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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

I love your work! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something about (toddler) baby Shelby having Alfie help her bake a cake for Tommy

omggggg that’s so so cute!!

A Bakers Help

The burly Camden Town ‘baker’ was nothing short of completely shocked when he heard a soft banging on his office door in the mid afternoon. His eyebrows had furrowed and he had kept his hand readily on his weapon so he was prepared in the event of an enemy being on the other side of the door. He was surprised to say the least when he tugged open the door and had to look down multiple inches to spot she who knocked on the door.

There stood a little girl. One he knew fairly well but who’s appearance outside his office was still a shock. That little girl was notorious around most of England, especially in heavily gang populated territories where the “Shelby” was a household name and everybody who knew that name knew the littlest member of the family was something akin to a jewel in Tommy Shelby’s crown. Alfie had been curious as to whether or not she was actually attached to Thomas Shelby’s hip in consideration to how much time she spent right by his side, teetering along on little legs so he knew she was safe right by his side. It wasn’t often that Tommy entrusted others to watch over his youngest sister, so it would be safe to say that Alfie was incredibly confused.

“Good morning.” The little girl greets, her lips plastered with a bright smile as she lifts a hand to wave at him. Alfie braces himself on either side of his doorway with strong hands so as to lean out of his office to look out into the ‘bakery’ to both the left and right before stepping back in. “Mhm yes it was actually. Where’s your brothers?” He asks, turning his eyes back to the girl in the doorway who fights to pull her wool coat back up from falling off her arms due to the fact it hadn’t been buttoned up. The girl shrugs, “Dunno...Can I come in?” She asks politely, “It’s very cold.”

Alfie Solomons squints his eyes and forms a crease between his brows, but even he can’t deny the chill in the winter breeze through the unheated factory and the shivering of the child, and so he steps to the side and gestures her in the door. Alfie hums, or maybe something more akin to a grumble, in thought as the five year old wanders around his office to take in the whole surroundings. “And where are your pikey brothers then yeah?” His voice rumbles deep and gravelly the same way it always does, not missing the chance or thinking twice about dropping an insult to the Shelby men as he speaks. The youngest of the clan shrugs her little shoulders. “Dunno,” she says again, “I’m with Ada. Told her i was going out to play.”

The words most definitely do worry Alfie Solomons after the girl with Tommy Shelby’s striking blue eyes and his heart in the palm of her tiny hand finishes speaking flippantly. It occurs to him that she’s simply too young to understand both risk and consequence. She knows that Tommy Shelby dotes on her like the little princess he believes her to be. She knows he loves her, he tells her every day. However, Alfie knows the far darker side to that love. He’s heard of people brutally murdered with remains unidentifiable after coming close to her, and although Alfie has no desire to harm a child who probably doesn’t even understand what it is the rest of her family do when she’s not around, that doesn’t reassure him even in the slightest that Tommy, Arthur, Ada and John Shelby along with Polly Gray wouldn’t rip him to shreds if they knew their little princess was stood in his office for whatever reason.

“Right,” Alfie states, “Better get you home then,” He strides easily towards the door to hold it open, but the little girl simply quirks one eyebrow and remains where she stands. “It’s Tommy’s birthday soon.” She declares, looking up at the hardened London gangster as if he poses no threat nor fear to her in the slightest bit. She smiles at him, big and bright. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know if he was violent, didn’t know if he was supposed to be scary. She just knew she had met him before, he was relatively funny as the 5 year old obviously did not pick up on the thinly veiled threats hiding beneath the verbal back and forth between her favourite brother and the man she stood with now, and more importantly than anything; she knew he was a ‘baker’. “You need a cake on your birthday, you know.” She adds very matter of factly, and Alfie Solomons doesn’t fight the little grin he gives. “And you’re a baker, so you can make good cakes. I need you to help me make Tommy’s cake for birthday cake time on Saturday.”

There’s virtually no way this little girl had just come up with this by herself. The way she acts, her generosity, her sweetness and her absolute insistence of cake for her brothers birthday was not something she had adapted by herself. Children don’t just come up with these things. That thought, for Alfie, means that those who have raised her have drilled a certain kindness into her. Thomas Shelby has raised his little sister to be the kind of kid who will find a man she thinks is a baker just because her brother told her he was, so that he can help her make a cake. That makes Alfie want to laugh. Tommy Shelby acts the part, but Solomons now knows he’s the type who taught a little girl about the importance of cake and birthday fun.

“Fine.” Alfie responds, out stretching his arm to gesture the little girl out into the factory. He did actually have a designated area for the ‘bakery’ just in the event that someone came looking or investigating and he needed to show there was actually a bakery there. He was thankful for that now, because he got the feeling that there was little to no chance he would have gotten away from the very very persistent little Shelby trailing behind him. It becomes apparent very quickly that little (y/n) will have no luck when it comes to seeing what was going on up on the counter, considering she wasn’t even nearly the same height as it, never mind tall enough see over it. Alfie has to get creative in that respect, eyes flicking around until they lands on a a stack of crates that he grabs a couple of to pile them next to the counter so that the youngest Shelby can contribute as she pleased to the cake making.

All things considered, Alfie was actually a fairly good baker. He didn’t come up with the idea of a bakery to cover his illegal business work for no reason. He knew he could bake if it was necessary (which it sometimes was to smuggle alcohol), so this ask from the little girl who had a list of ingredients and an exact image of how she wanted this cake to look, wasn’t a huge task for him.

In the process of the bake, Alfie learned a lot. He learned that little Shelby couldn’t quite pronounce her L’s (which Tommy was apparently working on with her), so she called him Afie. He learned that Tommy’s favourite cake was vanilla sponge, which was why it was a four tier vanilla sponge with extra strawberry jam that his sweet little sister had chosen. He learned that the little girl got here by very discretely tripping up her cousin, Karl, so that Ada was preoccupied giving him a plaster for his knee and stopping his tears and (y/n) snuck off from Ada’s London home in the direction she felt like she remembered Tommy going when he had taken her to Alfie’s bakery once, albeit leaving her in the car with Arthur and John. She had to ask for directions from confused strangers a few times, but ultimately she found the place on her own. Alfie learned that little Shelby talks a lot. She’s very clever, can follow instructions a lot better than most children of a similar age. It had become increasingly clear she didn’t see any problem with talking about the fun things she did with her brothers. The way Arthur and John like to throw her about to hear her giggles, how Tommy tucks her in every single night that he can. How he tickles her, how he still carries her around even though her aunt Polly protests it. How good her aunt Polly’s cooking is. How much she loves her family. She sees no problem with divulging these soft family moments, although Tommy would probably be absolutely appalled that people knew these things about him and his brothers. It made the head of the Peaky Blinders seem so incredibly mundane.

Alfie could see now why that sweet girl was so loved and held so dear by the family. He also had to wonder if she truly was one of them. She was funny and bright, she giggled with him and babbled on about sorts of rubbish. Alas, she was bossy as Thomas himself. She was loud like Arthur, sarcastic as John, self assured as Polly, as independent as Finn and opinionated as Ada. She made sure to tell Alfie exactly how to stack the first layer while she mixed ingredients for the next layer and he was kept on a very short leash, reminded every so often that he was not to dip his fingers in any of the mixtures and leaning over as he worked to tell him Tommy liked more jam than what Alfie had put on.

“Wait!” She yelps out, leaping off the makeshift kitchen stool made from those bottle crates to chase after Alfie until she reaches the man who was carrying the cake towards a box. “Finishing touches,” she insists, ever so slightly dusting the cake with powdered icing sugar to give a final decorational appearance. Alfie smiles subconsciously as the small girl stands back with a proud grin, turning her eyes to man holding the cake, “Thank you Afie,” she beams, her cute little way of saying his name never lost on him as his heart flutters. “Welcome, baby Shelby.” He responds as he slips it into the cake box he’d ordered one of his men to go and get without question.

Alfie was certain he would step outside his bakery and London would be burning. He expected to have Shelby’s killing people on the streets searching for their baby, their sweet little princess. He assumed (and rightly so) that Ada hadn’t told Tommy that she had absolutely no idea where his most precious little love was for genuine fear of his reaction and so she had mobilised some friends and acquaintances she had made while in London to try finding her little sister. Albeit they were evidently unsuccessful and absolutely no one expected little (y/n) to be baking with Alfie Solomons for her gangster brothers birthday because she just loves him so.

Ada literally burst out the front door frantically when she saw the car headlights pull up outside her house, wrapping herself tightly in her coat as Alfie Solomons lifts her little sister down out of the car. The 5 year old stands innocent as ever next to the man who Tommy never truly knows if he can trust or not as he reaches back into the car to lift out a white cake box with two strong hands. “Better keep a closer eye on this one yeah?” He gestured his head to (y/n) who runs towards Ada and jumps into her open arms to be squeezed incredibly, almost painfully tightly. “Never run off like that again!” She hisses, her concern and anxiety clear behind her words as she speaks into her sisters soft hair, stroking it with her hand for some form of reassurance.

“Sorry Ada,” she hums cutely in response, “We made Tommy a cake though, for his birthday!” Ada let’s go of (y/n) and turns to the little girl. “Go inside and find Aunt Pol, i’ll be in shortly.” She says as she eyes Alfie Solomons with the stoney faced glare he assumes she learned from Polly Gray and her often stoney resolve. “Bye bye Afie!” The 5 year old chimes, scuttling up to him to wrap her arms around his legs for a moment before turning and running off with a wave at the doorstep with Alfie a little bit to stunned by how kind she was to him despite the bad man he was to do much else than wave after her. “You,” Ada snipped, cutting him out of his thoughts and crossing her arms firmly over her chest, “Baked a cake with my little sister?” Her words leak with confusion, eyebrows furrowed with her head tilted in question as she continues to be unable to think of any reason why Alfie Solomons hadn’t turned the little girl away or even used her as a bargaining chip with threats of harm to the child if Tommy didn’t do as Alfie wanted. Instead he baked with her a cake for Thomas and she was returned without a bump, not even a hair on her head harmed. He had returned the little Shelby who was uncharacteristically clumsy for a Shelby without her falling off of anything, burning herself on any ovens or accidentally eating something she was supposed to.

“Yeah.” Alfie responds, shrugging his shoulders at the same time. Ada steps closer to him to try in some way to read what he’s not saying, her heels clicking with each step. “And you want nothing for it?” She presses, her eyes narrowed as he shrugs. “Birthday gift innit yeah?” He grumbles, handing the cake to Ada. “She’s the best of you lot,” he states firmly as he turns his back to climb back into his car, “Keep her that way yeah?”

Ada’s frown turns to a soft smile as she nods, watching as Alfie Solomons pulls his door shut firmly and turns on his ignition.

“Mr Solomons, Oi!” She calls after him, forcing him to roll down his window to hear what she has to say. “Thank you.” She breathes, “For looking after her and bringing her home. And for the cake.” Alfie nods his head in acknowledgment. Ada isn’t sure what else to say. She still feels fairly nauseous at the fact her little sister was missing for virtually the whole day and littered with further nerves at the fact Tommy would be around to pick her up in a half hour and it wasn’t like little Shelby to keep quiet about anything, especially not when it came to Tommy and especially when it came to her adventures that her favourite brother hadn’t been part of, so assuredly she would let him know all about her baking day with Alfie after the cake was revealed tomorrow afternoon for his birthday. Alfie knew this too and he imagined he’d get a visit from the head of the Peaky Blinders relatively soon after he found out.

Tommy would probably be as confused as Ada as to why Alfie looked after little (y/n) the way he did. Alfie couldn’t even really explain it himself, she just warmed up his heart and the sweet little girl showed Alfie truly why Tommy loves that little girl so much. She brings laughter and happiness and fun. She brings light into a very, very dark life and Alfie appreciates that dedication Tommy had to keeping her safe a lot more now. He himself now had a soft spot for the kid and there was a part of him that knew for a fact he too would be making sure no one in his circle was breathing words of harming that little girl who had promised she would bake with him again, and had his birthday written on her hand so she could bake for his birthday.

Maybe the Shelby’s weren’t so bad after all.

#tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x sister reader #shelby sister #shelby sister reader #shelby!sister #shelby!sister reader #shelby!reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders blurb #(y/n) shelby #little shelby

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coping-via-clint-eastwood · 3 years

Text

CSI Characters as Ancient/Medieval Fantasy Warriors (title is tentative)

I WROTE THIS ALL IN ONE SITTING!!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT???????

*ahem* This is speculation about what powers and skills the CSI characters would have if they were warriors in an ancient/medieval fantasy setting, amongst other things. This was probably inspired by my recent wallowing in medieval fantasy (specifically Songs of War {if you don't know what that is, it's okay}), and I thought, why not entertain the idea? And after writing it out, I can say that it was fun toying around with it. If this inspires anybody to add on anything, or write fanfiction, or whatever, by all means go ahead.

@addictedtostorytelling @bartramcat @buildinggsr @davesdude80 @dobbyofearth @fandomismymiddlename @originalpinkranger @panchostokes @space-helen @stokes-theorem

All the people written about here are humans with powers.

Gil: He has enhanced eyesight, and is a sniper archer. If I may draw your attention to the ending scene of season 4 episode 2, All for Our Country:

Bonus shot because it reminds me of his Will Graham days:

He is canonically a deadeye. So, I am extending that to be a superhuman power. I'll put it this way: he can aim and shoot at the same target a contemporary sniper with a scope could; he does not require (or have, for that matter) a scope. Because he is not so able as his younger teammates, so he cannot be in the direct area of battle and fend off opponents. But he has excellent eyesight, so he hides up in a tree or on the edge of a cliff that overlooks the area or wherever is applicable, and shoots any targets he can. He uses a crossbow, since not as much strength is needed to pull back the cord as compared to a bow. He also has a light wooden staff which he uses to help him walk up inclinations. It's also his defensive staff; if an enemy manages to sneak up on him, he can point the staff at them and shoot a forcefield that will blast them back. But this is only effective at close range, hence why he has to use the crossbow for opponents further away. He wears a hooded cloak which is green on one side and a dusty brown on the other, so that he can camouflage himself, turning the cloak to whichever side he needs to match his surroundings. He is not the only one to wear a cloak however; Catherine, Ecklie, Jim, DB and Finn wear cloaks (more details when I get to each) as well to show they are of higher ranking, but only Gil's is hooded for practical purposes.

Warrick: His power is that he can jump really high. He can jump over a small hill and land on the ground on the other side. He's the one who helps get Gil to his perches if needed; he puts him over his shoulder and jumps, holding him with one arm and his war hammer in his other hand. He is strong enough to carry Gil. And Gil trusts him and is comfortable enough to let himself be borne in such a way, never struggling or crying out in fear when he is suddenly brought off the ground at such a high rate. In tandem with being able to jump high, he can strike his hammer on the ground when he lands and cause a quake. His hammer's enchantment depends on how high he jumped. On the ground, he swings his hammer at an opponent and sends them flying back (at a much greater distance than Gil's forcefield).

Bobby Dawson: He's the archer who is in the direct area of battle. He uses a small hunting bow, and also has a gladius in case any opponents manage to get close to him. He has enhanced reflexes, so he is able to turn around, draw weapons, and load and shoot his bow faster than normal.

Catherine: She is telekinetic. She does not use weapons because she prefers to have her hands free to gesticulate and help her focus on moving the objects she is controlling. Her cloak is a beautiful royal blue.

Heather: Mind control + reading minds + telepathy. And invisibility. Aside from turning the team's opponents against each other, mind control is useful for helping friends escape from dangerous situations; sometimes, it's easier than telling them what to do. She needs very strong concentration for her mind control, which is the ability she uses the most, so she makes herself invisible and keeps out of the way, but stays where she can see the person she is manipulating. Like Gil, she has the defensive staff in case anyone finds her.

Nick and Sara: They are what I like to call the speedster twins. It is very satisfying to wash them nyoom about and quickly kill any opponent in the path of their run. Typically, they start out standing next to each other at the same point, and then run on one side of the battlefield each. So they take out the opponents on the skirting of the battlefield. Sara has a cutlass while Nick has twin daggers.

Greg: He can talk to nearby spirits and ask them to help his team in the fight. With the power of this necklace that he has, he can conjure a protective invisible dome-shaped barrier around himself, which is invulnerable to any and every form of attack. Except if somebody were to dig their way up from below him of course. However, he has to stay in the same spot when he is inside this barrier, and has to deactivate it if he wants to walk (or run or whatever) somewhere else. The spirit of the person who gave him the necklace follows him everywhere, and stays by his side on the battlefield to protect him from any opponents who manage to get close. Greg has a curved cleaver in case he needs to fight.

Al: Aside from being a healer, he can freeze time. Sort of. He can freeze the movement of anybody who is coming at him, no matter how many there are. He does not wield weapons. He has wooden legs (which are enchanted to be completely painless for him) and a staff, but without the power that Gil's and Heather's have. To heal someone, he just has to touch them, for as long as it takes for the wounds to completely heal. **I was thinking about making him have something to do with necromancy, but I thought that that's too much like Greg's power.

David: He is the other healer, and is the one who kills the people that Al freezes. He just makes them fade out of existence. It is completely painless, and that way they don't have any bodies lying around the healers' area. Also, while Al heals physical injuries, David actually cures illnesses. So he has to touch his patient for as long as it takes to eradicate the infection.

The two healers typically stay in one spot, ready to head out into the battlefield if any of their teammates are injured.

Archie: He is the cryokinetic guardian of Henry, Wendy, Mandy, and Hodges, who are not combatants. He does not use weapons.

Henry: He is a blacksmith, in charge of repairing the people's weapons, and making new ones if necessary. He also makes the arrows for Gil and Bobby.

Wendy: She is an enchanter who imbues weapons with offensive powers, such as the quake and blast effect on Warrick's hammer, or the enhanced sharpness of the speedster twins' blades.

Mandy: She enchants weapons with defensive powers, such as Greg's necklace, or Gil's and Heather's staves. She is also the one who made Al's wooden legs painless.

Hodges: While Al and David are physical healers, and while Wendy enchants weapons, Hodges is the one who restores the powers of other people. He is not really drained when he does it, but it is better for him to stay still and rest while other people fight. It works exactly how Al's and David's healing does.

These five people typically stay near the healers.

Jim: He can control the weather. That also means he can summon lightning. And hailstones. And rain (creatures that are made of fire or lava are susceptible to rain). Like Catherine, he has his hands free to focus whatever he's bringing down from the sky onto wherever his target is. His cloak is pitch black in colour.

Conrad: He can clone himself; up to five clones of himself can exist at a time. It's alright if they are hurt or killed; so long as he is still alive. He wields a scythe. His cloak is a really dark grey, almost black, but not really.

Morgan: She can fly. This is not a power which requires restoration. Since she does not use wings, she can fly in rain. She uses twin swords.

Sofia: She is a shapeshifter. But she can not only turn into other creatures; she can turn into objects like a boulder or something. In such forms, she is invulnerable to like, say, a fist striking her, but if someone were to try and blow her up, she would have to turn into something else and run away. You know those fire creatures I mentioned? If she turns into one of them, she can harness their powers. Basically, she takes on the abilities of anything she turns into.

Riley: She can turn into any of her opponents, whether she has killed them herself of if they are standing right in front of her. Heather would be aware that this in fact Riley (telepathy yo), and Riley will work together with the person Heather is controlling. Unlike Sofia, while she becomes the mirror image of someone, she cannot have the skill level of the person she turns into. She herself is proficient with a club; if she turns into someone who was a swordsman, she would be wield a blade as well as them, and will continue to use her own weapon. If she turns into one of those fire creatures, she might be able to use their fire, but she doesn't have as fluent control over it as the original person. In fact, it is much safer for her to not turn into such creatures.

Ray: He has enhanced strength, which enables him to rotate his huge double-headed battle axe about his wrist above his head. And by "huge", I mean that the stick is almost as long as him, and the blades are bigger than his head. The stick is also quite thick; it has to withstand the weight of the blades, and the impact with which it is struck. By "rotate", I mean Ray is able to hold the handle at the very base, and pivot it perfectly around.

DB: Teleportation. This son of a bitch randomly popping up out of nowhere? Yeah. His weapon is a really small but especially sharp dagger, easy to conceal, and a quick and effective killer. He appears, quickly pokes his opponent, and then teleports to the next one. He can teleport anywhere within his viewing distance; he has to be able to see where he is teleporting to to go there. His cloak is silver in colour.

Finn: She is pyrokinetic. Her cloak is typically orange, yellow or red, but it can change colours to whatever fire she is wielding, which includes green, blue, purple, white, and even black fire. She does not use weapons.

Additional idea: Gil and Sara are soulmates. But they were not fated from birth; rather, their soulmate bond formed when their connection deepened. Before they met, their soulmates could have been anyone else, or they could have gone without a soulmate for the rest of their lives. Even when they met and fell in love at first sight (I'm one of those who hc that they did; ymmv), they were not yet soulmates. It was when they really got to know and understand each other implicitly and became unbreakably steadfast in their connection, of their own accord, that their soulmate bond formed. The physical manifestation of it was when their soul marks appeared; Gil has a butterfly on the right side of his neck, close to the back of his neck, and Sara has a rhinoceros beetle on the underside of her left wrist. Being soulmates, they can heal each other and restore each other's powers. The most soothing times for them to do it is when they can lie down somewhere private and hold each other close.

When their marks first appeared, everyone kept congratulating them; there was a lot of friendly teasing from Warrick, Nick, Greg and Hodges. As for themselves, they remained passive until they were in the privacy of their bedroom. They sat down on the edge of the bed, embracing and leaning their foreheads on each other's, uncontainable smiles on their faces as they had a little heart-to-heart. They did not really have to vocalise much; they had always been able to understand each other with just a few words. Then, they leant back from each other, but remained close. Sara lowered her head and slowly, reverently kissed all over Gil's mark; he closed his eyes and let her do it, enjoying how it felt, moving his head to one side so that his skin on the right of his neck was stretched flat and easier to kiss. When Sara was done, they leant back again. Gil lifted Sara's wrist to his mouth and kissed all over her mark, with as much care and adoration as she had done his.

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topazy · 4 years

Text

Silent bloom

Pairings: Bellamy Blake/reader Finn Collins/reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, and vomiting

Chapter: 1.12 (Bellamy’s pov)

1.02

"Cut it out!" Y/N snapped, which took me by surprise. She seemed so quiet. "The only thing that matters right now is finding Jasper! Bellamy, stop moaning. You’re coming with us and that’s the end of it."

"Excuse me?" I was irritated by her tone.

Y/N walked closer to me, with a look of disbelief on her face. "You want to lead? Then lead. You’re the only person here with a gun, and those kids out there won’t follow you unless you give them a reason to."

"She’s right." Clarke chimed in. "Because you want them to follow you and right now they’re thinking only one of us is scared."

"Fine."

I watched as the bossy girl froze just before she reached the camp gates. It seemed like she was telling Finn to get lost. The last thing I needed was any more drama in camp. I had a feeling the girl with the scarred eye would cause it.

—

"So how did you earn the nickname angel eyes?"

My ears perked up when I heard Murphy shamelessly trying to flirt with the girl walking beside him. It was hard to figure out if she was enjoying his attention or not. "The only person who calls me that is you, Murphy."

"How did you get the scar?" I listened in, as I was curious myself about how she got it.

"Fist fight in a bar. You should have seen the other guy." She had a dry sense of humor, "I fell and cut it."

"Can you see clearly out of it?" He asked, standing closer to her.

"Yes, and I know what you are doing!" She snatched her wrist back, laughing. Murphy just shrugged. "I’m not giving it to you, so you and your little king can stop trying."

I glared at Y/N when she turned around to face me. I had nothing to do with Murphy trying to take her bracelet off. It wasn’t my fault if he wanted to try and show off.

"Did you hear that?" Wells asked, "It sounds like a moaning pain."

"Jasper!" Y/N gasped before running off in the direction of the noise. "He’s over here!"

"Y/N wait!"

She didn’t listen to Wells. What a stupid girl. She was going to get herself killed. I watched as she suddenly disappeared. I lunged forward to see what happened to her. Y/N was hanging onto the grass to stop herself from being killed, "Help me up!"

"Y/N? Bellamy pull her up!" Finn yelled just as I grabbed hold of her wrist. Clarke and Murphy helped us pull her up.

Y/N landed on top of Finn before quickly rolling off him, and glared at me. "What the fuck was that about?! You almost got me killed!"

