girlboss. Also sorry Centross, you're not getting a redemption arc.

Origin members..?????? (Except you know who ofc)

Do I just mix up some Steve Saga like- I CAN'T DO THAT YK.

Like so many but yet arghhhhh

Idkkkkk

So many possible heroessss.

Like the only ones I KNOW could be great villains for sure are Pearl, Scott, and Owen. And Scott and Owen are the only ones who I could see as the BBEG.

But again, you know... TwT

Can't use Scott, Owen is already a traitor, unsure if he should be using the force.

And Pearl is just- s c a r y but she will have a redemption arc so yk.

Ughhhhh

Like Gem could also have villain potential but likeeeeee

®×`]?×¢{§`}~[¢÷!4(&(&(2)

I will maybe get more ideas in the future once I've done more research.

Please this is just a draft so don't come for me and the inaccuracies. I'm not even sure I'll actually bother to write an actual storyline, this is for funzies. Also the ages of characters might vary from the originals because again, this is an AU.

Also if anyone sees this and knows how to write and for some reason does anything with this, cool! :DDD it's not gonna happen, but cool!

[marvelstars]

Baylan Skoll and Anakin Skywalker

I am actually liking Baylan more and more, if he was a Jedi of the old Order his reaction to Anakin, his indignation about him turning to the darkside after being an actual celebrity in the republic and in some ways, at the Temple, then his words here are completely understable but the fact of the matter is that he isn´t hidding he himself is close to the darkside if he hasn´t fallen already, he is ready to begin another galactic war for his own reasons and has made an actual alliance with the remains of the Empire, at the point he´s being called "Lord Baylan" as an echo of "Lord Vader" and his main motivation seems to be "secure the future" with "power beyond their imagination"

Still given he is about to fight Ahsoka here and comented to Morgan he didn´t want to kill her because very few Jedi remained, I believe we have to take his words to Ahsoka with a grain of salt, here he wanted to make her angry so she would attack sooner and make mistakes during their duel, this is a common strategy in swordmanship and given he seems to have some hability to read minds, then his words to Ahsoka here may have a lot more to do with what Ahsoka herself believes happened and not so much his own take on Anakin´s story.

Words like "That´s why you abandoned him?" "Your legacy, just like your master is full of death and destruction" I believe those are ideas Ahsoka keeps telling herself over and over again and are part of the reason why she keeps herself appart from everybody, including Sabine and Hera, the people closer to her at the moment.

But this "Anakin spoke highly of you" sounds too personal, he´s calling Anakin by his name, not skywalker, like the majority of Jedi called him, Jedi called each other by their last names when they didn´t have a close bond, he admits he didn´t know Anakin personally but "everybody in the Order knew who Anakin Skywalker was" so he definitely wasnt close to him yet he knows how well Anakin spoke of Ahsoka and how much he cared about her, this is unusual for a Jedi, Anakin didn´t talk much with other members of the Order besides Obi-Wan and the Jedi council, especially in the last years of the war before Ahsoka left and Ahsoka didn´t know him either so his knowledge about them is because he has a personal investment in knowing about them.

Baylan sounds like someone who used to follow Anakin´s story and to a point had a fascination with it, including his relationship with Ahsoka and now he´s symbolically taking Lord Vader´s place in company of the "Heir of the Empire" but I don´t believe this is his end game, some fans have the theory that he probably wants to have access to the world between worlds portal which is on Thrawn´s ship "The Chimera" and in this sense, his words about getting power beyond imagination makes a lot of sense, he isn´t a full sith yet here so he would be able to make changes in the timeline if he´s able to enter the world between worlds.

Or maybe not, maybe he wants to rebuilt a new galactic order with Thrawn, one different to the one Palpatine built with Vader, especially now that there´s already a sector of the surviving imperial grand admirals looking towards bringing Palpatine back from death.

I also wonder if he knows or suspects it was Vader himself the one who killed Palpatine and that´s why adapting a symol and place within the new Empire doesn´t bother him as much, because if he, in some way, is still attracted to Anakin´s story then him discovering he killed the Emperor would bring it back in full and maybe motivate him into action, like he´s doing now and taking a stand after many years of hiding.

I also believe he has many issues with the Republic, the way he killed the republic officers was too violent in comparision to how contained he has shown himself to be in the rest of the series, his "We are not Jedi" sounds too full of anger and pain and I wonder if he, in some way, is resentful of the republic for giving their backs to the Jedi in their highest moment of need and that´s why he´s supporting an imperial galactic order, just one not ran by the Sith.

[darkisrising]

Rain, by DarkIsRising

Rain (Weather series pt1)

The first time Luke felt a pressure drop before a thunderstorm, he’d thought it was something to do with the Force. He’d been on Dagobah lifting Master Yoda in the air while balancing in a handstand that wobbled more and more with every passing minute when he’d noticed the change. A creeping cold that stole across his skin leaving a slight shiver in its wake. The sudden realization that the swamp had gone silent, all the creatures that had been stirring the marsh grasses and battering the trunks of trees in search of insects to eat were still—gone into hiding—as if they knew something he did not.

Then the rain had started, great gouts of it, and he’d yelped as he fell out of his position, sending his master down with an unceremonious thud.

“Is this the Darkside?” he’d called, yelling to be heard over the thick raindrops that pelted from the sky, eyes stinging with the ones that caught in his eyelashes and ran in rivers from his hair.

Master Yoda had only laughed at his bewildered pupil, taking pity on him as he explained: “A rainstorm it is, young Skywalker. Come. Back to my home we shall go.”

By the time they got back to the hovel his master called home, thunder was rumbling the humble walls and lightning was crackling sideways, casting strange shapes through the shadows. Luke had shivered, clutching a tattered blanket around his shoulders, as he wondered how something that could be so necessary for life could be so destructive and angry.

Yavin 4's rainstorms are a bit like that.

"It's okay, little one," Luke soothes as Grogu buries his face in his master’s side, little claws clutching his black cloak tight as another roll of thunder shakes the temple’s ancient walls. "We're safe in here."

Artoo clicks out a question, the gentle beeps of binary barely audible over the sound of rain as it pounds against ceiling and ground, echoing through the tall, cavernous halls. This isn’t the most inviting place to bring a youngling, but it’s where Luke has been living since Leia had officially removed him from any and all New Republic business with strict orders not to show his face around the senate until he had a rebuilt Jedi order to show for himself, and Luke—who’d been drowning in requests he could never say no to to aid the fledgling governmental body, even if it meant neglecting the one thing he felt most called to do—had been so relieved he’d kissed her on the cheek and swore he’d never loved her more than at that very instant.  

He’d come to Yavin 4 with dreams—visions, really—of a school of padawans; a collection of Force users who lived and learned in a place that breathed with life and resonated with the deep spiritual memories of their shared Jedi past.

Instead what he’d gotten was a dismayingly large temple whose ceilings have been giving way with increasing frequency and whose planet’s wet season howled with menace; one terrified, preverbal fifty-year-old padawan; one astromech fretting over the interrupted sleep cycles of sentient beings; and one Jedi master very much out of his depth.

Lightning cracks like an electro-whip and the thunder that comes a half click later is nearly on top of them, rattling the temple with a fury that sends Grogu even deeper into Luke’s side. 

“You’re alright, we’re fine.” Luke lets his voice turn soft and nonsensical like Aunt Beru had murmured when he’d been a kid waking up the homestead with his nightmares of blue lightning and death-white hands that he knows now had been whispers of the future. 

Bringing his ungloved hand up, Luke can pick up traces of Grogu’s thoughts as his palm curls around the delicate curve of the shivering child’s head. They aren’t much more than snatches of moments but Luke knows they are memories by the taste of them. There is a cramped darkness and outside of it are guttural howls and grunts of pain and the wet snick of breath leaving the lungs of the dying. There are the pings of blaster bolts and the clash of metal on metal and something that whistles through the air like birds. More than anything there is fear—so much fear—and worry for the big man with gentle hands and the silver helmet.

Luke has spent too many days wading through excited chatter not to recognize the Mandalorian that had taken Grogu in as his own only to let him go. 

And there are plenty of reasons in the sobering light of day why Luke shouldn’t—why he told himself he couldn’t—let this attachment of Grogu’s linger. The texts he’s unearthed and the few beings he’s found who remember the Jedi all agree that there were strict rules about this sort of thing. Rules that could see a Jedi expelled from the Order if broken. Rules that he suspects his very birth had violated, so perhaps no one can appreciate the reasons behind those rules more than he who has seen the twisted, broken man that his father had become. 

Still.

Still, he’d asked Han weeks ago if he might know someone that knew someone that knew a Mandalorian with unpainted armor. And if that person could get him a comm code which Luke has kept tucked away—just in case—though in case of what he can’t say.  

Outside the thunder roars and beneath his hand Grogu shakes and maybe this is why he’d done it. 

“Come here, young one. Let’s see if this works.” Luke couldn’t bring himself to try the code when he’d gotten it, and he doesn’t want to get the child’s hopes up by giving voice to the thing he’s about to attempt in case there is nothing but static on the other end.

“Yeah?” a husky voice answers, tinny from a vocoder, and Luke can tell by the swivel of green ears and the widening of dark eyes that Han’s contacts had gotten it right.

“Hey.” Luke starts and then falters. He licks his lips, suddenly at a loss for words but Grogu is chattering all at once and his excitement is infectious enough that Luke finds himself laughing as pointed green claws grab for the comm in his hand.

On the other end a breath is sucked in, fast and tight, and then the Mandalorian says in breathy wonderment “Kid? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Yeah he’s here,” Luke says, more confident now. “Having a bit of a bad night, though, and I thought maybe talking to you might help. Do you have holo capabilities where you are?”

“I do, hold on. Let me just—” his voice wanders off as buttons are pushed and the familiar hum of a ship’s console powers on. “I was asleep, just give me a minute to find everything.” 

“Oh! I’m sorry we disturbed you—”

“No,” comes the answer, quicker than the cracking lightning and the whipping winds and the falling rain, “No, didn’t disturb me at all.”

A blue holo flickers on, cutting through the temple darkness. It’s staticky from the distance and the weather, but Grogu trills as excited as if the Mandalorian had appeared in front of him in the flesh.

Luke adjusts the angle until their end catches where the youngling is sitting on Luke’s knee and the Mandalorian’s helmet tilts to the side at an inquisitive angle. “Hey there,” he says voice unsteady, or maybe that’s just the bad connection. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Leaning back in his seat, Luke closes his eyes and lets the rise and fall of conversation between two beings that have invented their own language fall over him, strange and wonderful, and for the first time in a long time he feels like he’s made the right call.

[alexs-ummers]

goodnight

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Draco struggles with his feelings: for you and the world around him. 

Words: 2142

notes: requests are open! let me know what you think of this and what you want to see next. 

There was something almost enticing about loving someone when they had no idea. Draco thought this anyway, but he also likes to toture himself, believing he was not worthy of a gentle love. The enticing part was the glances at you. He could take as many as he wanted because nobody but Draco knew just how hard his heart was beating. He could watch every hair tuck, every smile, every move that you made and you wouldn’t suspect a thing. Maybe that was the excruciating part: that you never returned those glances. There was just no place in this world for a love so soft that only you could provide. There was no world in which the two of you would live happily ever after. Not with the mark on his arm, not with the Dark Lord making house calls.

He watched you from across the Great Hall as you ate dinner with your friends. You had asked to hang out later to work on potions homework. “Oh, but you’re so good at it Draco, won’t you please help me?” He could never say no, even with the transfiguration homework he had piling up. He never wanted to see a frown on your face, certainly not one of his own doing.

He was too deep in thought to realize the trickling of students going out the door. It wasn’t long before you stood in front of him, waving a hand to get his attention.

“Draco?”

“Oh.” He looks almost surprised to see you.

“Did you forget?”

He shakes his head, standing up from the Slytherin table. “No. Actually, I was just thinking about it.” He was also thinking about how perfect you seemed to look, though there wasn’t much different about your appearance. This just seemed like another side effect from being in love. God, this was starting to become a sickness for him, something he needed to be rid of to go back to his normal life. He’s never felt like this. He sometimes even feels physically sick. You are only a casualty in a world like this, a weakness.

You had no idea of the storm going on within his thoughts. “Great, let’s go.” You beamed, unaware still of the pull Draco had towards you. He’d follow you anywhere if destiny allowed it, but alas.

Draco and you took a seat in the common room of Slytherin. Most people cleared out if they saw Draco here, especially when he was with you. It seemed as if they were somehow intruding on something.

“Tell me what you need help with.” Draco says, pulling out his parchment and quill. Homework would usually be done side by side, working together to solve problems, but Draco could do it all on his own if he needed to. He didn’t want to, though. He liked the alone time with you where all your attention was turned to him. He could sit close to you, so close that the words he shared could only be heard by you.

He’s already fixated on you, all his attention in one place. It was something you really loved about studying with Draco, he took it very seriously. “Well, Slughorn is having us research Amortentia before we brew it. I just need help answering the questions.”

“Do you know what Amortentia is?” Draco tests you.

“Well, yeah. It’s a love potion.” You roll your eyes, starting to answer the question on the parchment.

“It’s the most powerful love potion to ever exist.” Draco feels like he’s already under its effects. “It causes infatuation, so I guess I wouldn’t call that love.” Draco smiles a little to himself, answering the question on his paper. “Now, tell me what it looks like, what it’s characteristics are.”

You continue studying and answering questions with Draco’s help. It never seems like you have enough time with each other, the fire already beginning to die out. He offers to walk you back to your room as the light dies and the glow fades from your face. You accept, as always.

“Goodnight, Draco.” You always stand at your door, always hoping for something spectacular to happen. It never does. Draco has self control, more than anyone else you know. He has a wall built between everyone, it hurts to think about how he even has one with you. It’s something you’ve grown to accept.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Saying goodbye is always the hardest. It always was, during breaks, after dinner, after class. It felt like leaving a piece of lightness within him. You were so good. He wants to kiss you goodnight, on the cheek, on the forehead, on the lips, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He has a long list of reasons he shouldn’t.

“Goodnight, Draco.” You tease, as he stands there. He always did this, lingered for longer than he should. There was something between you. Something unspoken, you knew it. You would die for each other. Feelings like these were dangerous to act on, they were too strong. Surely, you’d end up with a broken heart.

“Will you meet me in the morning, at our spot?” Draco doesn’t ask this of you often, usually only when he needs a close friend. You know something is on his mind when he asks.

You nod, raising a hand to touch his cheek gingerly before you decide to retreat into the darkness of your bedroom. “Of course. Now, get some sleep.” He’s overthinking, he still is even when you touch him. It barely elicits a reaction, at least a noticeable one. He’ll dream of the touch for nights to come.

++

It’s a chilly fall morning, but the sun still decided it was the perfect time to wake you up. You had to meet Draco after breakfast, anyway. The wind whispers outside, reminding you to grab a jacket. It’d be a bone-chilling day. You seem to rush through breakfast, hurriedly telling your friends goodbye.

Draco is sitting against the tree when you arrive, still deep in thought like he hasn’t left his mind since yesterday. He was usually much more talkative during studying, cracking jokes, teasing you. You suppose he has been different since he came back from home. He doesn’t talk about his home life much, but you hear the rumors. You opt to listen to what Draco will tell you personally, which isn’t much.

You sit next to him without a word.

“I was thinking,” Draco starts.

“I can tell.” You take notice of the dark circles underneath his eyes and the disheveled hair. The classic Draco didn’t get any sleep.

He lets out a small chuckle despite the ache in his chest.

Draco spent all of last night, tossing and turning. He had a list of all the reasons it was a stupid idea to start a relationship with you. There was another growing list of reasons why he should, but he couldn’t be naive, he couldn’t give in to childish behavior. He couldn’t be fucking weak.

“I think…” Draco swallows, his thoughts doing a 360. He had the intention of telling you he loved you. “I think we should stop being friends.”

You’re taken aback. “Excuse me?” A 6 year friendship down the fucking drain, just like that? Your face grows warm, your stomach turns.

“I think we’ve grown apart.”

The tears pool in your eyes and you can’t begin to process his words. “Draco-”

“I’m serious, Y/N. I can’t do this.” Draco storms off from your spot by the lake, leaving you alone in the fall weather with a broken and cold heart.

You’re not sure how long you sit there in the bitter weather crying out all your pain.

++

Days pass, weeks pass, and nothing is the same for Draco. His mood worsens. He doesn’t sleep. He has no light in his life, but he knows now that’s all life has in store: darkness.

The two of you pass each other in the hallways, make eye-contact during potions, and dream of each other at night. It’s the only place Draco allows you to be.

A month passes before Draco can’t handle the loneliness anymore. It’s selfish of him, but he wants to see you. Things are stirring up within the darkside of the wizarding world. There’s talk of killing Dumbledore and Draco has yet to prove his allegiance to the Dark Lord. He already suspects that he’ll be tasked to do the job. He hates himself for risking your safety, but regrets not being there to keep you safe. Perhaps, you’d be safer with him. Surely, they would understand. He’s being naive again and he knows it.

He passes a note back to you during potions, he’s surprised you don’t rip it up instantly and throw the pieces in his face. It’s what he did to your heart, but he knows you too well. You would never hurt him like that, not like he did to you.

The note reads, “Our spot, 9 PM.” You roll your eyes, how dare he? He thinks he’s entitled to everything. Despite these thoughts, you put the note inside your robes. You’d return to the thought after you weren’t stressing over the potions homework.

It’s after dinner when you begin to think of him. You decided to go and meet with him. The rumors were dreadful around the school. Draco, a death eater, working for Voldemort. It terrified you, but you wanted to hear the truth from him. You couldn’t imagine the weight upon his shoulders, the family name… You sighed, checking the clock.

