#losing their memories on the planet ends up barely being an issue

[seph-on-an-irrational-planet]

“Among the Lotus Eaters” is probably the most classic Star Trek plot SNW has done so far and yet did absolutely nothing interesting with it. This should’ve been the character work episode and yet all we learned about Ortegas is “she really loves her job and is very good at it” which describes the whole fucking cast.

[furiousgoldfish]

Trauma symptoms caused by childhood abuse

Early symptoms (childhood and teenage years):

Inability to show pain and vulnerability to others

deep belief that you ‘have to be tough’, secretly fearing that you’re weak and pathetic if you ever shed any tears or break down in pain

personality changes from outgoing and social, to isolated and quiet, trying not to be noticed

feeling like there’s something deeply wrong with you, deep belief that you’re some kind of monster who deserves to be punished

fear that if someone finds out about whats happening to you, they will blame you and hurt you worse

anxiety around adults, always being scared you’ll annoy someone and be hurt for it

very low attention to your needs and wants, feeling pride in neglecting your own well being, even neglecting your pain

belief that your value is tied to how much pain and mistreatment you can endure

urge to self harm, or outright hurting yourself

feeling like you want to disappear, or not be born at all, contemplating suicide

self hatred, feeling extremely negative about yourself and feeling like things would be better if you didn’t exist

spending phases of time being emotionless, feeling like a zombie and not caring about anything

foreshortened sense of future (belief that you wont live for much longer, inability to see your future or plan for it)

not feeling the consequences of events in the real time, or not at all; for instance, being completely unphased by a violent outburst or screaming, not feeling pain when you’re hurt, or not feeling the exhaustion when you’re clearly overworked

strong urge to not think about certain topics or events, or inability to do so

fear that your body is wrong and disgusting, anxiety about anyone seeing it but desperate need for validation that you’re normal

deep sense of shame in yourself, your actions and your appearance

strong investment in finding excuses for people who do bad things, always trying to see things from their angle and to forgive them

feeling like the blame for any bad thing in the world can be put on you

not feeling like a human being, belief that you’re less than human

feeling like your home is not here and you do not belong on this planet

feeling uncomfortable being touched and wanting people to back off

uncontrolled ourbursts of rage

looking for anything to soothe your pain or distract you, indulging with obsessions or drugs

early development of anxiety disorder, depression, insomnia, ocd

trying to regress your age and force yourself to stay younger than you are, because you feel like your value is dropping with age and nobody will care for you anymore

trying to desperately take control over some aspects of your life, which can result in overdoing or completely neglecting school, losing yourself in virtual life, eating disorders, self harm or magic thinking that enables you to believe you can control your circumstances

in case of a sexual trauma, innapropriate sexual behaviour, deep shame tied to your body, indulging in sexual interactions even before puberty, feeling like you’re meant to be used, violent or forceful sexual fantasies accompanied with shame, fear of touch, fear of anyone finding out, reaching out for pornographic material to put your experience into perspective

feeling desperate to appear normal and clinging very strongly to the perception that your childhood is normal

Later symtoms, can develop anytime after puberty, can be in 20s or 30s or even 50s:

Emotional

Flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, freezing up in terror, beyond average amounts of fear and dread

Trust issues, either trusting without suspicion even when you shouldn’t or trusting nobody and feeling completely alone in the world

Episodes of re-living traumatic events from childhood or later in life; emotional meltdowns

Being unable to leave the past and feeling frozen in the moments of trauma

Emotional flashbacks, feeling the events from past as if they’re happening now, except this time you feel it thousand times stronger and completely fall apart from the horror of it

Feeling unstable, ashamed for not being able to control your emotions, fear of being judged, mocked or humiliated for it, trying desperately to not feel it, using distractions or drugs

Self doubt, struggling to know what is real and what isn’t, doubting your memories and emotions, trying to only feel what you believe is obliged from you

Questioning the past over and over again, trying to find sense and who to blame

Trying desperately to put your relationship with your abuser(s) into perspective, feeling both guilt and obligation towards them, but also rage and desire to take over control from them

Self harm, self-destructive behaviour, suicidal behaviour, wanting to die to end the pain

Deep and overwhelming grief over loss of childhood and loss of trust in people you believed wouldn’t hurt you, or believed they were doing it for your good, which now proved not to be true

Depression, loss of joy in anything you used to like doing, loss of optimism in life

Losing the courage to try anything, regardless of how much it would benefit you, if there’s even a slight chance of getting hurt in a way you find impossible to endure, living passively

Feeling irreparably damaged and ruined

Getting lost in maladaptive daydreaming, fiction, or the virtual world, feeling unable to face reality, falling to obsessions or addictions to endure the pain

Feeling other people’s feelings as if they’re your own, especially feelings of pain, anxiety, fear, nervousness, anger or grief; trying to soothe them and especially having strong reactions to anger

Feeling overwhelmed whenever around people, feeling the urge to self-isolate and to be completely alone

Being hit with extreme amounts of rage and struggling to process it; worrying about misdirecting the rage or acting on it, violent fantasies

Getting stuck in a mindset of a child and barely able, or unable to do any grown-up tasks

Struggling to achieve even minimum function, or not functioning at all

Losing the will or the energy to participate in any activities you used to enjoy

Fighting or indulging the urge to normalize what happened or make it ‘not that bad’, trying to re-live it in a way that wouldn’t be traumatic, especally with sexual trauma, needing to perceive it as if it would be normal only if it was ‘consensual’ or more controlled and trying to find a way to frame it as ‘not that big of a deal’ and denying it’s hurting you

Beating yourself up horribly for still being upset and traumatized by events that happened long ago

Inability to have friends or form connections with others, high alert for betrayal and manipulation

Avoding places and people connected to the trauma, getting easily triggered and forced to re-live something that needs recovery time of days or weeks

Losing your sense of reality; not being sure where you are or what year is it for some periods of time, feeling like you’re going crazy

Only being able to focus on surviving a short amount of time (just trying to get thru the day or week)

Physical

Extreme anxety; trembling, spending prolonged amount of time tense and expecting danger and pain at every second, inability to calm down, limbs not working properly, fainting out of fear

Continually activated “fight or flight” response, always feeling endangered, trouble digesting food because your body shuts down your digestion in order for you to be able to escape faster, vomiting, stomach pains after eating

Hyperventilation, problems with breathing, feeling there’s “no air” in small or crowded spaces

Chronic exhaustion, feeling heavy weight over your body, having difficulty moving at all

Chronic pain, tension in your body never leaving, physical pain appearing when you’re experiencing emotional pain, chest pain, heart palpitations

Problems with blood pressure, fainting easily

Dissociation (feeling detached from your emotions and/or body, feeling numb and unreal, your body not feeling yours, feeling outside your body or like you’re stuck in someone else’s body)

Memory issues, not being able to remember whole parts of your life, weak short term memory, not being able to look back on your life in linear way or put the events in they order they happened in, mixing several events into one, remembering feelings but not events

Increased sensitivity to noise, getting very upset at any non recognizable sound, reacting with irritability or rage to background noises, or with terror at loud noises; needing complete silence, or constant soothing background noise

Extreme sensitivity to stress, having to block out stressful things from memory, having physical reactions to stress, like shaking, your hair falling out, feeling incapable of dealing with even minimally stressful tasks

Dry mouth in the night, overheating during the nightmares, getting so distressed after sleep you can’t move from the bed for hours, not calming down for days

Not being able to control your body, falling down and shaking uncontrollably, even trashing around as your body processes violence done to it

Not being able to relax or calm down without experiencing physical pain, feeling addicted to abuse and indulging in self harm, or letting someone else hurt you so that you might gain a moment of not feeling tense, stressed and scared

Feeling sensations of pain or discomfort on your body even when nothing is happening to it, especially the body parts that have been violated in some way; in case of sexual trauma it would mean private parts, in case of overworking yourself or break yourself with effort, pain in all muscles and joints

In case of sexual trauma, reoccurring memories of it, trouble figuring out your sexuality, wanting to escape your body or perceiving it in a distorted way, urge to repeat the trauma to get desensitized to it, hypersexual behaviour or complete lack of interest in sexuality

Weight gain or loss, hatred of your body and desire to change or hurt it, or complete neglect over body, lack of any self care of even acknowledging you need it

Difficulty sleeping or being awake, feeling too high alert to fall asleep or dropping out of consciousness from overexhaustion

Inability to focus or finish tasks, procrastinating or feeling sick just knowing there is a task you have to do.

 If you struggle(d) with 5 or more of early ones, or 5 or more of later ones, you’ve been dealing with trauma.

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [One]

Night Changes Series Masterlist

Summary: It may have been years since Poe and the reader have seen one another, but that doesn’t make the emotional upheaval any easier to navigate for either of them.

Warnings: Fuck ton of angst, language, a lot of feelings, mentions of death and loss, grief. WC-5,780 (Jesus buckle up I guess!)

Poe was dreaming.

Nothing particularly special, but it was a dream nonetheless, a break from the usual nightmares that tended to invade his sleeping mind night after night when all he wanted was to succumb to the darkness for a few hours. The dream was more of a memory, a replaying of a night back on Yavin-4 so many years ago before he and Charlie had gone to flight school.

A night like every other, yet the humid evenings on Yavin 4 always did seem to hold a little mystery, like a warm blanket that wrapped one in a false sense of security; he could do anything. And on that evening, he had snuck some of his father’s good whiskey, the stuff from a planet far, far away, and gone to knock on Charlie’s window in the cover of darkness. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, though the whiskey was a new addition.

Charlie had answered immediately, a big grin stretching across his face even before he saw what Poe had brought, the relief in that grin piquing his curiosity-why did he seem grateful that Poe was there? When he climbed through the window, he found you were already there, sat on the floor across the small bedroom with your back against the end of Charlie’s bed, your face wet with tears and he understood your brothers reaction.

Before Poe could ask what was wrong, Charlie noticed the bottle in Poe’s hands and tapped it excitedly, “Just what we needed! How do you do it, brother?” His voice was always so loud, but in the Horn household it wasn’t an issue. Your mother was asleep on the other side of the house and even if she did wake, she wouldn’t come in and begrudge a little teen rebellion. Poe really liked her for that, for trusting them, for never making him feel unwelcome.

“Didn’t realize it would come in so handy. What's going on, sweetheart?” The affectionate nickname had been around for years, so long now that he hardly noticed himself using it. He liked the way it tugged the corners of your lips up, even when you were sad. But he didn’t like that you were sad right now, his concern only growing when you pulled your knees to your chest and dropped your head to them, hiding your face and, no doubt, a fresh wave of tears.

You had always hated crying in front of them, for some reason. Charlie never cried, but Poe had no issues with sobbing outright in front of you both. He didn’t understand why you felt you had to hide it from him.

Without speaking, Charlie and Poe sat down on either side of you, your brother taking the whiskey and opening it, taking a small swig and huffing through the smoky burn.“Kid, you tell him.” He used that extra soft voice reserved only for you, his free hand reaching over to pat your foot on the ground next to him.

Poe had his shoulder pressed against yours. He knew you enjoyed how warm he always was, that you thought of him as your personal furnace, cuddling him even on warm days like this because you seemed to forever run a little chilly, or maybe you were just a touchy person and you were that comfortable with Poe.

After a few moments of quiet sniffling, you finally raised your head, setting your chin on your knees and staring straight ahead. “Gus ended things earlier.” You whispered into the moonlit room, your voice wavering somewhat with emotion, though Poe could sense it was more of embarrassment and disappointment of being dumped than that of actual heartbreak.

Poe felt an odd mixture of both anger and relief sweep through him, the latter of which he resolutely shoved away, into the far reaches of his mind to be stubbornly ignored. “That kriffing asshole! Who does he think he is, dumping our girl?” And truly, what the fuck audacity did that guy have? Did he not have eyes? Did he not spend just five minutes with you and feel like he was sitting in the company of a Sun, so bright and warm as you were?

You gave a watery laugh at his words, and Poe felt warmth pool in his chest; he was always good at making you laugh. He saw Charlie’s shoulders sag somewhat with relief upon hearing you, always so protective and yet he had difficulty reigning in some of your big emotions, often looking to Poe for his help.

“He said it was because I’m a prude. Because I wouldn’t, you know,” You broke off, and Poe glanced down at you to see you bite your lip briefly, eyes still forward, “He said there was no point going on dates if I wouldn’t even give him the chance to, and I quote, ‘appreciate your tits properly, at the least.’”

Poe turned to face you fully now, his eyes meeting Charlies over your head. His friend looked just as annoyed as Poe felt, hearing what that skinny piece of shit had dared to say to you. A silent agreement crossed between them then, Gus would be meeting their fists come morning. For now, though, Poe focused on you, tossing an arm around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your hair, “He’s a prize fucking idiot, sweetheart, doesn’t know what he’s losing. Right, Charlie?”

“Exactly. Remember kid, no guy is ever going to deserve you because you are perfect. You don’t need to cry over someone who can’t see how lucky he is you even let him breathe the same air as you,” Charlie added his arm to your shoulders, curving under Poe’s, “Flyboy and I will take care of you, always.” He promised, and you nodded before reaching both hands up to grab each of theirs on your shoulders.

“Thank you.”

And Poe stayed the night, each of you taking turns to sip the whiskey until eventually sleep won out and Charlie crashed on his bed. You and Poe curled up on some pillows on the floor together, your head resting on his chest and even though he knew you were sad, which made him sad too, he couldn’t help but feel truly whole in those moments before sleep took over.

It was a good memory, one which he would have been content to remain in until the abrupt and incessant whirring and beeping of his droid woke him, Poe shooting up in his bed with a shout of surprise. “What? Are we being attacked?”

BB8 came to a stop near the edge of his bed, his noises growing quieter now that he’d woken Poe up.

“Buddy, it’s my day off. You better have a good reason for scaring the living hell out of me-“

The droid beeped again, clarifying his reason for interrupting his rest day. Interest piqued, Poe ran a hand over his face before planting his feet on the floor and leaning towards the droid.

“The new replacement is here? Guess that means the General wants me to come and meet them?”

