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heliosunny · 4 months ago

Note

Then can I ask for something with Nanook and a darling who's a bit of a walking calamity? They don't do it on purpose. Just they presence tends to Tigger chain reactions that bring civilizations down. Whatever it's the reason they interest Nanook or of if it's a manifestation of they interest is the darling is up to you.

Yandere!Nanook x Reader

Y/N L/N is your name. But instead of calling you by that, you had been called many things—an omen, a harbinger of ruin, a god of misfortune. People feared your presence, though you had never once raised a hand against them. Their crops withered, their cities fell, their stars dimmed in the sky, and yet, you were only ever a traveler.

But you had learned not to dwell on it.

The galaxy was vast, filled with wonders beyond comprehension. If one world collapsed, there was always another waiting, glimmering in the distance. And so, you wandered, a being untethered by time or fate, carrying nothing but the echoes of places left behind.

You had long stopped trying to stay.

People either feared you or sought to use you. The few who welcomed you with open arms never lasted long. You had learned to laugh at it, to brush off the weight of it all.

"Well, that was unfortunate." you would hum to yourself, standing at the edge of yet another ruined city. "Guess I'll be moving on."

It was easier that way.

-----

The planet had been thriving once. You could still see the remnants of its beauty—the intricate spires of its capital, now crumbling under fire and smoke. The streets, once filled with life, were now silent, save for the crackling embers of ruin.

You had only arrived yesterday.

A sigh left your lips as you stood at the edge of the city, hands on your hips.

This one fell fast.

Usually, it took weeks, sometimes months, before the cracks started showing. You hadn't even had the chance to try the street food yet.

You took a step forward, the dust swirling at your feet.

It's not my fault, you reminded yourself. It never was. You didn't start the fires. You didn't bring the war. These things simply... happened.

You had accepted that a long time ago.

Still, there was something odd about this one.

The destruction felt too clean, too deliberate. Normally, disasters were random—an accident here, a misfire there, the slow decay of systems failing in impossible ways. But this?

You crouched, running your fingers over the cracked stone.

There were scorch marks, yes. But beneath them, you could see the symbols. The same ones you'd glimpsed on other fallen worlds, carved into ruins, etched into broken walls.

No.

Not again.

The realization settled over you like a suffocating weight.

You had always known there were those who whispered your name with reverence. You had heard rumors of a sect— fanatics who believed in the divine cycle of destruction. But you had never given them much thought.

People believe all sorts of things. You had told yourself that more times than you could count.

But this was different. This was too much.

The symbols, the way the city had burned—it wasn’t coincidence. This had been orchestrated.

Had it always been like this? Had your travels, your carefree wandering, been nothing more than a trail of kindling for someone else to set alight?

You stumbled back, shaking your head. No, no, that couldn’t be right. You had seen worlds fall before—seen them unravel by sheer misfortune, by the unseen force that clung to you like a curse. But this?

They were doing this in your name.

And then, the air shifted.

"Why do you weep?"

The voice was smooth, slow, and laced with amusement. It came from behind you, curling around your spine like the first tremor of an earthquake.

You turned.

A figure stood amidst the ruins, haloed by golden light. His form was vast, shifting between something human and something impossibly cosmic, as if the very fabric of existence bent to accommodate him. His eyes burned with the light of dying stars, watching you with something akin to fondness.

Nanook.

But why in that form?

You had never seen them before—not in all your wanderings, not in all the deaths that trailed in your wake.

But they had been watching.

"Why do you despair?" Nanook asked. They gestured to the ruins, to the smoldering city beneath your feet. "You were not made for weak, fleeting things."

Their presence swallowed the world around you, vast and consuming. As Nanook stepped closer, and the ground trembled beneath them.

"You were made for me."

Nanook’s words rang in your skull like a bell, reverberating through your bones with an awful certainty.

"No," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wasn’t made for anyone."

Nanook only chuckled. It was a deep, resonant sound, something that should have belonged to a being incapable of laughter.

"Is that what you believe?"

Their gaze swept over you, and there was something terribly fond in the way they looked at you—like a collector admiring the rarest piece in their possession. "You have wandered for so long, destroying all that you love, running from the truth carved into your very existence. And yet, you still resist."

Your nails dug into your palms.

"I never wanted this" you snapped, the weight of it all crashing down. "I never wanted them to—" Your throat closed up, bile rising in your chest as you gestured wildly at the ruins around you. "They did this in my name, Nanook! They burned this city to the ground, they slaughtered people because they thought it would please me!"

Nanook watched you, unbothered by your outburst.

"And?"

The word made you flinch.

"And—?" you echoed, voice cracking. "And you think that’s fine? That this is—" You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "No. No, I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this."

Nanook sighed, as if indulging a stubborn child.

"You misunderstand." Their hand remained outstretched, waiting. "This is not about what you want. It never has been."

"You were never meant for fragile things, my love." Nanook's voice curled around you like silk, patient and inescapable. "You were never meant to hold, only to break. You have always known this."

No, no, that wasn’t true. You had held things before. You had loved cities, people, fleeting moments of warmth. You had admired the way life bloomed in the strangest places, had marveled at art, at music, at the endless wonders the universe had to offer.

But all of it—all of it had crumbled the moment you got too close.

The child who had given you a flower had fallen ill the next day, their village lost to an inexplicable plague.

The man who had offered you shelter had perished in a fire that consumed everything he owned.

The kingdom that had welcomed you as a guest had been swallowed by war before the week’s end.

No matter what you did, no matter how carefully you walked, everything you loved was destined to die.

The realization hit you like a blow to the ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Nanook took another step forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. They towered over you, vast and endless, a being that could not be escaped.

"Come, there is nothing for you in this fragile world. Leave it behind, and I will give you something eternal."

"And if I refuse?"

Nanook’s smile widened, slow and knowing.

"You won’t."

Their hand finally met your cheek, warm and firm, and the cosmos cracked open beneath your feet.

Nanook’s fingers brushed against yours, warm and steady.

You didn’t pull away this time.

There was no fear in their touch, no trembling hesitation like the mortals who had once tried to hold you. Nanook was not afraid that you would break them—because they could not be broken.

"You think you understand me" you murmured, lifting your gaze. "But you weren’t there."

Nanook tilted his head slightly, waiting.

"You weren’t there when the child who gave me a flower grew sick the next day." Your voice was even, but the words weighed heavy. "You weren’t there when I was chased out of cities for bringing ruin to their gates. When people cursed my name, when I—" You swallowed. "When I tried to stay, only to watch everything fall apart."

A quiet moment passed. The cosmos stretched endlessly around you, golden constellations pulsing like a slow heartbeat.

Then, Nanook spoke.

"And yet, you still sought fragile things."

You looked away. "Of course, I did."

"Why?"

You hesitated. The answer should have been simple. Because they were beautiful. Because even if you had lost everything, for a brief moment, you had been happy.

But saying it felt foolish now.

"Then why are you here?" you asked.

"Because you are mine."

You felt the weight of those words settle deep in your chest.

"If I were truly yours, Nanook," you murmured, "wouldn’t I have gone to you long ago?"

Their lips curved into something almost indulgent.

"You were always coming to me." Nanook lifted a hand, tracing a single golden finger along your temple—not forceful, just a reminder of their presence. "You simply took the longer path."

"If I stay," you said carefully, "I need to know one thing."

Nanook watched you patiently. "Speak."

"Are you keeping me because I interest you? Or because you care for me?"

For the first time, Nanook was quiet.

Not because they didn’t know the answer—no, you could tell that they did. But rather because Nanook understood why you were asking.

"Do you think an Aeon incapable of both?"

You weren’t sure.

But for now, you listened.

------

The journey back was unlike anything you had experienced before.

Nanook did not walk. They did not travel.

Instead, the universe itself bent around them, folding and shifting, until the mortal world disappeared entirely—until there was nothing but golden infinity.

You had always assumed the realm of Aeons was a void of silence and solitude, but now… you realized you were wrong. Well maybe.

Because there were others.

They stood beyond the light, their forms shifting, flickering between shapes that barely registered to your mortal perception. Some resembled human figures, adorned with celestial robes, their faces obscured by divine masks. Others were puppet-like constructs, their limbs moving with an eerie smoothness, as if they existed outside of time itself.

Aeons.

They had gathered here. Just to witness a sight. You and Nanook.

The air in the realm hummed with energy, shifting with unspoken words. The Aeons did not communicate as mortals did, yet their attention was unmistakable.

They were looking at you.

Not with the wary glances of mortals, nor the outright fear you had grown accustomed to.

No—this was curiosity.

A voice, layered and eternal, echoed in the void.

"A mortal…? No. Not quite."

A figure wrapped in deep blues and endless constellations observed you with something akin to amusement. Their presence felt like an ocean of knowledge—one that could drown you if you ventured too deep.

"How strange" another mused. "How fragile. Yet still standing beside the Destroyer."

You stiffened, your hands clenching the cloak Nanook had given you.

Nanook did not react at first. They simply stood beside you, golden light radiating from their being. Unmoved. Unbothered.

Until one Aeon took a step forward.

Unlike the others, this one was smaller, their form shifting between a marionette-like construct and something more fluid, their movements unnatural yet entrancing.

"Tell me, Nanook…" Their voice curled through the air like silk laced with hidden thorns. "What makes this one so… special?"

The moment the words were spoken, a shift occurred.

The golden void around you grew heavier, denser, as if unseen hands had pressed against reality itself.

Nanook did not move, but you could feel it—the silent command, the unspoken warning.

"They are mine."

The Aeons did not challenge Nanook’s claim.

But they did observe.

Their gazes weighed on you, some in curiosity, others in calculation. You could not tell what they saw—what conclusions they drew from your presence beside Nanook.

But you knew this:

You did not belong here.

And yet…

You looked to Nanook.

They stood beside you, their golden radiance unwavering.

You did not belong anywhere else, either.

The weight of the Aeons’ gazes still lingered on your skin long after you and Nanook had left. The journey through the cosmos was not something you could truly comprehend.

One moment, the void stretched infinitely around you, the stars shifting in ways that defied logic. The next, reality bent, and you stood on solid ground.

Except…

It wasn’t solid at all.

You looked down, and the "floor" beneath you was a sea of golden dust, shifting with unseen currents, swirling like sand caught in an eternal storm.

Yet, despite its movement, you did not sink.

Above, the sky was fractured light—not a sun, not a moon, but something vast, illuminating the endless horizon. Floating structures loomed in the distance, remnants of something once grand but now long destroyed, left to drift as ruins across the golden expanse.

The air was not air. There was no wind, no temperature—only Nanook’s presence, filling the space like a constant hum beneath your skin.

This was not a place meant for mortals.

This was their domain.

And you… You were standing within it.

You took a slow step forward, the golden dust shifting beneath your weight, parting as if making way for you.

Nanook observed in silence, their humanoid form beside you as still as the remnants of the world around you.

“…This is your universe?” you finally asked, your voice quiet.

They turned their head slightly, their unreadable golden eyes locking onto you. “It is.”

You exhaled softly, scanning the endless horizon. “It feels…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “...Lonely.”

"It was."

Was?

You turned to them fully. Nanook simply continued to watch you, their expression unreadable—divine and unknowable, yet something about them felt so terribly certain.

A strange emotion settled between you, unspoken yet undeniable.

You were not sure if you should break it. But you did.

“...Show me more?” Your voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Of your world?”

Something shifted in Nanook’s gaze.

"Come."

They did not need to take your hand, nor did they need to guide your steps.

And yet, as you walked forward, they remained beside you.

-----

It started as something subtle.

At first, you thought it was simple exhaustion, the weight of everything that had happened, the endless journey through Nanook’s realm, the way the golden dust never settled beneath your feet.

But then… it got worse.

Each day, moving became harder. Your limbs felt heavy, your breath came shallower, the energy that once surged through you was slipping.

And Nanook knew.

They had known before you even realized.

"You are fading."

You felt their touch, felt a hand at your back, another cupping your cheek.

"This universe does not welcome you."

This was Nanook’s domain—a universe meant to be ruled, not inhabited. The very essence of destruction that pulsed through it rejected you. Slowly, surely, it was breaking you down.

And yet, Nanook would not allow it.

"You need me."

The words were absolute. Not a question. Not an offer.

At first, you resisted.

You tried to manage on your own, ignoring the weakness in your limbs, the slow ache in your bones. But Nanook was always there.

And the moment you staggered—just once—their arms were around you, catching you with terrifying ease.

"Enough."

You felt the shift before you saw it, Nanook pulling you against them, their energy pouring into you, wrapping around your very being.

It was intoxicating. Like warmth after a bitter cold, like air after drowning. Like salvation.

Your fingers clutched at them before you even realized it. Your body betrayed you, seeking them, clinging to them.

And Nanook smiled.

"You understand now, don’t you?"

"You are mine. And I will never let you wither."

It became routine.

Each day, Nanook would feed you their energy, keeping you whole. A hand at your nape, fingers ghosting over your wrist, an arm slipping around your waist. Constant.

Every moment, you became more reliant.

Every moment, Nanook tightened their hold.

-----

"I want to go back."

Your voice was quieter than you intended, but the weight of it still hung in the air of Nanook’s realm.

The Aeon of Destruction did not answer immediately. Their form loomed above you. Their fingers, which had been idly tracing the curve of your wrist, stilled.

"You wish to leave me?"

"Not... leave" you corrected quickly, gripping their hand before they could pull away. "Just… visit. A planet. Somewhere familiar. Just for a while."

"You do not understand your place yet."

Their fingers trailed to your chin, tilting it up, forcing you to meet their gaze.

"But you will."