Clarke shook her head and stepped forward before she could reply. "This isn’t going to help. The grounders are setting traps to catch us. We all need to be more careful."

The ‘princess’ was right. Y/N continued to glare at me. Was it my fault? Did she think I was going to let her die? I didn’t care about her, but we needed all the bodies on earth we could get.

—

"Stay here, I'll be back shortly." I watched the girl curiously as she walked towards the fire pit.

"Hey, John?"

I was expecting Murphy to kick off at being called his first name, but he looked amused. "What?"

She held up her wrist, "fancy freeing me?"

"Anything for angel eyes," Murphy said, grinning.

I watched her pick up a stick of meat and head towards her previous spot, but Finn and Clarke stopped her. I couldn’t hear the full conversation, just bits of it. I didn’t get Finn’s obsession with her. I wondered if they knew each other on the ark. "Yes, I am aware of that. Now if you don’t mind, can you move out of my way?"

"Then tell me, why did you take it off?" Finn demanded, not moving out of her way.

"Some of us don’t want to get punched in the face...Plus, It was hurting my cut wrist."

Her comment didn’t bother me, but Finn bothering her did. Also, I felt slightly bad that she cut her wrist while we pulled her up. I was getting ready to intervene when she walked away from Finn and sat back down beside a young girl, and handed her food. She had taken off her own wristband to feed someone else. Not many people would have done that, not even me.

1.03

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Finn storming towards Y/N, or whatever her name was. "Is it true?" She ignored him, "Well! Is it?"

She shrugged, "I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a little busy here, Finn, so if you don’t mind."

"Please tell me you didn’t spend the night with Murphy." I noticed how offended she looked by his accusation. "You are so much better than that Daze. Why would you do that? Don’t you have any self-respect?"

"At least Murphy is flying solo."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Clarke asked from behind him.

"Nothing... it means nothing." She turned to walk away when she caught me staring. It didn’t seem to phase her much as she turned back to throwing knives.

I waited until Clarke and Finn were gone before approaching her. Even if she had screwed Murphy, neither of them had a right to judge her. "Y/N right?"

"Yeah," she answered without taking her eyes off the target. "But I go by Daze or Daisy."

That made sense. It suddenly occurred to me that this was the same girl that my sister wouldn’t shut up about. Somebody with her aim would be good at hunting. I wondered if she would be interested in joining us. "Useful to know. You have a good aim. Any interest in killing?"

"I’m not leaving the camp until Jasper is better," she replied, "maybe next time."

"Do you hear that?" I asked. "He’s dying. Don’t get your hopes up."

She scoffed at my comment, "enjoy the hunting trip."

I left her alone to practice. I wasn’t pointing out the obvious to be cruel, I just needed people to be prepared for the worst. When Jasper dies, the rest of us will still need to go on living.

—

I noticed Daisy walking out of the drop-ship, which surprised me. I thought she would have been celebrating her friend surviving. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I just needed a moment... I’m sorry about Atom."

I stared down at the ground to avoid eye contact with her. The last thing I wanted was anybody to see me get upset over Atom. He was my friend who trusted me, and I had let him down. "I don’t think Octavia is feeling sorry for me."

"She’ll come around. She’s just upset. Give her time," Daisy said with a smile.

"I’m glad you never came hunting with us." I confessed out loud, "Like I said, you have a good aim. It would have been a shame to lose someone with such skills."

I could see a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "Yeah, yeah. Goodnight Bellamy."

—

"Finn move aside," I snapped.

"I can’t do that."

I pushed him out of my way as I walked into Daisy’s tent. I had to see for myself if she was still alive. When she never came back with Wells, I decided to look for her and saw her laying on the ground with a knife in her stomach. I thought she was dead.

Kneeling down beside her bed, I noticed how fragile she looked. Clarke had worked a miracle by saving her.

"Bellamy, you need to leave now!" I stood up again, and faced Finn. I found it ironic that he only cared about Daisy after she almost died. "If Daze gets an infection, she will die. The more people she comes in contact with, the higher the risk."

"Whatever," I shoved past him. "When Octavia comes, you will let her in."

1.05

I had just disposed of the god-damn radio when I felt something bang into me. I was surprised to see a slightly confused Daisy standing behind me.

"Y/N, what are you doing out here?"

"Me and Clarke came looking for you."

Was she joking? Nobody had seen her in hours. If she wasn’t back by the time I returned, I was going to go look for her myself. If anything, it was to stop Octavia from going off on her own. "Looking for me? Octavia was worried sick when she couldn’t find you last night. Where the hell did you go?"

"Bellamy Blake? They’re looking everywhere for you."

Fuck. The brunette had survived. I should have made sure she was dead before I stole from her. As Clarke, Finn, and the new girl lectured me, I noticed how unusually quiet Daisy was. She didn’t seem interested.

—

"It’s no use, it’s gone."

Daisy rolled her eyes at me, "That’s not a good leader’s attitude."

"Guess I’m not a good leader then. You’re really not going to ask why I did it?" I was curious.

"It’s not my business." She shrugged. When Daisy removed her jacket, I noticed how badly her stomach was bleeding. She must have burst her stitches open.

"Hey," Raven said, stepping closer to her. "Your bleeding is pretty bad."

I stood awkwardly trying not to listen to the two girls' interactions. It was clear they didn’t like each other. I just wanted Daisy out of the water before she passed out.

—

"Hey, have any of you seen Octavia?"

Clarke shook her head. "No, I mean...it’s Octavia. She’s probably chasing butterflies."

Daisy frowned at the comment. I imagined she didn’t like Clarke’s attitude either. I thought back to the conversation I overheard with Daisy and Finn earlier, and wondered if she was looking for my sister because she needed a shoulder to cry on. It wouldn’t have surprised me. I couldn’t believe she was sleeping with Finn while leaving the rest of us to worry about her.

1.07

"What the hell, Bellamy? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Your aim is off."

"Thanks." She rolled her eyes and turned back to face the tree. "Don’t you have anything better to do than sneak up on me?"

I probably shouldn’t have walked up to someone holding a deadly weapon without making my presence known beforehand. I couldn’t tell by her tone if she was mad at me as well. "Who we are and who we need to be to survive are very different things."

"Seriously Blake?" She scrunched up her nose, "A line like that might work on others, but not on me."

Daisy walked over to the tree and let out a whine when she pulled the knife out. I rushed over to her and grabbed her hand, concerned she’d cut herself on the knife's edge. I was relieved to see it was just a small splinter in her hand, "It’ll push itself out."

"I know that...I just can’t quit thinking about how painful it must have been for Finn."

I stared blankly at her. I couldn’t get my head around the fact that she cared for the spacewalker so much, especially when he took her for granted. It was obvious that she cared about him more than herself. Hell, she even burst her own stitches while having sex with him.

"You got stabbed in the stomach," I pointed out. She shrugged. Daisy hadn’t been able to look at me since we brought the grounder back to camp. "I’m not sorry we saved Finn, but I am sorry for what you saw me do."

"Are you ready to go?" Clarke asked, walking towards me. I nodded in response. She turned to face Daisy. "Daze, Finn was asking for you."

Of course he was. I was going to ask Daisy if she wanted to join us while looking for weapons, but I knew she’d never come with Finn wanting her attention. "You better go run off and find him then."

She smiled at us, "be safe out there."

As she walked away, Clarke stood beside me, saying, "You didn’t ask her, did you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Good question. "We are better off with just us two. She would have slowed us down."

Clarke leaned into me, "you know, that was a very fake smile she just gave us."

1.09

As we walked towards the gates, I noticed movement outside camp. We slowed down until we got a better look. Clarke suddenly ran over to the couple, "Daisy!"

On closer inspection I could see why she ran over to them. Daisy was violently throwing up. Clarke held her hair back while she continued to vomit. "What’s wrong with her? Is she the only one sick in camp?"

Finn shook his head, "She was just high for the first time."

"What?" I snapped.

Finn shrugged, "Yeah, most of the camp is high. They ate some bad nuts, I guess."

Clarke continued to rub Daisy’s back, saying, "Bellamy, I'm going to take Daze back to her tent, then I'll meet you in the drop-ship."

I frowned at Finn, who seemed to find the situation amusing. "Grounders are out here," his smile faded. "You’re just lucky you didn’t get her or yourself killed."

—

I noticed Daisy finally emerging from her tent. She looked slightly better than the night before, but still hellish. "Hey, you good?"

"Yeah, I’m good. Enjoying unity day?"

I pointed towards the rest of camp, "somebody needs to be sober while the rest have fun."

She chuckled, "Everyone deserves to have some fun, even you Blake."

She had a point, but my idea of fun would be different from hers. Although I found myself tired of sleeping with a different girl every night, they all bored me once the sex was over. "I’ll have fun when the grounders come."

"Dark as always," she laughed.

I smiled, "you look a lot better than when I last saw you."

The moment the words left my mouth, Daisy’s face turned red. I had accidentally embarrassed her. I gulped down before changing the subject, "What did you get arrested for anyway?"

I noticed she wasn’t listening to me by the way she was watching something else, "It’s Finn."

I tried my best not to groan. I honestly didn’t understand what was so special about bloody Finn. He had Raven, Daisy, and Clarke wrapped around his finger. I doubt he cared that much about any of them. Lost in my thoughts, I almost missed Daisy going to leave camp. "Where do you think you’re going?"

"To get Finn, he’ll get killed out there on his own."

"So could you." I paused for a moment before letting out a sigh of defeat. I could tell by the look on her face that she was going after him regardless of what I said. "I’ll come with you."

"No...Somebody needs to stay here in case the grounders do turn up. If I can’t see where he went past the tree-lines, I’ll come back."

I clenched my jaw with frustration. I didn’t like this one bit. "Fine. But if you are gone too long, I’m sending out a search party."

—

"Bellamy?"

"So much for staying in the tree lines," I frowned.

Daisy rolled her eyes as she pulled me into my tent. Was this really happening? Was she trying... "Whatever, look, Finn set up a meeting with the grounders to call a truce."

"He did what?" Finn had quickly gone from being a little annoying to a real pain in my ass. He was going to get himself killed. I just hoped when that happened he didn’t drag anybody else down with him.

"We spoke to Lincoln... the grounder who stabbed him. He’s going to set up a meeting between our people and his. Finn and Clarke are getting ready to leave."

I stepped closer to her so I could speak in a lower voice, "Why are you looking for me then?"

She seemed nervous the closer I got to her. Her lips parted slightly as she looked up at me. "I’m going to follow them, and you’re coming with me."

"Anyone ever told you that you have a bossy side?" I preferred the bossier side of her.

"We should wait five minutes," she answered, ignoring what I said. "Finn doesn’t know that we are following them."

"Why not?"

She knotted her fingers together, and looked down at the ground. I made a mental note to remember she did that when she was lying. "Because Lincoln told us not to take any weapons, and I don’t agree with him. But Finn does. We are going to be their backup."

I didn’t see the point in arguing with her when it was already happening. "Okay, I think we need one more person to come with us."

1.10

"Not now Finn, we don’t have time for this. The grounders are coming and arguing among ourselves is exactly what they want. " I watched Finn’s face twist with anger when Daisy butted in. I just hoped he was smart enough not to say anything back to her. "I’m going for a walk. You guys are giving me a headache. Murphy better be alive when I get back."

"Seems I’ve got a fan club starting in camp Bellamy. Who knows, maybe she likes me more than you." Murphy said before spitting out blood.

"Go float yourself."

"Happily," he scoffed. "But I don’t imagine angel eyes being too happy when she finds out you’ve killed me." Finn stormed out of the drop-ship, mostly likely to go look for Daisy. "Looks like I’ve upset her boyfriend. My bad."

"They aren’t together," I snapped.

A look of amusement spread across his face. Being covered in blood only made him look more sinister. "Ohh... I see what it is."

"What are you talking about?" I mentally slapped myself for even entertaining Murphy. I should just kill him before he hurts anybody else.

"You care for her... and she’s in love with spacewalker."

I glared at him, "Shut the fuck up."

"Don’t worry Bellamy, I’ll keep it our little secret. For now."

—

"Bellamy, you're sick, okay? I'm just trying to help. Here."

If it wasn’t for the fact that I was so weak, I would have flung Murphy across the room by now. "When I get better, if you're still here--" I frowned when I saw Daisy walking towards us. The last time I saw her, she was throwing up blood. "Why are you up? You should be resting."

"I’ve got this one Murphy," she smiled and took the cup from his hand. "Thanks for saving my life and all that."

When she sat down next to me, I noticed the way Murphy looked at her before leaving. "What are you now? His best friend? After-"

“Murphy is an ass," she cut me off. "But he never hurt me, and I believe in second chances."

I took a drink of water before she started wiping some of the blood off my face. Daisy suddenly stopped and squinted at me, "something you want to talk about?"

"You and Finn-" I was cut off by a loud noise from outside the ship. I sat up as Clarke ran into the room, "They did it."

"I became death, a destroyer of worlds. It's Oppenheimer, the man who built the first-"

"I know who Oppenheimer is."

"Who cares about him?" Daisy shrugged. "I want to know what the hell caused the explosion."

"Raven..." I glanced down at her. "I thought O told you? Raven and Finn went to blow up the bridge to slow the grounders down."

It was worrying that Daisy couldn’t remember. I was honestly surprised she was still alive by this point. Between being stabbed and catching the virus, I’d say she was very lucky to be with us. Daisy must have noticed me staring because she was frowning, "I’m sure they are fine."

Looking back out of the drop-ship, I sighed. We would need to wait to see if the grounders got scared off or not.

1.11

"Like that star of the waning summer who, beyond all stars, rises bathed in the ocean stream to glitter in brilliance." I saw Daisy sitting on her own again and thought I’d give her some company. "I thought your post finished hours ago?"

"It did," she shrugged. "I like being out here at night. The sky looks beautiful from down here."

I never would have guessed she would have enjoyed stargazing, this girl was full of surprises. "I suppose it does."

"You suppose? It’s the most amazing sight in the world. I honestly have no idea why people used to use drugs to live in a distorted reality, when the earth is just-" I could not help but smile at the way she talked about the sky. It was the first real conversation we had that didn’t involve anybody else. "What?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, smiling. "I’ve just never heard you talk so passionately about something that wasn’t to do with your friends."

"You don’t know me very well, Blake."

I knew much more than she thought. The girl with the scarred face was much more interesting than I first thought. "You're a good shot. We have the same taste in books, and you don’t know who Oppenheimer is."

"Touché, I’m guessing you’ve read the Iliad a few times then?" I nodded, "How do you know we have the same taste in books?"

"Octavia has mentioned it,” I lied. I had heard Monty and Daisy talking one night about books they liked to read on the ark, but I wasn’t going to admit I listened in on their conversation.

I noticed her shaking slightly. She was cold. I removed my jacket and placed it on her back. "Thanks..."

"No problem."

Sitting with Daisy was nice. It didn’t feel awkward when there was silence between us, although I wouldn’t have minded talking a little more. But I didn’t want to force her to spend time with me.

"So this Oppenheimer, who is he?"

—

"Bellamy!" I heard Daisy call out. Before I had a chance to finish getting dressed, she barged into my tent. "Bellamy I-"

"Daisy, what the hell happened?" I asked her. I stepped out in front of her when she tried to walk away. She was covered in blood and had an arrow sticking out of her leg. "Daisy, what happened out there?"

"Grounders attacked us."

Raven stepped out of my tent, "Finn... is..."

“Myles got hit with a few arrows. I don’t know if he’s dead or not. They took Clarke and Finn.I have no idea where they went."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn’t miss the look of disgust on Daisy’s face or the way she pulled away from me when I reached out to her. I had no reason to feel guilty, but I did.

—

"I never told him."

I stopped when I reached the outside of Daisy’s tent. "Told who what?"

"I lied to Finn. I told him I tripped and fell, I’m only telling you so you don’t mention it later on."

I stepped back. We wouldn’t be ready to leave for a couple of minutes, so I didn’t need to interrupt them just yet. My opinion of Daisy was always changing. I thought she would have been a spoiled brat when I met her, and assumed she got her scar in a pointless fight, but now... now I know she was a good person. She lied for Raven even when it caused her so much pain. She would do anything for her friends, including Octavia. Maybe Murphy was right, maybe I was starting to care for her.

1.13

"Bellamy!" I looked up to see my sister barging into my tent. She looked worried. "I haven’t seen Daisy!"

"Okay," I shrugged. "She’s probably in her tent or the drop-ship. You know she can’t go far until her leg heals."

"She’s not there! I’ve checked with Jasper and Finn. Neither of them have seen her all day. I’ve checked everywhere bell!"

Shit. This was bad. People didn’t just disappear from camp. Unless the grounders take them, or worse. "When did you last see her?"

"She was going to Wells' grave. She had found some flowers to put down."

"Octavia, go get Clarke and meet me at the drop-ship in two minutes."

We didn’t have time for a search and rescue with the grounders closing in on us, but I was sure as hell not leaving Daisy out there to die.

#the 100 #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #slow romance #slow burn #bellamy blake/reader #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 fandom #bellamy the 100 #bellamy blake/you #Bellamy Blake x oc #Bellamy Blake/oc #finn collins #clarke griffin #Raven Reyes #the 100 x oc #the 100 x reader #grounders #Bellamy Blake pov

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dalekofchaos · 4 years

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Killing The New Republic and Luke’s New Jedi Order killed the Sequel Trilogy

Disney you’re a business, who’s all about money, but then you chose to destroy the New Jedi Order and New Republic, that is definitely killing your billions, even after refusing to put storytelling first and foremost, and then having the audacity to claim “we don’t have source material” never mind the countless series of video games, comics, novels, tv shows and films, merchandising etc. Not to mention all the fucking stuff you could’ve done with the NR in BATTLEFRONT! YOU COULD HAVE MADE WITH THE NEW REPUBLIC AND NEW JEDI ORDER!

But no. Instead you made Leia an incompetent general leading an even weaker and an on the budget Rebel Alliance. Han’s character arc was dropped, Han and Leia’s iconic romance was broken up and they were both turned into absent parents and Luke’s Jedi Order failed and 30 years of peace was undone pointlessly. But instead you just wanted Rebels vs Empire 2.0, but only this time around it’s dumber.

Do you know what we could’ve done with The New Republic? Leia as Chancellor. Han and Lando as her Ministers of Defense. Boba Fett, Din Djarin and Bo-Katan leading The Mandalorians together as allies to the New Republic. We could’ve had a House Of Cards/West Wing/Game Of Thrones styled writing for the overall politics of The New Republic. You could’ve made a goddamn fortune on New Republic troopers, armor, weapons, fighters and frigates. Hell, you could even have The New Republic wield their own Star Defenders as opposed to Star Destroyers. I am well aware that canon demilitarized The New Republic and already made a post on why disarming the New Republic in new canon was stupid.

What should have happened is that the NR commanders the Imperial Fleet and starts protecting systems who join the NR, all while chasing down and fighting any of the Remnants (Moffs, Warlords, Crime Lords, etc) who have grabbed power in the resulting vacuum. We could have seen an evolution of ships from Old Republic to Empire to NR ones. They could have renamed Star Destroyers into Star Defenders. Hell, they could have had a Republic of independent systems, each with their own sizable military, so that power isn't centralized.

Here is what the Sequel Trilogy could’ve been with the New Republic in power.

This could have been an interesting question for the ST. What happens after you win a war? How do you not make the same mistakes or become the thing you fought. What happens in a power vacuum? The NR should have been the dominant emerging power, and the Remnant should have been a small, secretive, unknown order, striking strategically from the UR where they hid, and causing fear and panic to spread in the NR. But no, instead of telling an interesting story, we are force fed the recycled poorly written rehashed Rebels vs Empire and the Rebels are made to be weaker than The First Order. The First Order are a terrorist movement, they should not be reigning after Hosnian Prime’s destruction, ESPECIALLY AFTER LOSING STARKILLER BASE! Concentrating your government and defenses around only one system is really stupid(AND BAD FUCKING WRITING) The New Republic’s forces should have been spread far across the galaxy. So after Hosnian Prime, The New Republic sees the bigger picture and mobilizes their fleet and unites their forces with The Resistance. Instead The New Republic is stupidly destroyed because Rian wanted the Rebels to be the Rebels again.(lol this movie is fucking dumb) God forbid we get The New Republic fighting the First Order and making the heroes looking strong in force instead of stupidly having all the Rebels fit inside the Falcon. For the love of fucking god I hate this fucking timeline.

As for The Imperial Remnant. Thrawn, and Rae Sloane would lead the fleets and Darth Plagueis and the Knights Of Ren would would be in command of the dark side.

Do you have any idea how fucking frustrated it was to play The Battlefront games with The Resistance who are just discount Rebels? They look fucking pathetic.

JUST LOOK AT THE NEW REPUBLIC IN THE MANDALORIAN!!!!!!!! SO MUCH POTENTIAL!

Oh and just look at the NR Troopers from Legends and fan concepts

SO. MUCH. POTENTIAL!

As for the New Jedi Order.

Ya’ll were sitting on a GOLDMINE with the New Jedi Order. You murdered the goose which laid thegolden egg. Imagine proper video games, novels, animations, films in that era. Think about all of the unique characters and designs we could’ve seen, all the unique toys they could have sold, plus they could’ve centered Galaxy’s Edge around becoming a Jedi, building your own lightsaber, and undergoing training at Luke’s academy. I know they have a lightsaber-building thing there currently, but it would’ve made a lot more sense if they could’ve tied it in to the new trilogy with the New Jedi Order. Plus, Mark Hamill was the only one of the major OT actors who was willing to continually reprise his role well into the future, and they reduced Luke’s role to a cameo in 2/3 sequel movies and ruined his character and killed him off in the other one. They could’ve kept Luke around for several more decades and thrown him in to as many TV series, video games, and movies as they wanted to, and people would’ve flocked to see or purchase whatever he’s in, because it’s freaking Luke Skywalker. Destroying the New Jedi Order offscreen and ruining and killing off Luke Skywalker were the two dumbest decisions made with the sequel trilogy. They could’ve made BILLIONS off of this stuff. The continued pre-trilogy and post-trilogy stories, the toys, the merchandising, the video games, the books and comics, everything. What makes matters worse is that as I said, Mark Hamill was the only one who wanted to continue with his role,( Also he is an accomplished voice actor so he would have done well in the animated stuff, which also gives him opportunities to do action scenes without being young) he honestly probably would’ve been willing to reprise Luke up until he was in his 80s or even into his 90s, hell, Billy Dee Williams was just over 80 when he reprised Lando in TROS, and Luke wouldn’t even need an action-heavy role as he got older, as the Grandmaster of the New Jedi Order, he’d be able to have a similar role to Yoda in the prequels and The Clone Wars, where he provides wisdom and guidance the majority of the time, but he every once in a while he steps into battle, while the new characters go on the vast majority of the adventures. They really shit the bed with these new movies, because using the New Jedi Order with Luke as Grandmaster would’ve made them BILLIONS. I truly don’t understand how such a money-hungry corporation could’ve missed out on this, because using the NJO would’ve been like printing money. It’s genuinely baffling.

We could’ve had it all

Source

For story purposes. It could’ve been like this.

Luke starts to rebuild the Jedi by training his sister Leia. Leia could not fully commit to the Jedi because she had to lead the Republic as Chancellor, but she is made an honorary member on his Jedi Council. Leia would agree to be trained as a Jedi Master. Leia has a Yellow Lightsaber she keeps hidden should the moment arises. Leia’s most powerful force ability is Battle Meditation. After training Leia, Luke eventually encountered The Emperor’s Hand Mara Jade. Their dynamic and romance would be the same as in Legends. Eventually after Ezra Bridger returns, Ahsoka Tano, Cal Kestis, and Ezra Bridger return and join Luke’s Jedi order. The Jedi council would be this. Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Mara Jade, Ahsoka Tano, Cal Kestis and Ezra Bridger. The new Jedi Order embrace both the Light and Dark Sides Of The Force instead of repeating the mistakes of the Jedi of old and so balance can be brought to the force. Balance would mean understanding both aspects of the force and you can indulge in your anger and more toxic emotions, but you can’t let them rule you and when you can come to peace with that, that’s when you have balance.

Also, Luke’s Jedi order would include multiple aliens species from Wookies, Twi'leks, Iridonians, Trandoshans, Mirialan and you get the picture.