BB8 confirmed, and now his alarming wake-up made more sense. The droid was as excited as Poe to meet his new second in command. He’d just lost his long-time friend, Jess Pava, to a new unit on an outpost for the Resistance. He’d recommended her for it, at her bequest, because he knew she’d be damn good for the role. But it didn’t make the loss any less disruptive; she’d been gone a few weeks now and he’d had to take on extra duties to compensate.

General Organa had profusely apologized to him a few times now, only explaining that the replacement was due back from a classified mission ‘soon’, and once they were they would be coming straight to D’Qar to join his squadron. He didn’t mind the work, but he was a little miffed that the day the new Major arrived was his only day off.

Poe quickly got himself ready for the day, taking a speedy shower in his fresher before pulling on his khaki’s and button up. Once pleased with his appearance, he stepped out of the fresher and walked toward his small desk area, above which he had a corkboard with a few mementos pinned up, including his favourite picture.

You were standing in the middle, sandwiched between him and Charlie, a big, goofy grin on your face. Charlie was laughing in the photo, and Poe was looking down at you with a fond smile. You all wore flight suits, as it was taking when you had first joined Gold Squadron. Charlie had his arm flung over your shoulders while Poe’s was snaked around your waist. You had your arms wrapped around each of their waists, though Poe remembers how your hand had brushed up his back before the picture was taken, fingers unknowingly leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

He looked at this photo every morning, tapped it once and then carried on with his day. It was the only time he allowed his conscious mind to think of Charlie, of you, and the life he lost in the blink of an eye.

When the door to his quarters opened, Poe saw a few service droids unloading a couple of crates into the room directly across from his. The room where the new member of his team would live. He could see within the unit as the door was open for the droids to carry items in, a few cases already inside the otherwise bare space.

Being careful to step around the droids and avoid falling over his own, who was wheeling excitedly along next to Poe, he made his way to command, hoping the introductions wouldn’t take too long. He had woken up with a big appetite.

And he really needed his morning caf.

“Ready to meet them, buddy?” He asked of his droid, and BB8 gave a happy little ‘weeee’ as he zoomed along beside Poe. He laughed loudly and BB8 pulled ahead, the doors of the command room opening at their approach.

Poe could see into the room now, activity within quiet enough that General Organa and the new arrival both heard his laughter and turned as he walked into the room. For a few beats, Poe kept walking, his mind not processing what he was seeing because it simply could not be. And then he froze, mid-stride.

It was you.

And from the patch on your uniform, it was now Major Horn.

And just like that, every emotion, every feeling of guilt and self-hatred and heartbreak came roaring to the surface, breaking through the walls he’d so carefully built up around what he’d done when he lost Charlie, when he’d lost you, walls he spent the last few years reinforcing as best he could.

Leia knew of the history, though she didn’t know any details of why neither of you had spoken since that terrible fucking night. She simply knew you’d all grown up together, which was probably why she hadn’t felt the need to warn Poe that it was you coming to take over as his second in command. Maybe she thought you had kept in touch and were expecting her.

Stars, Poe hadn’t seen you in person since the funeral. The night he ruined the best thing he had in his life because he couldn’t deal with his grief and took it all out on you, of all people. Poe thought of Charlie then because your brother and you looked a bit alike, but it was your eyes; you each had the exact same eyes. Though yours were lined with thick, long lashes that would sometimes tickle Poe’s cheeks when you would lean in and press a chaste kiss to them.

It had only been a few years, but so much about you had changed. Gone was the goofy girl with braids falling past her shoulders, her big smile that stretched from ear to ear. No, now Poe was looking at you and you were all grown up, wearing your uniform, hair pulled back into a low bun that was woven with intricate braids, a few wisps framing your face. You had leaned out slightly, though you still had your curves, the ones that had boy after boy falling for you back in the day-no doubt now it was man after man. He found his eyes flicking from your face to your hands, but he saw no ring. Not that he should even be thinking of whether you were single or not.

But somehow, it felt like he should know if you were with someone. Because Charlie would have expected Poe to always keep an eye on you, be there for you. The only person he let down more than Charlie was you. He knew his best friend would murder him if he knew the things Poe had said to you that night. He had never known a greater regret, a regret that he carried with him since the moment he spoke and watched your face contort in pain, as though he’d hit you with a physical blow.

He had wanted to apologize, to take it all back that very moment. He couldn’t believe himself, but you’d pull away to be sick and he was so shocked at how much he’d managed to hurt you that he couldn’t do anything other than listen to you when you ordered him to get away from you.

The irony of that wasn’t lost on him, either.

He’d walked straight to the hangar where his x-wing was parked and took it out, finding a secluded spot a few hours away to camp for two days, just to clear his head. He cried and grieved and then he realized just how badly he’d fucked up and he panicked. He started to plan how he would apologize, what he would do to earn your forgiveness and then tell you how he truly felt. But he failed you, hurt you, and he knew he had a lot of work ahead to repair what he’d broken.

Only, when he came back to base and sought you out, he instead found Jess and Tommy waiting for him by your room, their faces so grim his heart had stopped in his chest, and he’s not sure it ever restarted once he found out you’d left. Without a word or a note, you had just...deserted him.

And he knew he deserved it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Nor did finding out that you’d been clever enough to have your new assignment sealed, eliminating any chance he could have had of going after you.

And he would have. He’d have flown across the galaxy to find you.

Instead, Poe was alone and never, ever forgave himself for being the reason you had fled in the first place.

Eventually, Poe grew enough in rank that he was able to access your private files. He only did so now and again, just to check-in and make sure you were still alive and on active duty. The last time he’d checked had been about five months ago, and it had stated you were on a classified mission that even he couldn’t access the details of. But he knew you were alive and doing well enough that you were getting assigned seriously high-class missions. Charlie would have been so proud of you.

It was a few awkward moments before Poe was able to function, quickly shaking off his shock and continuing forward, his eyes tearing away from your too-blank expression to meet the warm gaze of General Organa. “Commander Dameron, I believe you know Major Horn here. Thank you for coming to greet her with me this morning.” Leia smiled between him and you, and Poe had to swallow before returning it, breaking out his usual grin.

When he looked back at you, he found your blank expression had now morphed into one of utter contempt. An insane part of him wanted to laugh, because how could (y/n) Horn, his best friend since he was a boy, the girl who had owned his heart, ever look at him like that?

Instead, Poe forced a friendly smile, nodding to you politely, “Welcome, Major. It’s...it’s good to see you. And congratulations on your promotion. I’m happy to have you join our team.” He stuck his hand out and hoped you would grasp it.

Your eyes, so much more intense than he ever remembered, searched his face for a second before you took his proffered hand and shook, a small smile appearing on your lips.

“It’s an honour to be here, Commander.” You replied, and Poe had to blink, pulling his hand way almost too quickly. Stars, you even sounded more grown-up. Your voice had always been a little breathy, which Poe had always found alluring. But now it had matured, the breathless way you spoke now demure, feminine.  

“I was just telling Major Horn that after you two had met the day was open,” Leia said, seemingly unaware of the tension between her two best pilots, “I know you earned this day off, Commander, so enjoy it!”

Poe couldn’t help but give her a wide grin, “Thank you, General.”  

“Yes, thank you for taking the time to...reunite us, General.” You said, excusing yourself before abruptly walking past Poe and out of command.

He rushed after you, BB8 still at his side, now beeping in confusion at what the hell was going on. Poe ignored the droid, catching up to you just down the hall. “Wait...(y/n)...”

He trailed off, unsure of what he could even say to you, questioning why he’d stopped your departure. You ceased walking and turned to look at Poe, your expression now openly hostile, which he knew he deserved yet it still stung. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he stood before you, a huge part of him wishing you’d start yelling at him. Or hitting him.

Instead, you gazed up at Poe and after a moment your face fell, a storm of emotions rolling across your pretty features. You took a careful, measured step back from him, as if afraid he might try and reach out to you. “I didn’t know I was coming here to be on your team,” You didn’t meet his eyes when you spoke, instead focusing on the droid at his feet, “But this is a big opportunity for me, so we’ll make it work.”

You sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself rather than Poe, but he nodded all the same. “Of course. And you deserve it.”

You scoffed, “Thanks so much, Commander.”

“I’ve missed you.”

He didn’t know what possessed him to say that. It was just that one moment you were biting your lip, and then the next you were giving him a familiar look of incredulity that he remembered receiving more than once growing up and he suddenly needed you to hear that he did miss you. Missed you more than you could ever really know.

Poe saw a flash in your eyes before you spun on your heels and marched away, not looking back. He didn’t try to follow you again. He knew there wasn’t a whole lot he could say, not right now when you were both still reeling from the shock of seeing one another again.

And what could he even say to you? Sorry for taking our friendship and smashing it to pieces at the worst possible time? For never speaking to you again because I was too cowardly to try and find you, especially once I realized how deeply I felt for you? And how could he explain how those feelings seemed to develop over such a long time that he didn’t recognize them for what they truly were until you were gone?

Charlie would have hated what had happened between you both. He would have killed Poe, easily, but he’d had also been disappointed in you. Charlie had protected you both that day because you and Poe were his family, and if he found out that his family never spoke again after the funeral? He’d have been livid.

Guilt and regret now at the forefront of his mind, Poe had lost his appetite. Instead, he found the nearest caf machine before hurrying to the flight deck and climbing in his x-wing eager to get off the ground and clear his head for a few hours.

He spent the rest of the morning thinking about Charlie, his heart tight in his chest.

✨

“I’ve missed you.”

You could hit him, you really could. No one was around, either, you might get away with it. But that would be too easy and not nearly as satisfying as you might hope, you knew.

The audacity of Poe fucking Dameron saying he missed you was so infuriating, you briefly considered violence. But you had grown up with him, knew the way he worked even if it had been a few years. You could hate him and still understand him, which meant that he wanted you to give him a strong reaction that he could confront head-on. Scream and punch and cry and he would instantly work to comfort, to apologize, but it was really just a way to make himself feel better.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

You spun away-not before seeing the pained expression cross his face-and hurried off. You figured if you still had such a decent read on him, the same went for Poe. He’d always been able to read you, your body language, expressions, hell Charlie usually went to Poe for help when he couldn’t figure out how to support you, comfort you.

You needed some time alone, time to process and figure out the best way to make this work.

When you were invited by the General herself to come to D’Qar, to work under her ‘top pilot and most trusted Commander’, you hadn't blinked before saying yes. And you’d known that it would mean, inevitably, seeing Poe again-you knew he still worked here. But you’d had no idea until he walked into command that morning that it was his team you were joining.

When you’d been standing with General Organa in the control room, chatting amicably about the weather, the very last thing you’d expected to hear was his booming, rich laugh. And then the doors had opened, a small droid whizzing in, and his laughter continued as he stepped into the room. You had thought you might pass out, throw up, or start screaming.  

With no idea what he was doing there, you had simply stared at him, watched as he reacted to seeing you. Actively working to keep your expression blank, you stared at your once best friend for the first time in years, going numb inside.

In some ways it had been almost comical; he’d frozen mid-step and gaped at you stupidly for a few beats before coming to his senses and continuing forward. And it was at that moment you had realized he was the superior you were meeting. He was the Commander you’d be working under. When he stood directly in front of you, your mind betrayed you by immediately zoning in on one specific thought.

But stars, he’d aged well.

When he finally was able to collect himself enough to wipe the surprise off of his face, it had settled into that easy smile you remembered so well. The one you tried to never think of because of the pain that would build in your chest, the memories and feelings that you had refused to look back on for a very long time now at risk of bursting through your mental walls if you weren’t careful.

Now, that smile revealed a slight crinkling around his eyes, though he hadn’t changed much beyond that. He was just as broad and lean as you remembered, just as handsome and you thought he might be a little more built up, a new layer of muscle moving under his button-up. Charlie would have loved to tease him over the grey flecks you could barely discern in his raven locks, and you suddenly wondered if your brother would have had any grey hair himself.

Those thoughts were fleeting at that moment before fury and sadness and longing were suddenly overtaking you and it was all you could do to remain composed in front of the General when, for the first time in years, you wanted to crumble to the ground. That fucking grin of his, it was always maddening, always so attractive and disarming.

When you were kids, he’d do it to get away with something and even though your parents knew he’d done it, it would work and he’d barely get a slap on the wrist. As teenagers, the strongest memory you had of that grin was one time when he’d climbed into Charlie’s room late at night and your brother wasn’t there-he’d fallen asleep on the couch-so Poe wandered to your room.

You had just gotten out of the fresher, having taken a quick rinse off to cool down, and hadn’t shut the door. Your bedroom door was closed and it was the middle of the night; you hadn’t expected any company. And then Poe just sauntered in, his eyes on your bed where he doubtless thought he’d find you. You had barely had time to freeze, completely naked and mid-stride as you sought a clean nightgown when he seemed to sense you. His head had jerked in your direction in surprise.

That memory forever burned into your mind. The way his eyes had fallen, then snapped up to your face and instead of seeing amusement or a pervy smirk, Poe had slapped his hands over his eyes, cursed, apologized vehemently in a loud whisper, and then he grinned. That grin, just as powerful even though his eyes were covered. It spread across his face and you couldn’t help but laugh despite your embarrassment, quickly throwing on a nightgown before walking over and punching him in the sides a few times, hissing didn’t he know how to knock?

And though you worried it might affect things between you and your best friend, it never did seem to. For you, it did in some ways because you couldn’t seem to get the look on his face (the one that slipped out just before he could properly react and compose himself) out of your head and you wondered what it meant-if anything. He still stayed the night, climbing into your bed, his arms casually behind his head as he laid next to you and told you about his day while never once teasing you.

At one point, when sleep was close, eyes drooping and your cheek resting against his arm, Poe’s soft voice had pulled you from unconsciousness. Barely a whisper, he said, “I really am sorry I came in without knocking, sweetheart. Please forgive me.”

And he’d sounded so concerned, so genuinely stressed that you would be mad at him, you had snuggled closer into his side and murmured your reassurances until eventually, you fell asleep.