Draco stands at the tree. It’s dark, but the lights of the castle illuminate your silhouette.

“Hi, Draco.” You greet him, your demeanor cold, arms crossed. You didn’t expect to welcome him with open arms, not without an explanation, an apology, maybe not even then.

“Y/N.” He struggles with the urge to reach out to you. “I…” He looks away from you. He feels the itching of the mark underneath his robes. The secrets wanting to claw themselves out of him.

“You’re sorry?” You roll your eyes, sitting down at the tree.

You’ll be patient with him, you’ll at least give him that.

He wants to laugh a pathetic laugh. “Yeah.” He takes the spot beside you, arms touching, just like you used to.

“I know.” You respond.

“It’s not enough.”

“No, it’s not.” You gaze at the castle, wondering what had happened over the years. Draco never used to act like this, he was never an overthinker, a worrier. “It’s true, isn’t it?” Never would you bring up the rumors before, Draco hated them. He hated what others would say about his family, about him, about his relationships and his friends. But the world around you was changing. Voldemort was back.

“Yes.” He waits for you to scream at him, to run into the castle and tell everyone it’s true.

You don’t say a word. A hand grips his own. He feels the dark subside momentarily, he feels the light you bring him. You squeeze his hand. You don’t look at each other, there’s tears in both of your eyes. It’s too much to acknowledge that right now.

It’s silent for a while, just savoring the feeling of your hands gripping each other like it’s the only thing grounding you to this world and it is.

“I’m terrified.” This applied to everything in your life. Terrified for him, scared for your relationship, scared for the wizarding world.

“Me too.” He finally looks at you, moving his hand to touch your cheek. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Y/N.” He’s silent for a moment, “To us.”

You melt into his touch, nodding your head. Draco could tell you a complete and utter lie and you would believe him.

Draco knows now that there’s nothing better than knowing you’re loved back. The torment seems to subside when he’s holding you. You sit like this until the lights within the castle begin to fade. Draco offers to walk you back to the dorm. You accept, as always.

You don’t let go of his hand until the very last moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nods, feeling exhausted from the intense emotions. He still doesn’t want to leave your side, but he won’t rush this. He must nurture it, keep it safe and protected, like he promised.

“Goodnight, Draco.” You give him a small smile, still waiting for something spectacular.

He was always waiting for it too and the feeling finally bubbles over and he’s pressing his lips against yours. It’s short and it’s just what you needed. It makes you never want to be away from him. You want to be feeling a part of him always like a way to stay grounded. He presses one last kiss to your forehead, for safe measure.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

[tvpeongsstuff]

Supreme Emperor Obi-Wan Kenobi (part 3)

Palpatine's imperial guards were also unconscious when Obi-Wan made his way up to the emperor's chambers. He had ordered the commanders of the storm troopers to accompany him, and to organize some of their men and the medidroids to carry Sidious and Vader up to the office with them. He had noticed the passed out imperial guards on the senate floor. However, he had not expected that all of Sidious' bodyguards would be unconscious. He was glad that there would not be a fight but wondered if they were all sith. And there the knowledge was, in his brain, as soon as thought.

The guards were not sith or darksiders. Instead they were soldiers, men, who had been chosen by Sidious for their height and lethality. Then he had molded them through dark side practices, with no one to answer to but his own perversions, into his own creatures. More than half of them were cyborgs, not as bad as Vader or Grievous but still more machine than man. Nearly all had had their vocal cords removed. He had tortured these men and steeped them so completely in the dark side that when Vader pulled all the dark energy into himself they had been knocked out.

Obiwan would have to deal with all the unconscious people soon. He suspected that either Vader would drain them until they died or he would suck them dry, forever cutting them off from the force. He directed the storm troopers to put the two sith down on the ground. The two medidroids that had traveled with them all the way to the office were buzzing around all the bodies on the floor.

"Are any of these men going to wake up anytime soon?' Obiwan asked the droids. "No? Good! Do a complete scan and give me the details. Do not administer any drugs to any of the unconscious people in this room," Obiwan paused thinking, "This order must be implemented for all of the unconscious people in the building. Make sure that every medic knows that at this time only the storm troopers are to receive medication. They are to treat the physical injuries of every other person with bandages only. I repeat no other group is to receive medication. And, unless someone is in danger of dying without it, only use bacta on the stormtroopers."

Obi-Wan did not know how drugs would affect the hold Vader had on the darksiders. He did not want anyone to wake up before he could get them properly secured. To that end, Obi-Wan turned to the storm trooper commanders in the office with him. In the force they felt familiar but muted. He did not want to raise his hopes. "Take off your buckets," he commanded.

As they complied, he steeled himself. "What are your orders, Supreme Emperor Kenobi?" said Cody. "Cody," gasped Obiwan. And, it was Cody, he looked around, and Boil, Appo, Driven, Marks, Sweet, Genna, and Dave. Men he had lived and served with. Was there something there of their old personalities? Their real personalities? "Cody,' Obiwan said again. "Do you remember me?"

"Yes Sir," replied Cody, "and I must say that I am glad that you are no longer a traitor." Obi-Wan wanted to scream at him. He wanted to make him understand that he had never been a traitor. No Jedi had been. No Jedi, but one. Back to the matter at hand.

Obi-Wan began, "Order 66 has been cancelled. Are you holding any Jedi or force sensitive captive? They are to be released from custody. Any on Coruscant are to be brought here immediately. I want to speak to the ones who are being held off planet. In the meantime, arrange untraceable transport and food for them. Also find travel companions for any who are too young to travel by themselves. And, get enough binders for all of the unconscious people.

You there," he said turning to one of the medidroids. "How are your patients?"

"I am ZT-57. The patients are unconscious but otherwise their vitals are good." said the droid. "Five of them have cybernetic limbs and hardware throughout their bodies. Four also have an implant that is injecting an unknown stimulant into their bodies. One has the implant but it is not currently injecting the stimulant."

A stimulant!? Obi-Wan turned to Sidious and the information was there. His imperial guards were fitted with a device imbued with dark side energy and spacemeth that would trigger rage and aggression if the emperor were ever threatened. It was one of Sidious' back up plans to keep power. They would battle to the death and feel no pain.

It must have been triggered when Sidious collapsed in the Senate, Obi-Wan figured. But, Vader was pulling the darkness from the solution which knocked the guard out. And, apparently, Vaders' actions were more than enough to overpower the stimulant. Obi-Wan wondered if he could allow the inquisitors to be treated with medication if Vader's pull was that strong. But he decided not to risk it until he was sure that they were secure.

What about Vader? Vader's device injected a special concoction of spacemeth and sithstimulant into Vader twice a day. One early in the morning to give him energy to get up and go. And, another at night to keep him working and focused. All told, Vader probably got no more than an hour or two of rest a day. "No wonder he was still sleeping" Obi-Wan thought.

He could not have the drug waking Vader up and stopping this. Obi-Wan reached out with the force and found and broke all the devices in the building. He would have the medidroids remove them from the men at a later date. Right now, it was enough that they were not going to wake up. Especially as he had a more urgent use for the medidroids.

"ZT-57, I need you to run a level 5 brain scan on the storm troopers. They have biochips that need to be removed." Obi-Wan said.

"Sir?" Cody sounded confused.

"Commander Cody. Have you carried out the orders I gave you earlier?"

"Yes Sir," he replied. "There were only 5 Jedi on planet. They are being brought here as we speak. They should be here in approximately 25 minutes. 6 Jedi are being held in facilities off-world. You can begin calling them in 15 minutes.."

"Why 15 minutes?" Obi-Wan interjected.

"They are to be cleaned up and given food and water. I thought you would prefer that their needs were met before you talked to them. I am in the process of arranging companions for the younglings. I thought that you would prefer it if the companions were not clones or officers of the empire. We have 2213 binders."

Obi-Wan did not ask him to explain further. He could only imagine what had been done to the captives. The initiatives that Cody took on his own gave him hope that the man he knew in the war was still there.

"Do you want to know why I am removing your biochips? Obi-Wan asked with a smile.

"No Sir," the commander responded promptly. "Good soldiers follow orders."

Obi-Wan felt sick.

"Scan done." said ZT-57. "We have the location of the biochip and can begin removing them as soon as you are ready."

"You will do the surgery here and now. Can it be done under local anesthetic?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Yes Emperor. Are you sure you want us to carry out brain surgery in the imperial office? I cannot be sure that the area is sterile. These are not optimum conditions for surgery!" The medidroid sounded worried but Obi-Wan did not care. Unless...

"Will the men be permanently injured in some way if you did the surgery here?" he asked.

"No Emperor," the other droid said quietly. "We can do it. Just know that it is not without risk." At Obi-Wan's look, he continued, "There is a 0.0004% chance that doing the surgery here might lead to infection of the wound."

"I'll risk it. Are the biochips in the same place in all of the troopers?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes Emperor," said ZT-57.

"Send the location of the biochips to all of the medidroids in the building. You will operate on Commanders Cody and Appo now. How long will the surgery take?"

"We will have to shave the area, then sterilize it, before we can do the surgery, So about 10 minutes." said ZT-57

Ten minutes? In 10 minutes Obi-Wan would know if he had his friends back. He would know for sure if the biochip had destroyed the men they were and replaced them with automatons that did not question orders and found it easy to kill children.

He could barely stand the wait.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Two

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x OFC Baast’Mal

Warnings: I’m making this up as a go, Canon divergent from the series during chapter 13, mild violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

Baast woke to the scent of cooking meat. It made her stomach rumble and mouth salivate but also confused her. There had been no one in her life for many years. There should be no one to cook. Her eyes snapped open, prepared to fight whoever had found her.

Then her eyes fell on Din playing with Grogu, and it all came flooding back. He spoke softly through the modulator, encouraging the boy to float the small silver ball from Din's hand to Grogu's.

When the child succeeded, Din whispered a pleased, "Dank farrik!"

Baast almost purred, watching him with the child. He made an excellent father, and she was of an age to desire a mate, a home, a pride. But a warrior like him deserved someone better than a broken Zentari. It mattered not that her soul cried out whenever he touched her without the barrier of his gloves.

He'd stripped them off yesterday, and she could smell him—the spicy scent of masculine soap blending seamlessly with the musk of a man warm in his beskar. But the underlying scent of Din Djarin was that of the sandy dunes of her homeworld. He smelled of warm winds and dusky plains, of tall grasses whipped by fragrant breezes. 

He smelled like home. 

The stars were cruel indeed to drop her in the lap of the one made for her.

She watched them for a time as he encouraged Grogu. Their bond was strong, too strong if the Jedi were to be believed. Such attachments bred fear for the one they loved, and fear lent itself to the Darkside. 

The idea of Grogu's pure soul becoming tainted made her ache, and though she said she couldn't help them, Baast knew she must. Grogu deserved a chance to grow up on the side of good. 

She sat up, drawing Din's notice, the man turning toward her across the fire. 

"Morning."

Baast wondered at the voice behind the modulator. Would it be deeper? More robust? Would it be even more pleasing than this one that stroked fingers of violent want through her blood?

"Good morning," she murmured, voice husky still with sleep. 

Before she could ask, the canteen he carried on his belt was in his hand. "Drink?"

She nodded, catching it easily when he tossed it to her. "Thank you. I'm not used to morning conversations anymore. Or any conversations in some years."

"You've done well, evading capture until now. Now, the Tribe will help."

"The Tribe," she whispered. "I've been alone for so long." The idea of being part of something was both appealing and terrifying. "I look forward to meeting your Alor."

"She will be glad to meet you. They all will. Everyone will hope-" He cut himself off, busying himself with the lizard cooking over the fire. 

"Mando, they should not hope for what I do not think I can give," she sighed, lifting Grogu to her lap when he shuffled over.

"You don't know for sure you can't bond, Baast. Give it time."

Time was all she had. Life was a long thing for a Zentari alone in the universe. 

Small green hands gently touched her cheeks, causing her to look down at Grogu. He cooed a sweet noise as she gazed into big, dark eyes. They were expressive in their own right, and she felt herself falling, diving once more into his mind. 

The images came fast and furious. Din running, fighting, killing, but almost always alone. 

Baast closed her eyes as pain washed through her for the Mandalorian. "I cannot," she whispered to the child. "It would not be fair."

Grogu frowned at her before squealing loudly. More images filled her mind, these of a man reckless with his safety, one who had little to nothing to live for. 

She gasped and wrenched her face away from his hands, but it didn't stop the flow of ridiculousness. Kriff! The man had a death wish!

When Grogu disappeared from her lap, only then did he release her from his grasp. 

Baast sent the green menace a glare. "That was entirely rude."

He smiled and blew a raspberry. 

"I'm sorry," Din murmured, holding the child away like Grogu was a danger.

She held up her hand, continuing to glare. "Do not apologize for something he did. It sets a poor president. Invading my mind is bad manners, little one. Disregarding another's desires is a step down a dark path. This will not be allowed."

"Dark path?" Din asked. 

"The Jedi and the Sith. One force believes in peace and passivity. The other wants power and are often corrupted by that passionate desire, both use the Force. He has the potential to be extremely powerful, but with that power comes responsibility. It is a razor's edge to walk, one I am not confident I have the skill to help him navigate."

Din straightened, but his shoulders lowered, relaxing his posture. "You'll help him? I didn't want to bring it up, but I'm running out of options."

"Yes," she sighed. "I know of one who may be able to help him, but I do not know if he will come at my call. Where is your covert?" He said nothing, and Baast tilted her head in apology. "That was an improper question. Forgive me."

"Always," he murmured.

She wondered if that would still be true should he learn what Grogu already suspected. "If I am to make contact, it must be from Tatooine."

"Why Tatooine?"

"Because it is the planet we agreed upon." She turned toward the fire and the spit of roasting meat before looking up at Din. "Have you eaten?" 

The movement was subtle, a single negative action.

Baast hummed and reached for the cloth that tied her pants' to her calf and began to unwrap it. 

"What are you doing?"

She ignored him and continued until her pant leg fluttered free. The cloth was only a couple inches wide, but it was long and thick enough to make an adequate blindfold. 

She lifted it to her eyes, only for his hand to shoot out and grab her wrist. It felt odd for him to touch her with the slightly cracked but soft leather of a glove now that she knew the feel of his skin.

"You don't need to do that."

Baast blinked slowly, gaze drifting to his hand before returning to the visor where his eyes would be. "It is not a need but a want. I will do this, Din Djarin, so that you may eat freely with the child and I. This is the Way."

"It is unnecessary."

She unfolded, rising gracefully to stand before him, wrist yet held in his grasp. "When last did you eat?"

He said nothing.

She tilted her head and held out the cloth. "I have not shared a meal with another in many years. I would share this meal with you and Grogu. Allow me to honour your Creed."

There was no sound, no movement beyond what Grogu contributed to the conversation in small burbles of noise. The Mandalorian was still and silent, a hunter in all things.

Baast waited, quiet, calm. After so many years in a cell, the forest gave her peace, but those years had taught her patience. She could wait for eternity for his decision. She had the time, after all.

What went on behind the helmet, she couldn't know, but eventually, he set Grogu down, released her wrist, and took the blindfold. "Turn around."

She did so, pushing her hair back to uncover her ears. "If possible, try not to cover them. The tips are sensitive, and the fabric will feel abrasive."

The cloth came down over her eyes, hooked behind her ears, and crossed at the back of her head. 

"Again," she murmured. "I can still see."

Twice more, the fabric circled before he tied a knot. 

Her senses heightened, hearing, smell, and the sixth sense that had been with her all her life. The Force resonated in every living thing, glowing and pulsing, connecting all of them. She could see it like an orange glow, thin lines and thick, veining out around them. 

"Good?"

"Yes." The heat of the fire warmed her skin, but before she could move, Din took her hand and elbow. 

"Kneel. I'll get you some food."

Baast followed his direction, aware of the bright light that was Grogu coming to her side. He placed his hand on hers, flooding Baast with a gentle apology. She turned her hand over to hold his little claws.

A quiet hiss filled her ears, causing her to turn toward Din. The beskar blocked some of his energy, the Force somehow muted by it. Then he lifted off his helmet. 

It took every effort to restrain herself from gasping. He glowed white, the shining brightness of a sun. Shock left her mute as she tracked the supernova that was this Mandalorian as he set down his helmet and removed the spit from the fire. He pulled off a piece of meat, maybe a leg, she couldn't quite tell, and brought it to her. 

"Here." The deep baritone was like the softest of silk to her senses. 

Baast held out her hands for the meat. His bare fingers grazed her palm as the hot meal hit her flesh, and grease trickled through her fingers. 

"Thank you," she managed to force from a throat gone tight with emotion. 

"It's hot. Be careful."

She stuffed down the aching need to reach out and feel the lips that produced such a voice and smiled crookedly instead. "Too long have you travelled with only Grogu for company."

He chuckled. "Perhaps."

Another wave of needy desire hit her, but Baast fought it off. She would not doom him to a half-life with an unfinished bond.

She ate and made sure he ate once Grogu was fed, asking questions about the child and how they came to be together simply to keep him talking. His voice was a balm to a soul grown used to silence.

When they finally finished their meal, she waited for him to return his helmet and come to release the blindfold. His hands were deft, skilled, and careful not to pull her hair.

Baast blinked to adjust to the quickly blooming daylight, then retied her pant leg as Din smothered the fire. She reached for Grogu and stood, ready to leave. 

"I can carry him."

She tilted her head, already missing the gentle ebb and flow of the Force from him, now encased in all that beskar. "Do you object to me carrying him because you think I am weak or out of principle because he is your foundling?"

"Uh…"

She arched a brow. "Do not underestimate me, Mando. I live because I am jatnese be te jatnese. The best of the best."