You expected them to refuse.

But instead, light surged around you, and before you could react—

You were falling.

When you opened your eyes, you were standing on solid ground.

The sky stretched endlessly above you, the air crisp and filled with distant voices. A city hummed with life ahead, its streets bustling, its towers standing tall.

It was beautiful.

It was alive.

For the first time in so long, you felt real again.

And yet, the moment you stepped forward, something cracked.

A distant sound. You turned sharply.

Nanook stood behind you in silence.

"Go on" they murmured. "Walk."

You frowned but obeyed, moving toward the city. And as you did, the streets darkened, the lights flickered, the air grew heavier. A ripple of unease spread through the people, their voices faltering, their steps slowing. You barely noticed it at first. But then a single, horrifying scream ripped through the air. Buildings trembled. Glass shattered. A wave of unseen force spread outward, like a silent explosion tearing through the city.

You stopped.

The destruction stopped.

Your breath came fast, uneven. Your hands were shaking. Your presence alone had done this.

"Do you understand now?"

"You were never meant to walk among them."

You turned to them, chest heaving, the weight of reality crashing down on you.

"This is why you will never leave me."

Nanook stepped closer, fingers brushing against your cheek—not cruel, not forceful. Just… inevitable.

"You belong at my side."

Their lips ghosted over your ear, their voice a whisper of divine possession.

"Come home."

And despite everything—despite the fear, the sorrow, the ruin you had witnessed, you did.

Because Nanook was right.

One moment you were still on the planet, the next you were back in Nanook’s realm. You barely had time to catch your breath before warm hands were on you.

"You see now" Nanook murmured, drawing you closer, deeper into their grasp. "There is nothing for you beyond me."

You had fought for so long, fought against the weight of your own existence, fought against the inevitability of Nanook’s grasp.

But now, standing before them, shaken and drained, you felt the exhaustion settle into your bones. You felt the relief of being caught.

Of being wanted, despite it all.

"I have you" they whispered against your ear, their touch firm, unrelenting.

"I will always have you."

The next breath you took was shaky. Nanook’s presence was too much—too close, too overwhelming.

Their fingers traced over your wrist, the touch left an energy that thrummed beneath your skin, lighting your nerves aflame.

"You were made to fit into my hands" they murmured. Heat curled in your stomach at their tone.

Their lips brushed against your temple, soft at first. Then your cheek.

Your breath hitched as you felt their warmth ghost over your skin, testing, savoring. Their grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling you flush against them.

"You need me" Nanook whispered against your pulse, their lips barely skimming it.

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you—leaning into them.

"Say it."

Your fingers curled into their clothes, nails pressing against them in silent defiance. But your body had already surrendered.

"Say that you are mine."

"I’m yours."

The words left your lips barely above a whisper—shaky, breathless.

But Nanook heard.

"Good."

"You belong to me. No one else will ever hold you like this. No one else will ever touch you like this."

You let them guide you, let them mold you into the shape they desired. Let them worship you.

"Mine"

And you accepted it.

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #nanook #nanook hsr #hsr nanook #nanook x reader

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starry-crossing-zone · 5 months ago

Text

Crash and Fall - Rex

Summary: Rex won't give up hope that his Jedi lover is alive after the Jedi Purge. Length: 3.7k Warnings: Mentions of Jedi Purge; Angst; Longing; Clone Rebellion; Special Guest Stars; Mentions of Pregnancy

Rex stood beside the Y Wing as Ahsoka took a moment with his fallen brothers. He typed away at the datapad, attempting to send a long-range message. Across the galaxy, his brothers were murdering the Jedi against their will. And he was frantically trying to get in contact with one specific Jedi so that she did not become the next victim.

It might have been too late already to warn her, but Rex needed to try. He refused to accept defeat.

When the comm failed to go through again, Rex couldn’t help the burst of emotion. Driving his fist onto the top of the Y Wing and tossing the datapad away angrily, he slumped into a crouch. Steadying himself with one hand and resting the other against his face, he didn’t fight the tears.

Ahsoka slowly walked over to him and gave him a moment to gather himself, giving him the space to grieve. Although they had never had a frank conversation about it, Ahsoka understood enough to know why Rex’s inability to get a message out caused him to collapse. Rex slowly lowered his hand from his face and started to stand up again.

“No luck,” Rex replied quietly.

“Where was she stationed last?” Ahsoka asked softly.

“More than halfway across the galaxy,” Rex stated, closing his eyes with despair.

They were too far away to help her. It would take them days to reach her. And he wasn’t even sure if that was her actual last location. Plans changed in a moment in the GAR. It was a start, but it was also more than likely swarmed with his brothers, who would try to murder them the moment that they arrived on the scene.

“There’s still hope, Rex,” Ahsoka replied quietly. “There’s still a chance.”

Rex nodded slowly, not trusting his words, before he turned to the Y Wing again. He climbed into the pilot’s seat and input coordinates to a safe location before starting the take off procedure. And trying to block the images of his beloved with blaster holes in her chest from his mind.

*~*~*~*

Washa was not a heavily populated planet. It was far from the major space lanes and had remained neutral during the war because there was nothing on the planet worth fighting over. It was mostly farmers and traders. No one of importance. Just like the Jedi were of no importance anymore. It was no wonder she fit in so well.

“Two please,” she told the vender, holding out the credits.

“Price just went up actually,” he remarked, turning his two noses up at her. “You need five more.”

She withdrew her hand and looked at the credits. Letting out a sigh, she stowed some of the credits back in her pocket and turned back to the greedy vender.

“Just one then.”

Taking her purchase, she stowed it in her bag and kept walking. She bought rations and some water before making the walk back to the small hut that she now called home. It would have to do, for her true home was gone. Destroyed. Forever. Sitting down, she crossed her legs and tried to meditate.

It had been a month since her own men turned against her. Men that she fought beside for years, thought she knew, men that she was prepared to die with. They raised their blasters at her and tried to kill her. And they had nearly succeeded too.

The scars on her back burned at the painful memory and she forced herself to take a breath. Pushing past the pain that lingered, she tried to connect with the Force again. Resting her hands with her palms upwards, she took a deep breath.

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.”

After she managed to escape the assault and effectively faked her own death, she had all but severed her connection to the Force. To reach out and feel the gaping, open wound quickly overwhelmed her and she had withdrawn into herself to survive.

“I am one with the Force and the Force is—”

She tensed as the nightmares that plagued her while she slept crept into the daylight. Ones that involved a clone in blue-painted armor raising his blasters at her. She shook her head, trying to banish the images, swearing to herself that Rex would never hurt her. She trusted him with her life. She cared for him well beyond the considerations of her culture.

But she trusted Sinker too. And Boost. And Comet. And they had all fired on her just the same.

And when it became too much, as it had countless times before, she broke down, holding her head in her hands as she struggled to hold onto her sanity.

*~*~*~*

“But we managed to save the padawan,” Hunter stated, causing Rex to pick his head up.

“Have you run into any Jedi since?” he asked, sounding more alert.

“No, none.”

Rex nodded slowly, trying to mask his disappointment. He spun his glass around on the bar top, letting his thoughts drift for a moment, before he focused back on the present. Echo, however, noticed the change in his brother.

“You’re looking for her?” Echo asked Rex knowingly. Rex turned to Echo and nodded slowly. “Tech can look in the Imperial database for you.”

“Already checked. Read the report. She’s . . .”

Rex trailed off, being very careful with his words. He knew what the report said. He’d practically memorized it at this point. But he also knew that these reports weren’t always accurate. He was dead, according to the Empire, so there was still a chance. And a chance was all that he needed. Hope was all that he needed. And it was all he had too.

“There’s a chance . . . and I need to know for myself.”

“I came back from the dead. So could she.” Nodding slowly to show his support for Rex, Echo promised him, “We’ll keep an eye out for her.”

“Thank you, Echo.”

*~*~*~*

When she felt that she had overstayed her welcome back on Washa, she found her way off planet. The number of planets that she would consider both safe and habitable was extremely low, but she managed to find her way to a small moon in the Outer Rim. It was warm, almost jungle-like and full of life. And she hoped that it would help her reconnect with the Force.

Weeks passed and she fell into a routine. There were a few remote villages scattered around the jungle and she made a few tentative acquaintances, but she was always quick to return to her alcove. She had managed to build a small home up in the trees and was starting to settle in.

And that was when the Force decided to pull the rug out from under her all over again.

Dropping her hands from her abdomen, she stared down at them as tears filled her eyes. Memories of her last few nights with Rex came to mind. They assumed that it was impossible or at least highly unlikely. They were safe in the beginning but as the war drew on and their ever-fragile mortality weighed on both of them, they forwent it.

And the spark in the Force that she sensed was the unmistakable result of that carelessness.

She fell forward and curled up on herself, that same fear that ate away at her for months now crawled up her spine yet again. Every labored breath she took pushed that numbing pain closer to her heart and mind, igniting flames where the now healed blaster bolt wounds had laid. She picked her head up, refusing to succumb again, but also terrified and alone, she reached out into the Force.

“Master,” she begged softly, “what am I going to do?”

*~*~*

Rex set his ship down on the dirt of a remote backwater planet that Senator Organa assured him would be a safe meeting location. Walking down the gangplank, Rex took off his helmet when he spotted Bail descending from his own ship. The two men greeted each other politely.

“What is this planet anyways?” Rex asked as he turned to follow the senator into his ship.

“It used to be inhabited two centuries ago. But then a civil war broke out and eventually destroyed all of the resources on the planet, forcing the survivors off world,” Bail explained, glancing out at the dustball. “And it’s not strategically located, so the galaxy has left it alone.”

Rex stared out at the landscape again, frowning as he thought about the galaxy’s current situation before heading inside the transport. They discussed intel and exchanged information. Rex delivered a copy of some Imperial intel that Nemec had managed to gather and Bail offered him what little he had heard about the remaining clones.

“You haven’t heard anything about any Jedi, have you, Senator?” Rex asked quietly.

“Not the one you seek information on, no,” Bail replied, causing Rex to look down. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

“All the more reason to keep fighting,” Rex reasoned, earning a nod of support from Bail. Grabbing his new intel, Rex added, “I won’t take up any more of your time. And I should be getting back to my men with this new intel.”

“Of course.”

“May the Force be with you, Senator.”

“And May the Force be with you too, Rex.”

*~*~*

“I told you that the hyperdrive was acting funny!” Echo huffed with frustration.

The Bad Batch struggled to their feet after crash landing on a remote jungle moon in the Outer Rim. Hunter was first back to his feet and quick to check Omega over for any injuries or scratches from their crash landing. Tech straightened up from his seat and slowly moved to stand.

“It appears that there was a slight misalignment,” Tech stated, adjusting his goggles.

“Slight?” Hunter emphasized sarcastically. He looked out at the dense jungle through the viewport and sighed. “Let’s get the door open.”

With a bit of an extra push from Wrecker, the door of the Marauder opened and the Bad Batch spilled out into the jungle. Hunter kept Omega close, aware of the high number of life forms crawling around. The Batch tried to pull the Marauder out from the dense foliage that it crashed into, but it was of no use. Not even Wrecker’s full strength was enough to pull it out. And not with light fading.

“What are we going to do?” Omega asked, glancing between her brothers. “It’s starting to get dark.”

“And I’m starving!” Wrecker sighed, sitting on the root of a large tree.

It was eventually decided, after some deliberation with Tech, to scout the nearby area for sources of food and water, as their rations were already low. Hunter led the way into the jungle with the team forming a single-file line behind him. Entering a clearing, Hunter scanned the area when Wrecker stepped around him.

“Hey, look!” Wrecker yelled, pointing over at some vines berries growing on them. “I bet that we can eat those berries!”

“I would disagree with eating whatever you find on the ground out here,” Tech stated, shaking his head as Wrecker ran over to investigate. “And there is a high probability that those berries could be poisonous to us.”

“Then let’s figure out what they—”

Wrecker yelled out when he was suddenly strung up by his ankle by a thick rope. It was looped over a branch of the tree side Wrecker and connected to a pulley system.

“Wrecker!” Omega yelled out as Hunter ran forward to help his brother.

He scaled the tree and jumped, slicing through the rope with his vibro blade. Wrecked landed roughly, but he was unharmed. As the Bad Batch gathered around Wrecker to assess the situation, the sound of a rifle clicking caused Hunter to spin around, putting himself in front of Omega protectively.

“Someone’s out there,” Hunter warned, pulling out his blaster. “And they’re armed.”

“The person who set the trap, more than likely,” Tech stated, scanning the jungle around them. “Though this system is not listed as civilized.”

“Where are they?” Echo asked, looking around the jungle. “Up in the trees? On the ground?”

Hunter paused for a moment, waiting to hear the individual again. But then he suddenly turned and held his blaster up, pointing at the shadows. A hooded figure stood just out of the light, with a rifle in hand that was aimed straight at the Bad Batch.

“Easy,” Hunter stated, trying to reason with the individual. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” a feminine voice replied, a bit gruffly. Echo paused for a moment, frowning at the familiarity of the voice. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around, head back to your ship, get the kark off of this moon, and never come back.”

“We cannot complete that sequence of events. Our ship is damaged and stuck in the jungle growth. We are unable to get it out on our own,” Tech spoke up, causing the rifle to briefly train on him. “If you could point us to the nearest spaceport—”

“—There are none.”

“Then perhaps you have a device that we can use to remove our ship from the growth,” Tech continued, seemingly unfazed by the rifle. “Seeing as that is in line with your own objectives, it should be reasonable for you to provide us with assistance if you are able.”

“No.”