Finn would be a mix of Kyle Katarn and Finn Galfridian.

For those not familiar with either character. Kyle Katarn, a self taught force sensitive who was a former Imperial Stormtrooper that later became a Jedi Master, Battlemaster and a Jedi Council member. Finn Galfridian, a Jedi who is from Royal background and is part of the New Jedi Order who was being taught by Luke Skywalker Finn could still be a Stormtrooper that chose empathy and to walk away, this results in Finn becoming Force Sensitive and brought to be trained by Grogu. We would later find out that Finn is a lost prince of Royalty stolen by The Imperial Remnant. Perhaps, in this scenario. Finn could be the lost Prince of Naboo. Finn would of course continue fighting in the war, but with Artorias on the New Republic’s side, they will gave more funding and at least another ally. It would also provide Finn the ability to have a home for the Stormtroopers after Finn liberates the Stormtroopers from the Remnant. Finn could allow the Stormtroopers that still want to fight to serve in the Naboo military. The Naboo having weak defenses could greatly benefit from having trained soldiers serve them and if the Stormtroopers would prefer a peaceful life, Finn can offer them a civilian lifestyle away from the judgment the rest of the galaxy would give them for their past, even offering them reparations.

Also, Finn would find love with best damn pilot in The New Republic, Poe Dameron!

Luke and Mara would have a daughter. Kira Jade Skywalker(who of course would be Rey) she would grow up loved, with her family and with the Jedi. They would all truly be With her.

Ben Solo, Breha Solo(Played by Billie Lourd) and Jaina Solo(played by Millie Bobby Brown) would be the Solo children. Ben, Breha, and Jaina would all grow up close and would thrive as Jedi while their parents would visit and shower them with the love they would naturally receive from Han and Leia as their parents and Han and Leia would stand strong together leading The New Republic

You could have Ben Solo being the most promising of Luke’s Jedi Knights. He can either stay as a Jedi or choose The Imperial Remnant and become Kylo Ren. The Jedi Order is split between the Jedi loyal to Luke and those loyal to Ben. I will say Ben’s fall would be similar to Jacen’s. Because he sensed something terrible coming. The Grysk. He feels that the Jedi and the NR would not be enough. So he gives in to Darth Plagueis and leads the Knights Of Ren. But when The Grysk attack, Ben shows us his true colors and returns to his family to fight The Grysk and unites both The New Republic and Remnant.

If Ben doesn’t turn to the dark side, Ben would stay true to the Jedi and his family. Ben would lead the Jedi to face the Knights Of Ren and destroy Plagueis.

Together Kira, Ben, Breha, Jaina and Finn would rise together and destroy Darth Plagueis and end the Sith once and for all.

But that’s not the end, because The Grysk would invade the galaxy.

Towards the end of the Trilogy, The NR and FO will join forces to fend off The Grysk invasion. Sloane will call for a cease fire and signing a treaty with Leia, where The NR and FO align their forces and build The Galactic Federation. Building a better galaxy together. Leia's vision for a Republic and Sloane's virtues for the Empire.

We get the legacy characters getting treated with respect, we get the new generation built upon and being prepared for the coming war and are all treated as important heroes, we have a FO treated like strong villains and a stronger threat to unite both forces and we have peace in the end. This is how I think the ST should have been handled.

The theme should’ve been family. It’s about how the Skywalkers and Solos lead and protect the galaxy. How well Han, Luke and Leia became after the fall of the Empire and the upbringing of their children. It should end with all is well with the Skywalker and Solo families. Not end in misery.

As Carrie Fisher said

“It’s about family. And that’s what makes it so powerful.”

We could’ve had it all.

#Luke Skywalker #Finnpoe #Anti Lucasfilm #Anti Kathleen Kennedy #Anti Disney #Anti JJ Abrams #Anti Rian Johnson

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gmariam19 · 3 years

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Hello! I hit one of those follower milestones that we all like to grin about - thank you! I decided to share something to go with the last moodboard I posted, a story I started ages ago but that stalled out at chapter five. The opening is below, and I'm hoping I can get it going again and post it sometime this fall. I'm sure a few details will change, and I do hope to finish some shorter stories before then. But in the meantime, I hope you enjoy it - thanks for reading! :)

One

Poe already misses the ranch.

It’s been months since he's been home, seen his dad, even had a day off. Spending five days on Yavin 4 is exactly what he needed. He feels relaxed and recharged, ready to resume the job of co-General. He's fairly sure he's gained weight from all the eating and drinking they did, but that was what home was for him: koyo fruit and dark caf, roasted runyip steaks with kibla greens and sweetsand cookies for dessert. He hasn't eaten so well for months, maybe years.

Finn looks fairly content as well. Poe had been nervous about the trip, but it was past time to introduce Finn to Kes Dameron. Poe couldn't remember the last time he'd brought someone home, and he'd been a wreck until the moment his father had stepped forward, raised an eyebrow at Finn's outstretched hand, and pulled him into a tight embrace. Kes's eyes had been bright, and Poe had almost choked up; Finn had been stunned at the warm welcome.

Everything had been perfect after that. In fact, maybe a little too good as Poe had been ganged up on more than once by Finn and his father. But to watch them together, talking, laughing, even cooking (though Finn was a disaster of a cook, so he usually ended up doing the washing) was a joy. It made Poe want a life like that more than anything—a quiet life with someone he loved, near friends and family. It was what peace looked like.

Of course, he would probably be bored after a month, but he could still think about it, couldn't he?

For now, there is still work to do, and part of Poe's plan in flying out to see his dad had been to make a few stops on the way back. The first is Torque, a quick jump from Yavin 4. It isn't the nicest spaceport in the sector, but it's the capital and it’s busy, which means they can blend in and listen, get a feel for what’s going on outside their immediate circle. Finn is meeting with one of Vi Moradi's people to exchange news, someone he'd met on Batuu who happened to be passing through the sector, while Poe is meeting with one of Grakkus the Hutt's pilots for a brief, off-the-record meeting on conditions in Hutt space.

Poe walks to a cantina not far from the landing pads on his own, his senses on high alert. He's in a dingy spaceport in the Outer Rim, a general of the Resistance who still has a large bounty on his head. Armed and aware, he notices immediately when he turns that the street he's on—more of an alley, really—is unusually quiet and empty. Perfect setup for an ambush.

He comms Finn. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he says as quietly as he can. "Good chance someone knows we’re here. Stay alert." Finn confirms the message. Poe unhooks his blaster, speeding up his pace. As he reaches the end of the alley, he senses a presence behind him, and feels a blaster in his back.

"Don't move," says a low voice, a familiar voice.

"Finn?" asks Poe. "What're you—"

The blaster pokes him hard in the ribs, so definitely not Finn (and they don't really play like that in public, anyway.) Poe glances over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of a tall, dark-skinned man, a bounty hunter by the looks of him, though he is close in size to Finn and certainly sounds similar.

"Hands up, blaster to me, then turn around slowly."

Poe raises both hands, discreetly tapping his comm twice as he does, and the hunter takes his blaster. Poe turns and finds himself facing his captor. He's dressed in a black flight suit, with a leather vest and boots lined in red, and he’s armed to the teeth. He's only an inch or two taller than Poe but almost two decades older, short hair and beard shot with grey and a prominent scar running from his temple to his jaw on his right side. He seems familiar, though Poe is almost certain they’ve never met before. Strangely enough, what stands out most are the man’s eyes: tired brown eyes that do not look like the cold, hard eyes of most bounty hunters Poe has met.

The man looks at him with a frown.

"What, not what you expected?" Poe asks. "I get that a lot. It's the hair."

The bounty hunter shakes his head as he pats Poe down, taking his second blaster and a knife. "It's the hair that makes you so recognizable, General," the man says. His voice really does sound like Finn, and his eyes…Poe shakes off the idea. "Maybe if you cut it, half a dozen hunters would stop looking for you."

"Only half a dozen?" Poe asks. "How disappointing. I remember when I was on top of everyone's list."

"Sorry, General," the man says, and there is a wry smile with the strangely apologetic words. "Peace is not as good for business."

"Maybe you need a new business," Poe suggests. He has a funny feeling about this grizzled bounty hunter, as if the man before him is nothing like the image he projects. He doesn't want to hurt this man but talk him out of whatever he’s got planned. Or at least talk long enough for Finn to get there.

"You're actually my last job," the man says, almost conversationally. "There's still people willing to pay good money for your head." He takes out a pair of binders and motions at Poe to lower his wrists. Poe leaves his hands up.

"What if I paid you more?" he asks, lowering his voice and moving closer. "And then we forget this ever happened?" He smiles, turning on the charm, but the man snorts at him, so much like Finn that it’s eerie.

"Lower your arms, General. You can't afford me."

Poe shrugs. "It was worth a try." He slowly lowers his wrists, taking another step closer. Just as the hunter is about to clamp them, he headbutts the older man, sliding a pocket blaster into his palm as he steps back and hits the man with a glancing blow in the arm. The hunter recovers quickly, though, and blasts him in the chest, sending Poe flying backward and into the side of the nearest building. He rolls over and groans, thankful it wasn't set to full stun—or kill. This hunter is even more unusual than Poe thought. The man stands over him and is about to speak when Poe hears the click of a blaster behind them.

"Drop it," says Finn. The hunter turns and shoots so fast Poe barely has a chance to shout a warning. But Finn has good instincts too: he ducks and pulls the blaster from the hunter's hands with his newest Force skill. The hunter looks at his gloved hand in surprise before he tries again with a second weapon, and Finn again slams it aside with the Force.

"I could do this all day," Finn says.

The hunter raises an eyebrow. "Then let’s forget the weapons." He charges Finn with raises fists and they start fighting hand to hand.

Poe drags himself to his hands and knees and slowly stands against the wall, hugging his right side with one hand and wiping blood from a cut on his temple with the other. He hit the building hard and will probably have some colorful bruises soon. He watches the fight for a moment as he recovers from the stun bolt: two highly skilled men, one much older than the other, yet still strong. Poe has the odd thought that it's a bit like watching Finn fight himself in thirty years.

It does not take long, however, for Finn to gain the upper hand and pin the man down, call a blaster to his hand, and press it to the man's neck.

"Yield!" he demands. The hunter got in a good hit and Finn's lip is bleeding, and he's clearly pissed off about it.

"Get off me!" the hunter snarls. "I yield."

"Finn," Poe calls, and tosses him the fallen binders. Finn clamps them behind the man's back and hauls the hunter to his feet.

"Who are you?" Finn demands, but the man looks away. Poe finally figures it out—the clothing, the scar, the stories, and he walks over, moving slowly and still holding his side.

"You're Tenga Idoma, aren't you?" he asks. "I've heard of you, didn't think you worked this side of the galaxy."

"A hunter goes where the bounty goes." The bounty hunter is standing tall and proud, a bruise forming on his left jaw, the wound on his arm small but red and raw.

"I'm the bounty," Poe stage-whispers to Finn, who rolls his eyes.

"Oh, you are both wanted men," Idoma says, laughing bitterly. "I figured I couldn't take you together, so I flipped a chip on who to follow first. I didn't think I'd get my ass handed to me by a former trooper if I followed the pilot."

Poe takes a step forward—always his instinctive response when someone refers to Finn as a Stormtrooper—but Finn stops him with a hand on Poe's arm. He's looking at the man curiously.

"Are you a former trooper, too?" Finn asks.

"I neverserved the First Order." The man spits in the street, so vehemently angry it earns a look of surprise from Finn. "They took everything from me."

"Then why are you tracking us down?" Poe asks. "We're fighting to make sure they don't ever do it again, you know."

The man shakes his head. "I told you, this is my last job. Then I'm done."

Finn looks to Poe with a shrug. "What should we do with him?" he asks.

Poe looks at the man, then back at Finn. The resemblance is almost uncanny. Something—his own instincts, or maybe the Force—prompts him to say, "Bring him with us." He turns to the bounty hunter. "You're under arrest."

"You can't arrest me!" Idoma exclaims, and struggles in his binders, grimacing with pain, but Finn holds tight.

"I'm a general, sure I can," says Poe. Which is not strictly true, but he needs more time with this man.

"What are we going to do with him?" Finn asks. "Why don't we turn him in to the authorities here?"

Poe thinks about what to say, how to say it. "I have some more questions for him," he says. "Come on, let's head back to the Falcon."

Finn looks both skeptical and curious as he comms Vi Moradi's man and explains the situation. Poe calls the pilot he was supposed to meet. The hunter moves reluctantly but does not put up a fight. It feels strange to be taking him in so easily, and Poe can’t help but wonder why—or if something is about to go massively wrong. He tries not to think about who Tenga Idoma might really be, but he can’t help but wonder about that as well.

#Finnpoe #Stormpilot #Finn (Star Wars)#Poe Dameron #fanfiction #WIP #Tenga Idoma

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lifblogs · 3 years

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Whumpay 2021: Day 16 - "Put your weapon down." / "Keep fighting."

Together

read on ao3 1417 words graphic depictions of violence, star wars, au, stormpilot, jedi!poe dameron, clone trooper!finn, order 66, hurt!poe dameron

“Put your weapon down,” Poe said, hand inching towards his lightsaber. “You don’t have to do this. This isn’t you.”

Finn stood before him, quaking within his clone armor, blaster pointed right at Poe. He’d already tried shooting him multiple times and Poe had had to dodge. But he wouldn’t run. He wouldn’t leave Finn alone. He couldn’t. Not while something was wrong, not while he was suffering.

Finn was sweating, and his face was scrunched up with distress, anguish.

“You don’t understand!” he cried. “I do.”

“Why? Who’s telling you to do this?” Poe tried taking a step forward, but Finn just aimed the blaster right at his head. Poe held his hands up. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong? Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

Other clones were trying to talk to Finn through his comlink. Poe listened in, even while keeping tabs on the man he loved who had suddenly changed in one moment.

“Is the Jedi dead yet?”

“Sir, do you need help terminating the traitor?”

On and on it went. For some reason his whole battalion wanted him dead.

He had felt a shift in the Force, and there had been a mass communication with all the clones, and now this was happening.

Surely it had something to do with the Sith Lord, whoever he was.

Poe was just lucky enough to have locked himself in a compartment aboard his Jedi cruiser with only Finn to deal with.

Oh Force. Finn.

“Look, this isn’t you.”

“Good soldiers follow orders,” Finn said, the words not sounding at all like him, as if they’d been drilled into him, or… or perhaps programmed.

Poe remembered something about another clone, Fives, and his demise. There had been a chip, hadn’t there? But it should’ve prevented behavior like this.

Even as he stood in that room with him, nerves and adrenaline threatening to unravel him, he tried to plan.

He sensed that Finn was about to shoot him. Quick as lightning, Poe grabbed his lightsaber, and he deflected the blast that ended up coming his way. It hit a control panel behind Finn, and it sparked, and the lights flickered before going out. Emergency lighting turned on, bathing them in dim red.

Finn screamed, and tried firing at him over and over again.

Poe could barely think.

Why was this happening? What was wrong with Finn? Why would Finn even do something like this?

Part of him knew he had to kill him. Of course he had to. He was a threat, but no, no. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. This was Finn he was talking about. He’d known him for years, been with him for years.

Poe let out a cry and reached out a hand, pushing out with the Force. At the same time, Finn fired his blaster, getting him in the side.

Finn was slammed against the wall, and the Force of it knocked him out.

Jedi Master Poe Dameron breathed a little easier. He pressed the button on his hilt, having his lightsaber turn off, but he didn’t clip it back on his belt. He approached Finn, breathing heavy, a hand to the blast wound.

It didn’t feel too serious, but kriff, it hurt!

He kicked the blaster aside, and then collapsed beside Finn, the pain getting the best of him. Messages were still coming through the comlink. Poe grabbed it and silenced it for now. In his distress he wanted to crush it, but it would be good to keep tabs on his men; or… the clones who had formerly been his men.

Doing his best to hold back tears, Poe hunched over to try and get some pressure on his wound, and then reached out to caress Finn’s face. Even in unconsciousness he was still battling whatever was doing him harm, and causing him to act so unlike himself.

Poe reached out for the Force, and though he wasn’t supposed to have love for Finn, he used that to search through him, to find out what had happened.

“Come on, baby. Come on.”

“Good… Good soldiers…” he slurred.

Poe searched through all that was Finn, and he found determination, and love, and bravery, and heart, and humor. And then he found… something. Something that wasn’t Finn. It was darkness, and he could feel it reaching out through all the pathways in his brain, taking control of him.

Poe tried to push back that darkness, face scrunched up from the effort, head starting to hurt. But it lashed out, pushed back. Suddenly, Finn was conscious again. He screamed, and he tackled Poe, hands around his neck. He straddled him, and Poe fought.

His lungs and head pounded. But he brought up his lightsaber, hilt right against Finn’s neck. His grip weakened.

“Please…” Poe begged, tears trailing down his face. “Please don’t make me do this. Keep fighting it. I know this isn’t you, Finn, baby. I know it’s not. Please. Please…”

Poe pushed and shoved at the tendrils of darkness, shoving them back into that implant in Finn’s head—oh Force, he was going to be sick; Finn was being controlled by tech in his head. It was so wrong. Finn was a person. A lovely, and bright light in the universe. This wasn’t fair!

“I—have—to.”

“No. No, you don’t. Finn, come back to me. Fight!”

The dark tendrils started to recede, and Finn trembled. His sweat dripped down onto Poe’s face, mixing with his tears. Even as Poe started to win the fight, there was still the work of the Sith Lord, and Finn was following it. His knee pressed against the blast injury in Poe’s side.

Poe tried to fight the pain, but Finn’s strength was too much. He threw his head back, and screamed, back arching.

His grip on him slipped.

Finn leaned down, screaming in his face, and his hands tightened around his neck. Kriff, that hurt.

Poe’s thumb inched towards the ignition on his lightsaber.

No. No, please.

“Help. Me,” Finn forced out.

Poe breathed, reached out for the Force, and there he found a modicum of balance, even amongst all the writhing chaos and darkness, and he let himself become part of it. His pain receded, strength filling him, and with a strangled yell, he threw Finn off of him.

Finn slammed against the bulkhead and collapsed to the deck. He scrabbled for Poe, and Poe got up on one knee, hands reaching out for Finn.

He shoved him back, and he shoved the darkness back, screaming, and crying.

The darkness receded back into the chip, and the chip cracked. Finn collapsed, and, barely breathing, Poe rushed over to him, cradling him in his arms.

“Finn. Finn, baby, are you okay?”

Finn was crying, holding onto Poe, and despite all the memories of pleasure and companionship and happiness from being this close to him, he almost receded from that touch. Those hands, that body, had just tried to kill him. But no more.

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Poe ran a hand over the tight, short curls on his head. They were still so soft even after sweating so much.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Pounding sounded against the automatic door that Poe had locked by breaking the controls.

“Karking dwang, we gotta go,” Poe exclaimed.

“How?” Finn asked. “Everyone on this ship wants you dead.”

Poe helped Finn up, and nearly collapsed as pain exploded in his side, all of it coming back to him. Finn held him, pressing one hand against his burnt and bleeding wound. Poe groaned, and leaned his head into Finn.

“Well… not everyone,” he said. “Escape pods?”

“Clones ejected them.”

“Damn. Okay, to the hangar. There’s gotta be a ship we can take.”

Finn helped Poe stand, having him sling an arm around his shoulders.

“Let’s go then.”

Poe let himself lean on Finn, let himself trust him, even as he probed him through the Force.

Finn. Just Finn.

“Okay, there’s a passageway blocked off from the main passage just on the other side of that bulkhead. If I can cut through it.”

Poe tried to raise his lightsaber, but it was too much. Finn grasped it right before he dropped it.

“I can do it.”

Poe relinquished his lightsaber, his life, to Finn, and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. Finn pressed into him, filled with fear and desperation and regret, and then he led him over to the bulkhead. They got to work.

Together, they would survive.

#star wars #poe dameron #finn star wars #jedi!poe dameron #clone trooper!finn #au #star wars au #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #tw: graphic depictions of violence #whump #writing #my writing #stormpilot #stormpilot fanfiction

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Ever in Your Favor, Chapter Seven (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: After the kiss, Rosé and Denali struggle to deal with their feelings while trying to reach the end of the Games.

A/N: Thank you so much for the feedback on the last chapter! It really means a lot, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Also, thank you to haiplana for letting me talk this one through with you.

*I know I made a general disclaimer at the start and in the tags, but I want to say that this chapter is probably more violent than the others, so please be aware.*

---

In the bakery, Rosé’s father has a giant rolling pin, and she feels like she’s been trampled with it ten times over. Her joints are stiff from days of shivering and her leg twinges when she walks. But she’s alive, and she’s grateful to be. She and Denali wash up in the stream, and Rosé savors the cool water on her sweaty skin, enjoys the sun warming her back. She tugs her shirt and jacket back on, stroking the lion pin. There was a time in that cave when she thought the pin wouldn’t get home, that she’d never feel the sun again. But she made it, and she’s going to go home and try to appreciate that, and tell her sisters she loves them even though they know.

And she can do that because of Denali.

Denali, who refused to leave her, who got leaves and water every day to keep her alive, who stroked her hair and whispered that everything would be okay when Rosé was too sick to believe it. Denali had kissed her without hesitation to save her life, and Rosé will never be able to thank her enough for it. For her life.

But part of Rosé feels awful about it. She knew, in theory, that their fake relationship might require kissing, even if a relationship is so much more than kissing. She pictured a little cheek kiss for their post-Games interview, but last night was something else entirely. It feels like she just used Denali, begging for a kiss so she could live. That was part of it, admittedly, but Rosé cares for Denali too much to just use her, and she wouldn’t have done it unless she absolutely had to. What if Denali hated it? What if she never wanted things to go that far? What if she hates Rosé? She needs to talk to her. She can’t push Denali away like she did after her first Games.

Rosé trudges over the rocks, stopping at Denali’s side. “Your hair,” Denali laughs, pointing to Rosé’s tangled mop of wet curls. “Forget the pin, that’s why they call you the Lion.”

“Well, some of us can’t braid our hair in five seconds, Miss Foxx.” Rosé glares at her, but she can’t help the laugh that escapes, and soon they’re both laughing, the sound so strange after days of fear, but also the most natural thing in the world.

“Okay, okay,” Denali gasps, holding her sides. “Let me do your hair.”

Rosé’s heart skips a beat. “Okay.” She shivers as Denali’s hands brush against her neck, fingers expertly weaving through chunks of hair.

“Much better,” Denali says, admiring her work.

Rosé recovers her breath, neck still tingling. “So, um, last night.”

Denali bites her lip. “I didn’t think you’d remember. You were pretty out of it.”

Rosé was out of it. Her skin was burning, her head was foggy, and all she remembers is an endless stretch of time where dreams melted together, and she has no idea what was real and what wasn’t.

But she remembers the kiss.

She remembers waking up and seeing Denali, feeling in her heart that it was real. She remembers telling Denali she loves her, the surprise in Denali’s eyes. And she remembers the kiss: cool lips melting over the feverish heat of her own, her heart racing until she thought it would burst.

And she remembers how much she liked it.

“That kiss was...memorable,” Rosé says.

Denali’s eyes go to her feet, to the sky, to anything but Rosé, and Rosé wonders if she said the wrong thing. What if she did something else last night that she can’t remember? What if Denali hates her?

“Are you...okay?” Rosé asks, voice low in case of cameras. “I know the kiss was a lot, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable putting you on the spot like that--”

“I’m fine. You didn't do anything we didn't agree to. It’s just a game, right?” Denali looks away again, cheeks bright red.

Rosé feels like she got punched in the throat. “I...right. Just a game.”

It is just a game. That’s all it ever was, all it’s supposed to be. A way to help even the odds. Of course that’s how Denali sees it; Rosé’s mumbled love confession was strategic at best and delirious ravings at worst. That’s all it’s supposed to be.

So why did it feel so real to Rosé? Why does she want to kiss Denali again, on their own time, in their own space? Why does it hurt so badly that Denali thinks it’s a game, that it’s fake?

Denali is gathering their stuff, and the arena comes flooding back, like a dream after days in the cave. A dangerous dream. Rosé needs to focus. They’re so close, and she can’t cost them the victory by being distracted. Whatever she’s feeling, whatever she wants, can wait until they’re back home. Denali is right. This is a game.

And they’re going to win it.