"I know what it means," he huffed.

"Then stop being ori'buyce, kih'kovid," she smirked. "I will care for the child as you have cared for me."

"Atin," he muttered. 

She didn't protest because, yes, she was stubborn.

"Fine." She could almost hear a pout in his modulated voice as he turned and marched out of their temporary camp. "And I'm not all helmet," he grumbled, likely thinking she couldn't hear him.

Baast smirked and gave Grogu a wink. "Come along, ad'ika. We weak ones best keep up with the big strong Mandalorian," she teased.

"I will leave you behind."

She grinned at his back. "No, you will not."

***

By the time they reached the Razor Crest, he was sweating in his beskar again, but with the luxury of the fresher within sight, Din didn't let it bother him.

He disarmed the ground defences and lowered the hatch, heading inside to get them underway. He wanted off the planet before anyone else thought to come looking for Baast'mal. 

Hopefully, the Alor would know who to bribe to falsify a new chain code for her. Either that, or there would be an all-out war to eliminate the threat and bounty on her head. Or, she would spend the rest of her life hunted by the Empire.

He hated that thought. Baast was not a creature who should spend her life hiding. She should be allowed out into the light, a creature of hope and beauty. 

Though he hadn't seen the true colour of her eyes, the rest of her was so mesh'la, when he'd removed his helmet, it had momentarily taken his breath. And without the helmet, her scent had filled his nose like something he'd loved and long forgotten. It was warm, soft, and decadent, all things a Mandalorian put off when he put on the beskar. 

It was getting harder and harder to keep his hands to himself.

She closed the ramp and followed him to the ladder, climbing up with Grogu to slip into the seat back and to his right.

"Once we've left the atmosphere, you're welcome to the fresher, food, whatever you need," he offered, getting them airborne.

"Do I smell?"

He froze. "That wasn't what-"

Her laugher, that throaty purr, cut him off. "It's fine, Mando. An actual fresher after years of lakes and waterfalls will be pleasant."

"Hm. I have to make a stop on Nevarro, then another before we go to Tatooine. Is there anything you need?"

"Clothing. A cloak. And a weapon."

They cleared the planet, and he made the jump into hyperspace before turning around. "What kind?"

"Short sabres or staff will do."

He watched her pet Grogu's ears, gently using those long claws in such a fashion the kid was almost comatose in bliss. She sat with one foot propped on the seat, comfortably leaning on the armrest. He wondered if her skin would begin to lose its sun-kissed nature now that she was off-world.

"How did you learn to fight?" he asked, forcing himself not to think about her skin and how soft it was. 

"Mandalorians are not the only warrior race. Zentari are taught from birth; the rest I learned from the idiots who held me captive. They sought to make me a weapon or a slave, with that came training, but Zentari are not so easily coerced, nor do we forget the slaughter of thousands. I am no weak-minded individual to be controlled by some Sith," she spat.

"Sith?" He knew next to nothing about Force-wielders and felt the lack of knowledge acutely. 

"They oppose all things the Jedi stand for, desiring power over peace or balance. They corrupt what they touch.."

"And how does a Zentari hold out against someone so powerful?" He didn't wish to insult her, but surely a child against a master Sith couldn't win.

She sighed and looked away, watching the lights of hyperspace. "Zentari are neither good nor evil. We are Force neutral. The blood bonds distinguish much of our future. To avoid creating bonds with those that would bring harm was why Zentarus was so well hidden. But someone betrayed us. They used to brag about it, the Imps. How one who we trusted gave us up to the Empire."

"If you are Force neutral, why allow Mandalorians to know of Zentarus? Why let us come seeking mates?"

She shot those vibrant eyes back in his direction. "Because the Way was honourable once. Perhaps, at some point, Mandalore was led astray by their leader, but that was not our doing. Those that came to us knew the Way. They humbled themselves before us, and if they were denied, they left knowing such was not their destiny. Those who came knowing not the Way… did not leave Zentarus alive."

"Then I am glad I knew the Way," he murmured, wondering who would have won between the two of them had she not revealed herself.

"As am I," she nodded, looking as regal as the Sand Panther she claimed in her blood.

"Were the Jedi not part of your Way?"

She scowled. "The Jedi saw us as a threat. Naturally born Force users who required little training to do much of what they could, who lived for generations, and who were neither good nor evil. They feared what would happen if we were corrupted. An attempt was made to wipe us out. It failed, and we Zentari veiled Zentarus from those who knew not where to look."

"And that's why you didn't want to help us," he sighed, realizing the untenable position he'd put her in.

She stood, placing the sleeping Grogu down on her seat before taking the step she needed to stand between his spread knees. Her hands lifted to land lightly on the sides of his helmet, gliding over the metal. "It is no longer a want but a need. I will not watch Grogu fall to the side of the Sith because of my fear of the Jedi. He must be trained."

She leaned down and rested her forehead against his helmet as long lashes veiled her eyes. "This is the Way."

Without his permission, Din's hands found her hips and drew her incrementally closer. "I will protect you, Baast."

"We will protect each other."

He hummed his agreement and wondered at the low ripple of sound vibrating through his chest.

Next chapter

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain: Chapter 703: Minas Levain:  Part II/III

"Wait?" Yang asked, "Does that means he actually wants her to give him a blowjob?"

"She's hot," Jaune stated, "and cute, but as I said, I'm not looking for more wives. Four is plenty."

"Then, perchance?.." Weiss asked.

"I was raised to mean what I say." Jaune replied, "Kind of important for a knight and whatnot, but, I honestly believe that the only way this is going to work is if we are completely honest with each other. We're here for each other, and no one is being forced into this."

"He does have a point." Ruby said, "Wait, does that mean you are going to spank us if we lie?"

"Yes." Jaune simply stated.

"I didn't think I was asking?.." Ruby asked.

"Rhetorical." Weiss stated.

"Literal." Blake said, looking at Jaune, "So, my choices here are let Aurora stay in exchange for blowing Jaune when we need it, or getting a spanking."

"You should go for the spanking." Yang said, and everyone quickly looked at her.

"Qrow did say you are like Raven?" Ruby asked.

"What does mom have to do with this?" Yang asked.

"That you seem to take after your mother." Weiss stated, "And aside from her hair, once you think about it, the resemblance is uncanny."

"And you called her mom." Blake stated.

"What does Raven have to do with this?" Yang asked.

"Nice save, sis." Ruby said to her.

"Uh-huh, yeah, thanks..." Yang sarcastically said.

"I do think we should be completely honest with each other." Weiss stated.

"Even if we get spankings?" Ruby asked her.

"If my pert posterior has to be sacrificed?.." Weiss happily asked.

"Try not to sound too eager." Yang said to her.

"...then it will be sufficient if it means harmony amongst our family." Weiss finished.

"So?," Ruby nervously asked, "are... we going to let Aurora give Jaune blowjobs, or?.."

"Am I the only one who's ever given one?" Blake asked. Ruby and Weiss would be expected, but Blake just glared at Yang.

"I may..." Yang voiced, "or may not - be all talk. I've never actually..." she said, and trailed off.

"You have?" Ruby asked, "How was it?"

"Nothing quite like that feeling of direct sevice..." Blake whistfully said, "though, my memories... I'd rather replace them with someone who's not a monster, nor will turn into one."

"Are you?.." he said and paused, "That confident in me?" Jaune asked her.

"Of all of us here, you are the least likely to turn to the darkside."

"The I don't give a fuckery," Yang stated, "is strong with him."

"Stolid." Blake quipped, and Weiss eagerly nodded at that.

"Implacable." Weiss added.

"Even when I was... you know... crying?.." Jaune asked.

"Give the circumstances," Weiss stated, "that was understandable."

"The ancients created tragedies to give men an excuse to cry." Blake added, "But the pain of that loss marked your soul. I can see the scar burning, a scar you never want to happen again."

Tears started to form on Jaune's face.

"What about me?" Ruby asked, raising her hand.

"You," Blake said to her, "are like me, you can do the wrong thing because you believe it's right. I honestly don't know what I believe anymore."

"What about me?" Yang sheepishly asked.

"Your strength needs strength to temper it." Blake said to her.

"And... if I might ask?.." Weiss asked.

Blake looked her deep in the eyes, "What you want most is to do what is right." Subtle tears started to form on Weiss' face.

"And?.." Yang asked.

"And?," Blake asked Yang, and looked back to Weiss, "what is that?" Weiss looked lost and distant in reply. "That's the thing." Blake stated, "we don't have to do this alone." She stepped forward to embrace Weiss in a deep hug. "We love you." Blake whispered, and then stepped back. "To think I'd love a Schnee. You were like Satan or Dark Brother."

"And, no offence," Weiss stated, "but you as well."

Yang powerfully punched her fists together, "Heaven help us. Hell's afraid of us."

"The power of RWJBY!" (ruj-by) Ruby exclaimed.

"I do believe we need to work on that." Weiss stated.

"Or we just call ourselves Arcs." Blake stated, "That is how it traditionally works."

"Because we're so traditonal." Jaune sarcastically stated.

"A knight and his concubines?" Weiss asked.

"Well, yeah?," Yang asked, "but wouldn't one of us be his wife?" Weiss and Blake looked at her curiously, "I mean, the knights always had wives right?, and concubines aren't wives, which means he had to have a wife and maybe concubines?" RWBY eyed each other narrowly, as if a fight could break out at any time.

"No fighting!" Jaune's deep baritone stated, and the girls quickly relaxed.

"Now that this is resolved," Weiss said, and looked at Blake, "don't think we forgot what you said about Aurora."

"Are we really doing this?" Blake asked.

"Indeed." Weiss stated.

"But?.." Blake asked, and then trailed off. "No, I'm the one who said it, so I'll have to stand by it."

"Who knew Blake was that kinky?" Yang asked.

"I suspected." Weiss said to her, and then turned to Aurora. "Aurora?" Aurora simply nodded. "Well, now that this is out in the open, I'll have to object."

"WHAT?!" Blake and Yang shouted.

"Did you really think I would accept this?" Weiss asked.

"I'm honestly completely lost here." Yang stated.

"I knew you would decline." Aurora stated.

"Then?.." Weiss asked.

"Then," Aurora said, "I have made myself clear."

"And then," Jaune stated, "she can't stay in the master's apartments."

"You heard his daddy voice." Yang stated.

"I'd pefer a mommy voice." Aurora said, and then with a shocked look, looked about bashfully.

"Well, that explains it." Blake stated.

"Explains what?" Weiss asked.

"She's a lesbian submissive." Blake stated nonchalantly.

"That," Yang voiced, "doesn't really explain as much as you think it does."

"Hm?" Blake asked, and Yang vigorously pointed between Aurora and Jaune.

"I think we've embarassed her enough for the moment." Jaune stated, "Aurora?," he asked, "guest apartments or servants quarters?"

"The guests apartments are closer to my mistress," she stated, "unless they are otherwise needed, in which case I will take the servants quarters."

"She's part of the family, isn't she?" Ruby asked, and everyone looked at her.

"Yes," Blake said with a smile, "just not in that way."

"Alright," Jaune stated, "I'm going to go check out the kitchen. Assuming Contrary is going to explore the library."

"I will accompany Jaune-dear," Weiss stated, "and prepare us coffee."

"The library is like an entire floor, so I'm sure she's going to love it." Yang stated.

"And what are the sisters going to do?" Weiss asked asked.

"I know this is going to sound corny," Yang replied, "but I'm going to guard our... apartments."

Before she knew what was happening, Jaune had pulled her in for a passionate kiss, causing Ruby to huff. When Jaune pulled away he opened his arms, and in a burst of rose petals Ruby was there, and he picked her to kiss her before putting her back down.

"Ruby?" Weiss asked.

"I'm going to see how Ilia is doing." Ruby stated.

"Very well." Weiss said, and gave her a peck on the cheek. * * *

Ruby used Crescent Rose to launch herself from the roof of the tower. Mid-way she burst into rose petals to cover the remaining distance. She reverted as she landed on the roof of the turret. She looked at the parapets, unsure of what they were. I mean, all castles had them, right? She looked around, opened the trap door, and started running down the stairway. The turret was round, about 20-30 feet across that descended anticlockwise. It was about four floors high, but the floors were much lower than the main tower. More like a regular house. The 4th floor was a large, open room with 3 beds. Ruby Petal Burst across the room to the next flight of stairs down. She got down on all fours and looked at the 3rd floor, to see Ilia looking through drawings. "Hey!" Ruby exclaimed, and Ilia turned towards her.

"Hello." she said.

"Getting comfy?" Ruby asked, and Ilia just looked at her for a moment.

"Yes." she said. "I've never been comfortable in luxury..."

"It is like REALLY BIG." Ruby stated, "But also REALLY OLD. Nora and Ren have gone to look for the ghost."

Ilia smiled, "I doubt there's a ghost."

"Well, yeah, but," Ruby stated, "REALLY OLD. And it's all ours. Isn't it exciting?"

Ilia turned to sit on a bed. She was still smiling, just a bit more weak than before, "It's all yours." Ilia stated. "I'm just tagging along. You are Huntresses, and I'm?.." Ilia asked, and flopped back on her bed, "an... assassin?" Ruby ran down on all fours and ended up at the end of Ilia's bed. When Ruby didn't say anything, Ilia nervously lifted her head. "That... isn't?.."

"You WERE an assassin!" Ruby said, wagging her tail.

With this Ilia sat up and looked at her questioningly, "Isn't that," she nervously voiced, "a problem?"

"I really don't know?" Ruby asked, "I mean, everyone else seems good with it, and I'm not really the best socially... Jaune's happy to have you."

"He is?" Ilia asked.

"He relies on you." Ruby stated.

"Doesn't make me part of the family."

"FFIINNE!" Ruby exclaimed, "We'll just hire you."

"As a what?," Ilia asked, "assassin?"

"I don't know?" Ruby asked, and stood up properly, "What's between Huntress and assassin?" Ilia just rolled her eyes. "Okay?," Ruby asked, "but Uncle Qrow was apparently a bandit, and he's still my uncle."

"So?.." Ilia nervously asked, looking at her hands, "you're... fine with it..."

"Nope." Ruby said with glee, "I mean... this is awkward... that an inside joke with me and Jaune." She stood up properly, pointing at Ilia, "Anyways!, you can't change what you've done, but you want to help us save the world, so you can't be all bad, can you?"

Ilia flopped back on the bed, and her colours changed to camouflage herself into it. Ruby pounced on Ilia. "As someone who hides in her cloak, I know how well that doesn't work."

"Can't you leave me to mope?" Ilia.

"Nope," Ruby excitedly said as she stood from the bed and held our her hand, "Weiss is making Coffeee." Ilia took Ruby's hand and let herself get pulled to her feet.

[mvchinery]

continued from here for luke skywalker / @galaxywon​​​ !

she’d tried so hard. she’d restrained herself twice now --- on the falcon, at the party. ignored the fury roaring in her ears, unlike anything she had ever felt before. mara wasn’t a darksider, not quite. she was the emperor’s experiment, somewhere in between. she was fallen, but not too far. this anger --- this power --- this was all dark. it choked her, twisting through her system, awful & exhilarating & overwhelming, polar opposite to her characteristic restraint.

KILL LUKE SKYWALKER.

she had ignored her master’s last order long enough. she had spent her whole life following him, given him her loyalty, not the empire. & now, with their bond exploited, forcing his feelings, his will upon her in this cloud of anger --- she didn’t suspect it for a moment. why would she ? she had always been able to feel him so strongly. her purple saber hummed in her hands, the light jagged on her sharp features. it felt right. skywalker had taken everything from her, hadn’t he ? hadn’t he ? she would have his head.

“the emperor wants you dead.” he would always be a living thing to her, his ghost on her shoulder. her guide. this was not how mara would have done it --- as much as she liked her vengeance, she was a clever killer, a trained assassin. someone as dangerous as skywalker would not have been given a chance to see her coming. but the fury was roaring in her ears, making her head spin with it, & she couldn’t stop herself. “i’ve never failed him. i won’t now.” mara was a good soldier. a good daughter.

[tessathaitea]

Executed?

Ok, so I’ve been dared to do an entire fanfic on Anisoka, which isn’t my favorite ship but it isn’t terrible so here we go. Up above is the fanfic cover that I made and the title on wattpad. Here’s chapter one. 

“If you believe me guilty, then so be it. Just know that tonight, an innocent life will be taken.” Ahsoka said, trying to put on a brave face. Inside, she was trembling with fear. She hadn’t bombed the temple, but she was being framed. There was nothing she could do but accept the fact that she was going to die. 

“Just-” her voice cracked. She took another deep breath. “Just tell Master Skywalker that I’m sorry.” 

With that, the signal to execute her was given. She felt the clone who was to do it hesitate, but she felt through the force that he would still carry out the task of her execution. After all, he was a clone. Clones had to obey orders.

One, two, three shoots of pain. She fell to the ground, her body and lekku covered in blood. Her vision flickered, but she was still alive. The clone noticed it also, so he shot her one last time. This time, it went straight through her heart. 

Then, in her last, brief look at the world, Ahsoka saw her master running towards her with tears streaming down his face. Then, her world went black. She felt someone pick her up, and lay a kiss on her forehead. Ahsoka knew it was her master, and sighed. She had a crush on her master even before she was his padawan, but knew he would never return the feelings. Ahsoka also hadn’t been willingly to give up being a Jedi for unrequited love. If she’d known the council would’ve thrown her under the speeder like that, she might’ve given up the prospect of being a Jedi.

Ahsoka Tano let her spirit bind with the force one last time. She felt as if she were floating as she was everything and nothing. If she concentrated, she could feel the ability to manifest into her force ghost. She wouldn’t do that now. 