“Then perhaps—”

“—Are you always this talkative with someone holding you at blaster point?” the woman interjected, growing steadily more annoyed.

“Just him,” Wrecker stated, nudging Tech.

“General?” Echo called, causing the woman to hesitate. “Is that you?” The rifle lowered a bit more and Echo stepped forward, removing his helmet. “It’s me. Echo.”

“Who is it?” Omega questioned Echo curiously.

“A Jedi?” Hunter asked, causing the rifle to quickly lock on him.

“The Jedi are all dead,” the woman spat, though the edge of grief was easy to detect to Echo’s ear. “The Empire made sure of that.”

“We helped a Jedi escape,” Wrecker spoke up, causing the woman to train her rifle on him.

“A padawan. Caleb. He was General Billaba’s padawan,” Hunter recalled, causing the woman’s finger to shake as it rested against the trigger. “We received Order 66, but we never carried it out.”

“And they removed their chips,” Omega chirped, causing the woman to pause.

“What chips?” she demanded, causing Echo and Hunter to share a look.

“All clones were designed with inhibitor chips built into our brains. They were primarily designed to make us more obedient, especially to several predesigned codes to carry out specific orders that we would otherwise hesitate to complete,” Tech explained rapidly. “Every clone who heard the command, save for us really, immediately lost control of their minds and bodies to carry out the order.”

“Order 66,” she breathed out, remembering what Comet had been muttering to himself.

She looked down, starting to piece together the timeline of what happened that dark day. Echo shared a look with the other Bad Batchers before turning back to her.

“We all removed our chips. And we have the scars to prove it. And if you need, Tech can show you the report explaining what the chips are.” After a moment, he added, “It was written by Rex. Before the order came through.”

At the mention of Rex, she lowered the rifle completely. And after a moment’s hesitation, she stepped out into the light. Staring down at them with a measure of distrust still in her eyes, she sat the butt of her rifle down against the branch.

“Show me.”

After reading through the report for the third time, she tossed the datapad down to Tech again. Jumping down from the branch, she landed gracefully and straightened up. There was still an edge of distrust to her stance, but she looked more like the general that Echo remembered that a frightened hermit. And he considered that to be a success.

But when he glanced at the pack on her back, he paused. Because it was moving.

“Why are you here? What brought you here?” she asked, glancing between the Bad Batch.

“His faulty calculations,” Hunter explained, earning a sharp look from Tech in return.

“It was a minor misalignment.”

“You said that your ship is damaged?” she inquired, causing Echo to shake his head.

“We don’t think so. It’s just stuck in the vines.”

“Well, you won’t have any luck getting it out in the dark, even with my help,” she replied seriously. “There’s a lot more that lurks out here that you don’t want to run into in the dark.” After a moment of thought, she added, “Follow me.”

She turned around and for the first time, the Bad Batch could see what was in her pack. Or rather who was in her pack. A little swaddled baby was strapped to her back. Staring at the Batch, the baby cooed and giggled at their incredulous expressions.

“Is that . . .?” Hunter trailed off, sharing an incredulous look with Tech.

“A baby?” Omega completed softly.

The former Jedi turned around and slowly slipped her arm out of her pack until her son was strapped to her chest instead of her back. Resting her hands on the sides of his carrier, she slowly turned to look at the flabbergasted expressions of the clones in front of her.

And Echo couldn’t help but notice the blond hair atop the baby’s head.

“What’s his name?” Omega asked, taking a few steps forward.

“Atin.”

“Tenacious,” Tech translated quickly, adjusting his goggle. “In Mando’a, that is.”

“Yes,” she agreed, gently running her hand over her son’s head.

“Did he know?” Echo inquired quietly, causing her to shake her head.

“I didn’t even know. How would he?”

With a bitter smile, she turned and called for them to follow her again. Echo moved to walk beside her and Hunter held the others back a step, trying to give them some semblance of privacy. Echo glanced down at the baby content in the carrier before turning to the baby’s mother.

“He’s alive,” Echo stated softly, causing her to turn to him. “He’s alive. And he’s free.” After a moment, Echo added quietly, “And he’s looking for you.”

She nodded slowly, careful to step over a root, before carrying on her way. Echo walked beside her, giving her a moment to process the news. Reaching the base of a large tree, she turned to Echo with a tentative look in her eyes.

“Where is he?”

“It changes by the rotation,” Echo replied honestly. “He’s running around the galaxy. Freeing brothers. Stoking rebellions. Gathering intel.”

“I don’t think he knows how to relax,” she commented with an edge of humor before she glanced down at the child strapped to her chest. And then the smile slowly faded. “Do you think that you can convince him to come here? Alone?”

“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer from him,” Echo promised her, causing her to smile softly again. “Rex didn’t give up on me. And it’s my turn to return the favor whether he likes it or not.”

“It’s like you two are brothers or something,” she joked, walking over to a hanging vine. Tugging on it until a ladder rolled down to the jungle floor. “Neither of you know how to give up.”

“It’s not in our blood,” Echo stated, glancing down at her baby. “Nor his.”

“Why do you think I named him ‘Atin’?” she asked rhetorically before moving to climb.

*~*~*~*

Rex wasn’t sure what Echo was thinking when he came out of hyperspace and spotted the jungle moon ahead. But he trusted Echo, so he flew towards the coordinates that Echo provided him. Slowly setting down the Y Wing on the jungle floor, Rex hopped out and started his short walk. Coming up on the meeting location, Rex looked around curiously when he heard a branch break behind him.

Grabbing his blaster, Rex whirled around, ready to defend himself. But when he saw her standing there, he dropped his blaster out of shock.

“Cyare?” he called softly, like he couldn’t believe that it was her.

“Rex,” she returned, smiling nervously.

Rex walked forward slowly. His blaster laid forgotten on the jungle floor. With his eyes never leaving her figure, he moved like a man possessed. She remained still, forcing her body to stay where it was, even as her mind screamed to move, to flee. Her nightmares started to creep up again but when Rex gently cupped her cheek, she returned to the present.

“What?” she asked quietly, staring up at him with tears in her eyes. “What is it?”

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you,” he replied, causing her lips to wobble.

They quickly held onto each other, in disbelief that they were able to have the honor again. Rex cupped the back of her head to keep her close and let his tears slip free. She buried her face in his neck, ignoring the uncomfortable way that the plastoid dug into her. She didn’t care. Rex was here. Her Rex was here. Despite everything, he was finally here. They were finally back together.

Rex only loosened his grip when he heard a gentle cry echo through the jungle. Looking up, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise, he turned back to her as she grabbed his hand. Gently leading him up the path and to the home that she built for them, she stepped inside. Rex, his heart thudding hard in his chest, waited a moment before walking in behind her.

And when she turned around with a baby in her arms, he fell to his knees.

She smiled, drying her own tears, before moving to join him on the floor. Sitting cross-legged in front of him, she held out their son to Rex for the first time. After hesitating for a moment, he gently moved to cradle his son—his son—against his chest.

“I believe you now,” she quipped, wiping his tears away.

“Believe me about what?” he croaked out, turning back to her with a loving expression.

“You are a natural blond.”

#the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #captain rex x jedi reader #captain rex x oc #captain rex x reader #captain rex #tcw #sw tcw #sw tbb #rex x reader #rex x oc #star wars tbb

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positivelyapunovexponent-good · 2 years ago

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@gay-victorian-astronomer

Astronomy is such an insane field of science because wdym we can look at planets billions of km away and be able to deduce what it’s made from like wtff

#Living with two astronomy majors is fun #Last spring when they were both taking an observational astrophysics class I’d regularly come home to conversations that sounded like #‘BLAST! The winds unbalanced our azimuthal telescope calibrations and now we can’t tell whether M16 is a torment nexus galaxy or not!#We must drive out to THE OBSERVATORY and collect more data or the entire sidereal space time continuum will collapse!’#And then they’d get in the car and fuck off to some wizard tower ass looking telescope in the middle the dark woods an hour south #I’d wait for them safely ensconced in the glow of our house until they returned in the dead of wintry night.#They’d come through the front door cloaked in the a fathomless weariness and I’d ask them ‘how was The Void did you have fun at The Void?’#And although their gaze would meet mine their eyes I could see were… elsewhere.#Swimming with the light ripped from the core of now dead stars and hurled screaming through space and time #and I’d know they could proffer me no answer that I- unitiniated into their order as I was- could ever understand #I had not seen the face of the universe laid bare as they had #I could never know #Anyways. Very fun to know people who have different skillsets and areas of expertise form me. Astronomy seems cool :D

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sunarryn · 2 months ago

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DP X Marvel #18

Dan Phantom had been grounded for a millennium. A million years of suspended animation, locked in the coldest prison the Infinite Realms could provide, where time dripped like sap and the echoes of his own murderous past whispered lullabies into his ears. It had been fair punishment for ripping his original timeline to pieces like confetti at a funeral. He’d deserved it. Probably. Maybe. Not really.

Regardless, he was out now.

On probation.

Which meant he couldn’t technically destroy anything major.

Which meant he technically had freedom.

Which meant—

Dan burst through the veil between dimensions with the violent grace of a dying star and made a beeline—no, a comet-line—for Asgard.

Why? Simple.

Because Loki Odinson existed.

And Dan was going to court him.

With intention.

And possibly fire.

And maybe a few stolen artifacts from the Vault of Eternity.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Odin Allfather, great and wise and absolutely exhausted, nearly choked on his mead when a 6’9” white-haired, blood-eyed menace of a man fell from a tear in reality and landed in the center of Asgard’s Golden Hall, bleeding ambient chaos and making Thor drop Mjolnir mid-rep.

“I AM DAN PHANTOM, PRINCE OF THE INFINITE REALMS!” Dan announced, fangs bared in what could be interpreted as a smile—or a declaration of war. “I HAVE COME TO COURT YOUR SON.”

There was a pause.

A long one.

A holy shit what is happening one.

“Which one?” Odin asked slowly, glancing between Thor and Loki.

Dan turned, eyes glowing with the light of a billion dead stars, and locked onto Loki like a predator sensing a god-shaped snack.

“That one,” he said, voice low and reverent, gesturing toward Loki with a clawed finger. “The dark prince. The bitter frost. The storm in the still. The god carved in hunger and ash. The one whose smile haunts the black spaces between galaxies. You.”

Loki blinked. “…I’m sorry, what?”

Thor, meanwhile, had instinctively shoved his brother behind him and picked up Mjolnir. “He’s clearly mad. A danger to Asgard!”

Dan didn’t even look at him. “I’ve fought worse things than thunder, little boy. I would pluck the sun from Sól’s chariot and offer it like an apple in your brother’s palm.”

Odin stood up. “I forbid this! I don’t know what corner of Hel you’ve crawled from, but you will not—”

“Oh, actually,” Dan interrupted, tilting his head in thought. “Hela and I are old friends. She braided my hair once and taught me how to decapitate a frost giant using only a jawbone.”

In the bleak frost of Hel, Hela laughed so hard she cracked a rib. Her skeletal horde stared at her with a mix of reverence and terror as she shouted, “My brother-in-arms is finally out of time jail! Get me a death-swan, I need to pick a dress. I’m gonna be the best-damned best woman this side of Ragnarok.”

Back in Asgard, Loki had been dragged to a secluded room by Frigga who kept whispering things like “He’s clearly unstable” and “You attract danger like a frostflower attracts flies.”

But Loki was not listening.

Because Loki was already halfway in love.

He was a connoisseur of madness and beauty, of poetry stitched in blood, of things ancient and unfathomable. He saw Dan Phantom’s sharpened fangs and glowing eyes and heard the way he whispered promises of devotion that sounded like death threats.

And he felt something.

Dan knelt in Loki’s chamber, holding a gift in outstretched hands.

“This is the heart of a fallen titan,” Dan said solemnly. “I carved it from his chest after he insulted your intellect.”

It was still beating.

Loki took it and blushed.

“…You’re insane,” he whispered.

Dan leaned closer. “I have watched a thousand dying universes collapse, and in each one, I saw your reflection in the shattered light. I have dreamt of you while floating through collapsed stars. I would slit the throat of time itself for the curl of your smile.”

Frigga burst into the room. “Loki, don’t encourage him!”

But Loki was already petting the heart like a kitten and looking at Dan like he hung the stars in the sky personally.

“I think I might love him,” Loki whispered.

“Oh no,” Frigga said.

Three weeks in, the betting pool had gone viral in the Infinite Realms.

Danny bet Loki would stab Dan by day five.

Jazz bet they’d elope in less than a month.

Dani bet both. Simultaneously.

Clockwork refused to comment.

Dan brought gifts every day.

A Valkyrie’s wing, still twitching.

A singing skull that whispered Loki’s name in every language known to god and ghost.

A crystal vial of Odin’s tears (he didn’t explain how he got them, just that he did, and Odin now had anxiety).

A necklace forged from the melted-down bones of a time-wyrm, engraved with love poetry in the lost language of the Void.

“Your gifts are… unsettling,” Loki said, holding up the skull as it crooned a lullaby in Abyssal.

“They’re tokens of devotion,” Dan replied. “I would make war with the gods for you—not for justice, not for vengeance, but for worship.”

Loki melted on the spot.

Odin cornered Loki one evening. “You must stop this.”

“But father, I love him!”

“He brought you a bouquet of spinal cords, Loki!”

“They were beautifully arranged!”

Eventually, Dan seduced Loki in the way that only an interdimensional menace with apocalyptic charm could. The kind of night that left the Bifröst cracked, Thor traumatized, and half of Asgard whispering in awe and fear.

Loki didn’t walk the next day. He floated.

Odin cried in private.

The wedding was held in Hel. Of course it was.