---

Denali guides them through the forest with purpose. She doesn’t know when things changed, but she knows, as they silently step over twigs, that they’re no longer the hunted, but the hunters. She feels the change in her, the tightness in her hand around the bow, the eyes darting around for tributes. They’ve been holding back, letting the others weed themselves out, but now it’s time to show what the Lion and the Fox can really do. She can’t afford to spare anyone like she did with Finn. Not now.

She keeps alert, no chance of getting caught off guard like she did in her first Games. She’s focused. She’s not thinking about her knee shattering last time, or the strange warmth in her chest when Rosé laughs, or kissing Rosé--

Her lips tingle with the memory, wanting it again so badly. She can’t. Not with their lives on the line.

Rosé points between the trees, where the District 8 tributes walk.

Denali pulls her behind a tree, holding up her bow and signaling that she’ll strike from afar. She aims her bow, pulling back on the string--

Something crashes into her arm, the arrow releasing into nothing.

“The hell?” A giant gray bird digs its talons in Denali’s arm, beak pecking at her face. She shoves the thing off her, only to see two more. Rosé gets one with her sword, and Denali sinks an arrow into the other’s neck. She sees more in the trees, but they seem to be holding back for now.

“These are the ugliest birds I’ve ever seen in my life,” Denali mutters, spearing the first bird that attacked her.

“Their scales look like that one dress Symone had you try on.” Rosé smiles. Her eyes shine with glee, and Denali can’t look away, because Rosé was so sick in that cave Denali didn’t think she’d see her like this again.

“Don’t remind me.” Denali groans. “Although you should not be talking after that zebra dress--”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the lovebirds.”

Their smiles are instantly gone, and they turn to see the tributes from District 8 scowling at them.

So much for a silent attack.

District 8 looks rough, torn clothes covered with dirt and blood, faces hollow, down to just the weapons in their hands. You’d think they’re easy kills at this stage, but Denali knows it's the opposite: they’re desperate, and have nothing left to lose, so they’ll fight to the bitter end.

“Long time no see,” Rosé says, and only Denali can detect the quiver in her voice, because she also knows this won’t be easy. They can stand around staring at each other all day, but they’re only delaying the inevitable. Denali forces away the memory of the District 8 woman nodding in approval at her knots.

The man grips his sword and leans forward, that tiny heartbeat of calm before a fight begins.

“You go left, I go right,” Rosé says.

“My left or your left?”

“They’re the same left, Denali!” Rosé cackles, and Denali knows purposely asking a stupid question was worth it just to hear the sound, and it carries her into the fight.

The man towers over her, but his longer limbs are slower. His sword slices across her arm, but she uses her speed to dart away from his strikes, sinking her spear into his chest.

But it doesn’t stop him.

He pulls the spear out and breaks it in half, and Denali is left facing his sword with nothing but a knife and panic flooding her chest. Things slow down around her, like when she’s in that hunting zone, and she knows the next move.

“Switch!” she yells to Rosé, and they spin around, back to back, before taking on their new opponents.

The woman’s spear is easier to block; the edges are smooth, and Denali only has to worry about the point. Denali dodges hits, and when the woman staggers back, Denali pulls an arrow from her quiver and fires in a heartbeat. The double cannon fire tells her Rosé succeeded as well.

They drop on the grass, panting as the adrenaline fades, and for a few seconds, they rest.

---

Barely five minutes after the fight, they find a body.

It’s the woman from District 7, dead eyes open toward the sky, mouth stained not with blood, but with berry juice.

“Poisoned by nightlock,” Denali says quietly.

She gets an idea, and pulls out the silver container they’d saved from the medicine delivery. She plucks berries from the bushes and drops them inside.

“I doubt we can trick the others with them, but you never know,” she explains to Rosé.

Rosé nods.

They’re at the final four.

---

It’s a quiet night.

They climb up a tall tree and settle on a thick branch, to keep an eye on what’s going on below. Neither of them is planning to sleep tonight, not with two tributes out there, ready to kill.

They’ve only exchanged whispers, not wanting to risk attention. There’s no way to discuss the kiss, and Rosé thinks maybe that’s a good thing. When this is all over, when they’re finally home, then they can talk about it. If there’s even anything to talk about.

Rosé’s stomach growls. They couldn’t find any food today. After those birds, every animal seemed to vanish into thin air. They’ll manage tonight, but how many more days are left? What if they can’t get any food at all? Rosé’s trying to calculate the odds when two parachutes land on their branch. She nudges Denali, who’s curled against the tree trunk like she’s part pine, looking so at home up here.

Denali takes one parachute and Rosé takes the other, and she gasps when she opens it. The first thing she sees is a cake, with white icing and delicate blue swirls. She’d recognize Lagoona’s handiwork anywhere. Next to it is a loaf of round bread, Jan’s favorite kind to make. There’s days worth of food inside too, and God, Rosé loves her sisters so much.

“From your sisters?” Denali asks.

“Yeah. What about yours?”

“Kandy and Kahmora,” Denali says quietly, wiping a tear. “I just--it’s nice, you know?”

“It’s like there’s hope again,” Rosé says, because she does know. The parachute must have cost a fortune with the Capitol fees, and it’s a reminder of what’s waiting at home, a reminder that happiness and joy are still out there. A reminder that she’s loved.

“Yeah.” Denali sighs. “I’m not even as close to them as I used to be. But it’s nice to know they’re still thinking about me. That they still care. That someone sees us as more than just people on TV.”

Rosé nods. To everyone else watching, they’re just people on TV. But to her sisters, to Denali’s friends, they’re watching someone they really know, someone they really care about. For all the stress of being in the arena, Rosé can’t imagine the stress of her sisters, watching her fight and nearly die through a screen, unable to do a thing to help when they’ve helped each other their whole lives. And to do it not once, but twice. Rosé imagines hugging them in a giant bear hug when this over, and burns with a new determination to get home.

“It makes me want to get back home,” Rosé says softly. “And maybe--maybe be better. Try to live more, I guess.”

“I get it.” Denali bites her lip. “Maybe we can still be ourselves after. Not let the Games destroy us.”

It’s what they talked about the night before the Games began, but it feels different now. Less a fear and more a hope. A hope that they can come out on the other side of this, together, and learn to live again. The last time Rosé did this, she was fifteen and terrified and desperate to get home. She didn’t know that the arena would change her idea of home, that she would spend years waking up gasping, expecting to see blood around her. The Games kept her in their grip, made her push away the people who cared about her. She suspects the same is true about Denali--she knows Denali and Jan drifted after Denali got back, that Denali only has Kandy and Kahmora over once or twice a year. But they’ve done this round together, been there for each other the whole time, and maybe they can try to live and heal together. She wants to stay close with Denali after this, wants to laugh with her sisters more, wants to find things she enjoys again.

“I'd like that,” Rosé says. "First thing when we get home, we're making our victory cake."

Denali grins, like sun after a storm. "Only if you let me show you this meadow in the woods."

"Deal."

“Let’s eat,” Denali says, and they eat with the joy this food deserves, passing things back and forth and teasing each other for making a mess.

They cut the bread, and then Rosé finds the note. She remembers their father showing them a special paper that could be baked into something. He said they used to be popular for wedding cakes. Rosé unfolds it, heart swelling at Jan’s handwriting.

Rosie,

You have some explaining to do when you get home! We want all the details on you and Denali! I knew she had a crush on you when we were kids, it’s about damn time she figured it out. Also, I don’t know how it took you that long to realize I wasn’t the one humming in that cave. I’ll cut you some slack because you were delirious and I love Denali, but I would never hum that off-key. Anyway, we hope you like the stuff. Lagoona says make sure you share the cake and don’t hog the whole thing. Please come home soon, okay? We love you.

Jan and Lagoona

Rosé doesn’t even care when her tears escape. She loves her sisters, and she isn’t embarrassed about it. Her eyes fly over the words several times, reading it in their voices, the words tracing paths on her heart. She presses it to her chest and pretends she’s hugging them, and only then does she fully comprehend the first few lines.

Jan thinks Denali had a crush on Rosé when they were younger? That can’t be right. Though if anyone would know, it would be Jan. She and Denali were best friends from kindergarten. But Denali hasn’t mentioned it, and according to Jan, wasn’t even aware of her own crush. But what if Jan is right, and Denali really does like her? But that wouldn’t matter, wouldn’t lead to anything unless--unless Rosé likes her too.

Rosé looks at Denali, eating a piece of bread, and her heart swells with the answer her brain won’t acknowledge. Rosé does like her, maybe even loves her. She likes Denali’s laugh, the warmth in her eyes, that wrinkle between her eyebrows when she aims her bow. She likes Denali’s humor, how she can always make Rosé laugh. She likes that when she looks at Denali, she thinks of home. This relationship was fake at the start, purely an attempt to improve their odds. But somehow, it’s turned to Rosé’s heart bursting every time she looks at Denali. She doesn’t know the last time she felt this way, about anyone--hell, after the arena, it was sometimes hard to feel anything. The hope when she looks at Denali used to seem impossible, but isn’t now.

It burns inside her, but it has to stay inside. Springing this on Denali when they’re in the final four is a distraction that could cost their lives. And she doesn’t have proof that Denali likes her--just the hope of an old crush. Not to mention confessing that she loves Denali for real will discount the relationship they’ve built for the arena, exposing them as liars. There’s no way to tell her now. It has to wait until they’re home.

They share the cake, and Denali wipes frosting off Rosé’s lip, and Rosé wants more than ever to go home.

---

They spend the day walking through the arena, and Denali’s shoulders are tighter than her bow-string. All this walking is giving her too much time to think. Time to think about Rosé, about the smile Denali would do just about anything to see. About how Rosé makes her feel safe enough to share things she wouldn’t tell anyone. How Denali wants to see her every day after they go home, wants to learn things about her she hasn’t discovered yet. But would Rosé want the same thing? Denali knows things have been hard for her since the Games, and what if things collapse without the arena holding them together? But she thinks of what Rosé said last night, about her hopes for the future. Maybe there is hope. Once they get out of here, and Denali stops thinking about how soft Rosé’s lips are, how nice it might be to kiss her again--

She stumbles on a tree root and swears softly.

“Everything okay?” Rosé asks, hands immediately flying to Denali’s sides to steady her.

Denali nods, praying Rosé can’t see how much she’s blushing, though her face is warm enough to combust. There’s no thinking of kissing right now. She’s about to lead them in another direction when she hears flapping wings. But there’s only a huge gray cloud in the sky, that can’t be--

“Run. Run now,” Denali says.

They sprint through the woods, the swarm of birds scratching at their backs. There’s no direction, just running away, and they only stop once they’re back at the Cornucopia, now an empty shell of scraps and bloodstains. And they’re not alone.

Both tributes from District 2 stand in the grass, loaded with weapons.

The birds have vanished, no longer needed after bringing the final four together.

This is it.

The end is close enough for Denali to grasp, close enough to feel the plush train seat bringing her home, to smell the woods of District 12. She doesn’t want to kill these two. But she wants so badly for this to be over, to go home, and she knows the price she has to pay for that.

“We can do this,” Rosé says quietly.

Denali nods, gripping her spear as they saunter to the other tributes. There’s no hurry, no point rushing the inevitable. She can imagine her friends and Rosé’s sisters glued to their TV’s, and Denali gives another nod to herself, a vow that they’ll win.

“The Lion and the Fox. At last,” says the man. Denali thinks his name is Cato, and the woman is Glimmer.

Rosé just pulls out her sword as Cato grabs his axe. There’s nothing to say, nothing that can change what’s about to happen. Two of them will win, and two of them will die.

“Do you hear that?” Denali asks, cutting through the tension.

“I don’t hear anything! Quit stalling, Fox!”

“No, I--” Denali gasps at what her hunter’s hearing had picked up.

Enormous wolves circle around them, growling and baring razor-sharp teeth. Even on all fours, they’re nearly as tall as her, with claws longer than her fingers.

“The eyes…” Rosé says, face paling.

Denali looks at the wolf closest to her, with shaggy tan fur. Its eyes are impossibly blue, bluer than the sea. She’s seen these eyes before, had watched them close one last time while Rosé hummed a lullaby.

“Finn,” Denali breathes. She doesn’t know how the Gamemakers created wolves with the tributes' eyes; she doesn’t want to know. All she knows is that she now needs to fight off not only two tributes, but twenty wolves. They’re probably the worst odds Denali’s ever seen.

Denali knows animals, knows hunting, and she pulls Rosé away a second before the leader signals the attack. They sprint for the trees while screams fill the air behind them, screams so terrible she’s grateful when the cannon sounds and puts Glimmer out of her misery.

Denali jumps for a tree branch but she’s not quick enough--a wolf sinks its teeth into her calf, her leg burning with pain as the wolf tears through it. Shifting her weight to one hand, she grabs an arrow and jams it in the wolf’s eye, hauling herself up after it falls. More wolves scratch at the tree, but she’s safe for now. She has to stop the bleeding but her vision is blurry—

“Denali, it’s okay.” Rosé holds her up, positioning them both on a branch. “Please stay awake, okay? Please. You have to tell me how to help.”

“Bleeding too much. You have to...stitch it,” Denali mumbles. “Stuff...in my bag.”

“Okay.”

Things blur and Denali’s only aware of Rosé giving her water and painkillers, of Rosé’s gentle hand on her leg, of the needle passing in and out. There’s more water, and food, and Denali opens her eyes to meet Rosé looking at her in worry.

“I stitched it,” she says frantically. “There’s probably stuff wrong internally, but it should hold until the doctors can fix it.”

There’s definitely internal damage; it feels like her last leg injury, and she can barely move her leg without an explosion of pain. Once they win, the doctors can fix it. As if on cue, the wolves retreat and the cannon fires, meaning Cato is gone. Relief and joy slam into her, overtaking the pain, and she reaches for Rosé.

“We won,” she says breathlessly, “we won.”

They hold each other in silence, hearts full of the relief of going home, of being together. It’s over, and there are no words. It’s over, and she can breathe again. She can live again, can create the future she wants.

“Where’s the victory cannon?” Rosé pulls away after a minute.

“Maybe--maybe it’s late. Or maybe we should get out of the tree,” Denali says, but trumpets sound as she hits the grass with a wince, and her stomach twists like snakes. Why is there an announcement when the hovercraft should be arriving to get them?

“The earlier revision has been revoked,” the announcer says cheerfully. “The rules hold that only one winner is allowed. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Denali can’t move. She’s numb and cold and even the pain fades. She should have known. The Gamemakers were never going to let them both survive, not when putting two teammates against each other is the most dramatic finale in history. She wants to scream, wants to fight, but she can’t. All her talk about being more than just a piece of the Games--she played right into their hands, growing close to Rosé, believing they could have the futures they dreamt of.

Rosé is shaking beside her, shaking with fear and pure rage.

“Rosé,” Denali tries, but her mouth is too dry.

“I should’ve known,” Rosé spits. She tears her hands through her hair, breath coming in frantic spurts, vulnerable and undone. She's never seen Rosé like this, and it hurts her heart. “I should’ve known, I should’ve known…” Rosé trails into sobs, shaky hands clutching at her jacket like it can hold her together.

If Denali were to listen to the cold part of her, she’d see that Rosé is defenseless and in shock, an easy target. But that part was created by the Games, and it isn’t her anymore. After resigning herself to the cold for so long, Rosé has brought a summer’s warmth, and though the cold and dark still exist, it doesn’t mean there isn’t light.

“There--there has to be another way.” It’s what Denali’s built her life on, searching for new ways to help a tribute survive, to stop the Games from hurting her again. But none have ever worked.

“There’s no other way, Denali.” Rosé is still trembling, but she stands up straight, pointing below her lion pin, at her heart. “Just don’t miss,” she says, laughing bitterly, humorlessly.

“Rosé, what are you--I’m not killing you!” Denali shakes her head frantically, trying to calm her heart.

“You heard the announcement. It has to be one of us. I’d rather it be quick than get torn apart by those wolves.” Rosé sounds so small, so tired. She’s been cheated and destroyed by these Games before, and she doesn’t have it in her to do it again. She’s giving up, and that scares Denali more than anything, jolting her out of her numbness. She knows how much Rosé wants to live--they both do, talked about it together. The only way to live is to kill the other, and living with that wouldn’t be much of a life.

“No,” Denali says. “I’m not killing you. You have your sisters, you have a family. I don’t.”

“That doesn’t make your life worth less than mine,” Rosé says firmly. “You do stuff, I barely leave the house—“

“That doesn’t make your life worth less either. Look, if those wolves come back, you have a better shot than me. I’m not going anywhere on this leg.”

Rosé sighs. “You have to go home, Denali. You have to live.” Rosé’s lips twitch, and more tears fall. “I’m betting on you.”

I’m betting on you.

The words strike something in Denali’s memory.

Denali’s leg bounces as she waits to enter the launching room. In a few minutes, she’ll be in the arena after years of seeing it through the safety of a screen, and she forces in a strangled breath.

“Everything okay?” Rosé asks.

“Fine,” Denali says. Help with fighting is fine, but getting help for panicking is too embarrassing, even if it’s from someone she knows. Maybe especially because it’s from someone she knows.

Rosé obviously doesn’t believe her, but she nods.

“Wait.” Denali can’t keep it in anymore.

“What is it?”

“Rosé, do you—do you really think I can win?” Denali's convinced herself that she can win all this time, not thinking about whether she really believes it--because she has to believe it, because what’s the alternative? But she wants to know what Rosé thinks, to hear from someone else whether she really has a chance.

Rosé is quiet as she thinks. She’s only twenty, but her eyes are so much older, and Denali realizes that while she’s thought about the joys of returning home, she hasn’t considered the other parts. The parts Rosé has been dealing with every day for the past five years.

“It’ll be hard. I can’t lie about that,” Rosé says finally. “Most of the tributes are bigger, stronger. But you’re tougher. The audience loves you. They’ll help you, and don’t feel embarrassed about taking their help. And you’ve got talent. You’ve got fire.” Rosé smiles hesitantly, and Denali swells with hope. “So I’m betting on you. Denali Foxx, I’ll always bet on you.”

Denali Foxx, I’ll always bet on you.

Denali looks at Rosé now, looks at the love in her eyes, and--

Oh.

Denali understands now. Understands why she’s been thinking of kissing Rosé for days, why her teenage fantasy kissing partner looked like her. Understands why Rosé looks at her in such wonder. Understands why being around her makes Denali’s chest ache from feelings she hasn’t felt in so long. It's not a game anymore.

Denali loves Rosé. And Rosé loves her.

Losing Rosé would be losing part of herself, the part that still hopes. If Denali looks into those green eyes and fires a bow-string, part of her will never leave this arena. She can't kill Rosé, and she can’t go home without her either, can’t give up the future she hopes for with her.

It sparks something in Denali, an idea from the back of her mind. Maybe you can find a loophole, Jan said that day in the Justice Building. If anyone could, it’s you two.

“Rosé, I love you,” Denali says. No matter what happens, she’s not leaving without telling Rosé, without letting her know that the love is returned.

Rosé’s eyes widen, and Denali can tell she knows it’s real. That she really does love her.

“I love you too,” Rosé says.

“I have an idea. Do you trust me?”

“Denali--”

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Rosé says softly, and it’s another way to say I love you.

Denali pulls the nightlock out of her bag. The Games need a victor, or this whole thing blows up in their faces and becomes the worst Games ever. If they can make the Capitol think there won’t be a victor, maybe, just maybe, there’s a shot.

She hands Rosé the berries, and she nods in understanding. “On three,” she says.

“One.”

Denali takes Rosé’s hand, memorizing the softness of it against hers.

“Two.”

Rosé squeezes back, squeezes with all the love and fight she has.

“Three.”

The berries reach their mouths, and Denali is wondering if the Capitol will let them both die when the trumpets erupt.

“Stop! Everyone, I’m happy to present the winners of this year’s Hunger Games--Denali Foxx and Rosé McCorkell!”

#rpdr fanfiction #denali foxx #rosé #rosnali #lesbian au #hunger games au #angst #ever in your favor #athena2 #tw violence #tw blood #concrit welcome

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yelena-bellova · 4 years

Text

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four: Rebellions Are Built On Hope

Series Masterlist

Plot: With First Order troops ambushing the party, Y/n, Finn and Poe must find a way out, but not without getting the list.

Warnings: blood, injuries, talk of death

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: SO this is two days overdue. While I’ve liked keeping a schedule for posting chapters, it’s just not working for me any longer. Life has gotten a bit busier and to be honest, I write much better when I’m not on a deadline. The last thing I want is for this series to suffer because I feel that I don’t have enough time to make it the best it can be. I’ll try to update every week but if it takes longer because I feel it needs more work, then it needs more work. Anyway, this one is long and I’m posting from my mobile so I can’t add a ‘keep reading’ so many apologies to the scrollers lol. I hope you enjoy it!!

————

Blaster smoke and the scent of saltwater filled the air. Furniture was overturned to create barriers for guests who had also snuck in weapons. Shattered glass littered the floor. You’d never have guessed that minutes prior the room had been the pinnacle of elegance.

Poe grabbed my hand while Finn shielded me protectively as we crouched and moved through the room. It took work to avoid being caught in the crossfire that showed no signs of ceasing, even with losses on both sides. With each death, including Hasadar Shu’s, I had to fight the now familiar overwhelming sensation in my body.

“We need to find Sura and Charth,” I gritted out as I focused on taking deep breaths.

“We need to find a couple of blasters.” Finn remarked.

“Both,” Poe replied, “Both would be good.”  With every step we took, I felt the lightsaber make contact with my other leg. Even Poe and Finn didn’t have weaponry, we were still protected.

“Look!” Finn exclaimed and took the lead. We followed him and I spotted Sura, ducked behind a waterfall with a blaster in hand. We cautiously made our way to her as we dodged startled guests and blaster fire.

“Where’s Charth?” Poe panted after we’d safely made it to her.

As she inhaled to answer, a shot was fired just above her heads. We ducked just as the rocks it hit crumbled around us.

“He went for the ship,” Sura answered, “What happened?”  “They must have found out about the auction,” Poe nodded towards Sura’s stolen Stromtrooper blaster, “Don’t suppose you have another one of those?”  “Go get your own. I did.” Sura grinned.

“Hold on,” I put a hand to Poe’s chest to stop him, “I’ve got my lightsaber, I can protect us.”  “Too risky,” Poe shook his head, “They’ll recognize you immediately and then we’re in real trouble.”

He was right. The story of my stand on Crait was galaxy wide now and I had no doubt that Ren had the entire First Order searching for me. I was as good as dead if I brought my saber out now.

“Cover him,” I begrudgingly told Sura who proceeded to step out from behind our shelter. She fired at the trooper closest to us and once he was down, Finn jumped out and grabbed the weapon. He ran and hid behind a column a few feet away, going us an affirmative nod.   “We can’t leave yet,” Poe stated, “We’ve got to get the list.”  “The list is lost,” Sura replied quickly, “We’ve got to get out of here alive.”

“Negative,” I countered, “There’s got to-“ 

Before I could finish, the lights cut out and we were cast into total darkness. I felt Poe shift me so I was pressed firmly against the rock of the waterfall with him acting as a human shield.

“Okay, what now?” I asked, watching small lights on the floor turn on. They weren’t enough to see any attackers so they were essentially useless.

“At least that damn ocean holo is off,” Sura remarked, which while true was of very little comfort.

As I was trying to make out any shapes out in the dark that I could, I caught a white light on the move near us. I caught the sight of Nifera Shu bolting up the staircase, her shell dress and the glowing of the eel around her neck lit her path.

“Sura, grab Finn and Charth and go find the ship,” I instructed, “Poe, you’re with me.”  “What? Where are you two going?” she asked.  “To get the list.”

I took Poe’s hand and carefully maneuvered us through the dark, doing my best to avoid bumping into anyone. Once I’d pulled us to the staircase, the floor lights came in handy as we were able to climb the steps fast. Once we got to the second story, there truly was zero light. Since no troopers had made it up yet, I unholstered my saber and ignited it so we could see ahead. There was a faint voice coming from nearby, we followed it to find Nifera on one of the balconies.

“Nifera!” Poe shouted, I deactivated my saber and clipped it back onto my thigh holster.

The frightened woman spun around and faced us, comlink in hand. “They killed my husband,” she breathed, barely audible, “They murdered Hasadar in front of me. In front of everyone.”