She watched as her body dissolved into the force, her master still crying over her clothing. Ahsoka watched as he grabbed her choker from the bundle of clothes and put it around his neck, tucking it under his robes.

Well, at least he was still his sappy self. Ahsoka watched her master grab her clothes and stalk out of the room, not talking to anyone, but Ahsoka knew where he was going. He was going to his quarters in the Jedi temple. Or possibly to Padme’s somewhere else, but she doubted it. She suspected the couple had broken up last month over some silly argument.

She willed herself through the force, but found that Anakin had already beat her to his quarters. He looked as if he were beating himself up about her death, which he most definitely was. Her old master was talking to himself again, which he probably was.

“-just as I was about to ask you. The galaxy works in cruel ways doesn’t it, Snips.” he said sadly, fiddling with something in his hands. She jumped, thinking that he could see her. Then Ahsoka realized he was talking to himself.

Ahsoka turned around, and nearly screamed when she saw herself in the mirror. She was older, about seventeen, her lekku longer and her montrals were more prominent. Instead of her akul teeth, there was a metal band with orange rectangles on the side. She was in a black bodysuit that had a skirt, high-heel boots, and gloves. Just her season 7 self.

The next week, Anakin talked to himself again.

“You know, I really thought they would clear your name. I was even planning on it, as I predicted that you’d leave the order. But I promise you this. I won’t ever take a padawan again. Nor will I ever fall in love with anyone else except for you,” he murmured, and Ahsoka made a really weird noise in her throat, and Anakin turned around, looking for the intruder. He looked right past her, but with immense concentration she formed her force ghost for the second time (she thought it shouldn’t be called a force ghost, because you can touch anything and not flow through it if you don’t want to). 

“Hey, master,” she said, her voice quavering. Her old master stared at her, eyes wide. He ran her fingers along her jawline, and before she could register what happened, he engulfed her in a hug and she was squished in his arms. Ahsoka felt his chin resting on her montrals, though it felt kind of weird because of the whole force ghost thing. 

She felt like a little child again, and safe from harm. Anakin suddenly pulled away, and she looked up at him and could see the light blush on his cheeks. 

The next thing she knew, her former master had his lips pressed against hers, and she was kissing him back. After what felt like an eternity, they finally pulled apart. His eyes were sparkling.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured. She smirked at him.

“Yeah? How long then?” she said teasingly. He flushed in embarrassment.

“Since I first saw you training when I was a padawan.” In this fanfic Ahsoka was sixteen when she died and Anakin was eighteen, so not that much of a difference. In this fanfic, younglings don’t become padawans until 15.

“Anakin, I’ve been training since I was three years old. You’re going to have to be more specific,” she said. He just shook his head. 

She felt her energy draining fast. Keeping a force ghost that could stay in the physical world for more than 30 minutes was tiring, and she was running out of energy fast.

“Skyguy, I’ve got to go. It’s hard to keep a ghost thing up, but I’ll try to visit tomorrow alright?” she said, kissing him on the cheek. He nodded sadly and she faded back into the force, feeling the energy flowing once more through her spirit.

She walked through the door, and leaned up against the wall. She wanted nothing more than to go and comfort Anakin, though scaring and telling off most of the council came in a close second. She supposed she could go check how Master Plo was doing, as he was the closest thing to a father she had. 

Ahsoka felt herself wandering through the halls of the temple, finally ending up in the council room. They were as close as they could be to arguing, and from what she heard she assumed it was the matter of her death.

“Well now we find out that she was innocent, and we murdered her. We violated the laws of our own code for kriff’s sake! What has the Jedi council become? Sentencing a padawan to death because there was the slightest chance of her committing a crime? Right now and then, we were no different than the Sith,” said Obi-Wan, his hands over his face. Since she was now one with the force, she could feel the waves of regret and sadness washing over him. 

Ahsoka was then reminded that the moment that her loyalties were even questioned, she had been turned on. Her only family, just because there was a possibility it was her, turned on her willingly.

Emotions crashed down on her, pounding her relentlessly. Pain, grief, sadness, and anger. She fell onto her knees, tears streaming down her face. She was a Jedi. She shouldn’t feel these emotions, as they would lead her to the darkside. But something compelled her to. It wasn’t sinister, no. 

It was The Force. It wanted Ahsoka to show the Jedi her pain, and show them their mistakes. It also chided her that it wasn’t her destiny to become a Jedi. The Force told her she would find a different path, one of balance between light and dark. The path of the fabled Grey Jedi. She would be free to love as it was essential to the balance of light and dark. She would feel hatred, but would not let it fuel her. Ahsoka would feel compassion, yet still make attachments.

She let loose the emotions and The Force around the council swirled, making a scene from her mind. 

“Something to show us, The Force has,” said Master Yoda. They watched as the scenes replayed in her mind, but feeling what she was feeling. Ahsoka felt her Force Ghost forming but when she looked at her hands she saw they were turning into the regular orange color. 

The replaying of her thoughts stopped, and she began to feel dizzy. She had recently gotten used to her new force form of body, but now it was becoming real and she was disoriented. She felt the council’s collected gasp, and her heart pumping in her chest. She was alive. 

“She must live, The Force has decided,” said Yoda again, and Obi-Wan rushed to her side. 

“Anakin,” was all she managed to mutter before falling into a deep sleep. 

When she woke up, there was a glaring white light on the ceiling. She climbed out of the bed and saw Anakin sitting on the desk with his head in his hands. Was he sleeping?

“Anakin?” she muttered, shaking his shoulder. He woke up slowly, but started blinking rapidly when he saw her. 

“Ahsoka?” he said in bewilderment. She nodded, and flashed him a smile. Anakin stood up, and grabbed her by the shoulders. 

“How are you alive?” he asked. His piercing blue eyes looked on the verge of tears. Ahsoka looked at herself again. She had an actual body, but had no clue why or how she was alive.

“If I’m being honest? I don’t really know. The Force told me that I was to become a Gray Jedi, and here I am. It also spoke to me that another would be joining me soon,” she said, looking down and fidgeting. 

Anakin lifted her chin up, and gave her a peck on the lips. Ahsoka smiled, and he laughed out loud. She was about to ask what he was laughing about, but he beat her to it. 

“Now I don’t have to deal with my girlfriend being dead, or the fact that I wouldn’t ever see you except for thirty minutes at a time,”  he said. 

They both laughed. The future was uncertain for Ahsoka, but she knew that Anakin would always be at her side. Possibly a little too much.

[mother-snake]

So: coldblooded creatures hibernate when it gets cold, and I heard that they can kinda be forced to hibernate by making the area cold for a really long time (not sure if it’s real or from fiction). And what if someone (*cough cough* evil darkside oc *cough cough) made it cold so he would be forced into hibernation? -✨

(I might end up sending in a few more prompts, I have taken several naps and I’m energized)

words: 1409 tags: @idkanameatall @imma-potatoo @girl-with-many-fandoms warnings: cold tempatures (?), hybernation(?) angst. sad snek times.

He looked around the dark scape shivering. He could see his own breath, and he knew only the worst could come from that. he hadn’t been forced to hibernate for a while. So, he knew the darks were either angry at him or planning something. He hoped the small hint he had left in Virgil's room would be enough to notify them of his situation before he ended up too deep.

He felt sluggish and seemed to be constantly yawning. Cup of coffee after cup of coffee could only do so much for a time before caffeine did nothing. loud music didn’t help. In fact, the songs seemed to almost lure him into a peaceful slumber quicker. blankets and heating mats were limited and had somehow disappeared and he was slowly becoming desperate as he shivered under a singular thin blanket.

A small part of him knew that the lights wouldn’t come. Every time it happened, he sent them a signal that he needed help. But every time… no one would come.

He was starting to get sick of this game of good and evil they were trapped in. because he knew for a fact that if that were the case, he wasn’t sure what side he was on. and honestly that’s what scared him the most. That he didn’t know what side he wanted to be on.

He wanted the care and love that the light sides gave, but seemed to refuse to let him have. But he was bound in Thomas’s mind here… trapped. Either way he wasn’t sure which was the better situation.

He sat shivering in place. He knew that he wouldn’t last longer. Only ten minuets max. he had held out for a good three days. That was a low record, but they had lowered the temperature increasingly recently. Far lower than usual.

He shivered as he pulled the blanket as tightly to himself as possible. His eyes fluttered shut. He was down for the count. And he didn’t know how long he was going to be in that state for.

--

Virgil was getting confused. He had shown the others the small doodle of another snowflake in the corner of a book he had been reading recently. and a connection he had made a while ago was that when it happened. Janus would seemingly disappear before the darks would try something or another.

And there it was once again. This time bigger and a number placed at the side. 35. That was new. but it was a new clue. And that was something he knew a certain logical side would love to see. and that’s why he found himself standing next to Logan who took one glance at the number. Something seemingly clicking in place.

He watched as Logan walked over to where a dark wooden bat with a blue handle sat, only to be held in logans hand. “were getting decide out of there,” he said as he walked over to the door. Virgil looked at him with wide eyes before nodding. “ill alert roman to create a new room, I'm sure the others will be happy to help,” Virgil said, giving a quick nod. Logan gave a sharp one in return before the both of them sunk down.

The room was pale white with splashes of red and gold everywhere. The price was sitting at his desk writing something with an obnoxiously fancy quill.

“hey roman!” he called, starting the prince badly enough he fell over off his chair. “what do you want Virgil?” he asked grumpily. “code yellow time,” he winked.

Roman burst off the floor and out of his door. Virgil shook his head in amusement. Anything to create a new room for a side. he was just as exited when he did the same for Remus and anxiety himself. --

Logan, Patton and Remus stood in a blackened version of their living space. Cracks ran up the walls and a shiver ran down their spines at the coldness of the place. Patton felt himself already numbing at the feeling. He knew his frog like aspect didn’t like this one bit. If Janus was suspect to this for longer, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were now a block of snake ice.

Remus shivered for another reason. he didn’t like this place. Too much of him had been repressed here. He had been used by the others once to many for his liking when he left. He had felt guilt knowing he was leaving Janus to fend for himself. And just by the feel of the air he knew the darks were doing this as punishment.

They had stood still for a while. Logan’s bat hung in a tight grip. knuckle dusters were looped around Patton's fingers, shiny and well kept. Remus held his mace over a shoulder using both of his hands. “stick together, Patton can’t stay for too long due to cold bloodedness he deals with. Half an hour max I’d say,” Logan said to the both of them,” Remus, can you show the way?”

“you got it specs” Remus said, it was spoken, but they could hear the malice undertone.

Five minuets later they were standing in front of a chalky yellow door. Stains from who knows what splattered in all directions decorated it grotesquely. Logan knocked. He did it again. And again. Now answer.

Remus put a hand on the door, green static covered the door before a small click could be heard. the three of them felt themselves pale as they saw Janus pale and closed eyes. One thin blanket barely covered him. Logan could barely process what he saw. Patton looked at Janus and had to stop himself from crying. Remus felt guilt unimaginable to himself.

But they quickly made their way to his side. Remus let his mace fade and picked Janus up hastily in a bridal style, Logan placed the blanket over Janus. it wouldn’t do much. but it was still something over nothing.

They quickly made their way out. the other darks must have been busy plotting to realise they were even there. and it seemed, just as quickly as they arrived. they were gone. --

Janus was warm. He was oh so warm and surrounded by something incredibly soft. He could feel himself melting into it more. but then he realised something. The last he remembered his room was not ever this warm. And never had it had such blankets before.

He tried his best to open his eyes, cracking them open to a darkened room. That he was used to. he looked around the room. Two solid black walls. One yellow, the other was a complete bookshelf.

The worlds best bed he was sat on seemed to be a four poster. Black and yellow once again matched his theme. where was he?

The door creaked open. There standing and letting out a audible sigh of relief was Remus. Janus felt his heart drop for a mere second. He had left him alone. “where am i?” Janus asked looking into the blood red eyes of his old friend. “simple really snake face. your room. Or new one at least,” he chuckled before flopping down at the end of the bed,” Logan found out the code and roman made the room whilst we rescued you,” he stated.

Janus felt his mind go blank for a brief second. “wait- what?”

Remus groaned, “welcome to the family,” he said, giving jazz hands and sitting up.

“you came back… for me?” he asked, finding a sudden interest in the warm blanket. “of course I did. I wouldn’t have just left you there,” Remus chuckled, “well, anyways. Ill go forage the kitchen to find you something to eat!” Remus cheered before giving a quick goodbye and closing the door behind.

He shook his head. He looked around the room once more. Details he had skimmed over came to mind. Almost causing him to cry in happiness. The now three ex-darks had always told stories about how their rooms would look. but one thing Janus had always wanted. No matter how much the other two would giggle at how old fashioned it was… was a record player. One of the ones with the round speakers.

And there it was. sleek and black with a golden horn engraved with many details he couldn’t see from so far away.

And it suddenly it him.

He was home.

[wendibird]

SPN 15X17 Observations

Well, watching this week went pretty smoothly (and I was actually able to get my little bluetooth keyboard thing to talk to my tablet so I was able to watch on my big TV screen and type up notes fairly easily. :) 

And just to clarify, sometimes my notes as I took them were VERY brief, and in some cases I’ve gone back and added in a few details or explanations to make clear what I meant by what at the time. 

I’ve also come to the conclusion that I don’t always remember to take notes, especially if Important Things are happening. (Do people even like the notes section? Or would you just prefer reading my odd takes on everything after the fact?) 

Anyway, here’s what I have for 15X17 “Unity”. Well, I do have more thoughts drifting around, but I’m always concerned that I’m going on too long as it is. *LOL*  (Under the cut for length and spoiler aversion)

Okay, going in I’ve heard rumors that this is a “Sam Heavy” episode, so we’ll see. *fingers crossed* 

- wow, is Chuck starting in on this world already?

- Silent treatment.

- I wonder if she’s guessed.

- fuck you Dean!

(but I’m not surprised. it just confirms what I’d already suspected about how Dean really feels about Jack.)

Commercial Thoughts:

Yeah, so, I’m firmly in Sam and Cas’ camp here. Jack may not be family to Dean, but he is to them. He’s their Son. 

I also think that though he hasn’t talked about it, Sam regrets his part in the Drama Coffin plan involving Jack last season. Think it’s one of those cases where he realized too late he was on the wrong side, and he doesn’t want to be there again.

As for Dean… I get that he wants to see the people he cares most about make it out of this. (Sam and Cas.) And I get he’s doing the tunnel vision thing. I think he knows that Sam’s right but he won’t let himself admit it.

- Wow….. The fanangels are kinda creepy.

- They’ve lost all their nuance with Chuck. Or my theory is right and Chuck has actually shifted darkside.

- Oh wow…. Amara is really going to bat here.

Commercial Thoughts:

Still not sure how much she’s (Amara) really guessed. She’s acting as though the whole “trapping him” idea is still a go, but what she’d said to Dean, as pointedly as she did, it seemed like maybe she suspected what was really going on and was still trying to give him the option to go a different way.

And even if this is Chuck having shifted dark, it could still be written with more nuance than this crappy villain schtick.

I mean, even in S11 when he’s all but given up on humanity and existence and was going to let Amara win, it was written with there being a depth to him about it.

- Don’t know if Dean’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t care as deeply to make this easier or what.

- HOw is ADAM still alive?! And she’s an angel?

- Interesting behavior for an angel. *LOL*

- “Then he moved on to our sons.” Hints of Cain and Abel?

- Okay, so the angel kept him alive. (Sure, I can buy that.) 

- Pretty Crystals!

- He’s (Dean) heard those lines before. And Dean’s feeling uneasy about it.

- Amethyst! (Sorry, always had a thing for Amethyst and it’s my birthstone)

- (oh, okay, all of them)

- Ewww….. Open heart surgery

- Rib!

- Dean doesn’t like being rail-roaded.

- Talk time.

- I don’t like this…… (Jack using the rib and starting the suicide-bomb process.) 

Commercial Thoughts:

Okay, so, what Dean said, I’m glad he said it. And I have been getting hints of that feeling from him the whole season, about feeling disconnected because of what they found out about Chuck and their lives. I just… I still think he’s willfully blinding himself to what’s really going on. That even this version of “Free Will” is a script that he’s following. (Well, I think he’s starting to have misgivings about that.)

- Uh-oh! Ideas! 

- I love two researching nerds!

- Were we supposed to understand the Latin? *LOL* I caught “Mortem” in there a few times.

- Yey door!

- “your internal compass is functioning perfectly”

- I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!

- Who dat?

- Dead someone or other

- W section.

- Reapers maybe?

- Who’s thinning the ranks?

- Empty!Meg!

- Sam is good! (At bluffing the hell out of an ancient cosmic being.) 

- IT’S A LITTLE LATE TO STOP IT!!!!

Commercial Thoughts:

*FREAKING OUT!!!*

Jack already started it! OG!Adam said that once started the reaction couldn’t be stopped.

Okay, deeper thoughts. Everyone’s playing chess. Still. The game is just bigger.

OG!Adam wants God dead because of stuff that happened. And Billy is following his plan? (Did I get that right?) The plan will make Billy the next God. (Not surprised there honestly.) Her world will be a lot more “orderly” no doubt.

The Empty just wants to sleep. (Honestly, can relate.) 

But everyone’s just using them all as gamepieces again. Dean’s getting that feel from things OG!Adam and Whatserfaceangel said. Sam knows now too. They’re still stuck in someone else’s story. They’re still not gaining true “Free Will”. I’m hoping that the route they take will actually get them off this train track.

- DUDE - WHAT (was in reference to Dean pulling a gun on Sam)

- Go Sam! He’s not letting this one go. (Referring to my feelings on Sam feeling bad about Jack and the Drama Coffin thing from way before, and him NOT settling for Dean’s plan this time, him sticking to his guns and saying what he feels and taking action.) 