Today, however, it was only memories of what that smile used to mean to you and anger for what it was now. That he got to keep that easy fucking grin all these years, it only pissed you off. The logical part of you knew he had been just as surprised to see you and was no doubt struggling himself now, but you didn’t have room to care.

He had been the one to break you, to take your friendship and pulverize it by saying the worst possible things to you.

He had broken you.

That fight hadn’t just been the loss of what you had thought was the greatest friendship in the galaxy. It had been the final moment that took your life from carefree and fun to what it was now, what it had been since. Joyless, lacking, lonely-so fucking lonely.

That had been the night you had to grow up, realizing that not only was Charlie gone, but the life you’d had was too. Gone were the days of adventure, of going on test flights and racing one another, of Poe getting you drinks at the cantina and Charlie sitting with his arm slung casually over your shoulders, until any of you spotted someone who caught your interest. Someone who would only be around for the night but would bring a little pleasure and escape. Charlie was more often the one to go home with such a person, happy to play the field and often making new friends you’d see again, even though he never exclusively dated them.

And the little flare of excitement you’d get each time it was just you and Poe? That had been carefree too because whatever it meant didn’t need to be examined, it just was. Casual touches that lingered and sent heat up your spine, easy and flowing conversation, long hugs even when you’d see each other the next day. All of that had been such a prominent fixture in your life, the slow escalation between you and Poe was something that, to this day, you never tried to understand.

But then Charlie died; everything changed, and you left and never looked back. All the while, Poe Dameron kept grinning like that. Fuck, fuck!

You almost walked straight past your new room, so lost in your thoughts and memories, but thankfully a passing droid greeting you politely pulled to the moment, and you only had to retrace a few steps back. Immense relief washed over you the moment you saw that all of your items had been delivered and unpacked, only a box of mementos and photos left on your desk for you to find new homes for.

Even the bed had been made already. And as much as you wanted to just climb under the covers and shut the world away, you instead set yourself to the task of putting the final touches on your space.

The room was silent save for your occasional gasps and hiccups as you let your emotions run free in the privacy. You proudly displayed the plaque you had been given from the Resistance following Charlie’s funeral; a handsome photo of him in uniform set in the middle, his name inscribed along with his rank, years of life and final resting place on Yavin-4. His flight suit patch was attached to the plaque above the photo, the final touch to a beautiful little tribute to Charlie that you could take with you wherever in the galaxy you went.

The final item you pulled out was a small protective album for photos you displayed in your room. You pulled out the photos, ones of you and Charlie as kids, of your parents, of the whole family plus Poe during one hilariously disastrous little vacation that resulted in all of you returning home and ignoring one another for three days, even Poe. A few from your teen years, early and late, Poe and Charlie usually taking up the most space in the photos between their sizes and huge smiles, and the final photo you had was your absolute favourite.

Smushed between Charlie and Poe, you had a smile on your face that hadn’t been seen in years. It was silly, girlish and youthful and not the person you were anymore. You were looking at the camera, Charlie with his big arm over the top of your shoulders, laughing as he looked toward the camera as well. Poe was looking at you. Giving you a warm smile that you always suspected he only shared with you, one that melted his eyes to pools of warm honey and made your insides wriggle. You remember how his hand burned where he gripped your waist, and you had instinctively traced your hand up his spine in the moment, though you never understood why.  

That photo both broke your heart and made you smile every time you looked at it. The last photo of the three of you together, the three of you happy. A photo that not only showed your love for one another but also hinted at that feeling you never did examine. A photo that revealed that feeling might not have been one-sided, not at all.

When you finished your tidying, you took a seat at your desk and used your data pad to pull up your schedule, curious what the days ahead would look like. Right away you could see no missions in the queue, though that could change in an instant. And as eager as you were to get flying, you knew it would probably be best to spend the next couple of days trying to establish yourself on base, meet the rest of your team, and figure out how you were going to keep a cool head spending so much time working with Poe.

With a heavy sigh, you glanced at the clock and decided a late lunch was in order, hopeful that the weird hour would leave the caf quiet. Although you knew you’d be recognized you did hope to push that off for as long as possible.  

You needed to swallow back your feelings and face the fact that you weren’t just working directly for General Leia. You were back on D’Qar; a planet that Charlie had spent enough time on, even before you joined Gold Squadron, to make lasting friendships and leave an incredible reputation behind after he’d died. You hadn’t been back since the funeral, so it was inevitable that others would be bringing him up, asking after you, where you had disappeared to, why you’d left without saying goodbye to pretty much everyone.

You needed to suck it up because you had a job to do and your work for the Resistance was the only thing anymore that made your life worthwhile. No family, no close friends, no partners, just fighting the fight and being the best damn pilot you could be.

You wondered if Charlie would be proud of you. Of how far you’d come, of the fact that you were now the same rank as he had been before his death. But after seeing Poe today you knew that wouldn’t have entirely been the case, not with how things all ended up.

So, you reasoned with yourself, that meant that you had to work extra hard here on D’Qar to push aside the history between you and your Commander. And actually, indifference and coldness were probably going to be your best assets going forward.

At least you had a game plan.

Taglist

@mermaidxatxheart

@foxilayde

@eleinemk

@paintballkid711

@mylifeisactuallyamess

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[alderaani]

Skies

summary: After a long campaign, Jesse and Hardcase indulge in some well earned TLC. AO3 | Series 

Part of my 100-clone centric prompts series, prompt list used is here

wanrings: allusions to canon-typical violence, death mention.

a/n: oof, I’ve been so unmotivated to write recently, so i’m honestly just relieved to have finished something. i’ve been wanting to write this for ages, based off this post by @lilhawkeye3 - it’s such an endearing image.

-

The ocean didn’t smell anything like Hardcase thought it would.

He slipped his bucket from his head, squinting against the sudden rush of unfiltered light. On either side of him troopers broke free of the tree line, and, feeling sand beneath their boots, took off whooping towards the frothing crest of the sea. The sunset blazed red and orange, bleeding like a punctured egg yolk across the cloudless horizon and into distant water. Hardcase breathed in, wrinkling his nose against the salt-laden tang, so visceral he could taste it.

It wasn’t like Kamino. That was almost the biggest surprise. He’d thought that oceans would be the same everywhere, but this wasn’t a bad way to be proven wrong. It was the salt, he realised after a moment, darting his tongue out to touch his lips. There weren’t really any beaches on Kamino, though he supposed there must be sand under there somewhere. There were no winding strips where ocean met land, where the sun could ferment the pools, rocks and shells left behind. It tasted lighter there, cleaner, more cut through by its brutal winds. He breathed in deep again, wrinkling his nose and grinning at the way the seasoned tang sat on his palate here, briny and thick.

It was the colour too, that really made the difference. It was so pale and clear on this far-flung planet, instead of the angry greyish blue he remembered. The waves were...politer, somehow. Less vengeful, not boiling with ever-falling rain. Several troopers had reached the shore now and were chasing the surf, shouting and laughing when it nipped at their heels.

He decided he rather liked it.

It was something different after weeks spent cowering under cover further inland, coated in showers of dark earth from enemy artillery and rationing out stale water in mouthfuls that were barely enough to coat the back of the throat. Even the air was damp here, and overhead the gulls were crying, sharp against the thundering crash of the waves. He lived for these moments, these breaths between the axel-grind of war. It was true that he loved the spoil of a fight, loved sinking into it and letting his Z6 sing. But there was a different, more intoxicating thrill in these snatched hours or - if they were lucky - days. He’d never voiced it to anyone, but he sometimes thought he might like to do this all the time, one day, trawling the stars and standing beneath unfamiliar skies. For the views, this time, explored under his own rhythm.

Yeah. That sounded pretty good.

“Oi, Hardcase!” Someone bellowed, sticking up a hand and waving at him amidst a far away knot of troopers knee deep in the sea. “You coming?”

He shook himself, setting down his pack and his Z6 with loving care amongst the mountainous piles of gear, before jogging down the dunes, following the trails of discarded armour and the shouts, happy laughter and splashes echoing from the water. The wind was sharp on his face and neck and on the strips of skin at his wrists, intoxicating and too heady to ignore. The sand was strangely weightless beneath him, too. He’d slept on a real feather pillow, once, while they were hunkered down on Ord Sedra and several hundred crates of luxury bedding had gotten damaged in the crossfire. It had felt like floating, and all of them had tossed and turned all night. This was similar, and just as strange...what would it all feel like on his skin?

The thought wouldn’t let him go. Halfway down the beach he sat to strip off his boots, then his plates, then his blacks, until he stood in just his greys, laughing at the feeling of the wind and the spray licking against his body. The way it cut through the stubble sprouting on his scalp after far too long stuck in a bucket-locked zone was...disconcerting. The prickle of just-forming curls felt like phantom fingers on the nape of his neck, and he’d found the way sweat clung to hair under his helmet sort of disgusting - it reminded him of being an under-washed cadet. Frankly, he didn’t plan on letting it stay long enough to get used to it.

The sand though...now that was weird. The way it sat between his toes made him squirm, each grain a bolting pinprick against the soles of his feet. When had he last had his boots off? Back on the Venator in the communal fresher, probably. It was a cruel galaxy when that barren room and its clinical racks of scentless soap started to look like a king’s treasury. He dug his feet into the cold, wet sludge, shivering in disgusted delight as the beach swallowed them whole.

“Hardcase!”

He looked towards the bellowing figure stumbling up the sand towards him, squinting as the sun hit their upturned face. Then he barked a laugh of surprise at the edge of the Republic cog he found there.

“ Jesse? Kriff, vod, barely recognised you.”

It was the first time he’d seen his flesh face in weeks, aside from in hurried moments allocated for gulping down rations. Jesse’s hair had grown in thick and black, much to the consternation of several brothers who were offended he could grow a moustache like that and still chose not to. Right now, he reached up to scratch the offending hair on his cheeks and scowled.

“S’rich comin’ from you. What is that slug on your face?”

Hardcase winced. His own unwilling hair cultivation very much proved that clones were not all made equal.

“It’s a casualty,” he said, feeling the short, patchy bristles on his upper lip. His trainer had always promised it would settle as he came out of puberty. That had been a lie. Hardcase blamed it on the crack in his growth jar, like he did most minor physical inconveniences. “This is why I don’t bother with the stuff.”

Jesse nodded, turning away to rummage through the packs strewn over the sand. “It just won’t stop itchin’.”

“You’re telling me.” Hardcase groaned. “You didn’t get woken up last night because your hair tickled the back of your neck and made you think you were bein’ jumped.”

Jesse snorted, straightening back up with his meagre GAR-standard microfibre towel in hand and a ration bar hanging from his mouth.

“Was that what that was about?” he asked, voice muffled. “We thought we could hear you squirmin’.”

Hardcase kicked lightly at Jesse’s ankle. “Real nice of you to not even ask if I was alright.”

Jesse broke off the ration bar and smirked round his mouthful.

“‘Case, it’s when you go quiet that we start asking questions.”

Hardcase shoved him. Jesse went down with a yelp and a curse, his towel catching under his ass and the loose end flapping like a banner in the wind. Hardcase bellowed a laugh, kicking sand towards him. It was a fatal mistake.

Jesse caught him by the ankle and yanked him down too. He landed on his stomach, still laughing as the wind knocked out of him, and scrambled forward with abandon, yelping with shock as water seeped cold and heavy into his greys. He wasn’t fast enough. A leg slung heavy over Hardcase’s ankles, pinning him, and then Jesse’s weight was pressing down on his back, forcing his face towards the wet sand.

“Get off, you kriffin’ shabiir,” he laughed, groaning as Jesse adjusted his weight and squashed the air out of his lungs.

“I’m not the one startin’ fights they can’t finish,” Jesse retorted, his voice light.

“Who said I was finished?” Hardcase shot back, going limp and then bucking hard. Jesse swore, losing his grip, and then they were scrabbling again, a tangle of limbs and righteous yelling.

The fight ended with them lying side by side on their backs, both covered in muck. Hardcase was sure he had sand in his crotch. The sun was still blazing on the horizon, lower now, deepening from yellow to dark, hazy red. It gleamed like fire on the water, like copper on the sand. This world was so reluctant to let the light go, eking out the daylight drop by drop. An errant touch to his thigh made him look over. Jesse was rummaging around underneath himself, grumbling about something digging into his back.

“You think we’ll get to stay here long?” Hardcase asked eventually.

“Aw, hell,” Jesse said, pulling the squashed, sandy remains of his ration bar from underneath him. “This was my last flavoured one. What’d you say?”

“D’you think we’ll stay long?”

Jesse hummed, flinging the ration bar away up the beach. A gull immediately swooped down to snatch it. “Here? Don’t think so. Heard Rex talking to the General, lots still to do before we can get off this rock.”

Hardcase sighed, letting the disappointment wash over him quietly. He shut his eyes again, just listening for a moment, committing the sounds of the sea to memory. It wouldn’t be goodbye. He’d come back to this place, one day. He’d make sure of it.

“So,” he said, cutting himself off before the longing could get too strong. “We gonna shave or what?”

Jesse scoffed. “What? Now?”

Hardcase shrugged. “Why not? We leave here, we’re gonna be back on water rations, right? You really want that nest growin’ for however the fuck long?”

Jesse sighed. “Course I don’t. But what the hell’re we gonna shave with? You didn’t bring your razor, did you?”

“Not a chance,” Hardcase said. That was only a mistake shinies made.

It wasn’t so bad if you lost one of the Kamino issue ones - those were about as blunt as a butter knife. Better to grow hair on campaign and hack it off later than lose one you’d bartered. He still mourned the first he’d ever owned - he’d never seen another with the same quality Corellian steel, and Uppercut had been so smug to win it over sabaac. Gracious enough to let him keep using it though. Some of Hardcase’s best memories were in front of fresher mirrors with him, taking it in turns and helping catch any stray hairs, paying each other in gossip for their trouble. He still hadn’t forgiven that bastard for dying. The first time he’d had to shave after had left him curled over the sink, his head half lathered and his whole body shaking, so on their next planetfall he’d taken the razor with him and buried it in the nicest spot he could find.