“I know,” I said sympathetically, as Poe and I raised our arms to show we meant no harm, “Because of the list.”  “Because of the Collective,” Poe stated. I came to the same conclusion only seconds after he had. The eel that rested on Nifera’s neck looked eerily similar to the snake we’d seen on the holo.

“Because of me,” she whined, her voice breaking with emotion.  “And I’m sorry, Nifera, but if I had to take a guess, they’re coming for you next.” I presumed just before something on the ground floor collapsed. Whatever had fallen was strong enough to shake the second story. Nifera clutched onto the railing while Poe and I hit each wall shoulder-first. I would have been fine had it not been my injured shoulder. I cried out upon impact and Poe rushed to my side, not that he could help the deep ache or the possibility that I’d popped a stitch.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Nifera panicked, she tried to use her comlink again.

“They’ve blocked your signal,” Poe guessed as we watched her failed attempt at trying to escape.

“No,” she said anxiously, “I dropped it when they shot. I-I think it’s broken.”

“What about the list?” I asked with almost as much anxiety in my voice as in hers.

“Here,” she answered as she patted her eel’s head. She pressed its jaw open and I spotted a datachip sitting on its tongue.

“We can get you out of here,” Poe said as he took a cautious step towards her, “We’ve got a ship.”  “The Resistance?” she asked, her eyes flicking between the two of us, That is you you’re with, Lorell? Sola?”  We nodded in response.

“And what will it cost me?”

Poe jutted his chin out toward the eel, she caught our drift immediately. She didn’t look thrilled at the prospect, but at the sound of footsteps behind us, the mood shifted to urgent. Nifera’s eyes widened as she saw something over our shoulders, they were coming for her and by association, they were coming for us too.

“You’re running out of time,” I urged, “Trust me when I say coming with us is a more attractive choice than how the First Order will treat you. Do we have a deal?”  “Deal,” she nodded.

“Great,” Poe replied as the two of us moved to the edge of the balcony. We looked over the railing and saw there was a large pool, seeing that we were tailed by the First Order we didn’t have any other option for escape.  

“How deep is that water?” Poe inquired.

“I-I have no idea.” Nifera answered shakily.

Poe climbed over the railing and helped us both over, “Let’s find out.” I gripped his hand tightly and spared him a wary look, he didn’t look any more confidant than I felt.

There was no time to think, we jumped.

In seconds, we were engulfed in the freezing cold water but I lost my grip on Poe. The first thing I did was look for him and Nifera, I couldn’t spot them because of how dark it was. I felt around the general area but couldn’t feel either of them. How far could they possibly sunk when we were right next to each other? Panic grew in my body as I waved my arms wildly around me, unsuccessful in finding them. I blindly swam towards the top, if I was going to have to search for them I’d need more oxygen to do so. When I hit the surface, I drew a deep breath and frantically looked around for Poe. Not half a second later, he emerged with a loud gasp and Nifera next to him.

From behind me, a pair of hands pulled me out of the pool and onto the grass. I looked up to see Sura shaking her head at me. “You’re insane,” she chuckled, “And that’s me saying that.”  “I jumped into a pool, you jumped into a gladiatorial ring,” I panted as she pulled me to my feet. I reached through the slit of my dress and felt relieved as I felt my lightsaber still secured.

Finn pulled Poe out while Sura and I helped Nifera, it took two people thanks to the heavy shell dress. It was a wonder she hadn’t been dragged under.   “Your necklace!” Poe cried, looking at Nifera’s bare neck. She dipped her arm into the pool and the eel slithered its way up her arm and rested again on her neck. The datachip was safe.

“Cute trick,” Sura commented.

“A better trick would be to tell me we have a way out of here,” Poe said, still trying to catch his breath. Finn and I helped him onto his feet, “Where’s Charth?”

“Headed back to us, no luck on the ship,” Sura reported, “It’s locked down tight, the whole landing dock surrounded by stormtroopers.”

“Sola,” Nifera said, grabbing my wrist, “I thought you and your husband were going to get me out of here.”

“We are,” I affirmed, taking hold of her arm “We’re just going to have to get creative with how.”

“Well, I suggest we do it quick,” Sura said firmly, “I figure we only have a few minutes before we’ve got our own contingent of troopers to deal with.”

That was true, the First Order would have noticed by now that Nifera was nowhere to be found. They would begin searching the grounds of the house soon.

“What about Wedge?” Finn suggested.  “Go on,” Poe said with a nod of his head.  “He’s here, right?” Finn continued, “And he’s got a ship. We get to him, we got a ship, too.”  “Brilliant,” Poe said with a smile, “Now all we need to know is where he is.”

“I’ll hail Connix back on Ryloth,” Suralinda said, pulling her comlink out of her dress pocket, “Maybe she can pinpoint Wedge’s position.”

“What’s going on?” Nifera asked, distrust spreading across her face, “Who is Wedge? And who are you...really?”  Finn stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm, “We’re with the Resistance, ma’am. And we’re here to help.”  “Lorell and Sola said as much on the balcony, and you with your starbird pin.” Nifera recalled, stroking her eel, “But if you think I’m one of you, you’re mistaken. The Collective doesn’t support any government.”

“We’re a far cry from a government,” I said, “We’re more like…”

Where I couldn’t find the correct words to describe us, Poe could. “A rag-tag group of heroes.” 

“Heroes?” Nifera echoed with a raised eyebrow, “I suppose that remains to be seen.”

Sura turned back to us, “Okay, I’ve got coordinates on Wedge’s team, but we need to hurry. They’re on the move.”

“What about Charth?” I asked.

“He’ll meet us on the way.”

Nifera’s eyes bounced between me and Poe, the two people she felt comfortable talking to in the group. “Where are we heading?”  “Corellian Engineering Corporation.” Poe answered, “Do you know the direction?”

“I do.” Nifera nodded.

“Lead the way,” I said, she guided our group away from her home. Poe, Sura and I brought up the rear of the group, Sura placed a hand on each of our arms and slowed our pace.  

“Something wrong?” Poe asked.

“I didn’t want to say more in front of Nifera, but there’s trouble on Ryloth,” Sura said quietly.

Fear struck through me like lightning, every worst case scenario to the situation filling my mind. “What’s wrong? Is everyone okay? Leia?”  “Connix didn’t go into detail, but she said they are evacuating.” Sura explained, “I’m sorry I don’t have more information.”  I tried to steel my nerves, there was no time to delve too deep into my worry. Even so, I couldn’t stop the thoughts of my mother or Rey being struck down from seeping into my mind.

“We’ve got to get back,” Poe said, his voice was hardened to hide his own anxiety.

“And we will,“ Sura said confidently, “We’re trying. We need a ship for that. So we stick to the plan, get off this planet, and go rescue our people.”  I shook my head and kept my gaze locked ahead, “It’s never that easy. Not for us at least.”

————

We hurried through the darkened Coronet City, taking back roads and sneaking between buildings while praying we didn’t run into any First Order officers. Poe and I in our shared knowledge of what was transpiring on Ryloth had unknowingly quickened our pace and ended up at the front of our group with Nifera. I was ready to curse whoever had designed the high heels I was wearing but then again, I don’t think they had been designed for running.   “That’s it up ahead,” Nifera said, pointing to a series of buildings and a very large hanger.

I gripped Poe’s hand tighter as we approached, “I don’t see our friends.”  “Wait,” Poe squinted and leaned forward, “I see ‘em. Up ahead to the right.”  I looked to where he was pointing, spotting the figure in the distance waving wildly at us. I couldn’t tell who it was but it was highly doubtful the First Order would be so enthusiastic about our arrival. We picked up the pace until we could clearly make out that it was our team. Wedge came forward and hugged Poe tightly.

“We sure are glad to see you,” Poe said over Wedge’s shoulder, “Thought we’d lost our ride for a while there.”  "What happened?” Wedge asked as he released Poe to embrace me.

“First Order ambushed the party,” I said, holding onto my family friend, “The port was shut down so we lost Charth’s ship.”

“It’s a small thing,” the Twi’lek reassured from behind us, “We got what we came for.”

“This list?” Norra Wexley asked from beside her husband.

Poe motioned for Nifera to come forward, “This is Nifera Shu. She has the list. We get her off the planet, she gives us the list.”

“Do you know there’s a water serpent on your neck?” Teza Nasz asked, gesturing to the eel.

“Yes,” Nifera confirmed with a polite smile.

“Okay,” Nasz replied, lifting her hands, “Just checking.”  “Everyone accounted for,” Norra spoke up, “Time to get the hell off this planet.”  I nodded in agreement, “How are we doing that?”

“Stormtroopers ahead,” Snap reported.

“How many?” Poe asked.

“Sixty,” Snap answered, “Maybe more. They’re guarding the entrance to the shipyard.”

“As if we were expected?” Poe guessed.  “Our luck was bound to run out,” Wedge said unhappily. “Yama,” he nodded for a young girl who came to stand next to Teza Nasz, “Is there another way around?” 

The apparent First Order officer turned ally thought for a second before pointing back to a sky tower, “We can go through the building. But the halls are narrow and there’s a lift and a checkpoint.”

“So our best bet is entering here,” Wedge said as he turned to Poe and I, “Only we need a way to get past the troopers?”

“Create a distraction,” Norra suggested, “Wedge and I can lead them off while the rest of you get through.”  “No guarantee they follow you,” Snap objected, the worry was plain as day on his face. He didn’t want to subject his mother and Wedge to that potential fate.

“We’ll make it worth their while,” Norra stated confidently, “We’ll go in the way Yama said. We’ll make a lot of noise, make them think we’re bringing in the prisoners that way.”

“Mom…” Snap protested.

“We only need to split them. If we can get even half of them to follow us-”

“That’s still two against thirty.”  “Snap,” Poe broke the argument between mother and son, “It’s not a bad idea.”  “Then I’ll go,” Snap suggested in desperation, though he seemed to already know it was a lost cause to fight.  I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip and prepared myself for Poe’s immediate objection, but even that couldn’t stop me. “No, I’ll stay with them.”

Poe’s head whipped around to me, “What? No, Y/n-“  “You just said it’s a good idea,” I spoke over him, “And I’m not leaving them to fend for themselves. You guys have more than enough reinforcements to get the ships, I’m of more use here. Better three against sixty than two. There’s no argument to be made here, Dameron.”  Poe sighed as I threw his words back at him. He rubbed his hands over his face in frustration and moaned in frustration into them. He knew I was right just as Snap knew Norra had been. I wasn’t about to let two older pilots fight alone while we went with an oversupply of people to gather ships. As Snap was finally giving into Wedge and Norra’s decision to stay and sharing an emotional moment with the two, Poe silently nodded his head in agreement toward me. I tenderly placed a hand on his arm, he in turn pulled me roughly into his body with an arm around my back and crashed my lips to his. I grasped onto his still soaking wet tuxedo jacket to steady myself. It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, but it was one that had it been our last time together, it would have been appropriate. But I had too much faith in us to believe that a few Stormtroopers was what was going to separate us.

As we reluctantly broke apart, Poe kept his lips hovering over mine. “Stay alive, Solo.” he whispered huskily.  I took a shaky breath, it had been one hell of a kiss. “You too, flyboy.”

“Go,” Poe let go of me and looked to Wedge, “We’ll make our move when we see the troopers split. See you on the other side.”

————

It hadn’t been difficult to get the troopers to start shooting at us. The entire battalion was laying down fire and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, things were going to become dire within a few minutes. Wedge only had one back up blaster, Norra had none and all I had was my lightsaber. Once they were out, I was our sole defender.

“How long do you think we can hold?” Wedge asked after narrowly dodged a shot.

“Long as we need to,” Norra responded as she leaned out from behind our makeshift shelter to fire a few shots.

“What happens after that? I can’t promise I can take out all of them by myself.” I asked, the two legendary pilots shared a knowing look that I was not a part of.

“Guess this is what I get for wanting to be a hero,” Wedge laughed.

“Since when have you wanted to be a hero?” Nora chuckled.  I peeked out from our structure to deflect a few hits, a couple bounced off my saber and back at the troopers. “You’ve always been a hero in my book, Wedge.”  He smiled down at me when the two of us ducked again, “You’re more of a hero than I’ll ever be, Solo. Han and Luke would be proud of you.”  Would they? Would my father be proud of me for being caught in a fight with sixty stormtroopers on the home planet he’d hated? I highly doubted it but I took Wedge’s compliment regardless.

“There!” Norra said from her position, Wedge and I peered over the barricade to see the rest of our team. They had collected the prisoners and were running them through the hanger. It looked like they were splitting up, I could see Karé, Teza Nasz and Charth taking those who were injured and extremely weak to an Imperial shuttle while Finn, Nifera and Snap led the rest of the group headed for a large blockade runner. However, we were visibly missing two people.

“Where’s Poe?” Wedge asked, voicing my thoughts before I could, “And Suralinda?”

“I don’t see them,” my voice wavered with concern.

“They can take care of themselves,” Nora assured us, “Keep shooting. We’re almost out but we’re not there yet.”  If there was one thing I could admire about Snap’s mother, she didn’t give up. She was one of those women who you could tell would fight until she physically couldn’t and even then, she’d find a way to keep going. She reminded me so much of Mom.

“Solo,” Norra said as she spared a quick glance at me, “Why are you bleeding?”  “What?” I asked confusedly before realization hit and I looked down to my shoulder. My deep crimson blood had mixed with the water still on my body, probably making the wound look worse than it was. I quickly pulled aside the material of my dress to see that I had indeed popped a stitch. Between hitting the wall back at the Shu’s and the action of using my saber had done it. I was in no danger of major blood loss, even if I had been it wouldn’t matter. My sole focus was on the fight at hand. “It’s fine, keep going.”

Wedge came out from behind the shelter to fire only for his blaster to fail. As he was reaching for his backup, a shot came from a trooper that hit him. He yelled out in pain and clutched his arm as he fell to the ground.

“Wedge!” Norra cried, crawling over to where her husband lay. In true badass fashion, she aimed and took out the trooper who had laid Wedge out before coming to his side.

I’d be damned if I was going to let Wedge’s injury go unpunished. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Norra was handing Wedge his backup blaster. After being assured that he was okay for now, she rejoined me while keeping one eye on her husband. We’d taken down fifteen troopers at best, if we were going to make it out alive, something spectacular needed to happen soon. I peeked over to the hanger to see that our group was nowhere to be found and a few troopers were breaking off to investigate. They’d never make it in time to stop them nor have enough firepower to ground the ships.

“Antilles,” I commanded as I could see his shots slowing down, “Don’t you dare fall asleep on us.”  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied before turning to his wife, “But Norra, if I can’t stay on my feet, I want you to…I want you to-”

 “Don’t even say it,” Norra gritted out, “We’re in this together. You stay, I stay. We make a run for it together or we don’t go at all.”

“But-“

“Done talking.”  “I love you,” Wedge smiled.  “Good,” Norra said firmly, “Now stay alive.”  The whole exchange sounded very familiar. It reminded me of a conversation Poe and I would have. Somehow that lit another fire under me to protect Wedge and Norra and make sure they came out of this together.

“Keep going,” I ordered as I carefully poked the top of my head over the edge of the barricade. The troopers were separated into four groups standing a few feet away from each other. I crouched behind our shelter again and deactivated my lightsaber, setting it next to Wedge and paying close attention to the shots fly over my head. There was a timing to them, one shot roughly every three seconds. If I timed it just right, I might be able to knock out at least one group of troopers. It was risky but the entire night had been a series of risks, what was one more?  I counted one, two, three seconds before springing to my full height and stretching my hands out toward our attackers. I used the force to send half the troopers flying back to hit a nearby building. I quickly dropped back behind the hideout just as a blast flew past my head, I felt like all the energy had just been drained from my body. In all the times I’d used that move, I’d never used it on that many people at once. I’d need to wait a minute before trying it again.

Suddenly, the wall of the hanger to our left exploded and sent a thick cloud of grey dust into the air.

The three of us coughed violently, I struggled to see through the dust and find what had caused the explosion. Heavy fire came from where the blast had occurred and it became apparent that it was coming from a starfighter rather than a regular blaster. I had an educated guess as to who was behind the controls…

“Poe better cut it out or he’s going to bring this building down on us, too,” Norra observed as she came to Wedge’s side once more. He was laughing from the shock we’d been given. The stormtrooper’s shots had ceased as Poe took each one of them down. “Do you think you can walk?”  Wedge nodded, still chuckling as the two of us helped him to his feet, “I did not see that coming.”

“Most people don’t see Poe Dameron coming,” I remarked as I grabbed my lightsaber and we hurried across to the hanger. My boyfriend hovered around to give us cover, I spotted Snap at the ramp of the blockade runner motioning for us to hurry.

“You guys go,” I yelled over the engine of Poe’s starfighter, “I’m going to help out on the shuttle.”  Snap gave a nod and helped Wedge and Norra onto the ship. I sprinted across the hanger to the shuttle that was just getting ready to take off, Teza Nasz was helping the last prisoner on. We filed in and I shut the door behind us, I holstered my lightsaber back under my dress and attempted to catch my breath.

“Jedi?” Nasz jutted her chin to my concealed weapon.

“Not quite yet,” I breathed with a small smile.

She simply hummed in reply and led us into the main part of the shuttle. Judging by the crowd it looked like we’d gotten quite a few, if not all of the prisoners. If we made it out of the hanger, we could call the mission a success.

I began getting everyone comfortable, the group we had must have been tortured and starved. There were cuts and bruises littered all over their skin, some of them were practically skeletons.

“Excuse me,” a voice croaked from behind me, it was the man Teza Nasz had helped on as I’d boarded. He had cuts littering his arms, blood dried underneath his nose and was dangerously thin. I made my way over to him and crouched down so he wouldn’t have to strain his voice, “Where are we going, miss?”  He was so frail, I couldn’t imagine what the First Order had done to him. All because he’d dared to stand for what was right. It made my blood boil. I carefully took his hand, his trembling fingers wrapped around mine, and I looked into his eyes. “Somewhere safe.”  ————

Once we’d made it off of the planet and after I’d gotten the survivors situated as best I could, I came to sit beside Nifera. She seemed steady in spite of her world having been turned upside down. Staying collected in the face of adversity was an admirable quality, one of the many skills I lacked.

“I’ve never associated with the Resistance until tonight,” she said, her eyes never leaving a small window, “But what you did tonight was…admirable. Even if you won the prize of the evening in a most unsavory fashion.”  “Well, we’ll actually do some good with that list. I doubt any of your other guests would treat these people with the kindness they deserve.” I commented as I pressed a gauze pad to my wound to stop the bleeding, “But thank you. I’m sorry about Hasadar, truly…I hope you can find peace somehow.”

She ducked her head, raising a hand to stroke her sleeping eel. “Tell me, Sola, or whatever your name really is…Have you ever lost someone? Not a soldier or pilot whose name you barely knew, someone close to your heart.”  I squeezed my hands together in my lap, “I lost my father one week ago, three days later I lost my uncle. And my br-“ I caught myself and bit down harshly on my tongue to stop the words from escaping my lips, “Yes, I have.”  "Then you must know,” Nifera turned to me, a tear staining her heavily powdered cheek, “There is no true peace after losing someone you love. You can try to move on, you can sink into a deep denial, but there will always be a hole in your life that only they can fill.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I conceded, there was definite truth to what she said. I’d never recover fully from my father’s death and while I knew my uncle was at peace, I was still devastated by his loss. “But then I’ve never had much peace to begin with so I don’t think it matters if I go through the rest of my life without it.”

“Based on tonight? No, I very much doubt that you live a serene life.” Nifera’s expression radiated a judgmental type of disapproval. I had to remind myself that while polite, she was in no way an ally.

”I never have and I doubt that will change anytime soon,” I stated unflinchingly, “But if I can help people, then the chaos I create is worth something.”

Karé emerged from the cockpit and interrupted our conversation, “Nifera, Poe wants to speak to you.” She handed her comlink to Nifera and gave us privacy to take the call. I however had no intention of leaving.

“Hello, Lorell,” she replied, smirking at me as she used his alias name.

“It’s Poe. Poe Dameron.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“We need somewhere safe to set down for a while. Not long. Just a meeting point to regroup, disseminate the list. A day at most.”

I watched the cogs turn in Nifera’s head as we awaited her answer, “And you think I can help you?”  “I think the Collective can help us.”  “And why would we do that?”  “Because we just helped their benefactor escape certain death.”

I nodded along with Poe’s answer, Nifera eyed me as she thought over her answer.

“Very well, Poe Dameron,” she laughed, “I’ll help you. After you make a generous donation to our cause.”

I rolled my eyes, the Collective had already taken half of our money during the auction. If we gave more, our funds would be almost non-existent. This solidified my earlier conclusion that Nifera was not our ally, if anything she was a business woman.

“Yeah, about that...didn’t you already take half our credits?”

“And now I aim to take the other half,” Nifera answered plainly.

There was a long pause over the comm, Poe was thinking it over. Finally, his tense reply came, “Take the money, lady.”  Nifera rose from her seat and I followed her, she headed into cockpit where Karé was piloting once again. She relayed a set of coordinates to her and Karé punched them into the ship, our course was set.

“I’ve given your pilot coordinates to a safe house. She will transmit them to yourself and your other friends. I will let them know to expect us.”

“Thank you.”

“A pleasure doing business,” she said before handing the comm back to Karé. I stayed in the cockpit with my friend as she continued speaking to Poe. I no longer had any interest in interacting with Nifera.

“Did she give you the coordinates?”

“Yeah,” she responded as she hit a few buttons, “Sending out to Resistance channels now.”

“Copy. Is Y/n with you?”

Without taking her eyes off of the stars ahead, Karé stretched her arm out to me and I took the comm from her.

“She’s here,” I answered, “Unharmed and still very wet.”  “There’s worse things to be. Karé said she got a transmission from the Falcon, First Order found them and they had to evacuate Ryloth. Leia’s okay though.”

 I sighed, the weight of fearing the worst for my mother dropped immediately, “Any casualties?”  “A couple, one of the Phantom Squad pilots and Charth’s sister.”  “He’ll be devastated,” I mumbled, “It’s going to sound insensitive but I’m so glad that Mom’s okay.”  “I know. Me too. We’re about to make the jump, I’ll see you wherever we’re landing.”

“See you there. And hey,” I paused, smiling softly at the comm as if it was Poe in the flesh, “We did it.”

“Yeah, we did.”   I handed the comm back to Karé and settled into the seat behind her. While Nifera wasn’t my favorite person in the galaxy, I trusted that she was leading us somewhere safe.

“Ready?” Karé asked.

I nodded, “Punch it.”  ————

Poe and I corralled the last group of prisoners to the doorway of The Collective’s hideout. The door was marked with a picture of the same type of eel that had rested on Nifera’s neck. Finn stood watch from an alleyway nearby, I shot him a nod and he did the same. We were clear to enter, no one had followed us. I was surprised we hadn’t been picked out by now, mysterious hooded figures typically stood out in a crowd.

I opened the door and we ushered each person in, after everyone was accounted for, Finn joined us and the three of us entered.

The first part of the building was an abandoned storage room, where the Collective stood atop various boxes keeping watch over everyone who entered. We went through the room to a small door to the side where Zay stood, bringing the prisoners into our final destination.

“Is that everyone?” Zay asked.  “Should be,” Poe answered as we entered the next room. As Zay had shut the door, I caught Collective members sliding crates in front of it to conceal the entryway. We were safe.

Inside the large room, there were tables with food and drinks laid out on them, many of the starved prisoners sat and ate quickly. There was also a staircase that led down to the main room where many reunions and conversations were taking place.

Mom came up the stairs to approach the last prisoner we’d led in, it was her old friend, Ransolm Casterfo. She gently embraced him, the man was trembling as she did.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered.

“But you came for me anyway, my friend.”   “I hoped,” she replied, “Come meet everyone.”  Rose led him down the stairs and began to introduce him to people as Mom turned to Poe and I.

“General,” we both acknowledged with a nod of our heads.  “Commanders,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye, “Well done.”

Mom and General Rieekan had turned the room into a makeshift command center. There was equipment set up and a large holomap of the galaxy against one wall. Nobody seemed to be skipping a beat, they were working just as hard as they had when we’d had a full setup on D’Qar.

“Did Nifera give you the list?” I asked.

“Already disseminated,” Mom reported, “Yendor and Orrimaarko are making assignments now. We’ll find them all. Warn those who are in the First Order’s sights, rescue those in danger, and recruit who we can.”