Hela presided in a gown made of grief and velvet, surrounded by undead musicians and skeletal bridesmaids.

“I now pronounce you harbingers of doom,” Hela intoned with a grin. “You may now kiss your ruin.”

Dan did so with gusto.

Odin fainted.

Thor refused to speak for three weeks.

Frigga gave up and drank with Jazz, who won the betting pool.

Danny and Dani got into a fistfight over who gave the better toast.

On their wedding night, Dan carved a poem into the sky using a blade of starlight and sorrow. It read:

“Let the worlds tremble and the stars scream. You are mine. My ruin, my resurrection. My frost in the flame. My apocalypse wrapped in silk and venom. I have no name but yours, and no destiny but your hand in mine. Until the gods are dust.”

Loki wept.

Then kissed him breathless.

Then demanded they destroy a few realms for fun.

Dan beamed.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

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angelgoeslewd · 1 month ago

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Dr Ratio has to be in love with you to sleep with you

because he’s a crier.

soft nsfw below. ⬇️ 18+ only, minors DNI

He gives off an air of nonchalance, of arrogance to some, aloof to others. It’s his own sort of candy-coated shell, sour and bitter, to keep away the pleasant thoughts and emotions that come with those thoughts. But you… you are the chip in his armor, his bared jugular, his undoing, unraveling. He comes home to you and nearly collapses in your arms, so many expectations, so much work, so many idiots. But then you’re there, holding back the world with your smile, fighting off every single thought he tries to form so he can’t even speak, all he can do is look at you, you looking back, neither of you speaking in such a tender, fleeting moment he wishes he could relive forever,

(He’d pay a fortune to the Garden of Recollection to retrieve it, later. He keeps in a locket, a pin he wears directly over his heart.)

Veritas would try to keep that act up with you if it just wasn’t so damn hard to soften in your arms, to press kisses around your face and to feel the pressure from the unwelcoming galaxy seep out with every one. Your laugh twinkles in his ears like the sweetest melody he’s ever heard, sweeter that that Halovian girl, Robin, could ever sing, a perfectly cultivated symphony, just for him.

And he would keep you at an arm’s length if you didn’t somehow manage to create doors out of all the walls he’s built around himself, waltzing in like they never were an issue, like they created no resistance between you and him, letting your presence flow through his life, unabated, taking over his space, his mannerisms, his routine, like they were made to be there, expertly placed into his schedule, etched into his very soul, like you were always there.

Ratio feels so, so incredibly delicate, being loved like this. It gives him pause, many times. He’s unsure how he can reciprocate, because he knows he can’t, emotionally. He’s not that type of person. But you never ask him for anything he can’t give. Time, attention, love. These things he would gladly devote all to you, if you asked, but you never ask for more than a moment, never anything that would burden him greatly, even though he’s nearly asking you to.

So when the two of you lay together… The cumulation of physical sense meeting Veritas’ repressed emotional ones completely overwhelms him.

He doesn’t mean to, doesn’t even feel the tears overflowing his eyes as he thrusts into you, head rested on your soft shoulder, pressed into your neck to be completely overwhelmed by you, his hands pressing your hips down onto his cock, as your moans flow into his ears. But he sees it, tastes the wet traces of it when he lifts his head to meet your eyes and croak out, “I’m close.”

He sees the way your gaze softens when you look at him as carefully as you can, following the stains down his cheeks, bringing your hand up to cup his face. He presses into it. “I love you,” he whispers, eyes closing as he reaches ataraxia.

For once, he hopes to be apart of something far beyond the Genius Society’s reach.

#angelic songs #hsr #honkai star rail #dr ratio #veritas ratio x reader #veritas ratio #dr ratio x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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clipartdinosaur · 1 year ago

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Griddlehark Fics

I have read an absolutely insane amount of Griddlehark fanfics in the past few months so I figured I could make a like...list of all of my favorites that I bookmarked. I'm not sure if anyone will use this but if anything it will be for my own self-indulgence LOL. Just a heads up, this list WILL contain spoilers up to Nona the Ninth, so proceed with your own discretion. Anyway here we go!

(♥︎ = favorite!)

Short (<15k):

"By the Sword" by JeanLuciferGohard (2.6k)

The Reverend Daughter of the Ninth, Necrosaint, Ascended, the greatest bone adept in an Age, does one push-up, and collapses. Harrow does not beg for her cavalier. Harrow rakes her hair back and snarls, “Nav, I am going to unzip your cranial sutures. One by one. And zip them up again sideways.”

"Your Necro Questions Answered" by Magichorse (8.8k)

Syndicated columnist "Nav the Cav" offers a sympathetic ear to cavaliers across the galaxy and dispenses practical, no-nonsense, real talk advice on how to properly manage and care for your necromancer.

"A Lesson in Bones" by Magichorse (3.8k)

One of the laboratory trials at Canaan House compels Harrowhark to swap bodies with her cavalier. What will Gideon do with the power of the most talented bone adept in generations at her disposal? Nothing good, probably.

"Visions of Gideon" by tothewillofthepeople (13k)

Oh my god they were roommates...

"true love's kiss, or something equally nauseating" by corpsesoldier (4.6k)

She was where she needed to be. She was going to pull her necro out of this godforsaken tomb, end the game of musical bodies they were playing, and then everything would be all right. Harrow would be alive. And Gideon was going to give her shit for approximately the next myriad for not just taking what she’d offered and saving them a whole lot of trouble.

"The Big Warm Dark" by decalexas (haelstorm) (2.7k)

Gideon Nav knows how to swing a longsword, brandish a rapier, bridge the gap between life and death, punch the dead in the face, and maybe overthrow an Empire along the way. What she doesn't know how to do is reach for the girl who made all of this possible.

"carrion comfort, despair (not feast on thee)" by NotAFicWriter (5k)

Some time after Alecto wakes, Harrow and Gideon finally have a moment to speak to one another. Hearts are bared. Teeth are bared. Intentions are bared. It all comes at great personal cost (emotional honesty).

"never exhale all the way" by pigflight (1.2k)

Harrowhark paints Gideon's face.

"such an almighty sound" by CountingNothings (10k)♥︎

“I need you to marry me,” Harrow says, a propos of absolutely nothing that Gideon can see. And, uh, okay, this is not what childhood best frenemies say to each other upon discovering that both of their graduate programs have weird residence requirements. “What,” Gideon asks, “the fuck?”

"A Handsomely Dangerous Thing" by zoicite (1.5k)

Had Harrow ever looked at Gideon and felt pride before? Surely not. It sat like a tumor in her chest, a cancerous lump that had grown where it did not belong.

"How it didn't happen" by Nary (1.5k)

"How did you lose it?" Coronabeth asked, more softly than her sister's shrill voice. The group assembled at Canaan House barely knew her, and yet here they were, asking the most irritatingly personal questions, and acting as if they were being kind and thoughtful by prying into her secrets. "I dropped my pen into a vat of acid and reached in to grab it without thinking," Harrow said dryly. Coronabeth recoiled, screwing up her pretty nose. Ianthe looked unsure whether to believe her or not. Their meatslab of cavalier just stared blankly. "The Daughter of the Ninth House was blessed in this manner from her birth, as a symbol of her strength and power over the mysteries of necromancy," Ortus interjected. Harrow glared at him. "Oh," Coronabeth said, an expression of disgusting sympathy on her flawless face. "But then you would never have known who your soulmate was!" Harrow's glare intensified. "My soulmate is bones."

"Halcyon Nights" by Morike91 (10k)

It was hard to tell what was worse: feeling the full warmth of those unguarded honey eyes fall on Harrow, or watching them narrow in recognition and contempt, their warmth now hotter with something else. “What can I get you?” It has been at least four years since Harrow last heard the voice of Gideon Nav, but it was still as familiar as her right hand.

"I completely fucking hate you" by ClaraZorEl (7.5k)

In the coming weeks, Harrowhark learns an unfortunate great deal about Gideon Nav. The kind of porn she likes, the number of bread rolls she can fit into her mouth at once, that she always leans too heavily on her left leg when she fights but can do fifty-seven push-ups in a row without stopping, that her biceps rates 11/10 on the scale of good biceps, that her laugh rumbles like an army of skeletons, and most importantly, that she can’t fucking stand her. Gideon Nav is so grating that Harrow has no doubt she will be her undoing. OR Harrowhark Nonagesimus has been invited to Canaan University's ball. But to successfully represent her house, she needs a cavalier, and unfortunately, her only option is her least favourite barista from her least favourite coffee shop.

"A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them" by pipistrelle (7k)

"In the end, she poisoned Ortus; so it was Harrow Nova who walked out to the shuttle a half-step behind the Daughter of the Ninth, the chain of Samael Novenary wound about her offhand wrist, the black blade of the Ninth at her side."

"The Only Prayer We Know" by pipistrelle (12k) [Part 2 of "A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them"]

It's like a bad joke: two cavaliers (alive) and two necromancers (one dead) walk into a rebel faction of humanity, looking for a new life -- in every sense of the phrase. What they find is each other, and (in some cases) themselves.

"The Flames of Hell Are Warm" by silverapples (7k)

In which Harrow is a repressed evangelical Christian and Gideon performs burlesque in a lesbian nightclub. Feat. nipple pasties, chewing gum, and a steaming mug of gay coffee (wake up and smell it, Harrow).

"Necro Business" by rnanqo (1.6k) ♥︎

“Gideon,” you said carefully, “I will need to examine your mouth. Various structures, primarily the jaw, but also the lingual muscles—the tongue—” You stopped there. Your cheeks were going red, probably with indignity. “Yeah,” I said, a bit too loudly, “yeah, sure. Do it.”

"Holy Cross, Alaska" by softieghost (10k) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Harrow meets Gideon. They go through it together.

"my love will be your armor" by TheKnightsWhoSayBook (2.3k)

"The princess has a right to bestow her favor on whoever she wishes to win a match," Gideon tells her. "Are you going to?" "Why would I? I don't want to marry him," Harrow answers bitterly. "Do you want me to win?" Princess Harrow will be engaged to the winner of the tournament, and her only champion is her useless bodyguard Sir Gideon Nav, who isn't going to save her. Unless...?

"The Meaning Of The Word" by pipistrelle (8.4k)

Harrow, along with a good percentage of Canaan University's necromancy students, has the flu. Gideon has a lot of feelings that she is in no way equipped to handle. It's a tough week.

"(i shine only with the light you gave me)" by sashawire (1.7k) ♥︎

God prods, gently, “Even just starting with their physical description, and we can go from there.” “Imagine,” you say, from somewhere outside your body, “the worst shade of orange you’ve ever seen in your life.” * Harrowhark receives her saintly title.

"i will learn to love the shears" by corpsesoldier (4.7k)

The avulsion trial left Harrow's hair in a sorry state and Gideon offers up her expertise with a blade. Or, Gideon gives Harrow a haircut.

"The Titty Texts: A Work of a Stupendous Titty Nature" by EleniaTrexer (3k)

Gideon accidentally sends Harrow boobs. And then just keeps on sending them.

"can we start over?" by breeeliss (10k)

Gideon needs a tutor. Harrow needs someone to get her out of college gym class. All in all, a pretty straightforward arrangement to make with your ex.

"Dark Mode Enabled" by senseoftheday (12k)

Tech Company AU in which a certain Sales bro with no filter decides to ruin Harrow's life (and feature roadmap) by initiating the cross-functional project from hell. At least, Gideon has the decency to work remotely, and Harrow's new office crush makes some pretty great coffee.

"deconsecrated graves" by emotionsandphenomena (4k)

Gideon and Harrow got out of the cult they were raised in. Okay, what's next?

"settle up in heaven" by liesmyth (3k) ♥︎

“Isn’t this arrogance, Harrow?” Kiriona says. “Think you could fix what God couldn’t?”

"Quoth the Maiden" by Sarsaparilla (10.9k)

The bold outlaws Nova Hawk and Gideon meet for the first time on a narrow log-bridge. But is it really their first meeting? Or: what if Robin Hood and Little John were both lesbians?

"twice in a blue moon" by sinshine (8.7k) ♥︎

Gideon snapped out of her depressing reverie and blinked at her. "That's a really good idea." "Obviously," said Harrow, and it was only a little bit condescending. "Step one, sneak out of the party. Step two, acquire the necessary items at a store. Step three–" Harrow gestured vaguely at the deer in Gideon's hands– "And step four, profit." [G&H rush to fix a smashed snow globe that Dulcinea made so that Cam doesn't kill them before the clock strikes midnight at their NYE party. The fact that Gideon is back in her hometown after a long time away and she and Harrow have unresolved romantic tension is secondary and definitely won't be a problem.]

"It Came From Planet Slut" by LockedTombMemes (8k)

Well. Evidently going undercover to an Idan society fling in order to deliver a message to a high-profile BoE agent was a tits-out kind of look.

"Apostate's Yuletide" by sinshine (12.6k)♥︎

Gideon raised one eyebrow comically high. She smiled easily, erasing any hint of the anxiety that Harrow might have sensed. "What's with all the questions today?" Harrow huffed indignantly and fidgeted with the blanket draped across her lap, worrying the frayed hem with her fingers. "I thought your ego would appreciate the interest." "Yeah, but it's weird coming from you. I'm used to you monologuing, not playing twenty questions." "Perhaps it's a Christmas miracle," suggested Harrow, with an expression so absolutely devoid of joy that Gideon couldn't help but laugh. [Harrow and Gideon burn down a church on Xmas.]