- Chuck played her (Amara) too.

- Not again! (Oh Jack, will this forever be your fate?)

- FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!

Holy shit! That episode!

Okay, it actually did a good job of wrapping up a lot of ideas. Like, big-picture ideas that have been themes throughout the run of the show. 

Also, apparently this was the only world where Cas and the Winchesters broke the mold? Didn’t play by their roles?

Also, minor point but it made me happy: Chuck pointed out how it’s Sam who needed to find things out. Sam who kept digging. I made mention of it last episode how Billy kept going to Dean, because he was easier for her to manipulate. But Sam asks more questions. I think part of it is what Cas said about his internal compass. I think another part is his experiences. He’s been the brunt of the cosmic plot-lines a LOT of the time. So he does keep asking questions because of all the times he hadn’t and things went badly. (Like end of S4 with killing Lilith.) 

And let me be clear, it’s not that I think Dean is dumb. He isn’t. And he and Sam both make decisions a lot based on their feelings. (Sometimes it’s all you have to go on.) But he’s shown a tendency in the past several years especially to be more likely to make them based on anger. And he doesn’t get called on it often. And I don’t know if this is TOO meta (is that even a thing with this show anymore? *LMAO*) but I feel like part of that is written into the script. Of their world. Even when Dean’s wrong he’s often proven “right” by the narrative. He very rarely is made to face up to his mistakes. (Not saying he never is. But it definitely doesn’t seem to happen as often.) And I’m wondering, is that because up till now, he was Chuck’s favorite? We saw that Chuck can manipulate a LOT of things. And events, and even some people. 

How often have we noticed and commented on how the Narrative backs Dean up so much of the time, even when he might be in the wrong? Or even just questionable? Or morally grey? How much of that is possibly now supposed to be due to Chuck’s meddling? Because I’ve also seen it mentioned (and have also noticed) that although Sam winds up the “wrong one” a lot via the narrative, he’s actually HAD to learn and grow because of that. But because Dean is rarely shown as wrong, he hasn’t had to, and his character has stagnated a lot in the last several seasons. Of course, in reality, that’s due to the writing/show-running/powers-that-be making those decisions, but in-show could it possibly be something to do with Chuck? Maybe at first because he liked Dean more? But as time grew on, and he kept trying to set up his Cain and Abel plot with them, maybe it was to reinforce Dean’s self-image that he’s Right? 

And also by contrast, we had the end of last season where so many of Sam’s decisions which had been made with best intentions and best information/resources at the time wound up blowing-up in his face. As if to say "Ha-HAH! That's what you get for thinking you could lead people! That's what you get for thinking you could save Jack! That's what you get for thinking someone like Nick could be redeemed! That's what you get for talking your brother out of the Drama-Coffin plan!" It felt like it was specifically intended to make him severely doubt his own judgement. And it worked. After all that shit went down, one thing after another, culminating with their mother's death, he didn't trust himself. He didn't believe in himself. So he put all his trust in Dean. And Dean was full of RAGE. (I don't blame him. His Mom has been a keystone of his life, even when she wasn't there.) But Sam didn't give the objections he normally would have to Dean's plan to box-up Jack. Even though it was CLEAR how much he didn't like it. How wrong it felt to him.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is, I think Chuck has been nudging and manipulating a LOT of things in order to get the Winchesters to behave how he wants them to. 

IDK. My head is hurting from some of these meta thoughts. *LOL*

SO! Back to what happened in the actual episode.

I thought the format was interesting, focusing in on the different POV characters for their spans of the story until it all came together. (Wondering if this is going to continue into the next episode…) 

I liked that we got a lot of reveals about what is (possibly) really going on, in regards to the grand schemas. Because there are several at play here. But now we're at least getting glimpses of them. 

Even though we didn't see Billy, I thought the reveal about her plans were interesting, but definitely fit with her character as established so far. I know a lot of people are saying she's gotten drunk with her power or she's "turning evil" but I don't think that's the case. It's true that she hasn't told them everything about her plans, but that's because she's also using them as pieces in her game. But her goal is the same as it's always been since we first met her. She has ALWAYS been about the Natural Order. She never liked how the Winchesters (or anyone else) flaunted death again and again. So once she's in charge? Everyone and everything goes where they belong. The demons stay in hell, the angels stay in heaven, souls go where they're meant to, people from other universes go back (even if there's no universe to go back TO. Tough shit, they'd be dead anyway according to her) and those who have already died and been resurrected? They go back to wherever they should be. (At least, I THINK that was the implication made, with Sam asking Dean if he'd be willing to trade HIM to take-out Chuck. Sam was definitely realizing a LOT when Empty!Meg told him what Billy's plan was.) 

This isn't her turning Evil like has been done with Chuck. It's more, her becoming a more extreme version of what she already was. When she got her promotion, she found out a LOT more things. Including this option of events for taking Chuck out and putting things back to how they belong. And it even started with Dean's aborted Drama Coffin plan. Which eventually fails, because Sam, but it then leads to Jack sacrificing his soul to take out AU Michael, which eventually leads to Mary's Death and Chuck's opportunity to manipulate things more and so on and so forth until we wind up here. 

(Also, just wanna say, absolutely LOVED Rachel as the Empty again!) 

And also, having just watched that scene again, can I just say again how awesome Sam is? He straight-up told the Empty that even if he WAS lying, their best bet is to let him go with the book. And it couldn't really argue with that because he was right! (Well, if it had killed him then and there, Dean probably wouldn't have known right away and probably would have been able to carry out the plan. So there is that. Buuuuut none of them knew that either at the time.) 

And in general, I love how Sam just would NOT give up. This is the Sam Winchester I've come to love. He could feel in his bones that this plan was wrong so he was doing everything he could to not only stop it, but to find some other way to get what they truly wanted. 

I also loved his and Cas' interactions. They were supportive of each other and both were trying to find a way to save their son. (Dean has officially forfeited his Dad-Card in my book. Hell, in his book too.) Also, I remember hearing someone from production, or who was maybe on set or something mentioning something about the Holy Grail in this episode? Well, in that scene where Sam and Cas are looking through those old crates and trunks and boxes, when Cas finds the key Sam is holding this really old looking chalice. Wonder if that's supposed to be what that is. *LOL* I mean, the Spear of Destiny (or at least, the head of the spear) was there in the Bunker, so why not I guess? *LOL*

We didn't get a lot of Sam and Jack interaction, but I liked what little we had. Sam made it clear to Jack that he wants to save him. (I'm really hoping we get SOMETHING more of them in the next episode or two but... yeah. Not a lot of time left.) 

I could go on for some length about my feelings on Dean and how he's been this season. But I don't want this to turn into a fully anti-Dean rant. I will say though that I'd definitely gotten the impression before this that Dean has different categories of people he cares about, and in his mind, he also has them ranked according to how expendable they are. And I'm not just talking about Jack here, though he is a major part of it. But at the end of the episode when he and Sam are having it out, Dean says he's basically willing to sacrifice EVERYONE to get what he wants. 

(I don't think he's actually willing to sacrifice Sam for it though. And yes, I know, he was waving a gun in Sam's face. But I don't believe for a moment he had any intention of killing his brother. Not when Sam asking point blanc if Dean is willing to trade him for killing Chuck, and that seems to be what causes Dean to start listening to what Sam's saying. Also, in the past, Dean hasn't been above threatening people to get what he wants. Like with Kaia. Also in S8's "Trail and Error" when he and Sam were talking about taking out the hellhound, Dean pretty much said if Sam even tries to get close to it, Dean would shoot him in the leg. Now, we never got to see if he actually would have or not, but regardless, it was a case of Dean being willing to hurt Sam a little in order to protect him from something he saw as a bigger threat. In that case it had been taking on the trials. In this case, it would have been to win their shot at freedom. At least in Dean's mind. Not saying I approve! Just, I think that's where his mindset was.) 

And this is a far cry from the Dean who, just a few years ago was willing to be a kamikaze bomb in order to save the world. And yes, Dean has mentioned "Saving the world" this season too. And I'm sure he means that too. But when he was at his most emotional, what he was talking about wasn't saving the world and everyone in it. It was freeing him and Sam from being Chuck's entertainment. And he's willing to sacrifice nearly anyone to accomplish that. At least, he was up til now. I hope that they're going to give him a change of heart before the end because I really REALLY would like the show to end with me not despising Dean and what he's become. Yes, I'm a Sam-girl, but I do care about Dean too. 

Also, I feel bad for Amara and what wound up happening with her. Like many other characters, she fell victim to Chuck's manipulations, and now I'm guessing he's even stronger than before. But also, Chuck wasn't the only one manipulating her. And maybe if they, (Dean especially, since she had a soft-spot for him) had actually been trying to find another way earlier, she wouldn't have fallen to despair when finding out the truth. 

Aaaaaanyway, I think I've rambled enough about this episode as it is. Thank you to whoever actually bothers to read all of this. *LOL*

[shootingcookielover]

What if

What if baby Janus

Covered up the scales so.. So the others couldn't see that he's a monster

-

At first it started with a few little ones, popping up around his neck, right where the collar of his shirt was. They were barely visible and Janus could easily cover them with a bit of glamor; as though they weren't there at all.

But the more time passed, the more scales popped up on his body. They climbed on his skin, until the entirety of his left side was covered.

It wouldn't have been a problem; just as it had never been a problem before. Only now... The glamor didn't work anymore. No matter how hard he tried, the scales just wouldn't give way beneath a fake layer of skin.

No matter how much make-up he piled on that side of his face, it wouldn't stay on, wouldn't even smudge them.

For the next few days, nobody came to look for him.

On the fourth day, however, those fateful four knocks announced someone else's presence.

Janus grabbed a blanket in his panic and hid beneath it. They couldn't see him like this; they'd know he truly wasn't a good person, as they already suspected. They'd know for certain that he was a monster.

"Lying?", the wary voice of Heart asked.

Janus' heart fluttered in his chest with fear, he pulled the blanket closer around himself.

"What is it, Heart?", he replied, voice sounding composed and as it usually would.

"You haven't come to play! You promised King you'd help him!", Heart reprimanded.

Right. He had promised that, hadn't he?

Those words had completely slipped his mind; as anything tended to that would make him a good person. His grip on the blanket tightened.

Why did he have to be so... So... Selfish?

"Lying! Answer me! Or I'll have to drag you out myself!"

The tough voice Heart put on almsot made Janus crack a smile. Heart always tried to be like Thomas' parents.

The words themselves, however, dug a deep crater of fear into his chest. "No!", he yelled in his panic, "Don't-!"

He quickly cleared his throat to build his composure back up. "I- I mean... Please don't come in, I'm... Naked!"

The short silence was a very welcome change for his frayed nerves. He was almsot settled again, when Heart asked: "Are you telling the truth?"

Janus wanted to say yes, as inconspicuously as possible. But he couldn't.

It felt as though someone had taped his mouth shut; not a single word slipped past his lips.

"Really now, Lying...", Heart said, as he pushed the door open, "I've told you, you should always tell the truth!"

Heart stopped, only a few steps away from the door. He eyed the lump under the blanket that was Janus with confusion.

"Lying...?", he asked, "What are you doing...?"

His mind scrambled to come up with a feasible excuse, but he drew a blank. Nothing he could say would explain this.

He pulled the blanket closer, tensing at the sound of steps.

"Lying! If this is one of your tricks again--"

Heart pulled the blanket off. "No wait-!"

Janus quickly tried to hide his face behind his hands; but the left hand was just as much littered with scales as his face.

"W- what--", Heart stumbled back, away from Janus, an expression of pure terror on his face. "King!"

"No, no wait--", Janus scrambled backwards, back hitting the wall. "Please, I don't know why they appeared, it's still me!"

But Heart wasn't listening anymore. "King!"

He yelled again, summoning the other to the room.

"What could it be, my faithful king of hearts?"

Heart silently pointed at Janus, tears trailing down his cheeks.

The King twirled around, only to jump back at the sight of Janus.

A sword was pointed at him soon. "What are you?!"

Janus clawed at the scales, tears pouring from his eyes as well. "It's me!", he sobbed, "Lying! Please, believe me!"

But the king only sneered. "You're a monster!"

Janus wasn't allowed to leave his room anymore after that.

He was grounded.

But his room - it was just so mind-numbingly boring. He couldn't take it anymore.

One night, so late that Remy had convinced Thomas to actually go to sleep, the tiny side snuck out of his room.

The others couldn't lock the door; that was his job.

He silently creeped down into the living room. The Tv stood there, the dark silhouette oh so enticing.

Maybe if Janus hadn't been such a selfish monster he could have resisted temptation and gone back to his room.

Instead he turned on the Tv.

For a bit, Janus enjoyed the mindless entertainment before him.

"What are you doing here?!"

Fear's voice cut through the cartoon Janus was watching. The tiny side jumped to his feet.

He stared at Fear.

"You're supposed to be in your room! Heart! King!"

"No, no, wait!", he tried to soothe the other side, but it was too late.

"Why are you here? You were banished, monster!", the sword was pointed at him again.

As much as lies were in Janus' nature, so was the truth, and it had the annoying habit to fall from his tongue when he least needed it to. "Only I can banish sides!"

"Are you threatening us?!"

"What?! No, I'm sorry! I'll go back to my room-!"

"No, I've had enough of your attitude, mister!", he doubted Heart even knew what 'attitude' meant.

The side glared out of the fear and terror in his eyes. "I don't want you here anymore! You only make Thomas bad!"

Janus didn't remember much from the time immediately after that.

All he remembered was stumbling through darkness. A darkness so deep and soft, he might as well have been able to touch it.

He remembered those beasts from the darkness, following him, always there, never safe.

It was a mantra he still followed, even now.

Even when the others didn't look at him with horror in their eyes anymore. When there was no contempt in their faces and no venom in their voices.

He liked being part of the group again, but he knew they'd kick him out again. As soon as they realized what a monster he was, they would kick him out once more.

When they saw they'd been wrong.

Janus was in the bathroom connected to his room when four knocks announced another side's presence.

Four knocks.

Janus could feel his heart stop as he gripped the edges of his sink.

They knew.

"Janus?"

The voice wasn't Heart's, but it was. Heart never knew his name, never asked. Monsters don't have names, don't deserve them.

"Janus, I know... I know you're probably upset and... Well. I have to say it. I'm... Sorry. For making fun of your name. That wasn't very... Princely of me."

The voice sounded weirdly muffled against the screams in Janus' ears. They were his own screams from back then, from when he'd run and fallen and fought.

His balance was suddenly off and his vision tilted sideways. He tried to grab hold of anything to keep him steady, but there was only air. His vision darkened and his breath caught in his throat, just before the all-consuming terror swept through his being.

He was back he was back no no he couldn't be but he was he was back he couldn't be back nonononopleasenoican'tnotagainplease--

He didn't hear the scream he actually let out right then and there, didn't hear the doors opening and certainly didn't see the prince crouching before his crumpled form.

"...nus?! Janus! Hey! Breathe! Breathe with me, please!"

Janus didn't see the struggle on Roman's face as the prince tried to remember those breathing exercises.

"In for four!", he said, finally, his voice oh so muffled and oh so quiet. "Come one, Janus, I know you can do this! Breathe in for four seconds!"

Eventually, consciousness spiraled back into Janus' control.

He stared at the prince in disbelief.

"You... Helped me...", he mumbled, clutching at his chest.

"Of course I did! I couldn't not help you."

Janus gave him a weak smile. "The hero-complex. That explains it.", he muttered.

"...the what?"

"You know...", Janus might have been a bit out of it, exhaustion and other unpleasant feelings too intermingled in his chest to think straight - not that he was ever straight. "What makes you help everyone... Even..."

A humorless chuckle left Janus' lips as he pulled a hand to his chest to indicate himself. "Even monsters..."

There were warm hands around Janus' after a second, catching his attention.

His eyes slowly opened and he focused them on Roman.

"You aren't a monster, Janus."

The lying side huffed, his mind too tired to care anymore. "The King would beg to differ."

Roman's eyes widened for a second before he had himself under control again.

"Whatever he said isn't true, Janus. You're scales don't make you a monster; they make you beautiful."

"Right."

"They are.", Roman insisted. "I will keep telling you, until you believe me."

That alone didn't help much with Janus' trauma, but Roman brought the lying side to Dr. Picani eventually.

The therapist helped, a lot.

The others apologizing to him helped as well.

The tears spilling down Patton's face as he kept apologizing, clinging to him like a lifeline. Insisting that, even if they'd been children and not known better, it was a horrible thing to do.

Virgil had uneasily scooted up to him while Janus was reading a book - watching cartoons had lost it's appeal after the last time - and quietly said: "I'm sorry."

Logan had apologized too, even though he hadn't really been a part of Janus' punishment.

The only one who didn't apologize was Remus; because he'd already done that, a long time ago, after a screaming match that had shaken the darkside to it's core.

And, one day, when he woke up next to Roman and the prince said: "You're scales look beautiful."

Janus believed him.

[sophi-s]

Silent Vigil

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 7,102

Characters: Abaddon, Astarte,

Warnings: Blood and gore, Graphic descriptions of violence, poisoning

Summary:

Life of a soldier in war is often dangerous. Every day may be the last. Even for the most skilled warriors. When a simple mission goes awry, Astarte realises how vulnerable her young and foolish heart truly made her.

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

Another day of the never-ending war was slowly coming to an end in a cold, distant world, far away from Heaven's borders. In a snowstorm that came alongside dusk one could barely make out the well hidden shapes of tents in a makeshift camp the wandering squadron of angels had set up quite some time ago. The thick silence was only disturbed by wailing of the wind that brought to mind a sorrowful cry of a lone wolf. Heavy patches of snow were resting on top of the tents, hiding the amber glass underneath a thick white blanket.