 “Good,” I said, my mind was already trying to figure out what we’d do tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And-

“One step at a time,” Mom broke my thoughts with a hand to my arm, “We’re not taking on the entire First Order tomorrow. We can’t. But we can take one step, and that earns us another day to take another step.”

“We can’t do it alone,” Poe stated, he was in a similar state of mind as I was.

“And we won’t. We’ll find people, we’ll inspire them. Show them they aren’t alone, show them what’s worth fighting for. And we’ll prepare and rebuild. This,” Mom spread a hand and gestured to the room, “is a beginning.”

I nodded with a hint of a smile, looking around at our group. We’d doubled in size today and Mom was right, this was a start. All around us were old friends and new allies, working together and actively doing exactly what Poe’s speech in the Ryloth hanger had inspired them to do…Be better.

I broke away from them to climb the staircase and land on the top step. I wasn’t used to commanding attention, but I felt the unusual desire to do so.

“We can’t stay here,” I said, my voice carrying over both rooms. They fell silent in seconds and everyone had turned to face me. ”As much of a frightening thought as it is, there’s nowhere in the galaxy where the Resistance is safe from the First Order.”  Breathe, I told myself, you can do this. The worried expressions that rested on everyone’s faces stirred up my anxiety.

“But right now, we’re going to revel in this win. After our losses, we still rose from the ashes and lived to fight another day. And look around,” I gestured around me, “This is what we accomplished in a day that the First Order never intended for us to see. So celebrate, we deserve it.” 

Applause broke out across the room, I let it ring for a few seconds before holding up my hands to call for silence.

“But this isn’t the end of the fight,” I said, “This is just the beginning.”

“What do we do next? Where do we go?”

I turned to see the voice belonged to Pacer Agyo, the headstrong pilot who’d challenged Teza Nasz.

“We go where there’s injustice, we go where the oppressed are being beaten down. We go where we are desperately needed, where hope is needed. You want to know what we do next? We do what we do best…We resist.” my voice rose with the passion I was pouring into my words, “We fight. And when the time’s right, we’ll make the First Order pay for each and every one of their sins. There’s a future ahead of us where the First Order is extinct and we’ll be the ones to have ended them.”  Cheers erupted across both of the rooms and I allowed myself a moment to savor the moment. The mistake I’d made aboard the Raddus was permanent, but it seemed forgiveness could be too. I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do; make amends. As I descended the staircase, people surrounded me and gave me nods of approval, hugs and pats on my back.

Mom was beaming from where she stood, watching me take charge of the room. Poe came forward to press a kiss to my cheek, I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him to my side. Professionalism didn’t matter right now, there were hugs and kisses being freely given between everyone. It was another day that we’d survived and that was something I’d celebrate freely.

I could see Wedge, whose arm was in a sling, and Norra making their way across the room with their eyes locked on Poe. “I’ll find you in a few minutes,” I said quietly before breaking off on my own. I had people to speak to as well.

I spotted Rey in a corner, kneeled down and in conversation with Bee. When she saw me approaching, she rose and turned her attention to me. Bee excused himself and left the two of us alone.

“I like the outfit,” she quipped, her eyes scanning up and down my barely dry dress.

“I like yours better,” I said, tugging on the sleeve of her dark Jedi robes, or at least what was starting to look like a set. “Much more suited for battle than a ballgown.”  Rey laughed and wrapped her arms around me, there was so much relief in our being reunited. I didn’t like being separated from her, there was something about having her at my side that calmed me. It was the same feeling I got when Poe and Finn were with me.

“Okay,” I said, pulling away from her, “I can’t be expected to wait any longer. I need to know what my uncle said about me.”

Rey’s face changed from joyful to serious instantaneously, “Yes, you do. I doubt there’s a place we could go to discuss it privately so here will have to do.”

I didn’t particularly care if the room was just us or a hundred more people. My uncle had something to tell me and I was desperate to know what it was.

“When I was with Luke, he talked about you quite a lot. How when he met you as a child, he’d had a vision about your future.”  “Yeah, my mother told me. I don’t know the details of it, just that he had one.”

“Well,” she went on, “He said he knew you wanted answers. About the Force and about your parents. And he said that when you’re ready, those answers lay on Ahch-To.”  My body stiffened and my ears quit registering the noise around me. The prospect of having the questions I’d asked my entire life answered was almost too much to process. I’d accepted the fact that I’d never know about my birth parents long ago. Now I was being told that information about them existed somehow and was mine for the taking.

“I-I can’t…I mean…how?” I sputtered, trying to wrap my head around the idea.

“Don’t ask me,” Rey shook her head, “I asked and he wouldn’t tell me. He just said to come to the island when you’re ready and all will be revealed.”

I raked a hand through my messy head of hair, a grin spreading across my face at my uncle’s cryptic invitation. Was it possible? If he said so, it had to be. I could finally know the truth about myself and my family. It was the greatest gift I’d ever been given.

“Are you alright?” Rey asked worriedly.  I let out a gleeful laugh and threw my arms around her neck, “I’m fantastic.”

Rey hugged me back and we stood there for a moment, two souls who were struggling to understand themselves celebrating that one of us was getting answers. It was a bond we shared that no one else could come close to understanding.

As much as I wanted to stay there reveling in the news, I also wanted to find Poe and Finn. “C’mon,” I said as I grabbed Rey’s hand, “We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”  The two of us maneuvered through the room to find Finn and Poe standing on the stairs talking. “I don’t think you can stop me,” Finn replied to whatever my boyfriend had asked before we’d arrived.

“Where are we going?” Rey asked, they turned to face us.

“I didn’t want to ask,” Finn said with a large grin.  “You didn’t have to,” Rey smiled as they bumped shoulders.

Poe and I shared an intimate look conveying many emotions at once. Relief that we had succeeded in our mission, hope for the Resistance’s future, and unfailing love for each other. I climbed the steps to meet him and walked into the arm waiting to wrap around my waist. 

“So if our clothes were lost on Charth’s ship,” he pointed his finger to the bodice of my dress, “Does that mean you’re gonna be wearing this from now on?”  “Depends,” I said, playing with one of the flaps of his tuxedo jacket, “Are you going to keep wearing this getup?”

Poe tapped a finger to his lips before slyly looking to me, “I think that can be arranged.”

A fake gagging sound came from Finn as he stuck his finger in his mouth, eliciting a hearty laugh from Rey. Poe rolled his eyes and kissed my forehead, not caring one bit if anyone had a problem with it.

“You don’t mind?” Rey asked, her eyes drifting to Poe, “Me coming wherever you guys are going?”

“I would be,” Poe bowed slightly to my friend, “Honored.”

Rey smiled, visibly excited to be included in our group. Finally I had three of the people that meant the most to me together.

“Wherever we go,” I grabbed Rey’s hand and squeezed, “You come too.”  When I’d met her, she was living in an AT-AT alone. No family, no friends, not even a droid for company. I never wanted her to feel like that again, she was a permanent part of the Resistance family now.

I caught my mother’s gaze as she watched us laughing and conversing. She looked pleased with what she saw, but also like she was having a nostalgic flashback.

“She knows,” Rey commented, catching the same look I had.

 “Know’s what?” Finn asked as he took another sip of his drink.

“That the Resistance is in good hands,” Poe answered contently, “That we won’t fail her.”

“Because of the Force?” Finn asked.

“No,” I replied as Mom shot me a wink before moving away, “I don’t think Leia needs the Force to tell her that.”

“Ah! Right!” Finn said happily, “She knows because she’s got us.”  I took a look at our group, admiring the fact that in the week that we’d all known each other how close we’d gotten. Four people who under any other circumstances should have never found each other. There was no other explanation for how we’d ended up with one another other than the Force.

Poe wrapped his free arm around Finn’s shoulder while Rey embraced me from my side. “That’s right,” he said, laying a gentle kiss to my cheek, “She’s got us.”  For the first time in a long time, everything felt alright. Tomorrow would bring a host of new problems to face but suddenly, rebuilding the Resistance didn’t seem so impossible. Not when I was surrounded by the people I loved most in the galaxy. I had my boyfriend next to me, my friends on each side of me, my mother at ease for once, and long awaited answers waiting for me whenever I wanted to come get them. Everything was coming together even in what seemed like the darkest of times. There was hope.

“Yeah,” I smiled as I looked between my friends and Poe, “We’re going to be fine. Now let’s go save the galaxy.”

————

A/N: We’re taking a trip to Ahch-To next chapter 😏 I’M SO EXCITED YOU HAVE NO IDEA. As always, thank you so much for reading and all the kind messages/comments that you guys have dropped. It really makes me happy to know that this series I started out of boredom in quarantine is being enjoyed 💕 Until next time!!

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saphira-approves · 4 years

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Don’t Compare My Boy To K*l* R*n: In This Essay I Will—

okAY I’m talking about it

So I can’t find the post right now, but a few days ago I saw a post on my dash comparing Murtagh of the Inheritance Cycle to Kylo Ren of Star Wars, citing parallels for their similarities.

Since we all know this blog is really just a poorly-disguised Murtagh stan blog, I decided I’d share my thoughts on this comparison. I’ll be discussing character backgrounds, character roles, character motives, and character actions.

Part One: Character Backgrounds

Murtagh and Kylo Ren are both descendants of the “previous generation.” Their mothers were both prominent rebels, their fathers were both considered handsome and rogueish, and both sets of parents eventually separated. But that’s about where the similarities end.

Kylo Ren’s—or rather, Ben Solo’s—parents loved each other and loved their son. They may have been flawed in the way they showed it, but then again, the only account we hear of Ben’s childhood (as I recall, anyway, and I’m not rewatching those movies just for a tumblr post) is Ben’s, after he’d been groomed and manipulated by Snoke for many, many years. Han Solo died believing he was helping his son; Leia Organa died saving her son; at the very least, they both loved him enough, even while he was serving the Dark Side, to give up their lives for him.

Murtagh’s parents, on the other hand, were a mess. From Murtagh’s account of their relationship, Morzan didn’t care much about Selena except for her usefulness as a weapon; he was happy to manipulate her and her emotions, but I highly doubt he actually loved her. He certainly didn’t give a damn about Murtagh, throwing a sword at his own three-year-old son. Selena, meanwhile, although she obviously loved Morzan at first, loved Murtagh even more, and clearly recognized that Morzan didn’t care for her the way she had once cared for him—when she recognized an opportunity to work against him, she took it.

Kylo Ren despised both of his parents, but that hatred seemed hollow, shallow—it had no real reason. They led busy lives, perhaps didn’t make enough time for him, but their actions revealed that they did, truly, love him despite his mistakes, and Kylo’s loathing reveals itself to truly be the manifestation of a spoiled child’s anger, magnified tenfold. Murtagh, conversely, had very good reasons for his complicated view of his parents: he loved his mother, but she was kept from him (and him from her), and she died—possibly in front of him, though he never says, and, unbeknownst to him until much later, having just hidden his brother in Carvahall. There was no love lost between him and Morzan, who was in the best case just an angry drunk, worst case—and more likely—an abusive father, and the only thing Murtagh ever expected to receive from him as inheritance was his sword (which is by itself another whole post in the making).

Part Two: Character Roles

Both Murtagh and Kylo Ren played the role of foil to the protagonists of their stories.

Murtagh and Eragon were very similar in many ways; I’ve mentioned before the many “subtle” hints Paolini gives to their true relationship (”a pair of matched blades” and “brothers in arms” come to mind off the top of my head). Their differences clearly highlight their different upbringings: Eragon thinks in the moment, with his heart and his compassion, while Murtagh thinks ahead, makes plans and contingencies—this difference is most clearly seen when Murtagh kills Torkenbrand and Eragon's strong moral code makes him protest, even though killing the slaver was, objectively, the best course of action they could take. Yet Murtagh is not only Eragon’s foil in action, but also his foil symbolically: they are both sons of Selena, which binds them, and yet the sons of opposing fathers, which others unwittingly use to pit them against each other (yes, this is also a whole other post in the making. like i said, poorly-disguised murtagh stan blog). Murtagh’s foilness to Eragon is deeply interwoven into their friendship and their parallels, showing up in many subtle and unsubtle moments throughout the series.

Kylo Ren’s foil status, on the other hand, is… complicated in a different way. For one thing, he’s not just a foil to Rey, he’s also a foil to Finn—in fact, I’d argue he’s more foil to Finn, and more just a complete opposite to Rey. He’s the experience to Rey’s raw talent, he shifts toward the Light while Rey shifts toward the Dark, but with Finn, their stories of pulling away from the Empire could have been fantastic foil stories. Wasted opportunity. And I’m so mad about it but this isn’t a star wars blog so—

Part Three: Character Motives

Of course, both Murtagh and Kylo Ren’s motives change over the course of their own stories, so we’ll be looking at what they are and how they change.

Kylo Ren starts his story in TFA as a ruthless, power-hungry fanboy who cherry-picked his history lessons and simply ignored the fact that his oh-so-esteemed Darth Grandvader was actually redeemed in the end because Luke refused to give up on whatever scrap of good was left in him and I hate hate hate hate hate Luke’s sequel characterization UGH and so Kylo is “emulating” a false image of what he thinks Vader was: the power, the presence, the mask and modulator aesthetic, the “I’m on the Dark Side because it’s fun, and I get to do whatever I want consequence-free.” Which… no! So, at first, what does Kylo want? Power! Sure, he’s serving Palpatine’s Smeagol puppet Snoke, but eventually he’s gonna be the most powerful person in the galaxy. …well, but then eventually starts getting a little boring, so in TLJ Kylo ups his timetable, tries to get Rey on his side after torturing her for information (OF HIS OWN VOLITION! BECAUSE HE’S A JERK! He did not CARE about even trying to convince her at first, he asked the few questions necessary to justify meeting her resistance with a Force mind-rape), and then when she doesn’t join him on the Dark Side he fights her, again and again and again until he nearly DIES, and then HIS MOTHER DIES TO SAVE HIS UNGRATEFUL ASS, so now Kylo’s priorities switch from “power” to… uh… what, again? Redemption? By… how? Sacrificing his life for Rey?

Oh, now he remembers how his Darth Grandvader history lesson ended.

he’s still a copycat though

Murtagh’s motives, conversely, actually make sense for his situation. When we meet him, he has in the last few months run away from Urû’baen and lost his mentor and father-figure. His two priorities: keep himself and his horse alive, and see what the deal is with the new Dragon Rider he’s heard so much about. He meets Eragon and Saphira by saving their lives from the Ra’zac, and he’s there when Brom dies, and Eragon loses his own mentor. Having just recently gone through that pain himself, Murtagh gets attached, and joins Eragon on his adventure/vengeance quest against the Ra’zac. Murtagh doesn’t reveal his parentage, but he and Eragon find that they have a lot of similarities and get very close, sparring and bantering and becoming “a set of matched blades” and “brothers-in-arms” and other such friendly roles that are not-so-subtle hints at their true relationship, and even when they fight—notably when Murtagh doesn’t want to go to the Varden, because they might kill him, which would be actively violating his first priority of staying alive—Murtagh still agrees to help Eragon because he’s a nice f*cking person okay. And then, through shenanigans, Murtagh ends up getting kidnapped, assumed dead by his few new friends, and then

TORTURED AND MIND-RAPED FOR AT LEAST THREE OR FOUR MONTHS.

And Murtagh’s will never broke! Not until Galbatorix gave him a dragon egg, and that dragon egg hatched into Thorn, and Thorn bonded with Murtagh, and Galbatorix threatened Thorn.

Murtagh fought Galbatorix until Thorn’s well-being was put into danger.

After that, Murtagh’s priorities are skewed; he’s forcibly sworn to Galbatorix’s will, which sucks, but he’s also given fantastic power, which is great; but he and Thorn still get tortured as punishment for messing up, which also sucks. And then Nasuada, someone Murtagh actually likes, is captured and brought to Urû’baen, and Murtagh tries to hide his face behind the silver mask when Galbatorix forces him to torture Nasuada (physically, because Galbatorix never forces Murtagh to attack Nasuada’s mind) because he doesn’t want to torture his friend. In fact, he does everything in his ability to help her. And in the end, he cares about her so much that he realizes hang on a minute, I would actually put SOMEONE ELSE’S health and well-being over my own, which means something in me has fundamentally changed, WHICH MEANS I CAN DEFY GALBATORIX, and so what does he do? He gets rid of Galbatorix’s wards and lets Eragon finish him off. He gives up the Eldunarí to Eragon and Saphira, which were a huge source of his power, because in the end, he’s not a power-hungry maniac, he’s a nice person that shitty things happened to.

(And if Murtagh is a nice person that shitty things happened to, then Kylo Ren is a shitty person that nice things happened to)

Part Four: Character Actions

If you don’t believe me, then perhaps we’ll let actions speak louder than words.

Kylo Ren: In his first appearance, he orders his troops to kill an entire settlement. From there, he tortures Poe for information, obsessively pursues the protagonists who have the key to Luke’s location, becomes obsessed with Rey, who seems Force-sensitive, attempts to torture Rey the same way he tortured Poe, kills his own father even as his father apologizes and tries to help him, chases Finn and Rey (again) into a snowstorm on a planet that’s imploding in on itself because of a lightsaber; and then he’s chasing the Resistance—including his own mother—across the galaxy, killing Snoke and calling himself Supreme Leader (yeah, totally something a secret good guy would do), cornering the Resistance on Crait with the threat of DEATH. STAR. TECH. (miniaturized, but like. what’s the miniature of a planet-killer???? half a planet killer??????), and then ALLYING HIMSELF with PALPATINE (the stupid crusty meatsack didn’t even have to groom this one, he got a new apprentice for FREE), while also PLANNING TO DOUBLECROSS… PALPATINE… and continuing to chase Rey across the galaxy, trying to get her to join the Dark Side, and he only stops when his mother gives up her life to save his.

His mother… who, just recently, he THREATENED WITH DEATH STAR TECH.

All this to say, his “redemption” arc is hollow and stupid. Dying while doing “good” is not redemption, it’s a cop-out. Vader was ruthless not because he took pleasure from killing, but because it was efficient; he was redeemed because he found out he had been lied to, manipulated, used, and abused. Kylo Ren was fully aware of his situation, an abuser himself who took pleasure in his power and in killing people; and he was not redeemed by a kumbayah force-life-transfer BS or for turning on Palpatine, WHICH HE WAS PLANNING TO DO ANYWAY.

Murtagh: Helps Eragon, helps Eragon even when he could get captured or tortured or killed, helps Eragon even though he’s surrounded by people who would suffer no regret over killing him, helps Eragon even though he will get tortured for it later, helps Nasuada because he doesn’t want to torture his friend (let me repeat, he DOESN’T. WANT. to TORTURE. his FRIEND. And he even ends up sneaking into her cell, AT RISK OF PUNISHMENT WHICH WOULD INVOLVE TORTURE, to talk to her and heal at least some of her wounds, and give her a way to tell reality from illusion when Galbatorix does try to force his way into her head), helps Eragon kill Galbatorix in the final battle, helps a little girl he’s only just met and gives her an enchanted fork, because why not, and only waits to rejoin Eragon and Saphira because he recognizes his own need to heal, to take time for himself and Thorn, and later, if FWW is anything to go by, probably to redeem himself by helping people, and fighting whatever threat he’s hearing rumors about in the north. Murtagh doesn’t take pleasure in hurting people, and he goes out of his way to do good things, even at risk to himself, as much as he’d hate to admit it.

Murtagh is hardly perfect; on the one hand, I fully agree with his decision to kill Torkenbrand because what else were you gonna do with him, Eragon, but on the other, yes, he’s flawed. Notably, there’s the moment of him killing Hrothgar, which I’ve discussed, his anger issues, his potential alcohol issues, and his general tendency to put himself first (which… yes, but also, he really doesn’t). Best thing about this, though, his his enormous potential for change, because we’ve already seen him change! And it saved the whole war! One tiny thing, one small moment of self reflection and realization—he changed himself, without any outside influence except for finding someone to care about.

TL;DR Don’t insult my boy Murtagh. Come back when Kylo Ren gets some actual character development.

#started this post #had to look something up in Eragon #got sidetracked #placed a hot topic order #came back #got so fucking tired #please just. just don't compare my son to kyle #i really really hate k*l* r*n #what a dipshit. what a wasted opportunity.#everything after force awakens was a waste of brilliant character development opportunity #murtagh tornacsson #murtagh (inheritance cycle)#inheritance cycle #star wars #cw kylo ren #saph rambles #saph scribbles

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elmidol · 4 years

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The Shackles of Fate - Eight

Dark Faerie Tale AU

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben/Reader

Warning: none this chapter; chapters after this will have more explicit elements and include proper trigger warnings

The Shackles of Fate

Eight

A terrifying truth regarding the sadistic side of the Demon King Snoke became apparent to you as you ducked from another attack that a red armored demon aimed your way--they wanted you alive, though they cared not if you were maimed. What would bring Snoke great joy would be to see you miserable as you were dragged to him. There were tales that said misery bred a new flavor for the soul. It could twist or corrupt it; it gave it a different spice. You wrinkled your nose at that thought, corrected your grip on the weapon that was in your possession, and looked for an opening in your assailant’s defense. Finding a potential break, you thumbed the switch that activated the blade. The blue glow pervaded the darkness, and the sudden appearance of the blade caught the demon by surprise. It stuttered in its step, leaving it vulnerable to the swing you directed at its midsection.

Its reaction time was inhuman--no surprise--and so it thrust itself backwards, limiting the damage done. Despite this, you managed to cut away a portion of its red armor. The demon was not hollow beneath; you glimpsed the flesh and felt your lips curl upwards. There was little pleasure in attacking another, however you could not say that you weren’t feeling a sense of contentment with the knowledge that your enemy was made of flesh rather than some spirit or shade you could not touch. The Demon King had far too many variations of servants under his command, and some legends spoke of shades that only faeries could face. That was another reason that the faeries had separated from humans. It was what you had suspected the demons armored in red would be. This was one situation in which you were pleased to be wrong.

As though you were connected in some way that you could not explain, you felt Kylo’s frustration over the fact that he was not the one facing the demons. He did not like sitting on the sidelines. This reminded you of Rey, your childhood friend who had helped you learn how to defend yourself at all.

Remembering an attack that she had taught you, you feigned a strike then aimed for a different part of the demon’s body. The armored being remained swift, though not enough to dodge away from the very tip of the blue blade, which bit into another portion of its armor. Then it was your turn to dodge. Another demon sprung up from behind, its aim at your shoulders. Had the attack been successful, the two halves of the faerie prince would have been knocked off of your body, and your grip on the Skywalker weapon would have faltered. Instead you lost your footing, tumbled forward, and were more than a little grateful that the weapon deactivated on the way down. You did not want to think about how many times you would have been impaled or cut by it.

That was the least of your worries--what may have been did not hold a candle to what might become in terms of your fate. The hilt rolled out of your hand and towards the foot of a third red armored demon. You sprang forward in an attempt to seize it before the demon could do anything, however pressure around your ankle preceded the sensation of something piercing your flesh. You cried out in pain, hissing the next moment. Continuing to struggle forward, you spared a glance over your shoulder at the pronged whip that had found purchase on your leg. Red seeped out of the wounds that had been created. They were shallow, thankfully, although if the demon applied more pressure then the prongs would bury themselves more deeply. That could maim more than your flesh; it would tear at your muscles. As you turned back, your fingers closed around the weapon’s hilt at the same time that the demon’s hand did.

Kylo slid down the length of your arm, his own weapon activated so that the red blade stabbed through the red armor and whatever flesh lay beneath. He then executed a backflip to keep from being swatted as his victim jerked its limb away in pain. You, armed once more, twisted and swung downwards at the whip with the reactivated blade, severing the section that held you captive from the main body. You yanked your leg towards your torso, brushed the remnant of the whip off of yourself. Having it catch on anything, or risking the chance of one of the other demons grabbing hold of it, would not be good.

As Kylo returned to your shoulder, you felt Ben shifting on the other side. You whispered under your breath, questioning the small faerie, asking what he was doing. The response received was a whisper too soft for hearing. You scowled at the inaudible words only to be grateful for the hushed tone, as you were able to hear the attack that had been directed at your feet. You leapt, landed nearly a foot away from your starting point, and resumed running as you hit the ground.