"when it's over" by Adertily (2.5k)

Harrowhark had sworn to herself to live to see the girl in the locked tomb awaken. Alecto has risen. Now God is dead, along with everyone who had ever been dear to her - and Gideon has returned as a distorted creature. The war is over. Harrow wishes she could be too. Or: A character study based on Harrow's suicidal ideation and Gideon's determination to never run anywhere unless she absolutely has to.

"Supernova Bloom!" by sinshine (13k)

"It's just for a week, and then you never have to see me again," said Gideon. "I don't have time to find anyone else." And, "Please." Slowly, Harrow took her hand off the door and cautiously turned around. Gideon watched a dozen unspoken questions flicker across her face. She voiced none of them, but eventually settled on an expression of grim resignation. "I suppose I could suffer you for a week." [Gideon needs help getting her new flower shop ready for the grand opening. Harrow needs cash.]

"I still need your teeth around my organs" by sinshine (7.8k)

Although she was a beloved Daughter and a talented necromancer, Gideon's greatest vice was that she dearly loved to fuck around and find out. Knowing this, perhaps it shouldn't have been as shocking when she lifted one of Nova's hands, flipped it over, and kissed her palm. [4 times Gideon kisses Harrow, 1 time Harrow kisses Gideon]

"cuckoo, cuckoo" by sashawire (1.2k)

What Wake gives it is not a name. To do so would be a moronic, unnecessary cruelty. But she does deign to give it the microscopic dignity of a title, a goal, a purpose. Bomb. Eighteen years later, in the rubble of a once-sacred home, Harrowhark Nonagesimus reaches up and touches Gideon Nav’s grit-covered, blood-rimed face, splits a laugh like the world is ending, and calls her “flower.” * Six times God's unwanted daughter was nicknamed, and once she wasn't.

"my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear" by sashawire (<1k) ♥︎

Gideon chomps into her tongue as hard as she can convince herself, stifling a very dignified squawk. Her eyes water, Emperor’s left tit that fucking hurts, but—it works. Blood weeps from the bite marks, creeping down the back of her throat, up into her nasal cavity, staining her teeth. Okay. She has blood in her mouth. Blood that, somehow, needs to get into Harrow’s mouth. * Step #6: Consume the flesh.

"fifteen percent concentrated power of will" by surreptitiously (9k)

Teaching someone to do a push-up is a love language, when that person is very annoying.

"GHAZAL WHERE I'M BEGGING YOU TO TOUCH ME" by igneousbitch (12k)

You had your body and I had mine, and it was a miracle. Your hands against my face were a miracle. The rest of your meat attached to your hands was a prayer answered and a promise broken, but we were flush and gasping and alive, and Harrow—I really thought you might’ve kissed me then. But I felt it happen. The way your breath suddenly stilled, and your body locked up beneath mine, remembering. How with splintering gentleness, you pushed me away. “I’m so sorry,” was the second thing you said upon waking. The first thing had been my name. Stranded in a safehouse on an Edenite moon, Gideon and Harrow try to put themselves back together.

"catch you on the flip side, sugar lips" by corpsesoldier (4.9k)

Maybe if Harrow's brain runs enough scenarios, she'll find a way to keep what she's lost.

"hand to heart, I swear" by corpsesoldier (5k)

Gideon has a broken heart, and there's only one necromancer who can fix it.

Medium (15-30k)

"If you're doing it right you'll break their ribs" by almostnectarine (22.4k)

"How do you know Nonagesimus has gone somewhere dangerous?" asked Isaac. "Have you wired some kind of alert system?" "It's, uh. It's on the schedule," said Gideon. "I just... forgot. Because of the bread." Nobody was convinced by this, least of all Gideon. "It's a Ninth House thing," Gideon went on, backing away with increasing desperation. This was a slightly more plausible explanation, if only because nobody wanted to look too closely at what fell under the awful skeletal-ribbed and rotting umbrella of Ninth House things. "Gotta go—!" And she was out the door, gone. But it wasn't a Ninth House thing, except inasmuch as it was happening to the only two representatives of the noble and decrepit Ninth House on this quite literally godforsaken rock. Gideon knew Harrow had gone somewhere dangerous—knew that Harrow was back in the lab where they had only just completed a horrible trial—because she could see it, clear as day: an awful overlay on her vision of that terrible dangerous room and a pair of terrible dangerous hands drawing some kind of ward next to the plinth. The hands were definitely Harrow's. This was definitely a problem.

"If Home Is Where the Heart Is (Then We're All Just Fucked)" by JeanLuciferGohard (17k) ♥︎

When Gideon Nav gets a call that her ex-girlfriend, who never bothered to change her designated emergency contact, is in the hospital, she goes against her better judgement and responds. Everything after that just gets more complicated.

"blue gray green lavender" by smolranger (29k) ♥︎

Laser Radial sailor Gideon Nav just wants pass her classes, win a few regattas, and keep her head down. FJ sailor Harrowhark Nonagesimus has grand plans to qualify for the Olympics, preserve her parent's legacy, and save her home town. Despite the ties binding them together, the two have kept their college lives carefully separate for two years. But when Harrow's helm, Ortus, suffers a concussion mid-way through the fall season, their carefully separated lives collide. Harrow needs someone capable of taking Ortus' place for the remainder of the season or her Olympic dreams — and Canaan College's entire sail team — are in peril. And Gideon is her only option.

"Daughters of Hungry Ghosts" by zoicite (24k)

Harrow and Gideon and times they have (and also have not) shared a bed over the years.

"Disney World, Florida" by softieghost (24.6k) [Part 2 of "Holy Cross, Alaska"]

After the events of Alaska, Harrow thanks Gideon the only way she knows how: devotion. -- Chapter 3: The journey concludes. More confessions.

"we've got a good thing goin' " by sinshine (14.6k) ♥︎

“Not to sound ungrateful, but being here makes me wish that you had left me for dead,” said Harrow. Gideon had been staring hard at the face of the fountain’s statue. She was pretty sure that it was carved in the likeness of Naberius himself, but she didn’t want to say it out loud and make it true. She shook her head and turned to Harrow. “Leaving me to live out eternity in your bony sock puppet of a body? Hard pass.” Palamedes and Camilla shared a look. It was the mutual understanding of two people who had been trapped in close quarters with the bickering of Gideon Nav and Harrowhark Nonagesimus for far too long. [Team 69 hide out in Babs's vacation home. Because it's not like he's using it anyway.]

"Cake by the Ocean" by zoicite (15k)♥︎

Okay, so the thing was, Gideon had always been shit at plans. She knew that. Everyone knew that, but this--she really didn’t think it would be this hard! Gideon’s voice was like the least memorable thing about her. Bargaining her voice for a well-shaped set of human legs--that really should have worked in her favor.

"careful fear and (un)dead devotion" by sinshine (23k)

[Gideon and Harrow wake up back in their own bodies but both of them are missing large parts of their memory. Camilla tries not to kill everyone.]

"who ya gonna call?" by igneousbitch (24k)

“Fret not, honeybun.” Gideon shook her red hair out of her eyes, belligerent. “I’m not totally sold on your whole skepticism thing.” “Well,” Harrow said, ignoring the nickname. She turned to the rest of the room, clearing her throat politely before addressing the empty air. “Ghosts, if you’re real, give us a sign. Make a noise. Move something. Send a shiver down our backs. Whisper softly into Nav’s left ear—” “I seriously fucking hate you.” - (Casual sex and paranormal investigation. Not necessarily in that order.) (or: the Buzzfeed Unsolved AU in which Gideon is ready to fight a ghost, and Harrow just wants to be haunted.)

Long(>30k):

"Beneath a Blue and Foreign Sky" by zoicite (35k)

Harrow has a decision to make.

"A Heart Full Of Sutures" by Rohad (40k)

All Gideon wanted was to get outside and ride her motorcycle. No part of that plan had included eight weeks in Canaan Medical Center with a broken Pelvis and the meanest little doctor this side of the eastern seabord.

"Midnight at the Mithraeum" by zoicite (66k) ♥︎

It'd been two years since Gideon Nav gathered her wine key and her gaming license and escaped The Locked Tomb, a speakeasy-style cocktail bar managed by the hateful Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Now, dealing tables at The Mithraeum Hotel & Casino, things were really looking up. So when Gideon scored a date with the most beautiful showgirl in the Gilded Halls of Ida, the last thing she expected was to wake up married to her old nemesis and former coworker. The story starts the night of Gideon's date and alternates between the events leading up to the wedding and the weeks that follow as Gideon tries to navigate life married to someone who claims to want nothing more than to forget she exists.

"Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea" by pipistrelle (90k)

Being the journal of Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus, chronicling the journey of the Emperor's warship Cenotaph on its hunt to slay an immortal Resurrection Beast. Or: the Moby Dick crossover AU that nobody asked for.

"The Darkest Night, The Brightest Light" by eternaleponine (50k)

Harrowhark has known for a long time that her home's financial situation is dire, and not getting better. She has plans to fix it all, but can't implement them until she turns eighteen in a few months. When her parents announce that the best (perhaps only) way to save Drearburh is to marry off its heir, Harrow realizes the timeline has changed and she needs to take action now to save her home... and herself. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all. Enter Gideon Nav. Detested foe, and Harrow's only hope.

"putting your fist through a thick sheet of glass (i know you don't want to)" by oretsev (46k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus and Gideon Nav have always been at each other’s throats, and the animosity has only intensified since the death of Harrow’s parents. But when a car accident leaves Gideon without any memories of her past, Harrow sees a chance at the clean slate she’s wanted for years. Becoming involved in Gideon’s recovery assuages some of the guilt, but as she and Gideon become closer and increasingly involved in each other's lives, Harrow worries that some of her secrets may be more than she can atone for.

Ongoing:

"semi-charmed kinda life" by strangedelight (182k+) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Gideon asked questions. Harrow surprised her with answers. They reached an agreement; they decided to be smart, to be patient. Gideon made a promise, Harrow gave her one in return. Wait and see. OR the year is 1994, and Gideon and Harrow leave their small town for life in the city. OR team 69 roommates au only this time it's the 90s

"Intern the Sixth" by apocalypticTaco (33k+)

ADDRESSING THE HEIR TO THE NINTH HOUSE, OR PRESUMED EQUIVALENT: PALAMEDES SEXTUS, HEIR TO THE SIXTH HOUSE, PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS TO THE NINTH AND REQUESTS A FORMAL ARRANGEMENT WHEREIN HIS MASTER WARDEN AND CAVALIER APPRENTICESHIP UNDER THE NINTH FOR FOUR YEARS IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SIXTH’S SERVICES. *Details to be discussed. Please turn to back page. Timeframe variable. Services and agreements variable upon the Ninth's request. An internship of this caliber is highly unprecedented and likely unheard of, but any information valuable to the Ninth and into the Tomb will remain undisclosed upon request; Primary experience and study is required as the Master Warden has already decided upon such being his final thesis prior to his end studies. No takebacks, no denials. Pleased to meet you. Palamedes Sextus, Heir to the Sixth and Master Warden and Camilla the Sixth, Cavalier Primary and Warden's Hand of the Library

TO THE MASTER WARDEN: FORMALLY REJECTED.

"What's Eating Gideon Nav?" by labyrinthineRetribution (40k+)

After a miserable fifteen years at Blessed Saint Anastasia's School for Girls, Gideon's luck finally changes.

"We Have Always Lived in the Apartment" by labyrinthineRetribution (171k+)

John looks up from his Jack and Coke in drunken curiosity. "What's with the face, Harrowhark?" he asks, genuinely concerned. "Contrary to popular belief," Gideon butts in, "her face just fuckin' looks like that, bitch." She tends to use "bitch" as liberally as commas when off her ass. "You're piss drunk," you shoot back. "And you, my good bitch, are just as contemptible as the day you clawed your way up from Hell." - It is Harrowhark Nonagesimus' birthday, and it only gets worse from there.

PWP (basically):

"I'll hold in these hands all that remains" by corvidlesbian (6.5k) ♥︎

“Do you want me to try?” Gideon said. “What?” “You got all hot and bothered without me trying. Do you want me to try?” Their newfound habit of cuddling gets interesting.

"sting of a wasp" by brightbolt, imperfectlyctor (42k) ♥︎

"You’re a virgin,” Gideon said, testing it out. "Huh." Harrow didn’t like the sound of that huh. She knew Gideon’s noises, and that was a thoughtful, sinister huh. That was the same huh she’d made before putting canned tuna in Crux’s work boots. Her eyes narrowed. “What.” Gideon cocked her head to the side. “Is there a reason you’re waiting?” There was no judgement in the question— only genuine curiosity. Perhaps it was this that made Harrow more inclined to answer. “I don’t have the time to look for someone new,” She shrugged. “And my available pool is… somewhat limited.” “Well,” Gideon said, with just a hint of conspiracy in those glittering golden eyes. “If you ever want to change that, you have my number.” What? What? Harrow blinked. “What?” Or: the five times Gideon and Harrow successfully bone, and the one time they don't.

"Suckle, Honey" by zoicite (7.9k)

“You crave my juice,” Gideon accused. “I do not crave your juice.” “Fuck, you do though. You went off to explore that study alone, without your cavalier, using a key that I nearly gave my life for, and then you snorted some powder that made you crave my juice! Harrow. I never would have let you sniff powder from a ten thousand year old jar.” This was untrue--Gideon probably wouldn’t have noticed Harrow breathing in a puff of jar powder until it was too late--but it sounded like something Camilla Hect might say, so Gideon went with it anyway. Camilla definitely would have stopped Palamedes from accidentally sniffing old as fuck Eighth House jarred juice addiction powder.