Out of one of the smaller ones, a hooded figure emerges, wrapped up in a heavy winter coat with fur sewn into the edges. Their wings were folded back and tucked underneath the warm fabric to shield them from the ceaseless barrage of cold snowflakes and the ungodly cold. Wading knee-deep in snow, they swiftly cross the entirety of the camp like a spectre and step into the largest tent in the middle of it. Once inside, the hood is pulled back to reveal a head of dense platinum blonde hair falling around a smooth face of a female with brilliant white eyes flashing with determination of a warrior she is. Even when hidden from the elements and chilling winds, her breath was turning into white puffs slowly dissipating once they emerged from her parted lips.

Astarte brushes off the snow that still somehow managed to accumulate on her shoulders during her short walk and looks at another angel standing hunched above a map on a tabletop. But even bent over and not wearing his battle armor, he was of quite imposing height and stature. She smiles to herself sadly when he doesn't even notice her arrival and keeps grumbling something under his breath, still focused on the map. Unsurprisingly, he was still busying himself with strategizing. Astarte didn't know how long he'd been here without rest but she could bet her right hand he hadn't left ever since he dismissed her and the rest of his soldiers a couple of hours before. Part of her was actually glad that he is the one in charge and not she. Being a leader is a difficult and often tiresome task. Still, it doesn't mean she shouldn't support her general in his efforts. She's his lieutenant after all. That's her duty. And even if it wasn't, she would do so nonetheless as even her heart demanded her to be with him when he needs her. And in this moment he looked like he could use assistance.

"My Lord."

She greeted him, earning a glance of his piercing eyes, as cold as steel and as blue as the clear winter sky - hidden above their heads by thick, grey clouds - from underneath a crisp white fringe falling over his face. But the moment he realised it was her, the chill in his gaze faded and made place for warmth as a weary smile pulled at his mouth.

"No one is here, Astarte. There's no need for formality."

He replied and let his eyes linger on her for a couple more seconds before lowering them to the map between his hands resting on the table. Coming around it, Astarte stood beside him and looked at the plans under his careful scrutiny. They hadn't changed much from when she'd seen them last as he asked her to show what she'd learned and explain them to others. And this in itself was mildly concerning.

"Is there some kind of a problem, Abaddon?"

The archangel in question sighed and scratched the back of his neck, not taking his eyes off the map. After about a century under his command, Astarte knew Abaddon well enough to recognise apprehension in his mannerisms. He doesn't do that very often but when he does, usually a good reason exists. Leaning against the table as well, Astarte scans the entirety of the map to try and find the thing that made her commander and possibly future partner so uneasy. Unsuccessfully. There didn't seem to be a thing that should cause him distress. It was common knowledge in the White City that Abaddon was rather… paranoid to put it lightly. And in moments like this, it shows. Astarte didn't mind that but maybe now he's nervous just for the heck of it again.

"Not at all. And that's what doesn't seem right."

Astarte raised her eyebrow and looked up at him in confusion as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully before pointing at the map marked with small scribbled out notes in certain places with his whole hand.

"Look at it. There's nothing wrong with it! We've been after this artifact for months now and finally we - by a pure coincidence - find out about a group of demons which stumbled upon its location and is about to attempt retrieval? It's going way too smoothly for my taste. It can't be this easy.."

With a hum of affirmation, Astarte glanced down at the plan of the ruins, where the powerful demonic blade was supposedly hidden, again. The structure sat below the level of the terrain, two entrances and no other way out. A perfect place to ambush someone going in or out. About five days ago, a scouting party managed to capture a demon which tried to save its skin by revealing the location of the enchanted sword and the plan of its brethren who wished to get to it before Heaven does. The demon still perished but the information stayed. And at first it couldn't make Abaddon happier. Taking her and a group of thirty angels, the General of Heaven set out to intercept the demons and take over the artifact to make sure they don't use it against the White City. Now however, he seemed rather… frustrated, judging by the way he was drumming his fingers against the table. By now, they liquidated about half a dozen scouts and each provided at least some scraps of information they could put together to make a more or less clear image of their future task. For once, Astarte began to understand his concerns. There must be a catch. The question is "where?".

"You suspect some kind of a trick but if the artifact is really there, it's unacceptable to just leave it…"

"Exactly!"

Abaddon answered with a note of annoyance in his voice, still staring at the plan as though it had slighted him somehow. In a warrior's life nothing is ever easy. Astarte understood his doubts. Sometimes no words were needed to be spoken between them to reach this understanding. And that's why they were such a good team. All this really was going way too easily and it wasn't a surprise that he was so tense that the air around him seemed to turn heavy. She frowned, unhappy that this was one of those rare moments when she really wanted to help Abaddon but didn't know how. She despised this feeling. Unsure what else she could do, Astarte laid her hand on top of his, to at least try and offer him some semblance of peace of mind he needed.

"Standing here and glaring at the map won't make any difference. Try to rest."

With his eyebrows still furrowed in a worried frown, Abaddon shifted his hand under hers and curled his fingers around it.

"I am not sure if I can."

He murmured with resignation, failing to meet her eye. Now Astarte had no doubts as to how tired he really was. Abaddon rarely ever sounds like that. But true enough, if this unease stays with him, he might not be able to rest properly. That was just him. Utterly devoted to Heaven's cause, almost always putting duty on the first place. But right behind it, and often shifting places with it, was her. All it takes is the right word or the right touch. Letting go of his hand, Astarte rested her palm on his right cheek and leaned in to lightly brush her lips against his temple. His scowl immediately softened, his bushy eyebrows wandered slightly up his tattooed forehead and a corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a smile. Works almost every time..

Snapping his attention away from the blasted map, the archangel turned to Astarte with a sigh. He does that way too often when he feels uncertain. Still, this heaviness seemed to leave the atmosphere, a sign that she managed to fulfill the purpose she came here with, when she reached out to him and ghosted her fingertips against his cheek, simultaneously making him lean into her palm fondly. Moments later, Abaddon took her hand, lifted it to his mouth and pressed his warm lips to her knuckles red from the cold surrounding them. Looking at her with half-lidded, cerulean eyes, he met her gaze with that lively twinkle to them she knew so well from every time they had a moment together. She recognised that look. In spite of herself, Astarte smiled. Usually, she didn't really mind the open signs of affection when they were alone but they were in the middle of a frozen desert and on a very important mission.

"Abaddon, this really isn't the right time."

Astarte murmured as she put a hand on his mouth to stop him from proceeding when he began to inch closer to her, earning a slightly annoyed scowl from her Commander. She is his second-in-command and so her duty is to make sure he doesn't forget himself. But the thing is, Abaddon is one of the most stubborn creatures she'd known in all of Creation. The lengths he would go to get what he wants…

"May I remind you that you started it?"

He teased with a smirk clearly audible in the tone of his voice, making Astarte roll her eyes. She did, true, but they should stay focused on their task. There will be time for this once they accomplish what they came to this frozen hellhole for in the first place. Though, on the other hand… Ah, what's the point anyway? Astarte decided she will let him have this one if it helps him find peace tonight. I will have to relearn to stand up to him again… She thought as she lowered her hand right into his waiting palm.

The following kiss didn't surprise Astarte but still made her delightfully lightheaded. As it always does. Every next contact wasn't as exciting as the first one but still was sending the world around her spinning. Their romance was a badly kept secret, almost everyone in the White City knows by now, but it didn't feel any less thrilling than if they were actually secretly doing something forbidden. It wasn't uncommon for a general to be in relationship with his or her lieutenant.

"You too need your rest, Astarte. I'll need you to stay sharp tomorrow."

He breathed once he gave her her lips back far too soon and sadly Astarte knew he was right. Even if no deceit awaits them in those ruins, they all have to be on high alert. There's no joking around with demons. One of the first lessons Abaddon had taught her, back when she was still an overconfident and daring private who thought she could best anyone, him included.

"Very well. Goodnight to you, Abaddon."

"And to you, my love."

He offered as she pulled her hood up and walked out into the snowstorm to find a way back to her own tent, even though the cold made a small and quiet thought that "it would be much warmer if they stayed together and he surely wouldn't mind it" crawl its way into her head. There's no time for distractions. A difficult task awaits them tomorrow and they have to stay vigilant no matter what. The time will come after they succeed. Failure is out of question.

-

The Hellguard marched out of the camp before the first morning light. Time is of the essence and so they decided to waste none of it. Using the cover of the winter forest and the falling snowflakes, the angels quickly moved on foot not to draw the attention of demons which may be hiding somewhere around. Besides, flying was nigh impossible with the harsh, arctic wind tugging at them from every direction. Abaddon ordered to split the group to three, leaving one under the lead of Astarte, while he took the other two along.

It took an hour or so to arrive at the designated place. Indeed, the old ruins of a demonic outpost were half-concealed by nearby hills, the wilderness and by any plant life that has long crept inside. Built in a low spot, the structure was dark and ominous, radiating with sinister aura that could give creeps to even the bravest warriors. A dark presence lingered in the air, making this place seem even more grim and threatening. Astarte sneered slightly, a little at the freezing air seeping through her clothes and armor into her very bones, and a little at the discouraging atmosphere of this wretched place. The sooner they get this done with, the better.

Angels spread out and took their places to simultaneously have a good view of the ruins and good hiding spots from which one group could see the other two. With a silent sigh, Astarte frowned down at the ruins below her, constantly on alert for any movement. One minute passed. Two.. Five. Twenty. Nothing. Not a single soul. If the demons are truly inside then they are taking their sweet time. Just grand... She thought, already losing feeling in her toes and fingers. Wind kept wailing, the only sound that could be heard in this God-forsaken place.

Glancing about, Astarte furrowed her eyebrows. Something didn't feel right. There were no tracks of demonic clawed feet in over three mile radius, though it could be easily explained by demons using the Fallen which are capable of flight. But it didn't make her feel easier. No sounds, no signs of life. No wonder, what sane creature aside from a frost dragon would willingly make its home in this frozen landscape? The lack of any activity whatsoever also wasn't that strange when she thought about it. The wretched cowards can be hiding inside and waiting for the moody weather to calm down.

Still, a strange, unpleasant feeling was starting to rise in Astarte's gut. As though someone was… watching her. Just to double check, she scanned her surroundings in search of the source of this sensation. Nothing. Maybe paranoia is contagious? She chuckled inwardly. Her eyes fell onto Abaddon on the other side of the outpost, barely visible over the snow alongside his group. He wasn't looking at her, fully focused on his task. Of course. Why would he look at her now? This was something she shouldn't do either. Not when she should be on the lookout for their quarry.

However, just when Astarte was about to look back down, something in the distance caught her eye. For a brief second, she was absolutely certain she'd seen something that looked a lot like a tail swinging from a tree a couple of feet behind the other squad. A century or so ago, she would've ignored it, dismissed as her imagination. But it seems that paranoia really is contagious. And Abaddon taught her better than that. Astarte squinted at the object of her interest to try and make out more details. And her heart dropped to her heels.

Attached to what turned out to have been an actual tail, was a body of a slender demon coated in white fur, also dressed in white. To blend into the surroundings. Her experience told her. To her concern, once she noticed the first one, she suddenly started to spot more of them. All around. Stalking towards the unsuspecting angels focused on watching the ruins and something was telling her that the same was happening behind her own back. And that's when she felt a spike of dread jolt down her throat. The demon she initially spotted in the tree was holding something that looked a bit like a crossbow. And aiming at Abaddon's head from behind.

A realisation hit her that instead of the attackers, the Hellguard quickly turned into the attacked. Abaddon was right. This was trap! No clue how, but he knew. He has no idea, he won't notice the demon in time! She had to warn him somehow! To Hell with cover. Without a second thought, Astarte sprung up to her feet from where she was lying on her stomach half buried under the snow, sending a cloud of whiteness flying as she flared her rune-inscribed wings and yelled as loudly as her throat allowed her to before her vocal cords gave up.

"AMBUSH!!! "

In this very moment something heavy impacted with her back with a vicious roar, almost sending her toppling over the ledge. Were it not for her strength and the fact that she successfully avoided being surprised, Astarte stood her ground supporting herself with her spear to spare herself a painful fall just as her companions jumped out of their hiding spots to answer the demons with a counterattack. One of the younger angels under her command struck and killed the demon that pounced at her, one of the camouflaged white fiends she saw as she turned around, as bolts began to whizz through the air and screams of shocked angels intertwined with frustrated screeches of the Hellspawn.

Thanks to her quick reaction, the Hellguard swiftly entered defensive formations to face the ambushers. With a battle cry upon her lips, Astarte impaled one demon while her comrades were taking down others, trying to dodge or deflect the bolts. Why are they using crossbows? She wondered in spite of herself. Unfortunately, it wasn't the best time to ponder over their questionable choice of weapons. The dying demon on the end of her spear in its last act pulled itself further down the blade and almost onto the hilt, and desperately swung with its talons, tearing through her left arm before she could push it off.

With a pained sneer, Astarte tossed the now dead demon back at its brethren as she ordered her group to shift to offensive. The blood began to stain the spotless white snow in deep scarlet as more demons and, unfortunately, angels fell. But… something was unusual here. A second passed, two, three… and Abaddon was nowhere to be seen. Astarte doesn't get wounded often but when she does, it takes barely a beat for her commander to pretty much materialize out of thin air somewhere nearby to protect her, even if it is but a minor injury like this one. This time something was different. He most likely has problems of his own. She figured and led the charge against the fiendish warriors.

Oddly enough, the moment their ambush didn't work out, demons started to retreat as there was nothing more for them to achieve aside from losing more of their stealthy, lightly armored soldiers. And so, they fled just as quietly as they appeared, vanishing between the trees and in the snow.

Once the battle had ended, Astarte looked over the remaining angels. Previously she had ten. Now only five of them were unharmed while two more carried more or less serious wounds from blades and claws, often having crossbow bolts stuck in their armor. The other three… Astarte turned her gaze down and removed her helmet as her uninjured brethren did the same to pay respect to the fallen. She was well used to death but still. They were her brothers at arms. Angels she trusted and respected.  After a moment, Astarte placed her headpiece back where it belonged and gripping her bleeding arm, she gave orders to her squad.

"Regroup. We need to evaluate the losses."

Taking a short flight, Astarte and the soldiers under her temporary command rejoined others. The Hellguard were still startled and disoriented, looking about in search of more attackers. Fortunately, to no avail. Astarte too was looking for something. Or rather someone when she couldn't see him anywhere at first. But barely seconds later she saw him. Sitting on the ground against a rock with two unnerved soldiers beside him, breathing heavily and unevenly, ashen face… He was keeping his hand over his chest. And sticking out from between his thumb and forefinger was.. Her eyes widened with fear…

A crossbow bolt.

Everything around Astarte halted as claws of horror, even colder than the snow and ice around her, got a hold of her heart which started to quiver in her chest. The demon still did manage to get Abaddon. Her warning came too late. And the bolt seemed to have been constructed in a way that made it very durable. The sharp projectile punched through Abaddon's breastplate without greater problems and now was stuck in his body.

"Abaddon!"

When she could move, she immediately rushed over to him, still unable to believe what had happened, and oblivious to her own injury fell to her knees beside him. Despite the pain that was apparently visible in his grimace, Abaddon turned his blue eyes at her with a frantic gleam in them.

"It… was a trap. I- I knew it! Astarte…"

He was interrupted by a harsh cough which caused blood to trickle out of the corner of his mouth. Talking clearly wasn't coming easily to him. Why would it, when he had a sharp bolt buried into his chest? Any incoming words were halted by Astarte putting her hand over his bloodied lips.

"Save your breath, my Lord."

She said, trying to keep her head cool despite the mounting panic in her throat, and took her eyes off his face to examine the wound. With his armor still on it was hard to determine the full extent of the damage but with how the bolt was positioned, Astarte could only imagine it may have punctured his left lung or damaged some vital blood vessels and she couldn't even extract it without risking causing further damage. Even as small as the wound was, it was dangerously near his heart that was surely pounding in his chest like crazy. The fact that there was barely any blood aside from that spilling steadily past his lips was hardly comforting. It could mean there's a much more severe internal bleeding. Hopefully not. Whether he likes it or not - which he most likely doesn't with how stubborn he is - Abaddon needed the help of a healer and needed it immediately.

"We have to move. There might be more of them nearby."

The Hellguard listened to Astarte without a moment of hesitation. She was the second in line to the position of a leader and Abaddon didn't seem like he was going to give orders any time soon. Astarte carefully pulled him up to his feet and hauled his arm over her own shoulders while other angels were gathering up those severely wounded and deceased in preparation to leave. As she was expecting, Abaddon grumbled in protest.

"I… can walk…"

"It doesn't mean you should."

With that, Astarte cut him off and it looked like he was not in the mood to argue with her. Neither did he have strength for it. The Hellguard moved out and left the cursed ruins behind. There was no doubt in Astarte's mind that there was no artifact here. This was just a bluff. A successful one unfortunately..

Even though there was hardly an hour of steady march between the ruins and their camp, for Astarte it felt like an eternity. With each laboured breath next to her ear and the weight of the injured archangel leaning against her shoulder slowly increasing, her agitation grew. But true enough, Abaddon did mostly walk on his own. At first. Not even fifteen minutes later, he was starting to get more sluggish and a faint tint of unhealthy green shaded his otherwise colorless face that should be tanned in warm tones. Still, he kept going. Until about half an hour later he stumbled, even though he was still supported by Astarte.

"I don't… I can't feel… my wings…"

He mumbled more to himself than anyone else, successfully getting his lieutenant's attention. True to his word, his wings were limply dragging behind him, motionless. And once she noticed that the light in his eyes had already faded and he's moments from slipping into unconsciousness, the panic returned. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage in despair. He was dying. She cannot lose him. Not him. Everyone but him.