Uppercut had always preferred cities to trees, but Hardcase hoped that, wherever he was, he’d appreciated the effort all the same.

“I do have a vibroblade, though,” he carried on brightly, grinning at the way Jesse’s expression fell.

“Absolutely not.”

“Aw, come on. It won’t be that bad.”

Jesse pushed up on his elbows, his face scrunched. “If you think I’m gonna let you dry shave my head with a dagger, ‘Case, you’re more stupid than you look. I want a haircut, not a cut head.”

Hardcase rolled his eyes. “Who said anything about dry shaving? I’ve got soap.”

Jesse paused. “You’ve had soap this whole time? Here?”

“What can I say, I’m an optimist,” Hardcase said, peeling his back out of the sand. “You in or not?”

Jesse didn’t answer, just stood, grinned, and offered Hardcase a hand.

The light continued to wane as they made their trips up and down the beach, finding a good spot where the shoreline banked a little, and where it would keep the worst of the wind off while Hardcase lathered Jesse’s head. He stuck his tongue out a little as he worked, trying not to get distracted while the frothy water lapped at his ankles. He felt himself loosen as he scraped the vibroblade over his brother’s head, even just the act making him feel more like himself. It relaxed the jittery edge his thoughts always had, dialling down the almost frantic noise that built in combat and then sat under his skin. Usually it took a good spar to bounce it all back out of him, but this had always worked too…it had just been a long time since he’d had anyone else to go through the ritual with.

When it was his turn, he all but melted under the gentle, smooth touch of the vibroblade on his head, the soapy lather chilling quickly on his skin. He hummed, the feeling of the pads of Jesse’s guiding fingers on his chin almost too much sensation after so long under plastoid. He let his mind drift, watching the ocean and listening to Jesse’s mutters and curses as he concentrated.

When they were done and had rinsed in the freezing water, the sun had almost vanished, leaving only a purple after-bruise on the darkened sky. Most of the battalion had settled much further up the beach near the largest sand dunes, so they drifted there and claimed a patch of sand, pulling on their blacks when the sticky film of drying salt water got too much in the cold night air. After a late meal of ration cubes, and, far more enticing, some dried bantha milk the last villages they’d fortified had gifted them, Hardcase was splayed out on his back again and feeling quite ready to have a nap.

Jesse was lounging beside him, carefully rehydrating his milk with water from his field flask. Hardcase couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a night like this, where the war had felt so far away.

They turned their heads at several loud hoots, a crash, and a cheer, followed by an angry bellow. He squinted his eyes against the sudden flare of bright light.

Several brothers had constructed a modest bonfire out of driftwood - and, Hardcase suspected, several unlucky clones’ blacks - and had just tossed over a spare fuel canister, setting the whole thing ablaze in a column of blue flame. The tense figure stalking towards them looked awfully like Appo.

“D’you think we should help him?” Hardcase murmured, his hands propped comfortably under his head. Plasma always burned fast and hot, and he could already feel it faintly against the side of his freshly exposed head. It was nice; soothing, even.

Jesse hummed, pushed up on one elbow so that he could sip at his drink.

“...Nah,” he said slowly, lowering his cup and scrubbing away the blue moustache left behind. He flopped back down with a boneless huff. “Appo’s a big boy. He’s got this.”

Hardcase turned his head again, in time to see Appo tug futilely at some of the dark fabric being swallowed by flame. He chuckled and shut his eyes, breathing in deep and enjoying the soothing melody of shouting that, for once, was not being directed at him.

“Yeah,” he murmured after a moment, sighing as the heat flared and there were more jubilant whoops. “I think you’re right.”

taglist // @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun @simping-for-fives @missinashkin @iscream4clones @majorshiraharu @dom-i-nic @snippytano @808tsuika @eries45 @whatanoof // list here

[yoditorian]

lacuna- part 5

din/reader

i want to say a massive thank you for everybody who’s supported the content creator strike, it’s really important to draw attention to the issues we face and hopefully it’ll mean that engagement goes up and people will start respecting creators more 💛 as always, a massive thank you to @brothersdrxke for drifting with me on this

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.4k

warnings: probably some swears, poetic allusions to smut, din experiences emotion, 18+ no babies thanks

You don’t see Din for years, but he never fully leaves your mind.

Green Squadron gets pulled every which way across the galaxy, and you follow your orders. From the outer atmosphere above Scarif, to the Battle of Yavin, to some Outer Rim planet you barely spent a day on where the white ground turns red with every footstep. You see more stars than you ever thought possible. Mercifully, the endless missions and drills leave you little time to wonder what the Mandalorian might be up to in your absence. 

You’re not thinking about him under hails of blaster fire and explosives, nor while you duck and weave through smoke and flame to cover your teammates in the air. But he comes to you in the small hours, hours you spend trying to sleep, hours you spend wishing you were tucked up close against his side. You still claw through your memory for his smell, long since disappeared from the blanket you keep with you. Metallic and warm and home.

You’ve not used that word to describe anything for a long time, but it feels right.

Still, you live. Life in the Rebellion keeps you busy. Between meetings and missions and drills, you barely have enough time to eat, or sleep, or think some days. You’re grateful for that. The people around you are just as engrossed by war, but they don’t seem to let it get in the way. There’s love and light and laughter and you let it engulf you when you can. Nights spent in the rec rooms on your assigned cruiser, playing games of sabacc or keeping friends steady on barstools at the tiny cantina. People don’t stop living, so neither do you. Shara and Kes had married as soon as he was between missions, not long after she’d held your hand in a death grip at the prospect of her possible pregnancy. And you’re the first to hold their little boy when he comes, a week earlier than expected and furious, screaming into the galaxy. Life is good. But it’s missing something.

You try to live, at least. You freely give out smiles and stories and time, but you can never bring yourself to take it further. They always lean in close and you keep the distance. Break eye contact. You can’t do it. It’s not right. To do that to him. Even through the radio silence, even through the way you feel him just out of reach. You’re always kind about it, and nobody ever takes it badly, eyes soft as you apologise and tell them you’re spoken for. He hasn’t, but you are. That’s how it’ll always be.

He creeps into your dreams until he’s always there, his arms the only thing you can think of in the moments before you sleep.

Somewhere outside, you’re always outside with him. And there’s no armour or uniforms or obligations, just you and him and the sky as it turns a soft shade of pink. He’s not wearing his helmet, something you know as solidly as you know how to fly, but you can never quite stretch up to see his face. You don’t mind. You don’t mind because in this reality, he loves you. He tells you he loves you, over and over, and that’s enough. It doesn’t last long. The clouds roll in, dark and heavy, and Din’s warmth disappears from beneath you. Instead, you’re swallowed into the black as Captain Antilles tells you to suit up and move out. You don’t know where you’re going, but the weight sitting in the pit of your stomach makes you certain you’re not coming back.

You wake up in a cold sweat, breathing hard, and try to bring your heart rate down. Other pilots in the barracks are fast asleep around you, breathing in unison. Except one.

“You have a lot of those,” Shara whispers, the rest of the squadron still snoring, “Bad dreams, I mean.”

“Did you get a holo today?” You don’t want to talk about your dream. The fear still courses through you, it seemed so real. Missions are getting more and more dicey as each side gets more and more desperate, it’s not clear who’s winning anymore. If anybody. You can count on one hand the number of pilots who’ve come back completely unscathed in the last few months.

“He’s talking properly now, I swear every time I see him he’s bigger.” She’s trying not to cry, and you have the good grace not to mention it. Being away from her son for this long leeches at Shara’s spirit. Little Poe is safe and happy and being doted on by a relative of Kes’s, far away from the Empire’s reach. But sleep escapes her most nights, replaced by the pain of watching him grow from a distance, and the very real threat that she won’t get to see him grow up at all. You stretch your arm out across the narrow gap between your bunks and find her hand in the darkness. It’s all either of you have.

“We’re flying out to the Endor system in 36 hours. The second Death Star is mid-production, not operational, we’ll hit it before it’s done.” There’s none of the sarcastic warmth you’ve come to expect from your team commander over the years, this is it. The final stand. The noise of the cruiser’s hangar fades away as your brain switches to fight mode and you process your orders. The end of the Empire, or the Rebellion. Three possible outcomes: you win and live, you win and die, or you lose and die. The Empire will not leave survivors. Like any good pilot, you pretend that the odds don’t scare you.

You’re going to lose people. Friends, colleagues, strangers will fall, but that’s the risk you run in the Rebellion. Every single person would lay down their life at a moment’s notice if it meant the chance of success. You’re the best you’ve ever been, a veritable armoury of skills that would make your sixteen year old self faint. If it was down to just you, you’d make it out of any dogfight no doubt about it. You have no fear when you’re in the air. But it’s not just you, is it? It’s Shara, and Green Squadron, and the Rebellion at large. If any of them go down, there’s no question that you’ll follow.

You’re fumbling through your pack the moment you realise you’ve made it back to the barracks, alone, the solitude is far too rare and you’re not about to waste it worrying. You’ve pressed the talk button and brought the comm up to your mouth before you’ve even figured out what you want to say. Hopes that he’ll answer, or hear you at all, aren’t exactly high. But you’re desperate enough to give it a go.

“I’m going to the inn at Mos Espa. The one from before? I’ll click when I’m there, if you’re around.” You don’t tell him that it’s because you’re pretty sure you’re going to die. And you love him, even if he doesn’t know. And you’re selfish, ultimately. You just hope he can’t tell you’re trying not to cry.

“-if you’re around.”

Your voice echoes around the cockpit of the Razor Crest, and Din tries to ignore the way it ties his stomach in knots. He misses you, so much more than he thought he would. It’s like there’s a space inside him where only you fit, like his lungs threaten to collapse without you.

He should pretend that he didn’t get the message, like the way he pretends that he doesn’t keep the long-range comm pinned to the control board of the Crest, like the way he pretends he doesn’t think about getting in touch with you every second of every day. It’s the first time he’s heard from you in a while and there’s a new bounty puck burning a hole in his pocket and he really shouldn’t be thinking about going. Except there’s something in your voice that he can’t quite work out. He doesn’t want to go so far as to call it fear, but he can’t sit there wondering. He can’t sit there as if he hasn’t missed you.

So, Din powers up the Razor Crest, and locks in the coordinates for Mos Espa.

You hadn’t even needed to ask Shara to cover for you, she offered the second the word Mando slipped out. You’ve held her through nights where all she can do is miss Kes, she understands the pain you feel every time you spot the comm in your pack. You’d asked her once if she thought you were being silly, pining over a man whose face you’ve never seen. She’d only told you to shut up, that he’s clearly not just some guy you sleep with when the opportunity arises.

“You don’t lose sleep over dick, Lieutenant.”  

And she’s right, even if you’re afraid to put any other word to it.

The room hasn’t changed, although you’re not sure why some part of you had expected it to. The desk and chair are still in the same place, the bedding still a faded red, even the light in the ceiling has the same tattered lampshade. You stand by the small window, watching people’s shadows grow long as the day comes to an end. Still no word, no sign, nothing from Din.

The suns set, and he’s not here. He’s not coming. You hate how much you want to see him, just once, before you have to leave. You’re about to curl up on top of the bedcovers and sleep, until two knocks on the door echo loud and clear.

You look rough. Din doesn’t want that to be the first thing he thinks about you when he opens the door, but he can’t deny it. Your shoulders sag with exhaustion, stress, and there’s that fear he didn’t want to admit to hearing before. It’s not him you’re afraid of, but somehow he knows you won’t even acknowledge it.

“Been a while.” Years. It’s been years and that’s the first thing he can think of to say?

He’s here and now you can barely move. You spent so long preparing yourself for him not to show that you have no idea how to react now that he has. It feels like you’re walking through cobwebs.

“Yeah, it- it has been.” This is really not how you envisioned this would go. But he’s right, it has been a while. Maybe the more hopeful part of your heart wanted you to just pick up where you left off, but you’re not even exactly sure where that would be.

Din makes the decision for you. He strips his armour slowly, setting it on the desk in the same way he did the last time you stayed here, and never once takes his eyes off of you. You can feel it, like he thinks you’ll disappear if he looks away. Maybe you will.

Your jacket is already draped over the back of the chair, the night not yet cold enough to warrant more than your tattered t-shirt. It’s the one you wear under your flight suit. You’d left your old blanket on your bed back on the cruiser, you need his scent on this instead. You need to keep him with you when you take to the skies, just in case.

He steps closer to you, helmet still in place, until he’s all you can see. The cold metal presses down firm against your forehead, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels right. In any other context, it might scare you.

“I need you.” You can’t keep the tremble out of your voice, only hoping it makes you sound desperately horny rather than terrified. Your hands knot themselves in the thick fabric of the flight suit over his chest and he just holds you there for a moment. Bare hands skim your back, reaching up underneath your shirt to find your skin. They freeze when he finds a symmetrical set of scars. The marks feel old, settled, but still carry a heat that feels more recent than the ones he’s used to feeling.

“Prod, I think the medic said it was. Don’t recommend that.” Your half-hearted laugh travels up his fingertips.

Din’s mind flashes back to years ago, to the crime syndicate he slaughtered, the ones who’d treated torture like it was dinner and a show. The rebel pilots he’d freed-

“We had the bantha-prod on the other one yesterday. Oh, the screaming.”

He decides it probably wasn’t you, the galaxy is a big place and there’s more wannabe crime lords than womp rats. The chances of you being the second pilot are slim, and if one group was using bantha-prods on prisoners there’s no doubt there would be more. They’re convenient, easy to get your hands on, and pack a decent punch. He lets his fingers rest on each of the pronged scars for a moment, and leaves it at that.

You keep your forehead pressed to the helmet and let Din strip the layers between you, breaking only when he leans back to lift the old t-shirt over your head and your eyes slip shut against the dim moonlight. You can’t see much with them open but you need to feel him, all of him, and you know he trusts you not to look. Your mind is reeling so much that you don’t even hear him slip the helmet off, you don't register that he’s bared himself to you as much as you’re bared to him until he’s pressing you down against the threadbare blankets.