Your mind began to race with thoughts that these demons might not disappear once the sun rose. Teeth clattering as more adrenaline rushed into your veins, you worked to decide on an end location. To lead these demons on a path that resulted in the deaths of innocents would break your spirit. “What are the chances you’ll answer a question without a riddle?” This inquiry you directed at Kylo, who flitted nearer to your ear, his small hands tickling its shell. You shuddered without breaking stride. “Will I continue to be in danger from these demons when it’s day?”

“Some are not bound by the clock in the same way as the others.” A riddle, but one that you were not displeased with. It was answer enough. Even a reduction in the number of demons pursuing you would offer some sort of reprieve. “You needn’t worry.”

That might have been a phrase spoken to comfort you if it had come from another. With Kylo, you understood it to be a statement of fact--a revelation that something would occur that would lessen your burden. All you needed to do was survive a little while longer. Not completely on your own; you replayed how Kylo had stabbed the one demon’s hand. You were not alone, and it was this that gave you the energy to increase your speed and dart in another new direction. Anything that would keep these demons from capturing you or harming other beings in the realm that you had been raised.

The only other question that you wanted to ask, albeit after you were not preoccupied with red armored demons, was why the imp had seemed to help you by thrusting you out of the portal as he had. You doubted that this had been out of the goodness of his heart. No, he had ulterior motives, and you were already dealing with strings being attached to deeds committed by those around you. Sparing a glance at said strings, you noticed a knot had formed in one of the threads.

Will it cause more trouble if I untangle it or if I leave it alone? Another question that would have to be left for a later time; a new red armored demon appeared from a portal that opened mere feet from where you were, this one ahead of you. It was as though they had your location pinpointed and could summon reinforcements to cut you off.

You pushed backwards with your feet, propelling yourself away from the new assailant. This action was interrupted by a sudden weight that knocked you off balance. A weight, you noticed, that had been on your shoulder. Where the light side of the faerie prince had been, there was a hand clasping you. You turned your head, your eyes widening. Ben shifted his hand away from your shoulder in favor of seizing hold of his family weapon. He removed it from your grasp, and you did not struggle against him despite the fact that you would have preferred to remain armed. Instead you lowered your attention to the knot that previously caught your eye. The braided thread was loosened, no longer threatened by whatever had caused it to tangle in the first place.

Another increase in weight preceded Kylo’s hand clasping your shoulder. He used it to push himself up onto his feet, shoving you further into the ground. You scowled at him though you said nothing. He had already activated the red blade that so many feared. The two halves of the faerie prince fell into fighting stances, each different yet similar to the other. You blinked thrice, clearing away the threat of blurred or double-vision from having glanced at one then the other of the halves in rapid repetition. Their blades cast different shades of light that merged to emit a combined hue of purple on the armor of the demons that approached.

How it was that they were both normal size, you did not know. What you did know, or what occurred to you, was that the revelation that Ben continued to exist was not going to end well. The Demon King Snoke would know for a fact that Kylo had tricked him regarding your fate, and that Leia had deceived him in regards to Ben’s. There would be more that would pursue you. Or Ben. Or both, you noted while observing the threads connecting you to the two halves elongating as the pair thrust themselves forwards to meet the red armored demons in battle.

You observed the battle as best you could, ever vigilant in case a weapon was dropped that you could retrieve. It would give better odds for success if you fought alongside them. That was another thing that Rey and you had learned together during your childhood. Finn, too, had seemed to encourage the three of you to work together. To what extent, that remained a mystery. As did your own past, which was vexing.

Kylo and Ben moved almost as one, their attacks suddenly mirroring one another. It was then that it hit you in full that this was one person--faerie--that one day, one would disappear forever. You placed a hand to your heart, took a deep breath, and willed away those thoughts, which at this point would only be a distraction and likely get you killed or captured. Kylo caught the demon’s weapon on the tip of his blade. Ben, meanwhile, aimed a kick at the small of the being’s back, which knocked it forwards. The weapon slid further along the red blade. Eyes widening, you rushed forward with the intention of grabbing that weapon for yourself; the red blade was eating through the demon’s fingers, which meant that soon you would be armed once again.

Ben had not removed his wings from his clothing throughout the battle. On top of that, running had the battle had dirtied what bits of material were not shielded by the dark wings. These facts struck you suddenly, and allowed a sense of relief to flood through you. The red armored demons might not realize just who Ben was other than that he belonged to the fae. The fight needed to be wrapped up before that could change.

With the demon’s weapon in your grasp, you readjusted your grip and fell into a different fighting stance. Shimmers of gold flickered in and out of view. You blinked once to clear your vision. The flickers did not cease. Instead they grew in frequency, the tiny strands woven together into a familiar kind of thread. It was not unlike what linked you to Kylo or Ben. A surge of delight ran through your body. At long last something was going your way, luck was on your side. You sprang into action, taking a swipe at the thread. The demon leapt backwards. You narrowly missed your target.

Kylo shifted, his shoulder brushing against yours as he drew up to your side, and you straightened. Ben had come to your other side. It was jarring how in sync the two halves could be one moment only to act almost as separate beings entirely the next. “Don’t.” The single syllable was whispered; had it not been, the demons armored in red would have fully witnessed the fact that both halves spoke in unison. You clenched your jaw as frustration began to grow inside of you. Why had he stopped you?

The question was answered in the proceeding seconds as the demons all around fell out of their fighting stances. You glanced at the sky, which was beginning to brighten with the first signs of morning. Various hues were eating through the darkness, and the stars were fading from sight. There was a crackle of energy that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You held your breath. Whatever was happening, Ben’s hand had curled into a fist while Kylo’s had not. The lighter half of the faerie prince began to tremble as though in pain. You itched to grab hold of his hand, to comfort him, however a small voice told you to stay put. Kylo was regaining control.

“To lure more souls for the king,” Kylo said. HIs voice was level, so like it had been when he had first appeared in your room. In your peripheral, you saw that Ben was gritting his teeth, keeping his jaw from moving while his other half spoke. “And to train another whose allegiance I have claimed.”

“Yet you hid.” One of them spoke though all stepped forward. They remained on edge, mistrusting. Their focus was trained on Kylo, not a one of them looking at Ben from what you could see.

Kylo pointed his reactivated red blade at them, causing each of the demons to come to a sudden halt. “A demon can never understand the mind of a faerie.” The arrogance in his voice was something that you would have taken offense to if the words had been directed your way. As such you were not surprised when the demons grumbled, when they bristled. They looked at one another in turn, trying to communicate without speaking.

Can they speak telepathically? There was too much you did not yet know.

The golden threads that belonged to each of the demons became more solid with each passing second as silence stretched amongst the gathered group of which you were a part. Kylo tilted his head back, staring down at the red armored beings. A challenge, tempting them to report to the demon king at their own peril. It occurred to you why it was that he had changed tactics. Your scent along with your marked soul may have caused the demons to grow suspicious, however they would not know for certain what you were--unless you revealed yourself by cutting through a golden thread. There were enough demons present for one to escape the moment they witnessed that feat.

On top of potentially revealing your origins, though they remained unknown to you, Ben would also have been exposed in full to the demons who were now doubting what they believed. It would not stall them forever, yet this would buy the three--two?--of you time to prepare for the next nightfall. You shrunk, pretending to cower in fear in a manner that might make you appear subservient to the faerie prince.

Kylo grabbed hold of the weapon you had obtained during the fight, tossing it back to its owner. The demon caught it without offering any form of gratitude.

“Do not mistake that you are without suspicion.” The words floated in the air that hung between your group and theirs. Neither Kylo nor Ben reacted to the threat. With a grunt, the red armored demons turned and headed for the portal through which they had arrived. The sky above was growing ever brighter; you suspected this had much to do with the reason that they were more docile in the wake of Kylo’s words. Even if they could remain in the world of humans during the day, their powers would weaken.

Beside you, Ben’s trembling did not cease but instead grew in intensity. You stiffened. Not all of Snoke’s guards had traveled enough to be out of sight. If any happened to turn around, their suspicions would only increase. You lifted your hand, reached out for him only to pause. After a heartbeat, you resumed movement and placed your palm against his arm. Ben’s knees gave out, the prince collapsing. You held in the cry that would have drawn more attention your way, dropping down to one knee and bringing both of your hands together to form a cup that caught him as he reverted to sprite form. Your eyes widened in wonder. The small sprite was once more slumbering, his breathing even.

When will he wake again? This question erased all thoughts of the demons you had encountered mere minutes ago. You slipped the small sprite into your pocket just as you had before then turned around to face Kylo. He had one hand raised, stifling a yawn with the back of it. You felt your eyebrows raise in response to this. Such an action was so normal, so mundane, that it caught you off guard when executed by the being in front of you.

“Are you going to shrink again as well?” His mouth twisted into a frown at your question.

“That was likely a result of your meddling.” You must have grown accustomed to such behavior and responses from him, as you did not react to his words at all. Being a nursemaid helped as well, you supposed. His accusation was childlike--your naivete when it came to matters of your powers was no fault of your own. Furthermore, Kylo had done nothing to remedy this. He could not deny responsibility if he wanted to be honest.

Suspecting that to voice these facts would serve nothing other than to irritate the dark being, you hummed in thought and ran a hand down the length of one arm. The silence drew Kylo’s attention onto you. His jaw worked in a manner that revealed his desire to speak though ultimately he said nothing until another minute had passed. Then, when he did speak, it was not of whatever had been on his mind regarding you.

“I will gather the Knights of Ren. Their loyalty is to me, not the Demon King.”

#kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #faerie kylo #elmidolfanfic #theshacklesoffate #ben x reader #ben solo x reader #faerie ben solo

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queen-scribbles · 4 years

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Lisa Shepard vs Batarians

Behold, a meta about Lisa I’ve long wanted to write, inspired by this post about Torfan(got kinda long for just a reblog) and motivation provided by @fourthage‘s Mass Effect giveaway. (I’m much better about finishing things when I can give it a deadline, lol)

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Lisa is my Colonist/Ruthless Infiltrator Shep, and let me tell you, that background combo made her really interesting to play(through the first two games, at least; my computer crashed before I had a chance to import her to ME3, rip) bc she has this big, glaring problem with batarians. The tl;dr is Mindoir was deeply traumatizing and no batarian ever did enough to counter the extremely negative image she has of their race as a result. (apologies for slight stream-of-consciousness rambling, I tried to rein it in, but I think I was only partially successful >.>)

So we start, obviously, on Mindoir. Lisa’s the oldest of four with three younger brothers; Justin, Finn, and Connor, and had two best friends; Javier and Laura. Life was routine and uneventful and the only thing she cared about the larger galaxy was getting to explore it with Javi and Laura after they all graduated.

And then the batarian raid happened. Lisa didn’t see her parents die, but she did see friends die in the initial attack, as well as Laura’s dad. She had to watch Finn and his best friend(Talitha) get dragged to a shuttle. She, Javi, and Laura hid in a storage shed with their remaining younger siblings(one of Laura’s sisters was gone, too) in hopes of keeping them safe. They spent the next three days in there. They were found by a few batarian patrols, somehow managed to kill them all with bare hands and makeshift weapons(or stolen, Lisa got a pistol off one she killed), even as their own numbers got picked down, younger sibling by younger sibling, and then Laura, and then Javi, until.Lisa was the last one left, memory etched with hearing her best friends and younger brothers, brothers she’d promised her parents she’d look out for, die very terrible deaths.

She was found by a couple soldiers from the rescuing Alliance patrol, and actually attacked them when they first came in the storage shed. They had to calm her down, and one went so far as to pull off his helmet so she could see they were human and weren’t going to hurt her. He introduced himself as Gabe and guided her out of her personal hell, both literally and figuratively. After everything she’d witnessed and heard and knew had happened to the colony, to her home, at the hands of the batarians, Lisa didn’t feel the least bit guilty for being glad the Alliance killed every last one of the slaving bastard scum they found. She’d lost everyone in the world she cared about to those monsters, she had every right to be glad they paid for it.

The soldier, Gabe, stuck with her until she’d made it back to Earth and escorted her to the foster home that had agreed to take her in. checked up on her a few times, offered to let her live with him and his roommates(another man and a woman, all three of them soldiers) if she wanted to. She took him up on that, and by the end of the third or fourth month, he was big brother and best friend rolled into one. Being on Earth meant she didn’t really have much(if any) direct interaction with batarians, but she was still working through her trauma and every time she heard them mentioned in news reports it was batarian pirates attacking a civilian vessel or batarian slavers raiding another colony--human, turian, whatever, all it did was reinforce her hostile view of them as a race.

She joined the Alliance military when she turned eighteen, feeling it was the best way to act out her gratitude of them saving her. She still missed her family and friends, of course, but she was healing and adjusting and while batarians still get her hackles up, she wouldn’t go out of her way to cause trouble with them. Largely because that would reflect badly on the Alliance, and she doesn’t want that. She proves to be an excellent soldier, tech genius, and near-unparalleled sniper, which is what gets her the rec for N-school(courtesy of Captain Anderson, who was Gabe’s CO. Gabe introduced them the day she enlisted). She excels in N-school(she’s always been the sort to thrive on challenge) and is clearly going to graduate with flying colors, so she and Gabe work it out--he’s coming for the ceremony, they each manage to get leave for the following week, they’re gonna spend time catching up and celebrating and just get to see each other face to face for the first time in... over a year.

And then, the week before graduation, Gabe is killed rescuing a diplomat’s kid from, you guessed it, batarian pirates(he’s one of only three KIA on that mission, which doesn’t make it sting any less)..That is when they cross the point of no return in her eyes. Two separate groups of batarians are responsible for the deaths of her family twice over. Clearly this was not a “few bad individuals” thing; this is a failing of them as a people(A people who have enslaving others enshrined as part of their culture to the point of calling it discrimination when they’re not allowed to practice it).

She is a driven, pragmatic, determined individual who wants to represent humanity and the Alliance well and so works just fine alongside every other race in Council space. She’s always willing to help, also always willing to make the hard calls to get a job done bc she learned early that people die. You can’t save everyone every time. You still try your damnedest to do it, but sometimes you can’t. And sometimes people die as a result of your decisions and you have to be able to live with that. She can.

And then TORFAN. Well, first Elysium, and then Torfan. By this point, she’s N4, risen to Commander, and absolutely willing to push her squad however hard it takes to accomplish their goal. (In any circumstances, these just happen to hit a tad closer to home than usual) The fight through Torfan’s tunnels to the pirate base is brutal, and there are several times her men point out maybe they should turn back. But she pushes on bc their mission is to take out this group of pirates. In her mind, batarians are already a threat, given their culture of slaving, piracy, and utter disregard for life and others in general. If they get away with attempting a full-scale attack like they did on a world like Elysium, they’ll be exponentially more dangerous. So there have to be repercussions and they have to be swift and they have to be brutal and unflinching and if she’s the one who doles that out so be it.

It costs her 3/4 of her squad, but they do it. They fight the pirates to the point of surrender and then Lisa shoots them anyway. Her mission was to eliminate the enemy, and she’s A) worried the batarians are surrendering as a show, with no intention of actually being prisoners, and B) convinced even if they did surrender, the Hedgemony would demand their return as “political prisoners” or something, with good odds they’d be released after just enough time this “incident” will have faded from people’s memory, and she doesn’t want to risk either. So the dozen-odd surrendering batarians still.die. And while she didn’t take pleasure or satisfaction in doing it, she doesn’t regret it either. Her thought process is somewhere along the lines of “These are sadistic, murdering, slaving scumbags, who have the audacity to ask for the mercy they would never in a million years show their victims. The galaxy is better off without them.”) She doesn’t care it gets her labelled “The Butcher of Torfan” and that people look askance at her when they know her record. She got the job done, the galaxy is just that much safer, and she’s not going to lose any sleep over batarians.

She makes N7 and gets the Spectre nomination bc she pushes herself just as hard as anyone under her command, always gets the job done, and--aside from batarians--has no issue working with other races. When it comes to anyone else; turians, asari, hanar, whoever, she’s all too happy to follow Kaidan’s “jerks and saint, just like us” philosophy and judge them on an individual basis, but--and I’ve actually had her say this in fic--”If you ever find a saintly batarian, let me know and I’ll pin a medal on their chest my-damn-self”. Between what’s known of batarians as a race and culture and her own first or second hand experience, there is nothing redeeming about them in her eyes. (And it’s a very good thing she didn’t run into any during that... week after the Talitha encounter in ME1, bc she probably would have ripped them to shreds with just her bare hands and her omnitool after hearing what that poor girl went through.) She’s not going to go out of her way to gleefully/vindictively slaughter them, but she’s not feeling too charitable or sympathetic toward them, either. If I may make a cross-franchise reference, Lisa’s feeling on batarians are very similar to how Fenris feels about mages in DA2, only unlike him, she hasn’t gotten any examples they’re not all Like That(TM).

As of the end of ME2, she has not seen any evidence to counter her view of batarians, so it’s a view she’s gonna go into ME3 holding(whenever I get around to completely redoing her game), and I don’t see her changing it much at this point. It’s a flaw, and it’s one that’s going to persist probably her entire life, but it made playing her so much fun. (especially since my two previous Shepards were 98% Paragon ANGELS who are best described as bleeding hearts. xD)

#lisa shepard #mass effect meta #hooo boy that got long #torfan #mindoir #tried to stay vague about what she saw on mindoir but if it's still bad enough i should tag let me know #mindoir was BAAAAD

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ilguna · 4 years

Text

Tacenda - Chapter Six (f.o)

Summary: you’ll never truly be free from the Capitol.

Word Count; 3.3k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Training day, the day that all of this training center bullshit has been building up to. Today, you will be scored on your abilities of being deadly. Unfortunately, it’s a flawed system and they could give you whatever score they feel like and you’d have to deal with it. If people were smarter, then they’d know your true potential and not just go after someone just because of how high or low a score is.

You’re really screwed either way. You get a high score, then that’s going to make everyone and their mother want to attack you. Why? Eliminate the threat before it has the time to actually be a threat. It’s like wanting to kill Brutus right away too, because he’s big, and he’s strong and he’s most likely to get a high scoring number during the private training sessions.

However, if you score exceptionally low, then you’re fucked because then people will want to go for you first. Get rid of the weaklings, leave the games to the big-kids. Not a bad idea, saving the worst for last, but in your opinion, you’d rather fight the hard stuff and leave the easiest for later.

It’s not because you want them to know that you’re coming. It’s rather a cool down sort of thing. You hit the climax of the games, which is getting rid of teh careers, and now you just have to get the people that have the tendency to hide in the arena. Like, the morphlings. Those are the type of people you’d save for last because they’re going to take the longest to find.

Anyone who can camouflage, climb trees, have great survival skills and so on are the type you save for last. If you’ve killed the careers, and all that’s left is finding the goddamn person that’s blending in with the tree bark, you’d have so much time to find them. And who even says that they’ll be able to survive?

Congrats, you can blend into a rock, can you actually hunt or provide for yourself? No? Well, the chances of you dying to everything but a person have increased by a whole lot. The elements can be the reason why you get wiped the fuck out, and you’d have absolutely no say in it, because you’re dressed up as a pebble.

And you’re not saying that to bash on people that can blend, because they won their games like that. You know the morphlings for sure, and Peeta had saved himself because he did dress up as a rock and some ground. But it’s not really practical. Back on that luck and actual skill thing, surviving because you’re blending in is luck. Actual skill is being able to hunt and kill.

It’s luck if you come across them, it’s skill if you’re able to track footprints and be able to tell when the person has made those prints. Trace them back to where the person stands or sits or lays or whatever, and boom. Problem solved.

Anyway, the score ranking process is still rigged either way. No matter your number, you’re going to get picked on. High, medium, or low. You’re still inside of the arena, and if you’re paranoid and a ‘trigger-happy’ person, then it doesn’t matter. You’re going to kill whoever you come across, it doesn’t matter their number.

Also, the gamemakers choose these numbers. Plutarch will be up in that box watching over you guys as you show off the skills. Of course, they’re always taking what you did during the training days into consideration, but besides that, it’s what you can do in private. If you’ve been holding off during training, the private session is when you let your imagination fly.

And the number they give doesn’t even have to be accurate. If they want to screw someone over because that tribute pissed them off, then they can with a unholy low number. No sponsors are attracted to those, you’re screwing the person over from the beginning. No sponsors equals no good win. You need sponsors to win.

Some of the other mentors used to disagree with that mindset, until you reminded them that they won because they had been gifted stuff. Whether it be because of good numbers, an attractive face, or potential later on, they got the shit they needed to win.

Rope, trident, wire, food and water, and warmth, weapons in general. The list is quite literally endless. It all depends on the situation and what fits your needs. Either way, the sponsors help tremendously.

Today, you’ll be aiming for the classic high number. Like you said, people are buzzing that you had volunteered and that you and Finnick are in this together, again. But what would be fucking awesome, is if you scored a high number and left a lasting impression when they’re announced tonight.

You would love to get anything higher than a ten today. A ten, an eleven, whatever it takes. You just have to be up in the double digits like you were the first time you were inside of the arena. You have not been training day and night the last couple of months just to get an eight or a nine.

You have not busted your fingers open countless times trying to master tricks, to get a fucking nine. No, not going to happen and you’ll do everything you can to make sure that you’ll end up with your desired number.

As for Finnick, he could care less because he thinks that the number doesn’t define him. He’ll do his best during his session, and what he gets, he gets. You understand his thought process of it, and it’s alright to have different viewpoints… even if yours is the right path to take.

You pick up the jacket, looking over it in your hand, “We have to wear this?”

“Everyone will be wearing it.” Elysia confirms.

You look at her, “Everyone? What’s the motive behind it?”

Finnick slides on the jacket with no complaint, and even zips it up completely. He laughs as he moves around in it, “Ridiculous, I love it.”

Reluctantly, you pull yours on. You know that you’ll be taking it off later when you do get inside of the session. It’ll probably be the first thing you do, because the jacket is unnecessary and hot. You’ll overheat in this thing before you know it.

“Alright.” Elysia zips yours up to your throat and you glare at her slightly for it, “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” you swat her hand away when she tries to rezip it up after you give yourself some breathing room, “It stays like this.”

“It looks stupid like that.” Finnick tells you, and Elysia zips it up all the way again.

Rolling your eyes, you look at Mags, “We’ll be back before you know it.”

She smiles, waving at you two. After that, you and Finnick leave the apartment. Unfortunately for you, today you have to wear shoes, it’s no longer a free will thing. It’s dress code. The pants, the jacket and tank top underneath, the shoes. However the hair was up for interpretation, and so you took your chance and pulled it into a bun so it would be completely out of your face today.

The elevator is empty when you two get on it. And because of this, Finnick thinks it’s funny to pull you tight against his chest. He cups your face to keep you in place while he kisses you. You lean into it a little bit, because there’s no reason not to.

Eventually, he starts smiling which ruins it, but he doesn’t let you go quite yet.

“So, we’re in that type of mood, huh?” you ask, resting your head against his chest.

“So what if I am?” his hands wander, and you can’t help but to pull away, laughing, “Buzzkill.”

“Maybe I am,” you say, and then you motion behind him, “Or maybe I don’t want a ton of people watching us.”

He looks behind him, and it’s the courtyard to the building. Sure enough, there are people waiting down there. Finnick laughs through his teeth, turning to you with a certain mischievous smile. You hold up your finger to stop him, but he heads towards you anyway, moving his fingers.

You can’t get out of the elevator fast enough when the doors open. Finnick is a laughing mess behind you as you stumble to catch your footing. When you finally find it, you spin right around and nail Finnick pretty good in the stomach. He clearly still thinks it was worth it and laughs through the pain.

You try to keep your hands away from him so he can’t hold them, but he grabs your wrist and forces his hand into yours. You accept it, squeezing tightly, which starts a little competition between you guys again, until you’re telling him to knock it off before your fingers turn purple. This is when he declares himself a winner.

“I’ll let you have it.’

“Oh, bullshit!”

Inside of the room already sits a couple of tributes. They turn at your entrance, but mainly go back to what they were doing before. You and Finnick take your seats off to your left, second row, the two outer seats. And since it’s a boy-girl order, Finnick sits on the inside seat.

You sit criss-crossed on the crate, facing towards Finnick. He almost does the same, but instead he has one leg up and the other down.

Slowly, in pairs, the room fills up. Wiress and Beetee are next to you guys, in front is the careers, enjoying themselves. You watch as Johanna pulls her legs onto the crate and sits with her arms draped over them. Others have their legs open, elbows on their thighs with dipped heads.