"No… no, Abaddon! Don't fall asleep!"

She called desperately, making all of the angels to look back at them both with non hidden fright. Two Storm Heralds even rushed over to help as she held her commander who was very quickly losing his grip on life. With how heavy he was, Astarte had no other choice than to lower him to the ground. And she could feel how unnaturally warm under her hands his skin was. The camp is so close… He can't give up now! He can't… Just a little longer..

Don't close your eyes… 

But despite her silent plea, her efforts to keep his head up and pull him back up… he did. His eyelids slipped closed, he ferociously fought to keep them opened but in vain. Even though Astarte was beginning to feel the shaking of her hands, she called to others.

"Help me get him up! We need to act quickly!"

The rest of the path to the campsite was a haze. Astarte remembered it like through a mist that clouded her senses and she wasn't even sure how and when she found herself in her own tent with Maral, an angel who was like a little sister to her, tending to the claw marks on her shoulder. Luckily, Maral herself wasn't injured in any way and she was the one to inform Astarte of the whole situation. Eight dead and ten injured in total. No artifact in sight. Not a very cheering perspective.. However, Astarte was only half paying attention to what Maral was saying. Her thoughts were elsewhere. In Abaddon's personal tent where he was brought to be taken care of about an hour ago. She was tapping her foot impatiently as Maral was getting her arm disinfected and wrapped up in bandages since there were only three healers in camp and two of them were injured too while the third one tended to the General.

"There. It should be mostly-... Hey! Where are you going?"

Astarte didn't really hear the call. After Maral was done with her wounds, she immediately stood up and walked out, heading to her General's tent, not caring about the cold anymore. Only one thought accompanied her on the way to her destination. Please, be alive... And please, stay that way... In the entrance she bumped into the aforementioned healer.

"Suriel. How is he?"

Judging by the grim expression Suriel bore, Astarte could tell she wasn't going to like what he was about to say. Of all angels, Astarte is rarely frightened. But this was one of those rare moments and she was glad she had her armor removed, because without a doubt it would clatter loudly, considering how much she was shaking. Don't tell me it's what I think it is.. She begged. Not a single part of her being was prepared to accept the fact that her beloved could be…

"He lives."

Not even the mightiest creature in the Universe could've stopped the loud exhale of relief that left Astarte the moment the news was revealed to her. However, it turned out she was too quick to rejoice.

"But he isn't well. The bolt.. although it did get to his lung that's not the main concern."

True enough, breathing isn't vital for angels to survive, though such an injury is rather inconvenient and if not healed properly can cause trouble in the future. But hearing that the punctured lung isn't the main concern immediately sent Astarte's heart back into frenzy before it could fully calm its pace.

"It was poisoned."

"Poisoned..?"

She echoed, already feeling increasingly dizzy from all this. Blessed Creator, please, let this chaos finally end... Of course the demons would poison their weapons! The fact why they were using crossbows became much clearer now. They lured the Hellguard out to try and take down its leaders. Bastards. Honestly, Astarte could consider herself lucky that she wasn't hit with one of the poisoned projectiles because without a shadow of a doubt she was one of the main targets as well.

"One of the killed demons had a vial of antidote in a knapsack but… the venom spread around his system very quickly. It will help. But that's all I could do. Lord Abaddon will have to battle the poison on his own until someone more experienced arrives."

It wasn't surprising that someone has already gone to the White City to call for help and deliver a report from the unsuccessful operation. Astarte could only hope either Abaddon will pull through or someone will get here to help him on time.

"Can I… see him?"

Suriel nodded. Astarte waited no longer and hesitantly peered inside of the tent. The sight that greeted her made her feel like her heart fell to pieces. No one had to say it out loud for her to realise that she wasn't ready for what awaited her. On a cot under coverlets in the far end of the tent, was him. Abaddon. Her beloved.. And he looked like a corpse. Still, unmoving, pallid skin… his eyelids and lips were in a blueish-purple hue. A blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around his chest and a wet piece of folded cloth rested on his forehead. Droplets of sweat were rolling down his face, shining in the gloom like crystals, as he heaved in shallow breaths.

Biting down on her lower lip, Astarte walked up to the cot and sat down on a stool beside it. Beside her love and light. The light that was now struggling to keep burning, fighting the deadly poison coursing through his veins. Up this close, she could plainly see how unwell he really was.

Abaddon was always the strongest of the heavenly warriors. Unbreakable. Someone Astarte looked up to ever since he quite literally took her under his wing when Malahidael couldn't deal with her overconfidence and lack of respect. Those were ones of her most cherished memories.. And now? It seemed all it would take was so much as sneezing in his direction to send his soul plummeting into the Well. Seeing him like this.. weak, broken and vulnerable… it made Astarte feel small and insignificant.

A choked huff that slipped past Abaddon's chapped lips as his whole body shivered violently, did very little to calm Astarte down. Her heart sank, corners of her mouth sagged sadly, when his eyelids twitched and his upper lip peeled back to reveal his teeth. Hesitantly, she reached out to him and ran her fingers through his white hair as he kept thrashing about in his feverish sleep and muttering.

"To- to me, Hellguard... As- Astarte… where are you..?"

"I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere…"

She whispered and leaned down to place a kiss to his trembling lips. Not going anywhere. Gently brushing her fingers against his cheek, hot like fire, she kept talking to him softly until his shivers eased and he fell into a much deeper and calmer sleep. She wasn't going to leave him. Not now. Not when he needs her the most. Not when she needs him..

For the next three days or so there was no change whatsoever. Abaddon kept drifting in and out of consciousness, delirious with scorching fever - sometimes weakly calling Astarte's name - and barely aware of anything happening around him. And he wasn't getting better. Astarte stayed at his side, silent and hopeful. His lieutenant hadn't moved from her place even if either Maral or someone else came over and proposed to change her in her shift so that Astarte may rest, to which the answer was "I'm not going to be able to sleep anyway.". She was helping with changing bandages and making sure the cloth on his forehead remains cool. The latter part was rather frustrating as the water in the basin next to the cot kept freezing over and with her nerves already in shreds Astarte barely held back from angrily lobbing it across the tent.

All the time she spent at Abaddon's side she was begging him to wake up, open his eyes and look at her. And every time he was shifting from uneasy delirium to numb unconsciousness she died a little bit inside out of fear that this time his heart may have given up.

"This has to be a nightmare…"

She once muttered to herself clutching Abaddon's motionless hand which felt like heated in a fire, hoping in vain that his grip will tighten any second now.

"And this is my fault.."

No words were able to put her mind at ease. The blame was rightfully on her, even though no one told her outright "It's because of you. You've failed him." She just convinced herself that it's the truth. Her duty was to protect Abaddon when he wasn't able to do so on his own. And despite Suriel, Maral and many others saying that it's a good thing she reacted so quickly, because were it not for her warning it could've ended much worse, the overwhelming feeling of guilt still remained.

And after those three days of emotional torment none other than the archangel Raphael arrived at the camp, carrying a message from the Council of Angels, ordering those injured who can be safely moved to return to the City. Without any exceptions. And that meant Astarte as well. But her Commander was to stay at the camp until he's cleansed of the vile venom threatening his life since there was a risk he would not survive this journey.

Astarte knew that she's leaving Abaddon in good hands. If anyone could help him, it would be the head healer of the White City. Still, she felt guilty for being forced to abandon him. Alongside a group of wounded angels, she left for her home with a heavy heart. All she could do was wait, harboring a feeling she found absolutely horrible. Helplessness. Wanting to act, feeling the need to, but being incapable of doing so. She should be with him, not hiding behind the White Gates! This was her duty. She swore to stand beside him no matter what. And now, the Council of Angels made her break this vow.

The next few days Astarte spent living in a lucid dream. A nightmare to be more accurate. Praying for Abaddon to pull through. She found herself often staring into the void, thinking. She missed his voice, his reassuring presence. His touch… Where is he? Is he alright? He has to be… Doesn't he? Of course he does! He's been through much worse more than once already. One bolt, even coated in noxious substance can't be enough to put him down. Unless… This was the thought that kept torturing Astarte. This "unless". After all, she'd seen how bad it was. How even with the antitoxin her Commander seemed to continue to slip away. Whatever the demons used, it must've been a truly horrendous poison..

When a week of solitude has gone by, reality started to sink in. It was taking too long already. Abaddon should've been healed by now. His absence could only mean… No! Raphael wouldn't fail. It's impossible! He can't be dead. Can he…? And even if so, the word about the demise of Abaddon of all people should have already been spread around the White City. But instead.. nothing. No news. Silence. Eventually, in this uncertainty and lack of any signs from anyone who remained at the camp, Astarte slowly started to believe, even though her heart screamed in denial. Sitting on the side of her bed in her home, she stared at her own boots, seconds ticked by, each lasting way longer than it should. What if he is gone? What is she going to do?

The Council will name her the next leader of the Hellguard without a doubt. All of Abaddon's responsibilities will be passed down to her. Maybe she will be able to forget if she keeps herself busy? She should've known that falling in love was a bad idea. Both she and Abaddon are warriors. Even with their unmatched skill, it was only a matter of time before one of them fell. But what could she do about it? He taught her so much, gave her all his knowledge and even offered his own heart that remained cold and stern for anyone but her. This last gift she could not reject as her own soul yearned to be close to him after everything he'd done for her. She couldn't win with it. Even though she tried her best once. Before she knew what he felt. Before… everything. She missed those times when Abaddon was no one else to her than her Commander perfectly capable of kicking her butt in any sparring to make sure she stays in line...

A quiet sound of opening doors caught her attention and made her head snap up. It was so sudden and unexpected that she felt a jolt of fear in her stomach. But with this fear came a shy ray of hope. Only one angel in the entire City walked into her house without knocking and only because she said he doesn't have to because he'd always be welcome. A rustle of feathers as a pair of wings beat once, a barely audible thud right behind the door to her bedroom. The doorknob moved. Slowly turned around and soon in the crack of the door, a pair of familiar blue lights appeared. Her heart hastened and her eyes grew wide like saucers. Could it… be true? Her hopes faded soon enough when she realised that it was probably just Azrael coming again to try and console her and her imagination is merely playing tricks on her. But the voice she heard seconds later made her heart skip a beat.

"Astarte?"

Still rather pale and swaying lightly on his legs, his eyes dull and devoid of their shine, Abaddon stepped into her room with relief painted across his face once he saw her before him. Words couldn't describe what was happening in her head at this moment. On the one hand she was absolutely ecstatic. He's alive. He hasn't left her despite the gravity of his recent condition. But on the other hand, she felt angry. Where was he all this time? Why was he keeping her in the dark? Not even a word when she was here already mourning and thinking how she should tackle becoming a leader all of the sudden. Jumping up to her feet, Astarte rushed over to him, closing the distance in one beat of her wings, just as he opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. Only to retract in shock once her palm loudly met his face, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. However, Abaddon didn't have time to react in any way aside from looking at Astarte with disbelief before she threw her arms around his neck and tugged him down into a kiss.

"You are giving mixed signals."

He chuckled, oblivious to the red handprint forming on his cheek once Astarte pulled away to glare daggers at him.

"I thought I lost you! Again! Don't ever do that to me!"

She yelled at him, respect towards superiors be damned. In all of her life she'd never been so scared. She remembered one time when Abaddon did get severely wounded but he quickly got out of this. Now it was three times as bad. Back then she could've at least stayed with him. Astarte didn't feel sorry for that slap to the face, the bastard had it coming for a long time now. And it seemed that he was well aware he deserved that one.

"Forgive me. I'll do my best never to let something like that happen again. Is there a way to make up for it?"

Angels don't cry. It's not like they aren't fully equipped to do so, they just… don't. Especially warriors. It doesn't suit a warrior to cry. If they do however, for good reasons. And Astarte felt she was on the verge of snapping, her vision turned misty as tears were forcing its way into her eyes. But no. She refused to fall apart, especially in front of her Commander. Looking up at him and fighting the tremble in her voice, she answered so quietly it might seem she didn't really meant to say that out loud. But he did hear it.

"Stay with me… And don't let go.."

His hands came up to her cheeks and he looked her deep in the eye with a soft smile on his face. The first tear had fallen once he pressed his forehead against hers and sighed contentedly before fully closing the distance and laying his lips on hers.

"Here, tonight.. your wish is my command."

He replied and encased her in a comforting embrace, holding her head against his chest as though to show her he's still here. And the steady heartbeat below her ear made her cry out in relief. If she's dreaming, then she doesn't want to ever wake up again. No.. this heartbeat felt far too real.

Perhaps it would've been seen as improper, but she had to make sure. Astarte reached out with her shaking hand to him and Abaddon didn't stop her as she peeled back the collar of his tunic to expose the bandage still concealing the wound he suffered from recently. Her hand carefully rested over it. He felt real. It was no dream. The nightmare has come to an end. He's here. Safe.. For this short moment, they both are.

For once in the ceaseless conflict between Heaven and Hell, Astarte could feel at peace and so could he. Just to seek reassurance, she placed the pads of her fingers on his throat to feel his pulse. To feel that he's truly with her, alive, holding her close, folding his wings around her.. and that this night he isn't going anywhere.

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

Idk, I just wanted to draw something and this happened in turn 😆

Also, I can't draw Astarte's face to save my life 😂

It's weird, I know, but I wanted to do something for Valentines. Back into the cringe abyss I go.

[astudyinfreewill]

Something Wicked This Way Comes: or, the Rising Dark in Ronan’s Arc

as some of you may know because i never shut up about witch!adam i’ve been convinced for a while now that adam would go darkside in the dreamer trilogy. what i did not predict however, was that ronan is probably headed down a dark path himself. i thought the basic premise of the trilogy would have ronan in danger from both the nightwash and the zed hunters (which obviously still applies; he is very much in danger from those things), and adam striking some sort of dark bargain in an attempt to protect him. but after reading cdth, i think things might be about to take a more sinister turn.

so here are some thoughts i’ve been poring over, under a cut for length. what can you expect? well, there’s rambling! there’s bullet points! there are lyrics-inspired section headings! (we have fun around here.)

let’s start with the obvious, shall we?

1. “The Sandman, He Comes”

so...bryde.

we don’t know much about bryde - who or what he is, how he’s able to infiltrate ronan’s dreams, whether he can do it to other dreamers too, why he didn’t want to reveal himself, what’s his agenda - but what we do know is that ronan trusted him very, very fast. suspiciously fast, in fact. fast enough that adam remarks on it in chapter 39: “earlier today you had a gun on me. i’m just asking you give him the same shake as me”.

to clarify: in the previous chapter, ronan was shaken enough to hold a gun to adam, the love of his life, and not lower it even when he feels reasonably sure it’s him; yet it never occurs to him in the book to question bryde or his motives. when adam says he wants scry to try and get more info on him, ronan seems almost annoyed by adam’s wariness (ronan narrowed his eyes. “don’t gimme that look, ronan”) to which adam replies, understandably, that it’s only fair ronan holds a complete stranger to the same safety standards as his own boyfriend, at least.

but why shouldn’t ronan trust bryde (apart from the fact that he has no information about him whatsoever)? well, bryde’s behaviour is pretty damn shady, and extremely reminiscent of the ways that a cult leader might try to recruit people to his cause. @deerlovelylily​ discussed it very eloquently in this post, but just to recap:

bryde is able to access ronan’s dreams at will, including interacting with objects from them: he had the hoverboard at the end, and he knew exactly what was on the stomach of the murder crabs. (@streghe​ had a very clever suggestion that there’s a nonzero chance bryde actually caused the crabs to manifest in the dorm, since ronan barely saw them in the dream; why would bryde do that? well, to make sure ronan was cut off from adam, his real life support system and, coincidentally, a psychic who doesn’t trust bryde)

there is considerable evidence that he can access ronan’s memories/other parts of his subconscious as well, since he knows a lot more about his waking life than he should, constantly referencing people and events from it (as well as obviously knowing where ronan is/what he’s up to, which is very stalkerish in itself)

bryde uses this knowledge to manipulate and influence ronan through the words of people in ronan’s life. in ch. 58 he asks ronan “are you going to be quiet?”, which we know from trk is what niall used to say to the brothers before telling them a story. in ch. 43, he talks about the “emotional costs” of saving someone’s life, mirroring almost exactly the words of warning adam had told ronan in ch. 33 (“there’s such thing as an emotional cost”). adam was warning ronan about trusting bryde too easily, and we know ronan values adam’s opinion; by repeating adam’s words to him bryde is pulling a see, i can’t possibly have shady motives, because i am acknowledging the same risk adam warned you about.

that’s far from the only manipulative thing bryde does. his behaviour constantly alternates between praising ronan, guilting him, taunting him, and ordering him about.

in ch. 43 he tells ronan he’s “the most expensive thing he’s ever saved”, reinforcing the idea that A) ronan is special, B) bryde cares about him, and C) it cost him a lot to save ronan so ronan should feel grateful/guilty/indebted to him. he does this knowing full well that ronan isn’t going to doubt his motives for saving him, because ronan himself - brave boy that he is - has just told him he would save a dreamer without any questions asked.

bryde never shows himself to ronan until the very end, which has the combined effects of keeping him in the dark/at a disadvantage, and making him more intrigued by bryde’s mystery; at the same time, he constantly asks ronan to prove himself and earn the dubious privilege of finally meeting him (“next box”)

bryde promises things that he knows ronan wants: first and foremost, understanding of his dreamer powers; second, a community, by hooking him up with other dreamers (ronan’s been asking what am i, why isn’t there anyone like me, am i the only one? for a long time); last but not least, he heavily hints that he can free dreams from their dreamers, something ronan is desperate to do in order to give matthew his freedom

on more than one occasion, bryde gives ronan direct orders: “scrub [the word ‘real’] from your vocabulary”; “i don’t want you to think this ever again: it was just a dream”. and ronan obeys him, or is at least very affected by it. where he at first questioned whether his dreams of bryde were real, now he questions reality (e.g. holding a gun to his very real boyfriend and asking himself what is real?); in ch. 24 he thinks about the words just a dream and how bryde “had forbidden him from ever saying them again”. since when does ronan follow orders? who is bryde to “forbid” him to do anything?

bryde constantly deploys examples Us VS Them rhetoric, creating a schism between dreamers and humanity, magic and humanity. we know (and bryde probably knows) ronan has always struggled with not feeling human and not knowing what he is; that he deeply wants to be able to fit into the real world. what bryde is effectively saying is no, you’re not human, in fact humans and magic are enemies, and the real world is not for you... unless you can shape it to your will. 

to me, bryde’s spiels sound very... dreamer-supremacist, for lack of a better term. at the moment, dreamers are oppressed by the moderators, so they’re right to rebel; but there’s an emphasis on dreamers being more powerful than anyone else, and what they could do with that power. it kind of reminds me of magneto re: mutants in the marvel universe. and i think that is the direction he’s headed in: separate ronan from his human family and escalate the conflict between humans and dreamers much further than simple self-defense from the moderators.

there’s plenty of reasons to be mistrustful (if not outright skeeved the fuck out), right? so why does ronan trust bryde? well, several reasons.