It’s there that you let him consume you, take over every square inch of your skin until you belong to him completely. Just for this isolated moment, as if the war doesn’t exist. And you revel in it, you lose yourself and let him guide you through it all. Committing his every touch, every kiss, every breath to your memory. This is what you’ll think of when you go down tomorrow. You’ll think of him and the tight feeling in your heart when he kisses you and you’ll remember that he took care of you. Even when you can’t get your hands to stop shaking.

You’re in your head, he can tell. But Din knows you, far better than either of you are willing to admit, and he knows you won’t tell him. So he throws everything he is into it. Into this time with you, no idea when he’ll get to be with you again. If ever. And for once, the fear for his creed is silent. He pulls you into him until it’s impossible to tell that you’re not one single being. You need this, clearly, and his heart is so firmly in your hands that he’ll give it to you. He’ll put everything on hold for you, every time.

You’re the first one to rise from the bed, barely having caught your breath before you’re rummaging for your clothes on the floor with your eyes still clenched shut, and that’s when Din knows something’s definitely wrong. He can hear your hands shake as you pull your t-shirt back over your head.

“Hey,” He leans forward to catch your elbow, but you shrug his fingers away, “What’s wrong?”

“I have to get back to base.” Is the only explanation you offer. Din huffs and the sound makes you flinch, too sharp in the dark, as he pulls you back to the scratchy sheets. Your hands find his broad chest and you take a second to focus on his breathing, on the way his ribs expand, until you can find the right words.

“Cyar’ika.”

“I think I’m dying tomorrow.”

He says nothing. You don’t expect him to. What are you supposed to say when somebody tells you they’re going to die?

“Din, I-”

He surges up to kiss you, breathing you in and surrounding you until he is all you know. All you ever want to know.

“Tell me when you live.” He whispers, pulling his lips away just enough to speak, and hopes you’re tired enough to forget the way you promise as you tuck yourself back into his chest. He can’t let you say the words, he knows he’ll never leave if you do.

It doesn’t take much convincing to get you to stay. A few hours, he says. He’ll wake you up when you need to go, he says. You know he will, he’s never given you a reason not to trust his word. And you let yourself relax into him, curling into his side and wondering what would happen if he didn’t wake you up. What if you just stayed here, the two of you in this room, for the rest of forever? It’s a nice enough thought to clear your mind and let sleep take over.

You wake before he does, hours before the suns are meant to rise and you know it’s time to go. It hurts, to think about leaving Din here in this bed to wake up alone. Like the last time. You hope he’s not too upset with you as you fumble blindly for the rest of your abandoned clothes.

While he has seen far too much cruelty, and been far too kind to you to deserve this, you leave him sleeping. Better for him to wake at dawn and be angry with you than to wake now and convince you not to go. You know he would. You’ve never much believed in the Force, or love for that matter, but every path you’ve ever taken has led you straight back to him. That’s got to count for something.

But love isn’t something you get to have. You’re not foolish enough to convince yourself that it is. Although, if anything in the galaxy could come close, it would be Din. You leave your heart behind with him, tucked up close beside his in the tangled sheets. He’ll keep it safe, you can trust him, of that you’re certain.

“You ready?” Shara’s trying her best to sound upbeat, and you have to hand it to her. It’s difficult not to feel like this is the end, hers is the first smile you’ve seen all day.

“I think we both know the answer to that.” You reply as you tug her into a hug. You squeeze each other almost uncomfortably tightly, but part of you feels like it might be the last chance you get to hold your best friend. She’ll feel every ounce of love you have for her, even if you crack each other’s ribs. Your matching dark green flight suits feel far too new, too starched and solid, for the firefight you know is coming.

“You smell like boy.” She mumbles into your shoulder and you huff out a laugh.

“I’ll see you after.” You say when she pulls back. Neither of you are sure you’re right.

But you are. The comms fill with cheers as you watch the second Death Star crumble, the remnants of the fleet around you falling. And you can breathe. Your work, the Rebellion’s work, is far from over but this? This is everything you’ve been working towards for years. It’s hard not to feel relieved for just a moment. You catch Shara as she zips by, following her down to Endor’s surface.

You’ve barely unclipped the safety belts before she’s wrestling you out of the cockpit and down to the forest floor. You land in a heap of laughter, maybe a few tears, and wait for the adrenaline to settle.

“We did it!” Shara’s smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it as you clasp her cheeks in your hands and hold her there. You’re both swept up into somebody’s arms only a moment later, Kes Dameron’s booming laugh filling your ears, and you let the joy wash over you. You’ve gotten through the worst of it with this, your little found family of rebels, intact. If only it wasn’t so glaringly obvious that someone is missing.

Later into the night, you pull yourself away from the party, slipping down a ladder from the treehouses and making your way to the ships. It takes a moment to remember exactly where your A-Wing is, and another to dig around in your pack to find it, but you breathe a sigh of relief as your fingers close around the comm. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever will come.

“I made it.”

There’s a second, a click from the comm, and then another.

Din finally lets the tears fall, and he can breathe again.

As though the man on the other end thought better of what he was going to say. The party still rages above your head, and you try not to let it get to you.

-

TAGLIST (lmk if you want on or off):

@brothersdrxke @remmysbounty @aq-vetina @1800-fight-me @mandos-co @kesskirata @sarahjkl82-blog @firstofficerwiggles @keeper0fthestars @wille-zarr @rebloogggs @thevoiceinyourheadx​ @plants-are-better-than-humans @schreibsuchtis 

[snowfall-fanfictions]

A Long Time Ago...

Ao3 Link FFN Link

After making a dangerous and impromptu maneuver, Luke finds himself embroiled in a conflict that ended twenty years ago, with people who were supposed to be long dead. 

Set between ANH and ESB.

Okay, time to blow the dust off of this account and start posting again. My life’s been getting a hell of a lot more hectic in the past five months, which kinda killed my drive to write. But rest assured, I’m still writing and will continue to write, it’s just going to take a little longer between chapters. Also, this is my first non-Frozen piece that I’ve uploaded to FFN and Ao3! Hope you enjoy!

Luke sat in silence as his X-wing blazed through hyperspace. He’d hoped the coordinates that the Rebel Alliance had acquired were legitimate and not some Imperial trap. For the past few months since Luke destroyed the Death Star, the Alliance had been living by the seat of its pants, jumping from system to system, desperately avoiding being captured by the Empire. It was certainly the excitement and adventure he’d been longing for since he was a young boy, longing to finally leave Tatooine to explore the wider galaxy, though he wasn’t expecting to do so under such circumstances.

The thought of Tatooine brought Luke’s memories back to that day when Ben, or Obi-wan, saved him from the Tusken Raiders. He moved his eyes from the streaking blues and whites of hyperspace to his immediate right. There, nestled between him and the cockpit, laid his lightsaber, worn and battered from the years of action it saw. Luke immediately thought back on Ben’s words to him as he placed it in his hands that day.

“I was once a Jedi Knight, same as your father… He was the best starfighter pilot in the galaxy… and he was a good friend…”

The thought of his father being a Jedi mesmerized Luke. All his life he had believed he had come from some spice trader in the Outer Rim, now he knew the truth. Well, most of the truth. Luke thought back to the daring rescue of Leia on the Death Star, how Ben sacrificed himself to Vader to let them escape. Now, in the entirety of the galaxy, there was only one man who knew his father.

And it was the man who killed him. 

Luke encountered Vader only once after destroying the Death Star, on Cymoon 1. In hindsight, Luke considered it foolish for a farm boy from Tatooine to challenge a powerful Force wielder such as Vader. The Dark Force Weilder’s words rang in his mind, “You, boy, are no Jedi…”

And he was right. As much as it stung like the twin suns, it was the truth. Now, with the only Jedi he’d known dead, all Luke could do is hope that he’d find another Jedi somewhere in the galaxy. Luke scoffed at this. He’d have a better time finding a fish in the Dune Sea than a Jedi.

As he was lost in thought, the chirps and whistles of Artoo brought him back to the present. “We’re arriving at the coordinates,” The Aurebesh on the navigation computer said, translating the astromech’s various sounds, “Pulling us out of lightspeed now.”

“Alright, thanks Artoo,” Luke replied, flipping a series of switches and buttons. In an instant, the vortex of blue before him returned to the vast blackness of space, with countless stars glistening ahead of him. Luke scanned the area as best he could from his cockpit, only to be met with the vast infinity of space on all sides.

“Something’s wrong,” Luke said, “You sure these are the right coordinates?” Artoo whistled and chirped as the navigational computer quickly translated for him, “Positive. Looks like there’s nothing here, unless the Alliance was looking for a nice chunk of dead space.”

Luke let out a distressed groan allowing his head to slump back, “Well, beats running into a Star Destroyer, right?”

Before Artoo could reply, the X-wing jolted with tremendous force. Luke frantically scanned around as far as his cockpit allowed in an attempt to see what caused his ship to buck like that. Maybe this was a trap after all and the Imperials had finally caught up to them. The fact that nothing was in his immediate view did nothing to ease his panic. That’s when he saw it: space itself distorting, the stars disappearing into an inky nothingness just barely in eyesight of his cockpit.

“Kriff!” Luke barked, gripping the throttle with haste. With as much strength as he could muster, he thrusted the stick, causing the engines to roar. The X-wing groaned and cracked under the pressure of the black hole as Artoo let out a screech. Slowly, the ship was pulled backwards, chunks of metal could be heard being torn off. Luke’s heart raced as sweat formed underneath his helmet. “Artoo! Get ready to jump to lightspeed!” he shouted, frantically flipping switches and mashing buttons.

“Not advised,” the navigational computer translated, “could lead to serious issues.”

“We don’t have an option, Artoo! Get us out of here, now!” “To where?”

“Anywhere!”

Artoo said nothing more as he quickly calculated their jump to lightspeed. All the while, Luke multitasked between keeping the ship out of the hole as long as possible and locking the s-foils, both in preparation for the jump and to prevent the loss of a wing. After what felt like several eternities, Artoo let out a whistle of cautious triumph, announcing that they were ready for the jump. With no hesitation, Luke gave the throttle one last push as the familiar blue of hyperspace filled his vision before he slumped back into his seat. His heart raced like a skittish womp rat as he sighed in relief. “Th-thanks, Artoo,” he gasped.

After a long winded series of chirps and whistles, the navigational computer read, “We’re lucky to have survived that, you know…” “Yeah, I know. Where are we headed, anyway?”

“Chandar’s Folly. Just picked a random planet from my memory banks.”

Artoo flashed a picture of a brownish green planet on the navigation computer. It appeared to be uninhabited, yet should be in the range of the Alliance fleet. Luke scanned over the information thoroughly. “How long till we get there?” he asked.

“Now,” the computer screen read.

Luke slowly brought the ship out of hyperspace as he was met by a grey overcast. It was unorthodox to land so close to the planet’s atmosphere, but he couldn’t risk being out in open space while the Empire was still searching for him. Mountains rose high above the planet’s surface, with small clusters of trees dotting the landscape. There didn’t appear to be any signs of sentient life, no cities or encampments, which made this a perfect place to hide until the Alliance came.

As Luke scanned for a perfect place to land, a warning flashed on his short range scanner. Before he had time to process it, a loud explosion shook his X-wing. Luke could see his engines smoking as he quickly began losing altitude. Did the Empire find out where he was going? Bounty hunters? It didn’t matter much at the moment. Luke had to focus on not crashing into a mountain side.

He gripped the throttle as he jerked the snub fighter left and right, avoiding the large mountains while still finding a place to land. Eventually, Luke noticed a small valley, long enough to make an emergency landing. With careful positioning, he managed to angle his fighter into the valley. Luke didn’t even have time to activate his landing gears before the nose of his X-wing buried itself into the ground, creating a large streak of churned soil.

Luke groaned as he unstrapped himself from his seat. His arms felt like jelly and every muscle in his back screamed in pain. As he pushed the cockpit open, his nostrils were immediately filled with the smell of sulfur and fresh dirt as his eyes readjusted to the planet’s sun. He appeared to be in some sort of valley, with mountains towering over him on either side. Two sparsely clustered groups of fungus like trees lined the massive skid made by his X-wing.

“You okay, Artoo?” Luke asked, scanning the horizon. Artoo let out a series of beeps and whistles as he struggled to get out of his socket. Luke climbed over and, with a little help from Artoo, lifted the astromech out and onto the ground. Artoo let out a happy chirp as he rocked from side to side, causing the sides of Luke’s mouth to lift up. The young pilot scanned the horizon, listening for any local wildlife, only to be met by an eerie silence.

“So, this is Chandar’s Folly?” Luke asked Artoo. The droid beeped and chirped in confirmation. “Well, you weren’t kidding about it being abandoned. C’mon, let’s see if we can fix the X-wi-”

Luke… a faint voice called out, causing Luke to jump. He instantly recognized the voice.

“Ben?” he responded almost hopefully.

You are not where you’re supposed to be, Luke. There is a great disturbance in the Force… Ben’s voice became fainter with each passing word

“What do you mean?”

Be careful around those you meet, that is all I can say… Ben’s voice trailed off into silence.

What did he mean by that? Luke thought.

A low thumping sound coming from the edge of the valley interrupted Luke’s thought. Artoo let out a concerned moan as he whirled behind the X-wing. Luke jumped into the cockpit, grabbing his lightsaber before joining Artoo. So much for this place being abandoned. The thumping grew louder, becoming clearer and more intense. Stormtroopers, without a doubt. Luke gripped his lightsaber tighter as the thumping stopped. A few seconds passed, yet they felt like an eternity. One of the soldiers stepped forward, which caused some confusion to Luke. The footsteps sounded… mechanical, almost like it was a droid.

“Well, this looks like the crash site,” one of the troops said. The voice was robotic, sounding almost timid and nasally. The familiar sound of a comm unit powering on filled Luke’s ears.

“Corporal, status report,” the voice on the other end ordered. Even through the static of the comms, the voice on the other end sounded monotone, revealing no emotion.

“We’ve managed to find the ship, commander. It’s nothing like we’ve seen before.”

“Is it Republic made?”

“Uhhhhh, looks like it.”

“And what of the pilot?”

“Uhhhhhh… nowhere to be seen.”