Some people talk to each other, like you and Finnick. Some sit in silence, and some eavesdrop, like the guy from District Nine right behind you.

“I can feel him staring at me, Finn.” you tell him, “Get him to knock it off before I knock his head off his shoulders.”

Finnick laughs, “I got it.”

You lean out of the way for him, and Finnick leans forward, “Hey,” you look over your shoulder, and a few people slow their conversations down, the guy raises his eyebrows at Finnick, “Did anyone ever tell you that staring is rude? Or were you raised in a fucking barn?”

You snort, knowing that line would be perfect if one of the people from District Ten were staring at you. Since they’re livestock, and nine is grain. Either way, it’s a funny line.

“I’m not staring.”

“Right, you’re eavesdropping,” you chime in, “Same thing, dickhead.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” he turns away from you guys now, and Finnick leans back to his spot.

“He’s still gonna listen.”

“Listen to his nose snap!” you tilt your head both ways to crack it.

Eventually, they start calling in tributes, starting with guys and then going to girls. Gloss got up, went in, and they called Cashmere’s name before he even came back into the room. Gloss leaves completely, and the process repeats. Beetee gets called, and you can see Finnick move out of the way, a little grin on his face.

Wiress follows behind him a couple of minutes later. And just before Finnick gets called, he kisses you for ‘good luck’.

“Don’t get anything below a ten or you can sleep alone.” you joke, and he shakes his head.

After he leaves the room, the guy from nine turns to you, opening his mouth. You hold your finger up to get him to shut up before a word comes out, “Don’t fucking talk to me, because I will start a fight in here.”

You spend the time popping and cracking everything. Neck, back, knuckles, arms, whatever to prepare yourself for your turn. You’re almost excited to show off this new trick, because it’s new. Nothing you’ve done before, or taught to someone else.

“District Four, (Y/n) Gallows. Report for individual assessment.”

You stand up, shaking your hands a little bit as you walk towards where you need to be. On the way is Finnick and he’s grinning like an idiot.

“Good luck.”

“Don’t need luck.” you tell him, because you’ve got skill.

The door shuts behind you, and on the way to where you need to stand for them to give you permission to start, you unzip the jacket and yank it off. It’s too hot for this, it’s not as breathable as it should be. You were sweating inside of there, and it’s not a fun feeling while you’re trying to concentrate.

You stop in front of them, jacket in your hands.

“You have ten minutes to present your chosen skill.” Plutarch tells you.

“Sounds good to me.” you say, looking over everyone that stares at you. Your face puckers as if you’ve eaten something sour, because you absolutely hate the way that they’re all sitting and staring at you.

You turn, heading to where the knife throwing station is. This is no place for holograms, it’s literally all old stuff. Nothing moves unless you find a way to make it move. There’s old fashioned targets, swords and knives that have been here since forever, and so on.

You toss the jacket onto a stand with swords, not really paying attention to see if it falls or not. Your fingers dance over the displayed weapons, and you tilt your head. There’s two total tricks that you could show off here.

Either way, they’re both important and can kill people in their own ways. You decide to go for the easier one, since the chances of throwing two machetes at the same time and getting them to where you want to land is a little bit challenging. If you do this flawlessly, you might add it in at the end.

You pick up five throwing knives, and then show them off to the people that are watching. Then, you separate two in one hand, and three in the other. This isn’t really a practical move, normally in a fight you’re not tossing one knife in the air. Typically, you have all of them on your body at all times just in case you won’t be able to catch it.

But then again, this is a private training session, there is no person actually fighting you, and the scores are rigged either way.

You toss the extra fifth knife into the air as high as you can get without hitting the concrete ceiling. After that, right hand throws a knife, and then the left, then right, and then left. Every single one of them hits the chest of the outlined person. And not forgetting the knife in the air, you catch it by the handle, and not even half a second later, it’s flying from your fingers.

Right where it lands in the forehead.

You keep yourself from jumping up and down like a giddy little girl, and you turn to hold up your finger to the people sitting above, “One more!”

After that, you go ahead and grab the machetes and head to a new spot. You focus, doing the motion that you’ll throw them in, and then adjusting to make sure that it goes perfectly. These have to go at the same time, but in different ways. Your right hand will be going upperhand, heading for the chest. As for the left, it’s going underhand, for the head.

You take in a deep breath to steady yourself, and then with all the strength you have, you throw the both of them. It goes just as planned.

You go ahead and grab your jacket, throwing it over your shoulder, “All done.”

“You’re dismissed, Missus Gallows.”

That pisses you off. You’re fine with them using your maiden name, but if they’re going to associate you with being married, then they have to get the last name right, “It’s Odair, not Gallows. (Y/n) Odair. Don’t make me say it again.”

Then, you turn and head out of the room. It’s not a sass thing, it’s a Capitol thing. They’re annoying, they walk all over you guys as if you’re stepping stones. Take away the stone and all they have is dirt. Which is a great fucking analogy, considering you’re all fueling the Capitol. The stepping stones to their fucking wealth.

They call in the guy from District Five when you get close to the door. The door opens, you pass the man, and on your way out, you nod at Johanna. After that, you almost skip to the elevator. However, there’s some gatekeepers.

“Ah,” you stop, staring at the careers, “What is it now?”

“You and Finnick should join our alliance.” Cashmere says, it’s not phrased as a question.

“We’ll pass,” you tell them, “After all, if I do kill you in the middle of the night, I’d like to do it from the comforts of my own alliance.”

“Bold of you to assume.” Enobaria says.

“No,” you disagree, “What was bold, was offering me an alliance even though I haven’t wanted anything to do with you guys, in years.” As you go past them you mutter out an “Excuse you.” just to piss them off a little bit.

You step inside of the elevator, and just as the doors are shutting, you flip them off. Once you’re in it alone, you drop the act and cross your arms instead.

In the apartment, you and Finnick spend the next few hours just fucking around since there’s not much to do in the first place. Eventually, the both of you get tired enough to take a nap.

You force him to get onto the hammock first, and after him telling you multiple times that it can hold both of your weights–since it’s connected to the walls on the little alcove, not actual bars–you lay on his chest. He wraps his arms around you, and you do the same to him.

You two were literally passed out in minutes like that. Finnick had a pillow under his head, and he managed to get the hammock to lightly rock, and that was enough for you. The warmth of his body, and the feeling of his arms around you. If anyone were to ask you the definition of safe, you would describe exactly that.

However, Elysia had to go and get you guys a little while ago to make sure that you didn’t end up missing the scores. You could go in without knowing any scores and just play it that way. And wonder why people are coming to kill you. Is it because you’ve got a big number or because you got a small one? It’s a mystery!

Finnick pulls you against his chest.

Caesar introduces what will be happening. The name of the game and whatnot. Even if they’ve heard it all before, and you have too.

The careers get their respected tens and elevens. Wiress and Beetee don’t score high, but they don’t score low either. And then it’s onto you.

“(Y/n) Odair,” Caesar puts emphasis on the last name.

“That’s new.” Finnick says.

“Yeah, I told them not to call me Missus Gallows, it’s Odair if they’re going to approach me that way.” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you lean back a little bit, “And now this is their way of throwing a fit.”

Caesar continues, “With a score of eleven.”

“Nice!” Elysia says, she’s smiling brightly at you.

“Finnick Odair, with a score of eleven.”

You shake Finnick slightly, “We did it, babe!”

Finnick laughs, stopping you for a quick kiss, “Those sponsors are ours.”

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kittenshift-17 · 4 years

Note

66. I won't let you get hurt. Would you please write something for the 100 for King Roan and Clarke

“What the hell are you doing?” Clarke hissed when Roan yanked her behind a tree, boxing her in with his arms, his much larger body caging hers and making her feel claustrophobic. He stood so close that their pelvises touched, and she could smell the musky scent of him. After the day they’d had, the rusty stink of blood mingled with earth, gunpower, and sweat wasn’t a surprise to her; though she was surprised that the scent didn’t offend her nose so much as it appealed to her.

“I won’t let you get hurt, Wanheda,” Roan muttered, his voice by her ear as an arrow whizzed by them in the fading afternoon light. “Run that way after he fires the next arrow. Go between those two pines and around the rock. Watch the ground-trap on the middle of the deer path under the moss, next to the blackberry shrub.”

He tilted his jaw to her right before peeking around the tree without looking at her as though her proximity had no effect on him. Clarke wondered if maybe it didn’t. She hadn’t seen the appeal of a man - any man - since she’d been forced to murder Finn. When Roan first taken her prisoner so long ago in the Trading Post, she’d sensed he was attracted to her, but she’d been so into Lexa and Niylah at the time, maybe Roan had dismissed her as only preferring girls, instead of being fluid either way. It wouldn’t be the first time that’d happened to her since people learned of her and Lexa. Clarke was surprised, standing there pressed against him, to find herself attracted to a man once more.

Roan hissed, jerking back so quickly that his jaw knocked her temple before an arrow thunked into the bark of their tree.

“Go!” he growled, shoving her sideways and stepping out, his bow notched with an arrow that he let fire at their assailant.

The wet thwack of the point into human flesh followed by a pained groan told her that Roan had hit his mark, but she didn’t turn back to look. Racing through the trees, she danced around the ground-trap he’d mentioned, accidentally knocking the edge hard enough to crumble it, but avoiding the stakes below before she kept running. Another arrow whistled past her, thunking into a tree while she weaved and Clarke skidded around the rock he’d spoken of with Roan on her heels.

“That way,” he pointed to a trail through the forest - nothing more than a deer-track. “Until you hit the river.”

“What about you?” she asked when she’d run a few more steps and turned to find he hadn’t followed her. Instead he drew his knife and crouched behind the rock.

Roan looked over his shoulder at her, that fierce expression on his scarred face that she grown so accustomed to since meeting him.

“Go!” he growled, eyes narrowed before their attacker rounded the rock, an arrow sticking out of his chest while he wheezed.

Roan leaped at him immediately, fighting hard and Clarke frowned but turned and ran where he’d told her, wondering where she was supposed to go once she’d reached the river. He’d pushed her all day long as his fellow Grounders pursued them. Primfaya hadn’t been nearly as destructive to the human race as they’d been led to believe, and a number of the Grounders left outside who’d survived wanted Clarke’s head.

They wanted Roan’s head too, thanks to his failed death at Luna’s hand. He’d survived, though how he’d done so, Clarke still didn’t know. She’d seen the wounds on his chest, stomach, and arms where Luna had cut him. How the Black Rain hadn’t melted his flesh - how the air of the Death Wave hadn’t choked his lungs, Clarke still didn’t know. She only knew that they were both alive, and Bellamy and Echo and all the others had rocketed into space while her mother and Marcus and Octavia had burrowed into the bunker, and they were left outside.

She looked back, wanting to help Roan; wanting to fight. She couldn’t, she knew. Climbing that tower to get her friends launched into space had nearly killed her and she was still blistered and probably disfigured after the Primfaya exposure. Roan wasn’t. He was only wounded from the conclave fights. She didn’t understand that either, since she had Nightblood and he didn’t. At the river, Clarke watched the fast running water race by over the rapids, and she glanced toward the skies. The sun was setting; the light failing, and soon they would be pitched into darkness where it would be that much easier for their pursuers to sneak up on them. Soon the night creatures that prowled – those that survived - would be hunting, too.

Clarke waited impatiently, gasping and clutching her side where a stitch burned. She was weak, and she wasn’t sure how much further she could run. Sitting down on a rock by the water, she tried to catch her breath and waited, hoping to hell Roan would win the skirmish. Honestly, she was so tired and so heartsore to have been left behind and locked outside that if Roan didn’t survive the fight, she didn’t imagine she’d be long out of her own grave.

“Wanheda,” Roan’s voice impeded as darkness fell completely while she waited and Clarke jerked around, seeing him limping out of the forest, a fresh cut on his cheek and new blood staining his hands.

“Oh, thank god,” Clarke sighed, wilting in exhaustion and relief.

“Get up,” he said as he limped over. “It’s not much further.”

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, looking up at him as she struggled to her feet.

“Home,” he murmured, his voice so soft and the chatter of the river so loud that she almost missed it.

She frowned, wondering if that meant the Ice Nation, or somewhere else; wondering if he’d ever truly had a home. Clarke hadn’t. It was a sad realisation, but it was the truth. The Ark had been both her home and her prison, and ever since they’d landed back on Earth, she’d been running and fighting and hiding, always on the move, never stopping in one place for long. She didn’t ask him where ‘home’ was. She was too tired to bother, and honestly, as long as she’d be able to rest when they got there, that’d be fine with her. Her body was working overtime to combat the radiation in the air, and she could tell it was straining Roan, too, but he didn’t complain.

In silence, he led her along the river’s edge for almost a mile before reaching a spot where a large tree lay across a fast flowing, deep section of the channel.

“Over you go,” he said. “Shuffle along on your arse if you have to.”

He limped out onto the trunk carefully before hissing when he tried to taking another limping step on his wounded leg and almost lost his balance. Before he could topple, Clarke was right behind him, clutching a wayward branch, her hand on his shoulder to steady him. He looked back in surprise, his brow furrowed.

“I won’t let you get hurt either,” she murmured by way of explanation when his confusion flickered across his features. “Go. I’ll follow.”

She nodded him across the log and he limped slowly, resorting to turning sideways and practically dragging his wounded leg behind him. Clarke frowned when she saw the dark stain of blood smearing across the wood as he did so. He was badly hurt then. Shit. She didn’t say anything, but when they were both safely across, Clarke caught Roan’s wrist, guiding his arm over her shoulders and relieving some of the pressure on his leg.

“That way,” he said after a long minute of watching her face for some hint that she meant him ill.

They shuffled into the trees, and though it was tough going, half a mile into the woods, they came across a rocky outcrop.

“Inside,” he murmured, his voice low and pained by her ear as he led her up a very faint trail and to a door, roughly hewn - Clarke realised with surprise - from the same tree they’d used for a bridge.

“Home?” she asked when he pushed the door open.

It was a small cave, boasting a forgotten fireplace and a bedframe crafted from stripped pine saplings and tightly woven river reeds.

“Home,” Roan told her quietly. “Home, after they banished me. No one else knows where it is. No one comes here.”

“Why?” Clarke frowned, helping him to the edge of the bed and setting him down before moving toward the small woodpile in the corner and the woven basket of kindling beside it to begin building a fire to keep away the predators.

“I killed any who tried,” Roan admitted quietly. “And the beasts have free reign out here. This is no-man’s land between Kru territories. The big cats aren’t the only creatures calling this part of the world home, and most human who might find it don’t make it across the river.”

“Will the cats come prowling?” Clarke asked, worriedly.

“Probably,” Roan nodded. “Trailing fresh blood to the door will lure a few of them. Some of them know me, after all this time. You live alone in the wilderness long enough, you develop a respect for the wildlife, but they’ve developed a respect for me too. They don’t like my fire, and they know I’ll kill them if they don’t kill me.”

Clarke nodded, crossing back to the door he must’ve spent days cutting, closing it firmly and noting the barricades tucked into an alcove behind it to hold it firmly shut.

“What’s out there?” she asked.

“Whatever escaped the zoos and survived from before the end of the world,” Roan shrugged. “Bears. Wolves. Lions. There’s a few tigers and some of the bigger primates. There’s a herd of elephants that passes through every year around this time, and there’s a couple of hippos that made their home down around the bend in the river. This corner of the world is where all the forgotten creatures come to carve out an existence.”

Clarke glanced up at him as she arranged the fire and got it smouldering, lighting up the blackness of the cave and illuminating that once upon a time Roan must’ve made quite the home for himself here. There were drying racks for meat and bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling, furs piled on the bed, and all the tools for survival arranged around the large space, as needed. Weapons, baskets, storage containers.

“I suppose it’s been a while since you’ve been back?” she guessed.

“Not since I caught you,” he nodded. “Might still be some apples in the cache though. Over there, behind that fur. Go down the stairs.”

“Stairs?” Clarke frowned.

“Take a knife,” he said. “Never know what might’ve found it’s way in here.”

Clarke frowned and nodded, pulling her knife from her belt and struggling across the cave and behind the hung bearskin. She was shocked to find stairs dug into the soil, compacted into hard mud and lined with stones to keep the shape. She followed them down into a cellar he must’ve dug himself, and even more items were stored therein. Piles of furs and salvaged things from blankets, tarps and ropes to what looked like an old kitchen sink; reeds, baskets of apples, sealed containers of dried meat. He was well stocked to survive in this place.

A few mice skittered away from her as she approached, but she located the apples and some jerky that looked alright before returning above. She found Roan had removed his boots and was in the process of wriggling out of his pants to get at the wound on his leg. His knife was stuck in the flames, heating, ready to cauterize whatever wound he’d endured.

“Need a hand?” she asked, putting down the food items and shuffling closer.

“I got it,” he said. “Eat. Rest. I know you’re tired, Wanheda.”

Clarke frowned.

“I can help,” she said. “You got hurt protecting me.”

“I got hurt fighting,” he argued. “Don’t be a martyr.”

“You fought him for me. You specifically said you wouldn’t let me get hurt.” She frowned.

“And I won’t,” he muttered, hissing and almost falling as he stepped out of his pants, revealing pale, hairy legs, strong and toned with hard muscle. One was sticky with blood from a gash on his upper thigh. It’d avoided the artery, but it was bleeding heavily just the same, a long, deep cut bitten into the meaty flesh.

“Roan,” she frowned.

He ignored her, reaching for the knife he’d set in the flames and lifting it, ready to do what needed to be done. She noted that it wouldn’t be the only burn on his skin. He’d done this before, many times over. He hissed and a low groan escaped him when he pressed the red-hot blade to his skin. The sizzling of human hair and skin filled her ears, and the stink of it filled her nose, but Clarke didn’t look away.

He sighed when the wound was cauterized, throwing down the blade and sitting heavily on the edge of the bed once more. Clarke offered him the apples and the jerky she’d brought up from below before carefully sitting down on the bed beside him. Silence reigned between them before he laughed humourlessly and bit into his apple, shaking his head.

“What happens now?” she asked after they’d eaten. “My people are back in space, or all in a hole in the ground. From how much I’m still struggling with the radiation, even with Nightblood, they won’t be able to survive the surface for a while. How are you even surviving it?”

Clarke frowned as Roan rose from the bed, still barefoot and pantless, to feed a little more wood to the fire.

“I have no idea,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Might be the effect of that blood oath we swore. Might be my body and those of the other surviving Grounders has had longer to develop antibodies and mechanisms to better withstand radiation. We’re not all born with Nightblood, but we’ve been surviving the toxicity of the surface since clawing out way out of bunkers and other survival holes from the End. You live and breathe this shit long enough, you build up a tolerance, or you die. Skaikru didn’t have the chance up there.”

He pointed toward the ceiling and the sky beyond it before meeting her gaze across the flames.

“We’re alive,” she said. “So what happens now? My people are gone. I don’t know how many of yours survived.”

“They all want my head,” he reminded her. “Want your head, too.”

“I noticed,” Clarke sighed. “So what are we going to do?”

Roan shrugged, looking around the cave like he couldn’t decide if he hated the place, or was happy to be back.

“You remember when we were on our way to trying to develop a cure from Luna’s juis?” he asked. “In the car?”

“You asked what happens if we survive,” Clarke nodded. “If we just keep killing each other.”

Roan tipped his head to look at her, his blue eyes intense as they fixed upon her from across the fire. Clarke could decide if they gleamed with anger or sadness.

“Seems we do,” he said quietly.

She sighed. “It seems so,” she agreed. “I just... I wanted so badly for everyone to just... get along. I thought if we could all survive, we’d find a way.”

“No,” Roan answered. “You said the difference between us was that I didn’t care who survived if my people didn’t win the conclave, while you only cared that people survived. Was that true?”

“Yes,” Clarke said solemnly. “I don’t know why it matters to me. Maybe it’s an effect of living on the Ark for so long; or because I was raised inside the important circles governing Skaikru aboard the Ark and their primary effort was always about the continued survival of the human race at all costs, but it’s what I hoped for. Many of my people made it into the bunker. Many of yours did too, it seems. Many from all thirteen clans, if those people back there who survived the death wave are to be believed. They all went in with the intent of surviving, even at the cost of the people outside.”

“The ones outside are angrier now,” Roan told her. “The ones outside want to kill the ones inside even more, now.”

“I know,” Clarke sighed.

For a long time, only the sound of the fire crackling and spitting filled the air between them and Roan watched her in that way of his that always seemed to disarm her; to see right through all her bravado and all her bullshit, and Clarke looked back at him, wondering what in the hell they were supposed to do now.

“When you said that to me,” Roan said quietly, rising to his feet from where he’d crouched to feed the fire. “Something became clear to me.”

Clarke frowned, watching him round the fire and cross back to the bed. It wasn’t late enough for bed yet; not really, but he jerked him thumb to have her rise so he could pull back the furs and blankets piled on it before clambering into bed, stopping only to rip his shirt off over his head, leaving him in just underwear.

“What?” she asked when he moved further across the large bed to make room for her so that she might climb in beside him, making no fuss about having her in his home or sharing his bed with her because there were no other options, and he was not a man who gave a damn about pretence when faced with cold hard facts.

“You were right,” Roan said quietly when Clarke shimmied out of her outer things, bloodstained and messy as they were. “I didn’t give a damn what happened to anyone else if Azgeda didn’t win. But I also realised... I didn’t really give a damn about Azgeda surviving, either. Luna’s speech was radical and complete bullshit, for the most part, but she was right that the killing had to stop; that it wouldn’t stop, as long as the clans survived.”

“You don’t think the killing would’ve stopped if only Azgeda had made it into that bunker?” she frowned at him.

“I don’t think any two people can coexist without wanting to kill each other,” he replied. “Look at you and me. How many times have we wanted to kill each other?”

Clarke frowned, supposing he had a point. She’d never wanted to kill him, but she would be lying to say she had never conceived it and never attempted to do so.

“I hated this place, when they banished me,” he confessed quietly, rolling to his back and staring up at the ceiling of the cave. “I cursed it every night I went to sleep, and I cursed it again every time I woke up. I was obsessed with finding a way back to my people.”

Clarke listened quietly, surprised he would share so much when he’d proved, thus far, to be such a private man.

“When I became the King of Azgeda... that first night, after they crowned me; after everything I’d done to get there; everything we’d done, to put me there.... I went to bed that night in that fucking tower, half a mile above the ground in a big feather bed with all the comforts and luxuries I could want. And all night long, I tossed and turned and wished I was here.”

Clarke reached out, putting her hand on his shoulder and offering silent comfort, unsure what to say in the face of his admission.

“Roan...” she began, though she had no idea how to continue. He cut her off before she could.

“In Allie’s bunker, we spoke about it being a hard day... do you remember what you said?” he asked, turning his head back to look at her.

“They’re all hard,” Clarke whispered, nodding.

“They don’t have to be,” he told her. “When I was banished, living in this damn cave all alone, I thought the days were hard; made harder by my isolation and needing to do every damn thing myself just to survive. But after dealing with people; being in charge of people; being their King... I prefer this. It’s going to be a long time before your people inside that bunker can survive on the surface. Might be even longer while the remaining Krus try to figure their lives out now when all the important people are down there. But I don’t want any part of it, Clarke. I don’t want to be their king. I don’t care if they survive or how they survive or how the govern themselves. I don’t care if they fucking kill each other. I just want to live here in peace. I want to live well.”

Clarke frowned when he waited a moment, his eyes holding hers, before he rolled away, turning his back to her and revealing the scars, like wings, burned into his flesh. They glowed stark white compared to his tanned skin by the light of the fire, and Clarke was struck again by their beauty.

“Goodnight, Wanheda,” he murmured, and Clarke sighed.

“Goodnight,” she whispered in reply, exhaustion claiming her.

She wondered if maybe he was right. Maybe their time was done. What the other survivors on the outside of the bunker did with their lives was up to them. She couldn’t deny that those days when she’d been on the run had been some of the easiest of her life; when she only had herself to please. Maybe she could have that again. Maybe this cave could be home for her, as it was home for Roan. Maybe she could just exist in peace, without worrying about everyone else for a change.

Maybe, until that damn bunker opened again and she had to face her mother and Marcus and the others, once more... maybe until then she could learn how to live well, too.

Read on here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25334275

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