"Five Times We Hatefucked and One Time We Didn't" by rnanqo (8k)

“Fuck you,” you said. “Fuck me yourself, you coward.” You ran a hand through my hair, fisted it, and pulled my head up. From here I had a spectacular view of your weird blown-out seething expression, like I was the worst thing you’d ever seen. Also a view up your blood-crusted nostrils. Choice. “Maybe I will, Griddle,” you said. “Maybe I will stop fucking you over and start fucking you." Gideon and Harrow realize, abruptly, that their hatefucking is no longer hatefucking.

"a call to motion" by groundedsaucer (coasterchild) (10k) ♥︎

Harrow and Gideon watch a porno.

"put her canine teeth in the side of my neck" by stranded_star (8.8k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus is getting a PhD and a divorce. Against her better judgment, she goes out to the bar to celebrate and meets an incorrigible, absolutely ripped salt-and-paprika butch who takes her home and gives it to her good. To her horror, it's the best night of her life, and she sneaks home with her tail between her legs. Harrow has more important things to worry about - like raising her daughter and building the next stages of her career. But when her daughter's favorite teacher, someone named Griddle, turns about to be the Gideon she met at the bar, she's forced to contend with allowing herself (and her daughter) to find the happy ending she never thought they'd have. Featuring MILF!Harrow, Teacher!Gideon, and a very amused Camilla Hect.

"The Wound That Swallows" by seelieunseelie (7.8k)

Harrow can make out an uncomfortable amount of detail about Gideon’s body beneath. Powerful, strong as ever, yet somehow vulnerable for its supplication below Harrow’s. “Are we gonna get this over with?” Gideon says in a voice softly scratchy. She blushes then when Harrow sits on the edge of the bed. “It will hurt,” Harrow says. “Yeah,” Gideon says. “I think I can handle it.”

#holy shit this is way longer than i thought it would be #uhm i literally gave myself a headache i sat here for like 3 hours doing this #that being said if you have any fic recs lmk LOL #griddlehark #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #the locked tomb #tlt #tlt fic #tlt fanfiction #griddlehark fanfic #rec #long post

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saphronethaleph · 3 months ago

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Legitimacy

“Take the throne, my granddaughter,” Palpatine invited.

Rey blinked.

“Why?” she asked.

“...what?” Palpatine asked.

“Why me?” Rey replied. “I am, by all accounts, the least suitable person you could possibly want – I hate you, I hate the Empire, and I also have no diplomatic skills.”

“Because I wish to pass on the throne to my descendant,” Palpatine said.

“Why?” Rey asked, more forcefully this time.

Palpatine glared at her.

Rey cocked her head slightly.

“...well?” she asked. “Do you actually care about what happens to the Empire after you die? You’ve built a fleet of over a thousand Star Destroyers with the capability to blow up every planet in the galaxy. That’s sort of out of keeping with-”

“The Sith Empire will rise!” Palpatine declared. “And, with my bloodline on the throne, it will last forever!”

“It won’t,” Rey said. “Once you’re dead, if you put me in charge it’ll last less than a day, depending on how long it takes to flush all of your loyalists into space and get elections started.”

Palpatine leaned forwards with a frown.

“Hereditary monarchies are more stable,” he said.

“No, they’re not,” Rey replied. “They’re not more stable, it’s just that when something collapses it tends to collapse into a hereditary monarchy, as someone seizes power and passes on power to their descendants. So you have a period of a few hundred years with four or five succession crises, each of which for any other government would be a visible collapse, but for the monarchy it’s just going from hereditary monarchy to hereditary monarchy.”

Palpatine stared at her.

“And you say you have no diplomatic skills?” he asked.

“I did do a distance learning course on constitutional theory,” Rey conceded. “But about forty percent of it was how you deliberately broke a system that had lasted a thousand years just so you could point at the wreckage and say it needed fixing. And then how long did that last?”

“...I made mistakes,” Palpatine admitted, though it looked like he wasn’t very good at this whole “admitting things” lark. “But still! You will take the throne. It is your destiny.”

Rey laughed.

“Less than twenty-four hours ago you sent Kylo Ren out to, and I quote, ‘kill the girl’,” she said. “You’re making this up as you go along, aren’t you?”

“How do you know that?” Palpatine asked. “The first bit, I mean. Not the second. The second is wrong.”

“Force vision,” Rey shrugged. “For both.”

“I have an intricate plan that you cannot even comprehend!” Palpatine declared.

“Doubt,” Rey said, clearly.

“All right, then, I will force your hand!” Palpatine said. “Unless you become my heir and the new ruler of the Sith Empire, I will have my fleet destroy every planet in the galaxy!”

“Starting with this one, presumably?” Rey asked.

“What?” Palpatine asked. “No. I would leave this one for last. Obviously.”

“Right,” Rey frowned. “So… see, I did hear about Operation Cinder and how you wanted to destroy the whole galaxy, and now you want to rule the galaxy or destroy it, so… your plan, if I understand this correctly, is that either your descendants will end up ruling the galaxy or you’ll burn it to the ground.”

“Yes!” Palpatine agreed. “Finally, you understand! Now, fulfil your destiny!”

“...so,” Rey said. “Who was your heir before?”

Palpatine blinked.

“What?” he asked.

“Before,” Rey repeated. “When you were the Emperor of the Galactic Empire. You didn’t have an heir then. My father didn’t exist until you cloned him seven years after the Empire fell.”

Palpatine glowered at her.

“...like, this is just a fundamental legitimacy problem,” Rey continued. “There’s thirty million crew on those ships out there and all of them know me as the girl who’s done more to mess up the First Order than anyone else in the galaxy. I’ve got a reputation. You should really have thought this through better, like, found me on Jakku or something.”

“You were left there to hide you,” Palpatine said.

“That sounds like something said by a man who’s really keen to use the Force to explain everything except the thing he doesn’t want to explain,” Rey replied.

Palpatine stared at her.

“Are you… bitter, my grandchild?” he asked. “Yes, feel the Dark Side flow through you!”

“Not everything is about the Dark Side,” Rey said.

“It is if I say it is,” Palpatine replied. “It is a Palpatine speciality!”

“Really?” Rey asked. “All right, then.”

She cleared her throat.

“Knowledge and the use of minimal force is the way of the Light,” she said, waving her hand. “And I know how a repulsorlift system works.”

“What?” Palpatine asked, then noticed something.

All the Star Destroyers hovering overhead had suddenly decided to stop hovering.

Rey was too busy running for cover and curling into a ball.

#palpatine #star wars #another bad day for palps #rey #don't think I posted this one before...

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euporiez · 4 months ago

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48. If there could be an Ace Attorney crossover with whatever franchise you’d like, which one would you choose? (Does not need to be a video-game franchise)

this is so extremely obscure but there's an alternate history browser game called fallen London which is set in the late victorian era, but in an alternate future where London was taken over by a pack of sapient huge bats from space and dragged into a mysterious cave underground called "The Neath". down there, death isn't permanent and all sorts of weird shit happens. Anyway I think about a fallen London and TGAA crossover all the time!! I've even made designs for some of my fallen london player characters for if they were in a theoretical tgaa crossover it would go crazy trust me

#collapsing-galaxy asks...#euporie answers #thank you for the ask ^ ^#enoch drebber would THRIVE in the neath

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champselysees · 1 year ago

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I always admired people who can write on their phone, and now I might just become one of them at this rate tbh…

#work is… so slow rn #send asks or something honestly. or come yap in dms #i have the ask game from like two weeks back. i will finally get on with that probably #and i found a very old ask from San about galaxy collapse that moved from askbox to drafts and I forgot about it :(((#I cannot believe I forgot about a chance to yap about platonic stuff in galaxy collapse. that’s like half of the appeal of the fic for me #erika.txt

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emacrow · 1 year ago

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When danny beat pariah king and Dan, he didn't expect the damn crown and ring to follow him.

He tried everything so far to asking clockwork for help only to be told some cryptic bullshit.

The fucking crown and ring followed him everywhere even in the shower that one time scared the shit outta of him for ancient sake. It seem scolding them like a dog(thanks to tucker advise) actually work for a few days..

It was weird as fuck to see a crown and ring of rage actually look depressed as shit in the corner with a droopy blue coloring in the corner of his room under his dirt clothes a Camouflage.

It was like some self sentient object gone wrong.

Those two were diabolical, almost nearly tricking him into wearing them that one time during the school play, fortunately his ghost sense went off the moment he was about to put on the ring part.

That lead to another scolding that lasted a couple days of peace.

Until the day, he got caught by the GIW while distracted with skulker and techno again...

Being trapped to a table, mouth gagged and limbs binded like a insect held by needles pins with stolen fenton locks for dissection had him full blown out panic as the doctors left to get their new equipments after the scapel broke during the mid cutting.

Only for the crown and ring to appear like a shadow in above him. Danny was mentally arguing with himself about whether to accept his fate or get dissected and organs harvasted before he huffed through his nose and slightly nod as best as he could with the strapped helding his head to the table could do.

The crown floating toward his head, placing itself on his white hair while the ring slipped into his middle finger, before a blinding light nearly engulped the room.

The black crown covered in blue flames changed ad morphs into a aurora lights shaped crown designed in frozen ice as the ring changed from a skull to tiny galaxy like marble..

Danny could feel a surge of power nearly engulp his very core as voices whispers him, stars, galaxies, universe, the four dimension, multiple of parallel worlds and all secrets of the entire universe crammed into his brain nearly torn at his human mind before a portal below him opened sucked him in.

By the time the doctor came back, the subject on the table had escaped.

....

Danny only woke, laying on some type of ground, before he noticed that he was a bit different, enhanced like claws with sharp black nails..

As he noticed the ground was red with drips of glowing green ectoplasm blood before looking up to the sky..

To see stars above, and earth very far off on the right..

Darkness started to swirl a bit as his mind subconscious realize he might not be on earth and he might be on Mars.... first human on mars... before his body exhausted collapse back into the red dirt of mars.

Unawared of the forseen event as the astronaut crew on mars find a alien kid during exploration..

Fic inspired by this link here

#danny phantom #ghost king danny #the martian #Danny nearly got dissected #danny phantom prompt #de aged danny

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missmaymay13 · 2 months ago

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true feeling - j.hughes

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

j.hughes x fem!oc

summary: based off of the song " true feeling " by galantis

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Jack didn’t remember what song was playing.

That felt wrong to admit, considering how music has a way of burning moments into memory. But that night—the night he met her—everything blurred into one long, golden haze. The guitars. The laughter. The fireworks bursting like small galaxies overhead. The scent of trampled grass, sweat, sunscreen, and summer in its purest, most unfiltered form.

He didn’t remember the song.

He just remembered her.

It was the third night of Boots and Hearts, somewhere between headliners and heartache. Jack had come with a handful of teammates, the kind of trip that was meant to be loud and rowdy, fueled by cheap drinks and stories they’d laugh about later. But under all that noise, Jack carried a quiet restlessness. Like he was waiting for something he couldn’t name.

And then he saw her.

She wasn’t trying to be seen, and maybe that was why he couldn’t stop looking. There was no glitter on her cheeks, no dramatic entrances. Just a girl standing by the second stage, hips swaying gently to a rhythm only she heard, boots coated in dust and eyes lit like lanterns. She looked like she belonged to the music. Like she was the music.

He found himself walking toward her before he even made the choice to. No clever line. No plan. Just instinct.

"Hey," he said, his voice surprisingly steady.

She turned. A smile played at her lips, lazy and amused.

"Hey yourself."

They didn’t trade last names or talk about what they did. He didn’t tell her he played hockey. She didn’t tell him anything more than she wanted to. It wasn’t about the world beyond the festival. It was about now. A bubble outside of reality, built from shared smiles and fleeting touches.

They danced. Not performative, not polished. Just two bodies moving with the music, letting it carry them. She laughed with her whole face. Her hand found his without asking. And when a slow song drifted in, she pulled him closer with a confidence that left him dizzy. She swayed with him like they’d done it a hundred times before, like they knew how to find the same heartbeat.

Jack remembered the way the stage lights curled around her profile. The glow of blue and gold kissing her cheekbones. The way her lips moved around lyrics he didn’t recognize, eyes closed like she was somewhere else. Somewhere he wanted to be.

And he remembered this aching, swelling thought: don’t let this end.

After the music faded, they wandered away from the crowd, laughter trailing behind them like footprints. They found a quiet patch of grass under an open stretch of sky, where the stars blinked and spun and didn’t feel so far. They collapsed side by side, hearts still racing, shoulders brushing.

"First time here?" he asked.

"Yeah. You?"

He nodded. “Guess we’re figuring it out together.”

She laughed. It was soft this time. Tired. Honest.

She lay back in the grass, her hair spreading out like ink, and stared up.

"You ever wish you could freeze a moment?" she asked.

Jack didn’t hesitate. "Like this one."

She turned, eyes locking with his. And then she kissed him.

There was no hesitation, no buildup. Just the warmth of her lips and the taste of lemonade and something more. Her hands curled into the fabric of his shirt, and time collapsed. The world faded. There was only her breath against his cheek and the electricity that bloomed in his chest, so overwhelming it nearly hurt.

In that moment, Jack felt more awake than he ever had. Like every cell in his body stood at attention. Like he’d stumbled into something sacred.

They lay tangled beneath the sky as the night deepened. They didn’t talk much. Didn’t need to. The silence stretched around them like a secret. Her head on his chest, his hand in her hair, their breaths falling in sync. He could feel the slow rise and fall of her body against his, like waves lapping the shore.

Eventually, they fell asleep.

And when he woke up—

She was gone.

No note. No number. No name. Just the cool echo of her absence and the imprint of her body beside his, pressed into the grass like a memory that didn’t want to fade.

He searched. Of course he did.