“Find the pilot and either secure or eliminate them. We have begun our offensive on the Republic’s defenses, and I cannot have a random variable jeopardize my strategy.”

“Roger roger.” The soldier shut off the comms unit. “You heard the commander, find the pilot, stat!”

Luke’s heart pounded in his chest. He slowly crept his head around the wreckage like a timid Loth-cat. As the soldiers came into view, his eyes widened. Eleven tan battle droids stood rigid, with one standing in front of them with yellow markings on its head and torso. Luke couldn’t understand the sight before him. Battle droids hadn’t been used in combat since the early days of the Empire, at least that’s what Uncle Owen used to say. Did the Empire reactivate the droids? Luke lingered on the droids, trying to piece together what was going on. Then, one of the droids looked him square in the eyes, causing it to jump.

“Look!” the droid shouted, pointing at Luke, “There’s the pilot!”

The droids snapped their heads at the location their comrade pointed to. Luke shrank back, gripping his lightsaber tightly. At this point, his heart threatened to burst out of his chest.

“You are under arrest in the name of the Seperatist Alliance,” the commander announced, at least that’s what Luke assumed, “Step out from behind the wreckage with your hands up.”

Artoo let out a worried whimper. Luke’s mind raced with questions. This had to be one of the seperatist holdouts the Empire dealt with in the early years, during the Reconquest of the Rim. Maybe this was all that was left of the holdout. If so, he could probably take them. Even then, Luke still practiced a bit of caution. He fastened the lightsaber to his side and slowly made his way out to face the droids with raised hands. All eleven of them had their blasters at the ready, tracking Luke’s every move.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Luke announced, “I’m just like you, hiding from the Empire. We don’t have to-”

“Empire?” one of the droids interjected, “What’s an Empire?”

“Wait a minute, this isn’t a clone,” another droid commented, stepping forward. A clone? Luke thought. Clones haven’t been seen since the days of the Clone Wars. Perhaps these droids never had their memory wiped, so they still think the Clone Wars are still raging.

“You’re coming with u-” the commander looked down at the lightsaber resting beside Luke’s hip. “HE’S A JEDI!”

The droids stepped back in shock as the commander snatched the lightsaber from Luke, inspecting it thoroughly.

“We found a jedi? And we’re still operational?” one of them asked.

“That’s impossible!” Another said, “He hasn’t done those weird hand motions yet!”

“Have you tried to fight a Jedi? The only one who has one that isn’t a Jedi is the General!”

“I sense promotions!” the commander waved the lightsaber in the air triumphantly.

All the droids cheered at the commander’s announcement. Just then, the commander began levitating in the air. The other droids stared in amazement, only to have their awe cut short by the sound of blasters. One by one, each droid received an azure bolt to the head, collapsing to the floor. The commanding droid yelled in horror as an invisible force crushed it like a canister in the vacuum of space before falling to the ground with a loud thud. Luke’s lightsaber tumbled out of the droid’s hand directly in front of him. He stared in amazement at the heaps of scrap before him, all sputtering sparks while twitching faintly, before scanning the immediate area for whoever saved him. Artoo slowly crept out from behind the wreckage with a low whistle.

“That… wasn’t you, right, Artoo?” Luke asked half-jokingly, lowering his now tired arms.. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted faint rustling from the clusters of trees. Must be the ones who did all this Luke thought as he carefully stepped over the metallic corpses. He fastened his lightsaber back onto his side before waving in the direction of the trees. “Thanks, whoever you are,” Luke shouted, “Guess this planet isn’t as abandoned as I thought it… was?”

Luke’s approach slowed to a halt as a figure emerged from the tree line. His apparent savior wore bone white armor, accented by black around the joints. The face was obscured by a helmet, and in their hands rested a small black rifle. Artoo screeched as Luke’s heart skipped a beat. Without hesitation, Luke tore the lightsaber off his side and immediately ignited it. The blue blade jettisoned out of the hilt with a screech as Luke pointed the tip towards the trooper.

“I thought the Empire didn’t operate on Chandar’s Folly,” Luke said, “What are you doing on this planet?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the trooper said, raising his hands carefully over his head, “You’re a Jedi, right? Part of this military campaign?” Luke eased a bit of tension in his body.

“Military campaign?”

Just then, another trooper, similarly outfitted, made his way out of the thick cluster. Then another. And another. In total, about ten stormtroopers stood before him, all with weapons pointed at Luke. Artoo began panicking beside Luke as another trooper came out of the brush. His armor was similar to those around him, but instead of bone white, it was accented with dark blues and sported a worn gray kama wrapped around his waist. Luke deduced that it was some kind of elite trooper the Empire was keeping a secret. If he got out of this alive, that would be invaluable information to relay to the alliance.

“Well,” the blue trooper said, “no wonder the clankers were so eager to find this wreck.” Luke cocked his head as he raised an eyebrow. The trooper’s voice was identical to the first soldier who emerged out of the trees. Luke swung the lightsaber towards the elite soldier.

“Who are you?” he demanded. Luke was taken aback when the trooper stood at attention and saluted him.

“Captain Rex, designation CT-7567 of the 501st Legion, sir.” he announced. Clones! Luke thought. There were a few clones in the rebellion, but they were all incredibly old and rarely if ever took active combat roles because of it. The clone’s name rang a bell, almost as if Luke had heard that name before.

“I thought the Empire discontinued the use of clones,” Luke said, “Or are you with the Rebellion?”

The trooper took off his helmet, revealing a man with light brown skin and eyes and blond hair cut so close it appeared as part of his skin. “Empire? Rebellion?” Rex asked, “Sounds like that crash might’ve scrambled your brains.”

“Hey!” Luke blurted out as Artoo whirled behind him. Before Luke could chastise his astromech, another figure stepped out of the farthest tree cluster. Unlike the clones, this man was adorned in blue and maroon robes, with a light gray armor piece around his neck. A faint scar draped itself over his right eye and, on his side, rested a lightsaber, almost similar to the one Luke held in his hand.

“Well, this is… unusual,” the man said, hands clasped behind his back. Luke disabled his lightsaber and approached the man.

“Thanks for the save,” Luke sighed, “Never thought I’d see battle droids in action.” 

The man cocked an eyebrow. “Are you part of the Agricultural Corps?”

Luke looked at the man as if his head was floating off his shoulders. “The what?”

“I assume you’re a Jedi with that lightsaber.”

Luke stared down at his lightsaber before letting out a sigh. “I mean, I thought I was a Jedi…”

“I sense some power inside you… it’s low, but it’s there. When did you discover this power?”

“A few months ago…”

The man’s face reeled in shock. “You have to be at least as old as me!”

“Y-yeah…”

The man rubbed his chin. “Perhaps Master Yoda and the council would know more about this…”

“The council?”

“The Jedi Council… you’ve had to have heard of them, right?”

Luke opened his mouth to speak, but then thought of Ben’s words crept into his brain. Maybe this was what he was talking about.

“Yeah,” Luke lied, “I-I’ve heard of them.”

“Good.” the man extended one of his hands, “Why don’t you come with us? Our forward camp isn’t too far from here.”

Luke clasped his hand and shook it firmly. “Well, we don’t have much of a choice. Name’s Luke.”

“Anakin,” the man replied, “Anakin Skywalker.”

Luke’s eyes went wide as his body stiffened. His mind raced, connecting all the information he had. Jedi Council, Anakin Skywalker, clones and droids… did we…?

“C’mon, Obi-wan will want to talk to you as well,” Anakin turned and made his way out of the valley as the clones followed suit. Luke and Artoo exchanged concerned looks, as if they both came to the same conclusions. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Artoo…” Luke said as he followed his father out of the valley.

XXXXXX

The bridge of the Executor was draped in the light blue of hyperspace. The sounds of computers and low murmur of the crew were completely drowned out by the deep and chilling breathing of Darth Vader. The Dark Lord stood silently as he peered out of the Super Star Destroyer’s viewports. Probe droids mentioned a lone X-wing that exited hyperspace from these coordinates. The markings the ship was described with matched up with the one that destroyed the Death Star. The one piloted by Luke Skywalker.

Vader’s own son.

Upon discovering that Padmè had given birth before she died, rage consumed Vader’s every being. Not only had the Emperor attempted to replace him with subpar weaklings, he lied about the death of his child. The Emperor needed to be eliminated, that much was certain. And Luke was the key to his downfall. Once Luke was in his grasp, they would rule the galaxy as father and son.

“Lord Vader,” Admiral Ozzel announced, strolling up to the towering cyborg, “We’ll be exiting hyperspace shortly, but our scanners have picked up something… unusual…”

Vader turned to the admiral, who shrank back in response. “Does it pose immediate threat to the ship, admiral?” Vader interrogated.

“Well, we are unsure, m’lord, but I felt it wise to inform y-”

“If it poses no threat, then we shall proceed as planned. I will not allow this… Jedi, to slip through our hands once again.”

“Yes, Lord Vader…”

As the Executor left hyperspace, Vader was met by a mixture of confusion and shock. Instead of the vast expanse of space, the ship was met with a series of jagged red energy bolts cutting through the stars. Vader felt the Force shaking and bending, as if it were a tortured animal. The bridge was filled with shocked gasps and hushed murmurs from petty officers and stormtroopers. Admiral Ozzel stood with his mouth agape, trying to make sense of what he was looking at.

“What are your orders, sir?” he said after a moment.

“Prepare my ship at once,” Vader decreed, turning to leave the bridge, “And ready a detachment of fighters. I shall investigate this myself.” Vader didn’t stop to hear Ozzel’s reply as the massive doors sealed shut behind him.

XXXXXXX

From the cockpit of Vader’s TIE Advanced, the damage appeared to be much worse. It appeared as if space were a large pane of shattered glass, with pure nothingness hiding behind it. Only a fool would dare venture out here alone. Three TIEs split off from Vader as he scoured for the source of this damage. As they dispersed, a streak of red energy jutted out in front of them. Two managed to alter their course with a deafening roar, but one flew directly through it, incinerating it completely. Fool, Vader thought, These are supposed to be the Empire’s greatest pilots?

Vader’s thoughts were disturbed by the fervent beeping of his comm unit. Upon activation, he was greeted by Ozzel, hands clasped behind his back.

“M’lord,” Ozzel began, “It appears we’re the only ones in this sector, perhaps we should-”

“No,” Vader abruptly interrupted, “Skywalker is here, he must be. Send another detachment of fighters. I want every inch of this sector swept.”

“As you w-”

Before Ozzel could finish his thought, the comm unit abruptly shut off as Vader’s ship rocked violently. The cyborg attempted to restabilize his ship, but only seemed to jostle it even further. Out of the corners of the cockpit, Vader saw the inky nothingness creep into view.

“Admiral!” Vader said, activating the comms link, “Activate the tractor beam, and target myself.” the Sith lord was met with static. “Admiral, respond!” Again, static. Seeing no other option, Vader began calculating a desperate jump to hyperspace. As soon as coordinates were set, he launched himself out of the nothingness and into hyperspace. The tension receded from his body as he attempted to contact the Executor once again.

“Admiral Ozzel!” Vader said, anger rising in his voice, “Do I need to remind you of the Emperor’s decree? I am not to be ignored!” Vader was once again met with static and no admiral. He slammed his metallic fist onto the unit, causing a small dent. He would deal with Ozzel in the future. For now, Vader needed to refocus on getting back to the fleet and refocus his efforts on finding Skywalker.

Vader quickly disabled his hyperdrive as he took in his surroundings. While he was still in dead space, the damage he witnessed was completely absent. While it appeared the damage to space itself was contained, Vader couldn’t help but feel a disturbance in the Force, as if catastrophe struck on a galactic scale. The Sith lord pushed this thought to the side for the time being. His priority was to return to the Executor. Vader activated his sensor array, broadcasting his location to every sector in range.

“This is a distress call from Lord Vader,” he decreed, “All Imperial naval units converge on my position.”

Just as he finished his message, Vader’s TIE shook abruptly once again. Again?! He thought as he was thrown around in his own cockpit. Perhaps it was a rebel ship attacking him. Vader activated his scanner, and his suspicions were confirmed almost immediately. A large frigate had entered the sector not too long after he arrived, with armaments similar to those used by rebels. If they wished for a fight, then so be it, he thought. Vader maneuvered his ship into attack mode, but hesitated once his target came into view. Instead of a Mon Calamari cruiser, he was met by the long and thin outline of a Munificent-Class frigate. He hadn’t seen one of them since the Clone Wars, and no separatist holdout could house one of them discreetly.

Vader’s comm unit lit up with hailing frequencies, no doubt from the frigate. Upon answering the call, he was met by a Neimoidian, his bony fingers steepling as he glared.

“This is General Uurd Mak of the Confederacy of Independent Systems!” he announced, “You are in a military zone, leave now or be destroyed!”

“The Confederacy has been disbanded for nearly twenty years,” Vader replied, “You are in direct violation of Imperial law. It would be wise to surrender now, or the consequences will be dire.” “I assure you, the Sepratist Alliance is active and strong. Allow me to demonstrate…”

Vader felt his TIE jolt as he was dragged towards the frigate. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop from approaching the ship. Rage began boiling within the Sith lord. First Ozzel refused to acknowledge him, now he had this worm disrespecting him. “If it is a fight you wish for,” Vader said, “Then you shall get one.” And with that, Vader cut the communication just as he was pulled into the frigate’s hangar.

Out of his viewing port, Vader saw hundreds of battle droids, with blasters pointing at him. Vulture droids were perched throughout the hangar, with various tubes and supplies strewn about. Once his TIE landed, a commander droid stepped forward and knocked on the glass.

“Alright,” it said, “Come out with your hands up and you won’t be shot!”

With the press of a button, the top of the TIE opened with a hiss, followed by an eruption of steam. Vader then leaped out of the opening, igniting his lightsaber and cutting down the commander with the crimson blade.

“JEDI! OPEN FIRE!” one of the droids shouted. Every droid around Vader unleashed a torrent of blaster fire, which the sith managed to either deflect or dodge. Vader managed to cut down a few more before the remaining droids ran, leaving him alone with the sound of his lightsaber humming. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but what Vader did know was that no one would be leaving this ship alive.