2. “On The Right Side Of Rock Bottom” 

ronan is at the lowest that he’s been since tdt. it’s better and worse at the same time -- in a way, it’s worse because it’s better. in tdt, ronan was deeply in denial about himself and the things he wanted; now he knows what he wants (a happy life with adam) and can’t go after it, trapped at the barns. in tdt, ronan was suicidal; now he wants to live, and so of course his life is threatened on all sides, internally by the nightwash, externally by the moderators. 

through all of trc, one of ronan’s main goals was to return to the barns, feeling like his key to happiness was in his childhood home. but as it turns out (and as i suspected all along), being stuck alone and isolated on a dream farm surrounded by eerie sleeping things and a handful of incredibly traumatic memories of his dead parents isn’t as fulfilling as ronan imagined. to make things worse, he’s created a security system for the barns that causes him to relive his fears and traumas over and over (ronan for the love of God, why would you dream something like that). his brothers live in DC, which is close, but not that close -- and though he’s mending fences with declan, they still are somewhat at odds. his best friends, gansey and blue, are travelling the country with henry, and we know from the opal story ronan misses them and feels left behind. at the start of cdth he tries to escape by following adam to cambridge -- and that immediately goes pear-shaped, whether by accident or, as said above, by sabotage.

now ronan is truly alone, cut off from visiting adam, living with the guilt of wrecking his dorm and the self-loathing following the fact that adam had to tell people he’s, essentially, an unstable drunk (the place he actually was at in tdt). it feels like the progress has been erased. this is the first time since tdt ronan has hit rock bottom, and cdth tells us he sinks into depression, staying in bed for days, not showering or changing, eating expired food. he thinks of a life trapped at the barns alone doing nothing, and feels understandably suffocated. all the more so because it feels like everyone else is moving on - declan has his own life, gansey/blue/henry have their adventures, and adam... well, adam is growing up, which ronan feels he himself can’t do. this comes up at several points in the book: in ch. 5 ronan doesn’t recognize adam, noting he’s “growing from something beaten down into whoever he was supposed to be”, but finds it ridiculous that adam doesn’t recognize him because he’s still the same: “adam was changing; ronan couldn’t.” later, in ch.23, he notes that he often dreams of adam as older/more adult, while ronan himself is stuck in arrested development.

essentially: ronan is stuck. so of course, any lead that comes up - whether that’s mór ó corra, the new fenian, hennessy, or bryde, is going to make him reckless and ready to risk everything, because anything is better than being buried alive at the barns.

3. “Guilty, On the Run, And I Know What I Have Done”

remember how i said ronan hits rock bottom at the start of the book? well, it’s time to grab a shovel and keep digging, because then there’s the matthew thing. 

so... we learn very early on in the book (in case we didn’t already know from trc) that ronan feels deeply torn about his dreaming. he loves to create, but feels guilty about creating life, because that feels like an act of hubris against God to him. and he feels especially guilty about creating matthew, because that means A) that matthew’s safety and life depend on ronan’s, and B) that matthew essentially has no free will, something that’s very important to catholic morals.

the moment matthew figures out he’s a dream-thing, and calls ronan out on lying to him, ronan is dropped into a fiery pit of shame, guilt, and self-loathing (and we already know that all of ronan’s emotions which are not happiness manifest as anger). he remains despondent even in dreams, and essentially, refuses to deal with matthew’s hurt and disappointment. which on one hand is justified, because he has ~Dramatic Dreamer Developments~ happening; but on the other hand, he’s essentially avoiding responsibility towards his brother, lashing out at declan in needlessly mean ways when declan tries to get him to be there for matthew (“dad’s working, sweetie”... really?). it’s a kind of pettiness that ronan hasn’t displayed in a while, and it speaks to me of his own restlessness and self-loathing more than anything.

we already know ronan feels alone, frustrated, isolated, scared, trapped -- now he also feels guilty on top of it all, and it just redoubles his determination to free matthew (something bryde has hinted he can do, knowing the power it would have on ronan). this is ronan at his worst, and we see it not just in how dismissive he is of declan, but in how he treats hennessy in chapter 67. he wants hennessy to dream up the lace, so he can show her how to stop dreaming of it (which in itself is dangerous, since lindenmere can manifest dreams, and in fact it ends up almost killing hennessy). but he gets absolutely furious when hennessy can’t dream properly -- because she’s, you know, kind of stuck on the slightly traumatic memory of witnessing her mom killing herself in front of her. it’s something you’d expect ronan to have sympathy for, seeing as he’s witnessed both of his parents’ violent deaths. instead, he’s impatient, snappy, insisting hennessy isn’t trying hard enough -- and downright cruel, shooting hennessy’s clone before her eyes, then trying to force her to shoot herself (especially relevant when you remember the church scene in bllb, and how shaken ronan was at having to kill a copy of himself).

this new ronan, it seems, has reached rock bottom and then some, and he’s got no time for empathy anymore. we see this in the metaphor of lindenmere, a darker, scarier, more dangerous version of cabeswater (i.e. trc ronan), because “dangerous things can protect themselves”. we see this once again at the end, when he assumes his sundogs have torn someone apart limb from limb and he feels absolutely no regret, only rage. yes, matthew was in danger... but kavinsky also tried to kill matthew in tdt, and ronan still didn’t feel like he could kill kavinsky in cold blood. this is a new, darker ronan, brought to this point by desperation. he reminds me a lot of anakin in the prequel star wars movies (i know, i know...) and how he let his fear lead him to the dark side by trusting a powerful, shady mentor that he should never have trusted. how does it go? “fear leads to anger, anger leads to hatred, hatred leads to suffering.” and suffering leads to - or maybe is the dark side.

4.“Holding Out For A Hero”

still, you might say, why is ronan falling for bryde’s manipulation so easily? can he not see through it? how can he trust someone he doesn’t know, someone who refuses to be upfront with him? someone his psychic boyfriend with an uncanny character judging skills is understandably wary of?

in short... ronan needs a hero. 

or well, he needs a father, and those things are the same to him. ronan idolised niall, and he’s missed him terribly ever since niall diad. he missed him badly enough that he wanted to die for a very long time. now he’s coming to terms with the fact niall isn’t coming back, and not just that, but it turns out that niall might not be everything ronan thought he was (ronan hasn’t fully realised it yet, but he’ll get there; he’s starting to put the pieces together, from what declan and other people tell him of niall).

but if he accepts that niall’s gone, and worse, that niall wasn’t the infallible hero ronan thought he was... who has he got left to guide him? niall wasn’t just his father, either, but he was the only dreamer ronan knew for the longest time (the only other one was kavinsky, who sexually assaulted him and tried to kill his brother, so... not a great example) and yet he didn’t give ronan any guidance. and ronan needs dreamer guidance right now, with the nightwash threatening to kill him at every step.

enter bryde, promising all that and more. bryde’s not only a dreamer, he comes across like the alpha dreamer, ancient and powerful and all-knowing. he promises ronan tantalising answers, and even more importantly than that, he promises him community -- other people like him, so he won’t feel alone, so he won’t feel like a freak or an abomination; it has not yet occurred to ronan that (as maggie said in her video explaining the art/creation metaphor of the series) not all dreamers are equal: they don’t share the same skills or motives. 

ronan is desperate for what bryde is promising, for that kind of guidance in his life. all throughout the book, there is a lot of talk of heroes: ronan was raised on stories of the irish heroes of old, who accomplished amazing feats even though they were held back by geasa (magical weaknesses like his nightwash). ronan constantly thinks of these folk stories, while excluding himself from it (“ronan was no hero, but he knew fucking right from fucking wrong”). and how does he describe bryde when he finally sees him in ch. 79? yep, you guessed it: 

“he looked like a man who didn’t have to posture, who knew his strength. he looked like a man who didn’t lose his temper very easily. he looked, ronan thought, like a hero.”

ronan -- who is always posturing, who doesn’t know his own strength, who loses his temper very easily, who doesn’t think he’s a hero -- sees bryde as everything he’s not. and he’s willing to show him the same faith and devotion he once showed niall, because he needs a hero, a father, a teacher.

but i don’t think bryde is going to be the hero. i think ronan is going to be. there’s some early foreshadowing of this with ronan being depicted as “a gallant irish hero of old” while he kills the crabs (more posturing, really) but actually, we’ve known this all the way since trk, with niall asking declan to make sure that “ronan was the name of the hero, not the spear”; dreamers are weapons, but they don’t have to be. being a hero, ultimately, is about knowing fucking right from fucking wrong. and i believe ronan does.

but before he gets to be the hero, he’ll have to be the spear. and right now? he’s a spear in bryde’s hand. 

we know a dreamer is supposedly going to bring about the apocalypse through fire; we know ronan and fire have always been associated; we know bryde hates the modern world and would like to reboot it; we know bryde has selected ronan as his chosen one, for whatever reason.

when you connect the dots, they spell a whole lot of trouble.

[powerfultenderness]

I Take What I Want

Title: I Take What I Want

Rating: T

Pairing: Hux/Reader. 

Summary: You followed the code of Ren. And you wanted nothing more than general Armitage Hux.

Word count: 1599

Warnings: DarkSide!Reader. Knight of Ren!Reader. TROS spoilers.

Notes: Takes place during TROS, and contains spoilers!

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren had called for a meeting of the Supreme Council, not due to start for some minutes more. You had been in conversation with general Hux when the meeting was called and so followed him to the boardroom aboard the Steadfast.

You remained in conversation with him while everyone gathered. You were quite the contrast to your companion. Shorter than him, dressed in dark battle robes that shouted Force warrior, your oversized and well used warhammer strapped to your back in loud and bloody red, all contradicted the tidy general of the First Order. Perhaps that was why you were so attracted to him, they did say opposites attract.

What many people often overlooked or forgot about general Hux was that the man was a genius engineer. Since the rise of the First Order, however, he’d been consumed with command, but was still close to the engineers. And you were so interested in the engineers for what they could do for your ship. You wanted to add lightspeed active tracking to your TIE and had brought the subject up with Hux.

He mumbled something initially, probably just telling himself to think it over another time, but the matter got his mind spinning and he started spouting ideas off to you. You didn’t follow exactly, but you nodded when you thought appropriate and didn’t interrupt him. He was cute when he was excited and he’d been so dour ever since Kylo Ren became Supreme Leader.

“Soo, you’re saying it’s possible?” You asked once you heard a break in his sentence.

He grinned, “Oh not only is it possible, but I suspect-”

“Ren!”

As a member of the Knights of Ren you went by Ren and no other name.

You and Hux turned at the grumpy shout to see Allegiant General Pyrde glaring at you and Hux.

Hux stood at attention and greeted the newcomer. “Allegiant General Pryde.”

You on the other just gave him a simple nod of acknowledgement. “General.”

Hux sent a subtle and worried glance your way, that was no way to address someone of Pryde’s rank. Sure enough the older man sneered at you, “Allegiant General Pryde. You had better learn to speak properly to your superiors-”

You took a threatening step forward and used the Force to push the man back a few feet and again to hold him place while you spoke to him.

“Or you’ll what?”

You raised a closed fist, cutting off his air supply.

“What can you do to me? Nothing. I answer only to the Supreme Leader.”

You continued to glare at him as he gasped for air and clawed at his throat. Your little outburst was only partly because he dared to think he was your superior and mostly because of the way he treated Armitage, your only friend outside of the Knights and the man you harbored a major crush on.

“Enough.”

You stiffened at the voice of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and turned around to bow to him, while everyone else stood at attention and saluted him, even Pryde who struggled for a bit to do so. You glanced non-human blood dripping next to the Supreme Leader’s boot and looked up to see a severed cingulon head in his hand.

“Where’s your helmet?”

You stood up and raised your arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Must have left it back on the Night Buzzard.”

Honestly you left it because you boarded the Steadfast specifically to get a little flirty with Hux, not that you’d admit that, especially to Kylo Ren.

Kylo stared you down, and you had to remind yourself that you were valuable to him. Not only as a strong warrior, but you were fluent in High Sith, second in the entire galaxy. You could read it better than even him.

“Go.”

You bobbed another bow then turned to leave the room, but not before sending a quick wink to Hux, who only scrunched his eyebrows in confusion for a moment.

“Your subordinates need to learn respect.”

“The code of Ren is clear.” Kylo responded to Pryde, though the man, and other members of the Supreme Council, didn’t understand Kylo’s response.

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren didn’t bother explaining to the council, instead he tossed the cingulon head onto the table.

“We have a spy in our ranks.”

-

When Armitage returned to his quarters, almost certain that if he were to see Kylo Ren again he’d be dead, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a figure appeared from the shadows. He only just managed to not shoot the intruder. You only grinned at him with your hands raised in mock surrender.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in here?”

You shrugged and lowered your hands, “I’ve got my ways. Take off your shirt.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

Normally you’d tease him, smile at him suggestively, but now was not the time. You held up a thin piece of armor. “Put this on under your clothes.”

Hux holstered his blaster and stepped close enough to take the armor from you.

“This is?”

“Beskar. Our alchemist hammered it as thinly as possible for me. I tend to take point in battles and need a little extra protection. It won’t fully protect you from the impact of a blaster, but it’ll keep you alive.”

He turned the armor over in his hand, inspecting it, wondering if it would actually fit him. You were no mere slip of a girl. You were a warrior, you brandished an impossibly large warhammer into countless battles. Even if you used the Force to give you superhuman strength, or to lift the hammer for you, you would still need large muscles to even carry it casually, like you were now.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

He was silent for a moment, staring into your eyes and feeling both panicked and comforted by the odd seriousness in your eyes. For a fierce Force warrior, you were always smiling, but now…

He handed the armor back to you and unbuckled the belt at his waist. He still blushed brightly even after you gave him the pretense of privacy by turning your back to him.

You heard the rustling of clothes behind you and though you wanted to turn around and look him, you respected him enough to keep your eyes cast down while he was changing. He tossed his jacket and button down on the couch and you were surprised to scent a subtle waft of cologne. How alluring. Most of the men you found yourself around did nothing to accent themselves, even Kylo Ren ran around like the scent of leather, sweat, musk and dirt wasn’t repulsive. It was no wonder the scavenger girl didn’t want him, she could probably smell him through the Force.

He tapped your shoulder gently and mumbled a quiet, “You can turn around now.”

You did just that and smiled as he moved his arms around, getting a feel for the armor. He wore the armor over a thin undershirt, something you did too, but there was a bit of his waist that wouldn’t be protected as his torso longer than yours. Still, it would have to do.

“It’s a bit snug.”

You grabbed his shirt and held it open for him to step into. He turned and slipped his arms into the shirt before turning around again.

“Good. Less chance that someone will spot it under your clothes.”

He began to button the shirt and tucked it in delicately, not wrinkling it in the least. He donned the rest of his uniform rather quickly.

“Why are you doing this?”

You smirked and shrugged, “I follow the code of Ren.”

He blinked, recalling similar words from Kylo Ren earlier.

“What does that mean? What is the code of Ren?”

“The code is simple: live life the way you want, take what the galaxy gives you, and consume what the dark side sends you without any further thought or consideration.”

You reached out to him, tracing a hand along his forearm. He made no move to stop you, so you confidently moved your hand to the back of his neck, pulling him down closer to you. “And I want you.”

He made the first move, lips against yours in a kiss that was far too gentle for your liking. Though when he moved his mouth to place a single kiss on your neck then rested his forehead on your shoulder you didn’t pressure him for more. He was hugging you, face buried in your armor and silently thanking your for protecting him.

You stood like that, your arms around him and his around you, until one of his officers sent him a message via his comlink. Something about an unregistered ship boarding in the hangar.

“Looks like you’re needed elsewhere. And I need to return to the others.”

You pulled out of the embrace and smiled softly at him before stepping away and grabbing your helmet that you had set on a side table. You weren’t about to get caught without it twice in one day!

“Wait.” His hand grabbed yours before you could put the helmet on. “I’ve only ever called you Ren.”

“As it should be.”

He stared at you, as if he were looking at you for the last time. Who knows? Maybe he was, he was wearing your armor after all. “Will I ever learn your real name?”

You pulled your hand back, “Maybe.”

You put the helmet on and straighten your posture, all Force warrior again. “Find me when the war ends.”