He combed the festival grounds. Asked strangers if they’d seen her. Replayed every detail in his mind like maybe he’d missed something—some clue, some hint. He waited by the stage they’d met. Waited until the sun set again.

She never came.

When the final artist performed and the last fireworks bloomed across the sky, Jack stood in the crowd, surrounded by thousands, and felt completely alone.

Summer ended. Life returned to its regular rhythm. Games. Flights. Flashing cameras and locker room banter. But nothing tasted quite right. It all felt just slightly off-key.

He searched in cities and crowds and moments that almost felt like magic. But it never matched. Nothing came close.

Because it hadn’t been about her name, or her story, or who they were outside that night. It had been about the feeling. That split-second ignition. That spark that made the whole world glow. Like the universe tilted and said, here.

He never found it again.

People always said love was something you built. A slow burn, a choice, a commitment. And maybe that was true. But what Jack had felt that night wasn’t built.

It was.

Immediate. Intoxicating. Infinite.

And then it was over.

Jack still thought of her sometimes. Not with the same sharp ache. Not with the same desperation. But when a summer breeze hit just right, or when the right song hummed through his headphones, it pulled something loose in him.

He’d remember the curve of her smile.

The weight of her fingers twined with his.

The way the stars had looked that night—too close, too bright, like they were leaning in to watch.

She was the best part of a song he never got the name of.

And Jack knew, in the quiet corners of his heart, he’d be listening for it forever.

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lunaatthezoo · 14 days ago

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New Fic | Tarot & Chocolate

Moodboard made by @ater-love

I have started writing a new fanfic completely based on a headcanon by @ater-love (which you can see in this post) that I am sooooo excited for. It will be another modern AU Elriel fic, but this time magic and powers will play a big role.

This will be a high-tension, very steamy, alternating-POV longfic with a heavy focus on magic. Don't worry, I am going to be updating Sin & Salvation right along with it.

Chapter 1 will be posted soon.

Summary:

There is more than meets the eye in the city of Velaris. Magic lays hidden in plain sight, recognized only by wielders, the rest of the citizens ignorant to the supernatural goings on in the city.

Elain is a confident magic wielder, using her powers of Sight and earthwork to make a living as a fortune teller, living a simple, peaceful life despite the recent heartbreak she has endured. Azriel is an aloof and emotionally unavailable financial manager at a business firm, adamantly opposed to anything that cannot be unequivocally proven by the scientific method and rational thought.

But when he meets Elain, Azriel's commitment to rationality begins to fray as she slowly awakens something that has been crawling beneath his skin since childhood. Something he has spent years denying, refusing to remember, refusing to explore. And when Elain meets Azriel, her Sight begins to show her flashes of her past life, a past life where something terrible and tragic happened, and she fears history will repeat itself.

Their immediate and persistent attraction and draw to each other creates turbulence in both of their lives when their heads and their hearts cannot align, and their togetherness forces them both to confront pasts they would rather forget.

I would just like to add that Azriel is a huge slut like will fuck anything that moves (man, woman, nonbinary person, he doesn't care as long as he can pound them from behind) just to feel less dead inside, and I couldn't find a way to gracefully put this in the summary but it's important to his character and also very very hot.

Thank you so much @ater-love for your brilliant Elain-as-a-fortune-teller headcanon and for letting me bounce ideas and excerpts off you! And for this beautiful moodboard.

Preview below the cut (NSFW warning!):

****Elain is misspelled on purpose, have faith my dears****

Azriel collapsed onto his bed thirty minutes later after having showered, brushed his teeth, and changed his sheets. He may be a piece of shit, but he was a neat piece of shit, and didn't like the idea of sleeping in Mickey-Jason’s cum. Fuck, he hated himself. Why did he have to be such a goddamn asshole? That was a perfectly nice, very fucking good-looking man who Azriel was sure he would never see again. Especially not after he got his name wrong. He had been so off his game for the last couple of months. His pattern was the same as it had always been: see a beautiful stranger at the bar, eye fuck them until they approached him, bring them home to his condo, pound the fuck out of them and send them on their way. But he normally wasn't so goddamn removed. Distracted. He sometimes even texted them for a round two another night. But not since her. Since that one spring night months ago, when he had seen her at Rita’s and thought she was the most beautiful human he had ever encountered. With her dark brown eyes that sparkled like galaxies and her honey-brown hair that hung in whimsical curls over her breasts. Fuck, she had been like nothing he had ever seen. Elaine. He hadn't been able to remember another person’s name since then. Since he had prowled up to her at the bar, asking if he could buy her a drink. Since they had moved on the dance floor together, her short but curvy frame sucking him in like a fucking black hole. Since he had brought her back to this very room, and had laid her down and fucked her. But no–that wasn't really right. First she had fucked his fingers with her mouth, slowly and sensually, until he was begging her to stop before he came. And then she was grinding on him, both of them still clothed, soaking his thigh through her tights as she rode him. And then she had opened her legs for him and he had feasted on her perfect cunt until she was screaming as he thrusted his fingers inside her while his lips sucked on her clit. And then she had climbed atop him, both of their clothes finally shed, and had fucked herself on his cock hard and fast, until he was moaning as he came inside her. And he hadn’t fucking given her his number. He had been so absolutely stunned by her, her face and the way she moved and her soft voice and huge eyes and ethereal spirit and god the way she had fucked him, that he hadn’t even remembered to give her his goddamn number.

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #elriel fanfic #acotar #elriel fic #azriel x elain #new fanfic #modern au elriel #au elriel #modern acotar #au acotar #fortune-teller elain #businessman azriel

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aspenmissing · 8 days ago

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ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ

ᴛᴏɴʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 3179 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ, ᴘʀᴇꜱᴜᴍᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ (ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴏɴ ɪᴛ! ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏ, ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴡᴀɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴛᴏɴʏ

You were there when he got his first black eye trying to charm a senator’s daughter. You still remembered the way he strutted over to her like he was auditioning for his own movie, flashing that crooked, teenage grin — so smug, so sure of himself — until her bodyguard stepped in and decked him square across the jaw.

And then, there he was, bleeding and laughing and already asking you if he still looked handsome with a busted lip.

You told him no.

You lied.

Because Tony Stark had always been impossible to look away from.

You were there when he built his first engine in the garage, fingers smudged with oil, eyes alight with pride, like he’d just cracked the universe open.

He was seventeen — cocky, brilliant, sunburnt, and sweat-soaked in a band tee two sizes too big and fraying at the sleeves. The kind of summer evening where the air hung thick with heat and potential, and the scent of gasoline, grease, and half-melted candy bars clung to the walls of the workshop like wallpaper.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him, legs sticking slightly to the concrete, holding a flashlight in one hand and a parts list in the other. Every once in a while, he'd reach over to nudge your shoulder or take a bolt from your palm without looking — like you were just another part of the process. Like your presence was a given, not a question.

You didn’t mind. You never had.

Because there was something sacred about being close to Tony Stark when he was building. When he was in the zone — all sharp focus and endless energy, muttering equations under his breath and brushing his damp hair back with the heel of his palm — it felt like watching a star collapse into itself and spark a new galaxy in the aftermath.

He’d hum sometimes, absentmindedly — low, tuneless, off-key — while tweaking wires or tightening screws. And every so often, he’d look over at you with that boyish glint in his eye, like he couldn’t believe he was doing it, like he couldn’t believe you were there with him, like the whole thing might vanish if he blinked.

You’d pretend not to notice the way his shirt kept riding up when he reached for something on the workbench, exposing the dip of his back and a constellation of freckles you knew by heart. You’d pretend not to watch the way grease stained the edges of his jaw when he wiped sweat with the back of his hand. You’d pretend not to care when your fingers brushed while passing him tools and he didn’t flinch — not like he did with other people.

Because that was the thing about Tony.

He didn’t let people touch him much. Not unless he was performing. Not unless he was controlling the moment, the contact, the outcome. But with you, it was different. Always had been.

You could tap his arm to get his attention, lean your head against his shoulder while watching him sketch out blueprints, nudge his knee with yours to make a point — and he never pulled away. Sometimes, he even leaned into it.

You didn’t realize how rare that was until much later.

That night, when the engine finally roared to life — sputtering at first, then humming like a living thing — he’d nearly tackled you in celebration. Laughed loud and victorious, hands still smeared with grease, eyes lit up like the Fourth of July.

“We did it,” he grinned, passing you a soda from the mini fridge, his smile so wide it nearly split his face.

You took it with shaking hands, heart thudding in your chest, trying to ignore the fact that your legs were still tangled together on the floor. Trying to ignore the way his knee was brushing yours. Trying not to stare at the black smudges on his cheek or the way he’d given you the first soda — like it was a trophy, like you mattered.

“We did,” you echoed, your voice soft, almost reverent.

And he looked at you then — really looked. Not just a glance, not just a passing flick of his eyes, but something deeper. Slower. Like he saw through the layers you tried to keep in place. Like he’d known, even then, that you were already his.

And maybe you had been.

Because somewhere between the smell of oil and the whir of spinning gears, you’d fallen for Tony Stark — not the legacy, not the genius, not the heir to a billion-dollar empire, but the boy on the garage floor with smudged hands and a heart he didn’t show the world.

You never told him that night.

But later, when you wiped the sweat off his brow with the hem of your shirt and he let his forehead rest against your shoulder for a beat too long, you thought maybe he already knew.

And then… years later… you were there when everything came crashing down in Afghanistan. When he was kidnapped. When the headlines turned from glitz and glamour to dread and speculation.

The first month was chaos. The second, agony. By the third, you were barely sleeping, barely eating. Just pacing the floors of his empty mansion, praying to whatever would listen that he was still alive. That he was still him.

You were one of the few who refused to believe he was dead. Everyone else had begun to mourn — quiet whispers behind closed doors, board members talking succession, Pepper trying to hold it all together with trembling hands and red eyes. But you wouldn’t let yourself break. Not yet. Not until you saw a body. Not until you heard his voice.

Then came the call.

He was alive.

And before you could fully process what that meant, where he was, how he’d survived — you were already moving. Racing through streets, hands trembling as you gripped the steering wheel, a brown paper bag full of greasy burgers riding shotgun. His favourite kind — the one with the grilled onions and extra pickles, the kind he used to bribe you with when he wanted help in the lab or a distraction from board meetings.

When you got to the tarmac, the world slowed.

There were so many people — reporters, military personnel, med techs. Flashes from cameras, the whirring of helicopters overhead. But all you could see was him.

Tony.

He stepped off that jet looking thinner than you remembered. Older. Like the sand had sanded down all his sharp edges. His face was gaunt, beard grown out, his eyes shadowed by things you couldn’t begin to imagine.

He blinked against the light. Looked around like he didn’t recognize the world anymore.

And then he saw you.

The second his eyes locked on yours, something in his expression cracked — like the armour he’d already begun building around himself faltered, just for a moment.

You didn’t wait.

You ran to him.

Didn’t care about the cameras. Didn’t care about protocol. You shoved past some poor intern trying to keep people back and practically launched yourself into his arms.

He caught you — of course he did — though he staggered back a step from the impact. But then he held you like a lifeline, like if he let go, he might vanish all over again.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just wrapped your arms around him and pressed your face into his shoulder, trying not to sob. He smelled like sweat, blood, metal and something scorched. But he was real. He was solid.

He was alive.

And he was holding you just as tightly.

When you finally pulled back, your hands found his face, your fingers brushing over the lines that hadn’t been there before, over the smudges of exhaustion and pain and defiance.

“You okay?” you whispered, though you already knew the answer would be complicated.

He didn’t answer right away.

He looked at you the way a drowning man might look at the surface — desperate, hopeful, disbelieving.

“You brought me burgers?” was all he said.

You let out a breathless laugh, tears still clinging to your lashes as you shoved the warm bag into his chest. “Don’t say I never do anything for you, Stark.”

He smiled then. Not the cocky smirk that made headlines. Not the fake, camera-ready grin.

A real one. Small. Grateful. Raw.

“I missed you,” he said, quiet as a confession.

“I missed you more,” you answered, barely above a whisper. He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he still deserved you. You hugged him like you never left.

Because he was still your Tony. Maybe quieter now. Maybe lonelier. But underneath the metal and the trauma and the press headlines, he was still the same boy who once called you at 3 a.m. because he needed help with something.

And maybe that was why it hurt sometimes.

To watch him bury himself in parties and press. To watch him flirt with anything that moved. To hear the world call him a genius, billionaire, playboy — like that was all he was. Like the man who still called you when he couldn’t sleep.

He did.

You knew him.

Every broken, brilliant inch.

You were there when he started to change — not just in the headlines, but in the quiet hours. When he disappeared into the workshop for days, chasing something raw and angry and desperate with the same hands that once built engines for fun. You brought him food he didn’t eat, sat in the corner while he soldered circuits in silence, listened as he talked to himself more than he talked to you.

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t have to. Because you saw it in his eyes — the shift, the weight, the guilt.

Afghanistan had broken something in him, but it had also forged something new. Something jagged and unfinished and burning. You were there the night he finished the suit — the first one — watching as he stood in front of it with something like awe and fear tangled in his features.

And when he turned to you and asked, quietly, “What do you think?” You told him the truth.

That he looked like a man who had decided to carry the weight of the world on his back and hadn’t yet realized it would crush him.

You wanted to stop him. You didn’t. Because you knew you couldn’t. Because you’d loved him from the moment he offered you a wrench instead of a handshake.

You never told him. You didn’t have to.

But God, some nights, it burned inside your chest like his arc reactor had been accidentally wired into your ribcage — steady and constant and aching. An echo of everything unsaid.

And little did you know…

He felt it too.