XXXXXX

The Millennium Falcon dropped out of hyperspace with immense speed. Han and Chewbacca scanned the vastness of space before them in horror. Blood red cracks streaked across the expanse like magma flowing from a volcano. Chewie let out a worried roar, not tearing his eyes from the scene.

“Yeah, I hear ya, pal,” Han said worryingly, “Let’s hope Luke didn’t get too close to those things…” The smuggler and Luke grew close over the past few months, whether it be from sharing their experiences with flying to taking the Empire head on. To Han, Luke was the brother he never had. Well, the second brother, behind Chewie of course, but still like family nonetheless. The two pilots flew cautiously around the damage and chaos, trying to figure out the point of origin. As they were scanning the expanse, C-3PO trotted into the cabin.

“By the Maker!” Threepio blurted, causing Han to jump slightly, “The damage is much worse than Alliance intel relayed!”

“Thanks for the insight, goldie,” Han said sarcastically, “now unless you can tell me how space itself can bleed, I need you to make yourself useful and get Leia up here.”

“At once, Captain Solo, but Alliance Command will be requesting an update on the situation.” “Tell them things have gone to hell, but no Imperials so far. Now get Leia.”

“Yes, sir.” Threepeeo waddled back out of the cabin, leaving Han and Chewie to themselves once more. Chewie let out a concerning wimper directed to Han.

“What?” The smuggler asked, “I know that droid’s a pain to you as much as he is to me.”

Chewie let out a quick bark in defiance. 

“I know he means a lot to Leia and that clone, but they could’ve at least changed his vocal patterns. And who programs a droid to feel fear?”

The wookie simply roared, seemingly scolding his friend.

“You’re right, we need to get back to this. If the Empire has a new weapon that can do this, we’re all in danger…”

XXXXXX

“Thank you for joining us, Commander Rex,” Leia said, “I know it must be difficult with your age to come on these missions.” The two of them sat around the holochess table, which was in desperate need of repair. Upon the table sat Rex’s ARC helmet, greyed by years of use with tally marks on the temples. The clone simply laughed as he calibrated his blaster pistols.

“Never liked sitting around,” Rex chortled, “We clones were bred to fight.”

“I remember the stories my father used to tell me about the wars. Is it true you were under the command of Luke’s father?”

“Sure was. Few Jedi cared about their clones as much as General Skywalker. He and I led the 501st through thick and thin, come hell or high water.” The smile on Rex’s face dissipated as he stared at his helmet. “I just can’t believe he’s really… dead, y’know.”

Leia placed a hand on Rex’s shoulder, “I’m sorry. With all the loss you’ve probably seen, that must’ve been hard.”

“Indeed, but their deaths are what keep me fighting. So that his, and the sacrifices my brothers made, aren’t in vain.”

Leia thanked the aging clone once more before excusing herself to find Threepio. She held a deep respect for the old clone, even before General Syndulla’s recommendation for this mission. Leia remembered hearing that he was one of the five clones that held off an entire invasion force on the moon of Rishi. If the Alliance could get a hold of the cloning technology used for him, the war would be a hell of a lot shorter. Though with these rumors of a new Imperial superweapon, one that rivaled the destructive power of the Death Star, it would take much more than just manpower to deal with the Empire.

Leia managed to find Threepio coming from the cockpit, muttering to himself as usual. “Everything alright, Threepio?” Leia asked.

“Oh, Princess Leia!” Threepio responded, attempting to mask the annoyance in his vocal programming, “Captain Solo is requesting your presence, albeit rather rudely.”

“Has he found the weapon?” “No, but… it’s hard to explain, but it’s almost as if space has been… shattered. Like glass.”

“Bah!” Rex said peering out of the access door, “Space warps, not breaks. With as long as you’ve been around, droid, I’d thought you’d know that too.”

“My visual receptors don’t lie. Also, how would you know how long I’ve been around?”

Rex turned his attention to Leia. “Guess they weren’t kidding about a memory wipe…”

The ship suddenly jolted, nearly knocking everyone onto the floor. As the three of them scrambled back onto their feet, an alarm began blaring throughout the ship. Leia dashed past Threepio towards the cockpit, followed by Rex, then the protocol droid. Han and Chewie were frantically flipping switches and pressing buttons, their eyes wildly darting all across the dashboard.

“What the hell’s going on?” Leia demanded before turning her gaze out to the expanse of space. It was just as Threepio described; space itself seemed to have shattered like glass.

“Looks like we’re caught in a black hole,” Han said, trying to keep his voice calm, “That might be what caused all this.” “How?” Rex interrogated, “Black holes warp space, not shatter it!” “Well, there’s no superweapon out here, so if you’ve got a better explanation, old man, I’d love to hear them!”

The ship bucked again, forcing Leia and Rex to grip the passenger seats to remain standing. Threepio was not so lucky, falling to the ground with a yelp.

“I hope you have a solution to this, otherwise we’re done for!” Leia yelled over the blaring alarm.

“Don’t get your shorts in a knot, Princess! I always have a solution. Chewie, prepare to jump to lightspeed.”

“What?!” Rex and Leia said in unison.

“You two got any better ideas?”

“But sir!” Threepio said as he stood back up, “There is a 99.9 percent chance that the ship will be torn asunder if we attempt a jump to hyperspace!” “Never tell me the odds. Chewie, you got the coordinates?” The wookie let out a bellowing roar. “Then punch it!”

In an instant, the stars became streaks of light as the Falcon launched forward into the emptiness of space.

[kylos-bens]

Mistakes Like This ↠ Obi-Wan Kenobi (Obi-Wan x Reader)  Chapter 11

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: violence against droids lololol well dummies. some soft lowkey domestic obi??? Will make your heart weak???!!?! SUM SMUT OFC TO ADD ON TO THAT.

Tags: @blondekel77 @jediknight-22 @wellhellothere1002

A/N: I’ve been waiting to get to this chapter. Always wanted to write about stuff happening in Coruscant 😜

Before dinner, you decided to go through a training course. That was your usual routine when back when you were Padawan and it was the perfect time to do it because it was usually empty. You can set it up to how you like it and there were no issues with others.

A few Padawan learners were just leaving when you arrived and you picked up a holopad to start setting the course. You put it to the highest setting and customized what the training droid would attack you with. The room was empty now and then balls of light started rising from the ground and expanded. It was a change of scenery to a desert planet. The temperature of the room rose and beads of sweat started to form on your forehead. The simulated sun was beating down on you that you actually had to shield your eyes from it to get a good look at your surroundings.

You stretched and thought this would be a piece of cake. It was more like trying to beat your highest score. You pace around waiting for the droid to appear. You ignite your lightsaber and see the droid drop down from above. The more advance the setting the more agile these droids become that they almost mimic people. It straightened itself out and it raised its arm igniting a double-bladed yellow lightsaber.

You immediately went for a swing and it blocked you. The droid backed away and swung the sabers at lightspeed. The lightsabers kept meeting at every attack and you shout at the droid to give it all it's got. It does backflips and jumps but you could do the same and caught up to it. It was a jab and swing with a few occasions of close calls of this droid being impaled. This went on for a few more minutes until you sliced the double-bladed lightsaber in half and swung yours quickly to decapitate the droid. It sparked and fell to its knees.

The simulation changes quickly and you are now on a docking bay surrounded by battle droids. Without hesitation, they start shooting at you and you blocked all the attacks the best you could. Right now you were outnumbered and you crouched down so the other battle droids could shoot one of their own. It was starting to bore you so you lifted up all the droids with the Force and as they stayed suspended in the air shooting out and shooting their guns you crushed them by closing your fist. They all started dropping like flies and the simulation started to waver. You looked up confused as to what happened because you knew there was more. The docking bay changed back to the training course room.

"Having fun?" Obi-Wan was standing behind you and you laughed.

"Yea I just wanted to see how fast I could beat this," you wiped away the sweat off your forehead. "You need me for something?"

"Did you have dinner yet?" he puts the hood over his head. You raised an eyebrow at him and he hands you over your brown robes.

"No, why? What is this for?" you hold your robes up in front of you.

"We're going out," he says and you furrow your brows.

"We have to look for someone?" you put on the robes and he shakes his head.

"No darling I'm just going to take you out for the night," he smiled behind the beard.

"Wow really?" Your heart raced and the way he was standing so close to you here in the Jedi Temple gave you exhilaration for some reason. "I remember when you used to hate when I left the Temple."

"Well, that was when you were a Padawan," the both of you started to leave out of the room. "Now tell me how did you sneak out?"

_

It was a warm feeling walking through the Uscru District of Coruscant with Obi-Wan. No one recognized who you were and since everyone liked to mind their own business they barely looked at the both of you. Plus everyone else was wearing some kind of hooded attire. Since you lived and trained on Coruscant there was never a moment the both of you were exploring Coruscant together. Obi might have done that in his youth and you have your own share of experiences through the different districts.

It was a busy night and you could see everyone gathering at the clubs and restaurants. A few humanoids were standing at the corners selling who knows what and you made a comment to Obi-Wan that you were going to try it out. He scoffed and said that you wouldn't want to do that. The both of you laughed and you felt the back of his hand brush against yours. You went quiet and thought to yourself about taking his hand.

"What do you think about stew?" Obi-Wan stopped walking and you watched him look up at the restaurant. Hot Stew was flashing in red neon lights in Aurabesh.

"Sure it's been a while since I've had that," you followed him through the doors and the restaurant was packed. It was a good sign that they had good food. Music was blasting and you looked around the place to see what everyone was getting to eat. It seemed like stew was the only option here. Obi guided you through the maze of people and he finally  found a spot at the back. A group of friends were sitting at the table close to the both of you. They were laughing and you listened in on their conversation. It was mostly about gossip and drama in the Coruscant high profiles.

You remembered the times you would go out to this district on your own pretending you were one of them. Just living a life amongst the millions of people in the Uscru District.

As soon as Obi and you say comfortably at the table a droid came around. It introduced itself to the both of you and displayed a screen on its torso. "Wow they have all kinds of stew!" you looked at the screen and Obi looked through and he stopped at one spot.

"Bantha stew?" he suggested to you. "Wow they even have nerf stew. Have you ever had that?"

"Nerf? No let's try it!" you got excited. Nerf was never part of the diet at the Temple so you were curious as to what it tasted like. Obi-Wan ordered two bowls of it and the droid processed it. It started to beep and steam. You watched as the torso of the droid opened up and two bowls of the nerf stew were ready.

"It smells good," Obi-Wan reached for the wooden bowls and the droid poured out some sort of juiced from the palm of its hand. It placed the cups next to you. It also produced toasted bread from its torso and placed between you and Obi-Wan.

"That would be ten credits," the droid opens up it's palm. You were reaching for the credits in your pocket but Obi-Wan dropped his own into the hand of the droid. It thanked the both of you and moved on to the next customer.

"Here's the five credits," you put them on the table for Obi.

"Save it for later," he blows on a spoonful of steaming stew. You shrugged and pocketed it. You looked down at your own bowl and the thick soup was steaming and you can see the chunks of nerf floating in it.

"How is it?" you looked back at Obi-Wan who was already chewing. He just nods his head before swallowing.

"I'm surprised it good," he says and you blow on a spoonful before taking a bite. It was really flavorful and the nerf meat tasted fresh and melts in the mouth. You had to agree with him and the both of you shared the bread at the middle.

"Better than the dinner from the Temple!"you joked and removed the hood from over your head. Obi-Wan was busy with his own bowl but he did take some time to break pieces of the bread to give to you. You commented about how cozy you felt and he agreed. Then it came to the subject of who would do a better job at replicating the stew and it turned into a whole debate but he ends up yielding to you because you mentioned how you never saw him make food for himself. On missions he was always looking for the prepacked meals. Then he made a comment about how you can be a chef on side. He chuckled while you just rolled your eyes. The aura between the both of you this evening was so relaxed. It was a change and you like it this was.  It was so odd but you weren't complaining. It was on rare occasions you'd get to spend some time with Obi-Wan and no other responsibilities nagging you.

He was enjoying himself as well and it surprised you when he called the droid back to order spotchka. The droid returned with a bottle of the blue liquid and two glasses. It poured the both of you a glass and left. "It's been a while since I've had some," you lift the glass and swirl the liquid around before taking a sip. Obi-Wan started to tell you about the days when he was training under Qui-Gon. He lowered his head and looked down at his own spotchka.

"Last time I had it was with him," Obi says and you stared at his hand gripping the glass. Without hesitating you slip your hand into his. He looked up at you again and there was a trace of sadness on his face. This was probably bring back memories of his old master. You traced the back of knuckles and there were a few cuts that were healing. Without thinking you lift his hand to kiss them and you held his gaze as you did. The bustling restaurant suddenly felt so distant and it felt like it was only the two of you. He opened up his palm and cradled your cheek. You kept yours hand on his and he smiled at you softly.

Obi-Wan didn't have to say anything. He let some of his guard and you read what he was thinking about. "You won't lose me too," you said to him out loud.

"I know," he holds on to you tighter.

_

The both of you were out of that restaurant and back on the bustling street. The nightlife in this district was invigorating and it brought back some fond memories when you were a Padawan and you sneaked out with some of your friends. Obi-Wan at the time was probably aware but he never brought it up with you. That gave you an idea of where to go with him.

You stopped walking and he turned around lifting his hood off his head. "Is something the matter darling?" he asked. You take his hand and he stared down at it. His large warm hand grasped your own and it felt good to be doing this in public.

"Can I show you something?" you asked. He nods and you drag him through a crowd and both of you put your hoods back up. His grip on your hand tightened as you almost ran throughout the people. There was so much noise but you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

You looked around as you were starting to get familiar with the location. The lower district was coming closer and Obi-Wan stopped you. "You're not lost are you?" he asked. "We shouldn't move away from Uscru."