Had for years.

Maybe that’s why he always called you first. Maybe that’s why you were the one name no one ever saw, written in sharpie on the inside of the helmet. Not for show. Not for the press.

Just for him.

Just for you.

The tower was quiet that night.

No Avengers. No PR galas. No mission reports glowing on the conference table or threats on the horizon. No reporters outside, no flashbulbs, no Friday quipping through the speakers or bots skittering across the floor with trays of half-eaten sandwiches.

Just the low hum of electricity in the walls, the whir of hidden generators, and the subtle crackle of old jazz drifting through a vintage speaker Tony refused to upgrade. He claimed it had "soul." Said the slight hiss between notes made it feel like someone real was still playing. You suspected it reminded him of Howard, though he’d never admit that out loud.

The lights in the workshop were dimmed, warm and golden, casting long shadows across blueprints and prototypes. It felt like the rest of the world had folded itself away, leaving only this — this little pocket of time that belonged to no one but the two of you.

You were perched cross-legged on one of his cluttered workbenches, wearing a pair of leggings and one of his ancient MIT sweatshirts — the sleeves pushed up past your elbows, collar stretched out just enough to betray how many times you’d borrowed it and never given it back. The scent of motor oil clung to the fabric, faint but familiar, blending now with the spice of his cologne hanging faintly in the air.

This was your version of peace. The kind only found in the hush between long conversations and longer silences. When neither of you had to pretend.

No pretense. No performance.

Just Tony. And you.

He was half-buried under a mess of wires and unfinished armour plating, legs sticking out from beneath the latest prototype of his repulson tech. His arc reactor pulsed a steady, quiet glow beneath the thin black tank top he wore when he was too focused to care about anything but function. His hands — scarred, deft, always moving — reached out instinctively, and you handed him the screwdriver before he even asked.

“You’re in my head, you know that?” he said without looking up, voice dry but amused. “Terrifying.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed a washer lightly at his shin. “You love it.”

“I do.” His voice dropped, lost a little of its humour. Gentler now. More honest. “Too much, probably.”

You blinked. The words were quiet — almost casual — but they echoed louder than any explosion you’d ever heard.

You glanced down at the piece of tech you were toying with, but your fingers stilled, the metal suddenly cold in your palm. And when you finally looked up, he was watching you.

Not the way he watched the models at parties or the stage lights at expos. Not like a man who wanted to impress.

But like a man who was trying to memorize you. To freeze time with his eyes alone. Like you were a moment he couldn’t afford to lose.

“I never said thank you,” he said after a beat, fiddling with a bolt like it could distract him from the weight of his own words. “For staying. For always being there. Especially when I didn’t deserve it.”

You swallowed hard. “You didn’t have to.”

His gaze lifted, meeting yours with such sharp vulnerability it nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. “I did.”

Silence bloomed between you — thick and heavy with everything that had never been said. It felt like standing on the edge of something, the wind pushing at your back, daring you to take the leap.

You tried to anchor yourself. “You’re my best friend, Tony.”

He gave a short, brittle laugh, standing up too fast and pushing his fingers through his hair like he was trying to scrub the emotion out of his skull. He started to pace — classic Stark behaviour — like he was drafting a schematic with each step.

“That’s the problem,” he muttered.

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean—” He turned, gesturing to himself, then to you, as if that alone explained everything. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you cussed me out in the lab for almost blowing off my own damn hand.”

Your heart skipped.

“That was twelve years ago,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“I know.” He let out a dry laugh. “Believe me. I know.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence. Tony — Tony, who flirted like it was armor, who slept through feelings like they were background noise — was standing in front of you like a man unraveling, eyes wide with years of unspoken want.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I’m me,” he said, gesturing at himself again with a helpless smile. “And you’re… you. You’re kind. And good. And steady. And I’m—look at me.” He shook his head. “I’m a mess with a god complex and a press schedule.”

“Tony—”

“And I figured if I said anything, I’d ruin everything. I figured I’d push you away. And I couldn’t… I can’t lose you.”

The world tilted under your feet.

You stood up slowly, every nerve lit like a fuse, heart pounding hard enough to make your fingers tremble. You took a step toward him, then another, until there was only a breath between you.

“You thought you’d ruin it?” you asked softly.

Tony nodded, eyes locked to yours like you were the only real thing in the room.

You reached up and brushed your fingertips across his cheek, barely there, but enough to make his breath hitch.

“Tony… I thought I was the only one.”

He froze.

“You…?”

You gave him a small, sad smile — the one he’d seen a hundred times when you patched him up in med bay or sat on the edge of his bed after a panic attack. The one that always said I’m here even when you couldn’t say I love you.

“I’ve loved you since we made our first engine together all those years ago”

His expression crumpled, just for a second, like a man watching the last piece of a puzzle click into place after years of trying to force the wrong ones to fit.

Another heartbeat passed. Then two. Then—

His hands found your waist, tentative but certain, like he was still asking permission even after all this time. His thumb brushed against the hem of your sweatshirt — his sweatshirt — as if grounding himself.

One hand lifted, fingers ghosting along your jaw, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like it was sacred.

“Can I…?”

You didn’t answer with words.

You just leaned in.

And kissed him.

Slow. Gentle. Fierce in its restraint. Like opening a book you already knew by heart but had never dared to finish. Like every phone call at midnight, every shared silence, every almost had led to this.

His hands splayed against your back, pulling you in. Yours curled into his shirt, bunching the fabric over his heart. He kissed you like you were oxygen. Like he’d been drowning for years and finally found the surface.

And when you pulled back, just barely, your foreheads rested together, breath mingling in the space between.

“I should’ve kissed you years ago,” he murmured.

“I would’ve let you,” you whispered back.

He laughed then — a real laugh. Soft. Unarmoured. Just him.

And his mouth curved into a smile that was for you and you alone.

“So…” he began, already shifting back into humour like it was a second skin, “do we tell everyone you’re officially off the market, or should I build you a suit first?”

You laughed, breathless. “Let’s just start with dinner, Stark.”

“Dinner I can do.” He nodded solemnly. “I’m great at dinner. I’m phenomenal at dinner. Honestly, I might be the best dinner date on the planet—”

“Tony.”

“Right. Shutting up now.”

But he didn’t pull away.

Neither did you.

Because in that quiet workshop, with jazz humming in the background and years of longing finally collapsed into the space between your mouths, Tony Stark didn’t need a comeback.

He just held you like he was finally, finally home.

#Avengers #avengers fanfiction #reader insert #tony stark x reader #tony x reader

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starry-crossing-zone · 1 year ago

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General Storyteller - Rex

Summary: After the Battle of Kamino, Rex finds you surrounded by clone cadets. Length: 1.4k Warnings: Post-Battle; Lots of Teasing; Rex's Flirting is Improving

The battle of Kamino had yielded heavy and unfortunate losses, but the Republic managed to repel the Separatists in the end. Rex, after promoting Echo and Fives to ARC Troopers, sought out the generals. He walked over to where Jesse and Hardcase were relaxing, assuming they would have an idea.

“Has anyone seen the generals?” Rex asked, resting his bucket against his hip.

“General Skywalker’s at the south end of the city, but I have a feeling that you’re not asking about him,” Jesse quipped, causing Rex to narrow his eyes. “She’s with Kix in the infirmary.”

“You know how she always turns into a mother hen after battle,” Hardcase reminded his captain, leaning back against the wall. He elbowed Jesse with a mischievous grin. “She’s probably giving shinies heart attacks.”

“Well, if she can make our esteemed captain blush, what hope do the shinies have, Hardcase?”

Rex, tuning out the rest of their conversation, turned and made his way to the infirmary. Due to the overflow from battle, it had expanded into the mess hall. But Rex assumed that a Jedi would be easy to spot among the clones and Kaminoans. But when he didn’t spot you, Rex made his way over to Kix, who was setting another trooper’s ankle.

“Kix, have you seen the general?”

“She’s in the other room,” Kix stated, pointing to his right. “You won’t be able to miss her.”

Rex raised an eyebrow, but continued on his way. Stepping into one of the wings of the infirmary, Rex paused when he spotted exactly what Kix was talking about. You sat at the end of the room, smiling and talking with all of the young clone cadets gathered around you.

“And then the bridge started to collapse,” you retold dramatically as you carefully bandaged up a cadet’s wrist. “The Separatists planted detonators along the bridge and lured us onto it. And the tactical droid tried to blow us all up.”

“How did you escape?” one of the cadets asked, sitting on the edge of his seat.

“Well, we started running. Anakin and I pushed your brothers to safety with the Force because all of you and all of your brothers in every corner of this galaxy are important to us.”

You gently poked one of the cadets on the tip of his nose to emphasize your point. He blushed bright red, reminding you of another clone, and looked down at his feet bashfully while one of his brothers grabbed his shoulders from behind.

“And no good leader and certainly no good Jedi would say otherwise,” you added, looking out around at the clone cadets.

Rex was quite sure that the meaning behind your story was not part of the approved Kaminoan curriculum, but he couldn’t help but smile at his younger brothers’ reactions to your story. You smiled and finished up with bandaging a cadet’s wrist before continuing with the story.

“But then we had to run to safety ourselves. Now, Anakin was lucky enough that he was standing close to the edge. So, he escaped easily. But I wasn’t so lucky because a lingering detonator went off right behind me, causing me to lose my balance.”

“What happened next?” a cadet gasped.

“Shhh!” one of the other cadets shushed his brother.

“I’m getting to it,” you promised them with a chuckle. “As I was saying, your brother, Captain Rex, grabbed a long gun—right out of Mule’s hands, mind you—and shot a cable at me.”

“Did he hit you?” one of the cadets asked quickly.

“Do you think I’d miss, Cadet?” Rex called out teasingly.

“Captain Rex!” the cadets called turning around to see him walking towards them.

They all jumped to their feet and stood at attention. Rex stopped in front of the crowd of his young brothers and dismissed them, urging them to sit down again. He turned to you as the cadets got settled again. And even though Rex felt a familiar heat start to climb up his neck, he moved to take a seat on one of the beds. Clearing his throat as you offered him a soft smile, he nodded.

“You were saying, General.”

“Right, Captain,” you mused before turning back to his brothers. “No, Captain Rex didn’t hit me with the cable. It landed in front of me and I held onto it as the bridge tumbled down. And with some help from some of your other brothers, he pulled me up to safety.”

“Captain Rex saved your life?”

“Yes, he did,” you stated without hesitation.

“To be fair, you’ve saved mine a number of times, General,” Rex spoke up, causing you to smile.

“Yes, shall I tell all of you one of those stories next?”

The cadets cheered but Rex got back to his feet and motioned towards the door. You nodded and slowly stood up, causing the cadets to sigh and whine. Giving them a kind smile, you kneeled down so that you were eye level with all of them again.

“I must go back to being a general. But you should try and find General Kenobi, for he’s an even better story teller than me. But which battalion is the best in the GAR again?”

“The 501st!”

“And don’t you forget it,” Rex added, causing his younger brothers to grin.

Bidding the cadets goodbye, you stood up and walked with Rex out of the infirmary. The two of you moved in silence for a moment before Rex turned to you with a soft look.

“You survived the battle alright, General?”

“I should be asking you that question, Rex. This is your home. All of your homes.” You sighed and added quietly, “I’m sorry we didn’t defend it better.”

“Kamino was always a target to the Seppies,” Rex stated, turning to look forward again. “But thank you, General.” Clearing his throat a bit, Rex turned forward once again. “And thank you for looking after the cadets. They were bred for war, but they were never trained for it to happen in their own home.”

“Of course,” you returned, nodding politely. “I have a soft spot for children. I believe my master’s habits rubbed off on me.”

“It’s not a bad habit to have.”

“Well, and clone cadets are adorable. In a way, the clones and the Jedi have a lot in common. We were raised communally as well. It’s a setup most citizens find unnatural, almost.”

“Well, your people can move things with their minds. My brothers and I all share the same face. They might not be far off,” Rex quipped, causing you to chuckle.

Stepping into the lift together, you stood side by side as you made your way back to the upper floors of the facility. No doubt that Shaak Ti and Obi-Wan were looking for the two of you. Placing your hands on your hips and turned to Rex with a mischievous smile.

“What were you like as a cadet, Rex?”

“Top of my class, of course.”

“Of course,” you agreed teasingly, causing Rex to tilt his chin up. “But don’t tell me that you were always this stoic and brooding.”

“Brooding?” Rex repeated, earning a laugh in return.

“Come on, Rex. You must have broken a few rules in your time on Kamino.”

“I would assume as many as you did when you were a padawan, General.”

“My master was on the Jedi High Council, so I had an image to uphold.” After a moment, you added with a grin, “But also more time unsupervised. And, well, Anakin was a poor influence on me.” Your smile softened as you turned back to Rex. “Perhaps I’ll tell you some of those stories one day, Captain.”

“I look forward to it, General.”

Stepping off the elevator together, you and Rex shared a smile before Commander Cody called out to the two of you. Rex winced when he spotted Cody’s knowing look and you pulled on a more professional expression in the presence of the marshal commander.

“General Kenobi requested your assistance with moving some of the larger pieces of debris,” Cody told you. “He’s in the eastern part of the city.”

“Thank you, Commander Cody, I will go meet him.” Nodding to Cody, you turned to Rex, who returned your burning gaze. “I’ll see you later, Captain.”

And with that, you walked down the hall and away from them. You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder at Rex. Staring after you until your figure disappeared around the corner, Rex ignored Cody’s stare and smirk. Rolling his eyes, Rex brushed past his brother.

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” Cody called after him, causing Rex to wince.

“Stow it, Cody.”

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