"Trust me on this one," you turned to him and then spot the familiar alley. "This way." You lead him through an alley and Obi-Wan kept his hand over his lightsaber. There was a ledge coming up and finally let go of his hand. You looked up to see the Coruscant skies with ships flying and the neon lights giving the haze a dreamy view. "We just need to get up there." You point at the ledge. It was a quick hop up and without breaking a sweat you were up on the ledge. Obi-Wan followed right after you and removed his hood again seeing that both of you were alone on the rooftop. He followed you as you balanced your way to another ledge and climbed up so you can reach the rooftop.

"I didn't know you were going to make me climb buildings tonight," Obi-Wan says as he lifts himself up. You take his arm and pulled him up.

"For this view of course I was," you said and when he looked up you saw the awe in his face. Up on this building that you both scaled there was a perfect view of Coruscant. You could see the Uscru district and between the buildings you can see the Federal District where the Jedi Temple.

"How did you find this?" Obi-Wan stood next to you.

"I wanted a place to be alone," you leaned on the ledge. "This I where I went. I got to see everything and pretend I was not a Jedi." There was silence from Obi-Wan and you hear him shuffle next to you. The whirring of the buildings and ships calmed you for some reason.

"I can see the appeal," Obi-Wan whispered. From the corner of you eye you can see him look around and then his gaze lands on you. You feel his fingers slip into your hair and he kissed your temple. "What else did you do?"

"Meditated out here," you moved closer to him. It felt so right to be in his arms and he looked back out to the horizon. "I thought about you."

"And what about me?" he gently massaged the back of your neck.

"I wondered if we were different people you'd see me as an equal," you take the loose thread from the sleeve of his robe and twist it around your finger.

"I could see it," he said and you stayed silent. That thought came up a lot and if  Obi-Wan wasn't a Jedi he would work as diplomat. You'd think about how your paths would cross if you worked as a curator at the Coruscant Museum of Galactic Cultures. It was just your fantasies when you were much younger. Thinking about it now he would probably be married and have a family of his own.

"Really?" you laughed at your own thoughts.

"You don't?" he holds your chin. There was concentration written all over his face and you can tell he was trying to read you. "I wouldn't be married."

"Would I be your young mistress if you were?" you joked with him and he let out a hearty laugh.

"This version of you is perfect," Obi-Wan holds you close to him. "A Jedi Knight and Jedi Master." You stroke his beard and look up to him.

"I just want to stay like this," you whispered on his lips. He leans into a kiss and you feel his arms tighten around you. The taste of spotchka lingered on your tongues and you deepen the kiss. He presses you against the ledge and you snake your hands into his hair. You stayed in an embrace as you kissed for a little while longer. "Do we have to go back to the Temple?"

"No we'll find some place to stay," he was breathing heavy on your lips.

_

A place you did find. It was towards the edge of the Uscru district. A motel that was fit for scoundrels of Coruscant. There was a few sketchy individuals hanging around outside and one tried to sell you death sticks. Obi-Wan brushed right by him and you followed him into the the building.

The place was musty and it smelled rancid. However, both of you wanted to be hidden as best as you could. The farther away from the Jedi Temple the better. Obi-Wan got a keycard for a room and the manager tried to get a good look at the both of you but Obi-Wan just waved his hand over the Rodian. He went silent and Obi-Wan motioned for you to follow him. "I don't think you needed to do that," you walked by his side.

"I'm just being cautious," Obi said and he lets you up the stairs. You were not sure about the plans for the rest of the evening with the amount of spotchka you both had sleep was the most likely outcome. There was also a feeling that you didn't want to let this night go to waste. It was an opportunity to be with Obi-Wan without holding back.

Once you got to the door of your room Obi-Wan inserts the card and it slides open. He lets you in and you looked around the cheap motel room. It was dusty and you can real no one has been in here. A bed was placed right under the window and you went over and placed your robe over the sheets. Blinds covered an elongated window and you peaked through them. There wasn't a decent view to see it was just the view of the building next door. The neon lights blinked red. You open the blinds and through the cracks and the red neon lights flood the room and on to the bed.

Obi-Wan sat at the end of the bed with his back turned to you. He was removing his boots and you watched as the fabric of his robe stretched against his back. You went over and placed your hand on the back of his head stroking his hair. The nervousness you feel whenever you're in a closed off room with him returned. Now that there was no distraction you weren't sure how you would feel. "I'm going to use the refresher," you were just about to part from him when he takes your arm. The red lights blinked off and the room was in darkness. You felt his hand go to your waist and squeeze you.

"Don't go," he whispered and you felt him press his head against your stomach. The red lights blinked on again and it wavered weakly. You move your hands to remove his robes and did this skillfully. Both of you were familiar with how to take them off layer by layer now. He looked up at you and in in the red light his eyes had a darker shade. With the way he looked at you there was some desperation there. As you were being slowly undressed he placed kisses down the valley of your breast. You placed your knee between his legs on the bed.

His hand found their own way down the side of your body peeling away the robes. You teased him by pulling his lower lip with your teeth. He grumbled and you smiled. Obi-Wan laid back and you smooth your hands over the sparse hairs on his chest. He groans a little when you add the pressure of your warm core over his bulge. You kiss Obi-Wan and he reached up behind the back of your head to hold you longer against him.

The room was in darkness again and you slipped out of your undergarments. You here the thump and roll of your lightsaber on the metal flooring. Obi-Wan shimmied out of his own clothes from under you. He was more careful with his weapon and in the darkness you find his cock to wrap your hands around it. "Are you comfortable?" you stroke him and he breathes a yes. The red light came back on and you can see his face again. His eyes were closed and his head tilted back as you pleasure him with both your hands.

"A little faster darling," he opened one eye at you and you do as he says while licking the palm of your hand to lubricate him. He moans out your name and it was making your insides quake already. You shift over so you were straddling one of his thighs. His hand reached up to grab hold of your neck as you slide up and down on his thigh. The friction pleasuring you enough to get you to whimper. Obi-Wan watched as you worked on his cock and you rocked back and forth on his thigh.

The wetness from your cunt soaked him up and he stayed as still as he could so you can work yourself into climax. He didn't even mind that you let go of his cock so he took that as an opportunity to hold both your hands as you rubbed your swollen nub against his thigh. A loud whine escaped your lips and you couldn't cover your mouth. He trailed his hands to your elbows and held you there tightly as you aimlessly grind yourself against him. Obi-Wan curious as to what you managed to do on him lifts his leg up to meet the rocking of your hips. It was turning him on and he wanted to see how you will come apart. He's seen you do it so many times and was not tired of hearing you call his name out in ecstasy.

Obi-Wan let go of your elbows and took hold of your hips so he can press you harder against his thigh. He even sat up again so he can kiss your neck. You grip his shoulders and sped up your grinding. "That's right darling. Keep going," he was desperate.

"Obi-Wan. . . oh my Maker ," you whimpered as he placed his hand against your clit and rubbed in circles. The intensity was building up and you couldn't help but cry out in pleasure. He reached up behind you and grasped a fistful of your hair.

His thigh was slick with your arousal and at any moment you were going to explode in pleasure. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and the other in his mouth. "I'm going to cum!" you whined and the rhythm of your rocking was to your liking. Obi-Wan encouraged your climax by rubbing your clit as well and it wasn't long till the wave of pleasure spread through your body. You shivered and trembled as a climax was initiated. Obi-Wan was holding you up so he can see your face and body contort in pleasure.

"Maker you looked absolutely beautiful," he whispered running his thumb over you lips. You hold onto his wrist and you still rock you swollen nub gently on his thighs. Your mind was back in its post climax haze and all you wanted to do was fall against his body after that stint but now he has other plans. His cock was stiff and he held it in his hand pumping it. "Turn around darling."

[wkemeup]

Guiding Light (12)

summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra and now, Bucky can’t breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 8.2k warnings: angst™, descriptions of a panic attack, cannon violence, references to suicidal ideation 🖤series masterlist // series playlist

Bucky could barely stand on his own feet, vision tunneling as a ringing burned in his eardrums. His breaths were coming in too short, right hand numb as he struggled to keep himself upright. He couldn't understand how this was even possible; how had they done to you what they did to Bucky and no one even noticed it, didn’t even consider that there was something bigger at play, something evil and vile.

All this time he thought you were safe, thought the worst of it was over, but the rug was pulled out from under him and he was falling a thousand miles a minute, plummeting down to the very core of the planet itself and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

How did no one see this coming?

Only Sam took notice from the corner of the room as Bucky’s knees started to buckle, his hand grasping at his chest as his breaths were too shallow, and rushed at him. Sam gripped onto Bucky’s bicep, holding him up against the wall, and quietly instructed him to list five things he could see.

Bucky gritted his teeth, though he played along because it had helped once before, and he didn’t have time to panic like this, couldn’t waste energy losing himself to his mind because you were out there somewhere, alone, and at the mercy of Hydra. So, he listened to Sam and scoured the room for something to ground him.

Light blue trimming on the floor boards. Steve’s arms folded over his chest. Tony’s pacing up and down the small, enclosed room. The sheets of your bed thrown to the edge of the cot in haste. Broken glass lining the floor he hadn’t noticed when he walked in.

He still couldn’t breathe.

“FRIDAY!” Tony shouted as Bucky started mumbling four things he could touch quietly to Sam, “get me a scan of the entire building! I want to know where the hell she is!”

“You got it, boss,” the AI responded.

Bucky felt for the creases in his sweatpants, then to the thin layer of his t-shirt, hands grasping to tug on his hair, and then to grip onto Sam’s forearm. His breaths were starting to come in more even but he was still too dizzy to focus.

“Three things you can hear,” Sam said quietly, eyeing the rest of the team who had yet to notice Bucky’s panic attack. For all the shit he gave Sam, he was a good man and better than he ever gave him credit for to his face. He reminded himself to tell Sam how much he appreciated it that when all this was over.

“You,” Bucky mumbled, concentrating, “footsteps,” nodding to Tony’s relentless pacing, listening carefully for something humming in the background, “and, um, air conditioning.”

Bucky glanced up to find Steve and Tony talking harshly to one another in the corner of the room, trying to determine next steps and clearly being at odds with one another over what to do. Meanwhile, Natasha tended to Dr. Cho, helping ease her onto the chair as she attempted to explain what had happened.

“That voice just came over the speakers and she just froze,” Dr. Cho muttered, shaken, as she glanced between Tony and Steve as they hovered over her, “she started convulsing about halfway through; screaming, crying, begging for me to leave, but then she just… stilled. I’m not sure what that man said but the next thing I know, she was out of the bed and hit me over the head with a vase.”

So that’s why there was broken glass spilled on the floor; flowers and stems thrown haphazardly around the room. Bucky stopped breathing again, the rest of the steps in Sam’s list thrown out of his mind as the image of your eyes as cold and lifeless as his had once been prevented the air from reaching his lungs.

“Two things you can smell,” Sam reminded him quietly enough to not draw attention, “come on, man. We need you here.”

Bucky nodded, following Sam’s instruction and pushing the mental image from his mind. You needed him and whether you were taken to the darkest parts of your consciousness, he’d find his way to you, he’d bring you back. You’d done it for him more times than he could count. He’d do it for you, too.

The fresh flowers now spewed onto the tile floors. Disinfectant soap on the counter.

Sam was about to ask him for the final step in the grounding method when Bucky shoved his way from off the wall, a renewed energy in his veins and determination running through his body. He clenched his hands into fists, turning back to give a single nod to Sam in a silent appreciation.

“FRIDAY!” Tony called impatiently, “I need an update here.”

“I think I found something,” FRIDAY’s voice came through again, “in the east wing. The security cameras haven't been set up there yet so I can’t get an eye on Agent Y/l/n but there’s movement in the area.”

Steve nodded; arms folded over his chest. He glanced to Bucky with remorse clouding in the light blue of his eyes until his friend nodded, giving him the signal that it was okay to proceed. Steve let out a heavy breath, stepping forward and his arms relaxed at his sides.

“Alright, team. Suit up.”

***

Bucky couldn’t stand wasting time he should be searching the compound for you lugging on his Kevlar jacket and changing out of his sweatpants. It felt like a colossal mistake, attending to something so trivial, but it was Sam that pointed out that a knife and a bullet would rip through cotton a lot easier than the thick material of his suit. If he wanted to survive whoever hacked FRIDAY’s system and whatever hell they brought along with them, he needed to take the extra three minutes.

He emerged from his room, trying to ignore the mess of sheets and pillows he’d laid in with you just hours ago, and met Sam at the end of the hall.

“Steve said we’d meet up there. Let’s go,” Bucky grumbled, heading towards the stairs when a hand grabbed onto his wrist, not enough to stop him in his tracks from the pull of it but he sensed the urgency in the grip, the silent plea to wait.

“You need to be prepared for what you might see,” Sam said sternly, though there was a lingering sadness in his eyes. “You haven’t seen yourself when the soldier took over. If that’s what's happening to Y/n right now... you've got to be prepared for that, man. She’s not going to know you and she may try to kill you.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, ripping his hand from Sam’s grasp. It was harsher than he meant to but there would be time for apologies later. He knew how it felt when the soldier controlled him and he didn’t need anyone else to tell him what it would be like to see it. There was no preparing for something like that, for seeing the love of your life stripped from thier emotions, their memories, and rendered a weapon for the same organization that tortured them for months.

Sam nodded, needing no further explanation and gestured for Bucky to lead the way.

The run to the east wing was long, longer than he remembered, and impossibly quiet. All he could focus on was the sound of their footsteps echo through the halls as they ran, the panting of Sam’s breaths, and the rustling of his jacket against his left arm. He didn’t let himself think about anything else, couldn’t, because it would consume him whole.

“We’ve got an issue,” Steve’s voice came in through the coms. “I’ve got company on my level.”

“Me, too,” Nat added, her voice low, as if she was hiding from something, “at least six outside my hall.”

“Looks like we’ve got a full-scale invasion on our hands,” Tony chimed in and the whirring of his suit buzzed through the coms as he spoke. “Wilson and Barnes, you’re are on your own for now, I’m afraid.”

“Not a problem,” Sam responded with a smirk, nodding at Bucky confidently. It was his easiest defense mechanism when things got tough, to smile through it and make jokes, because what else did they have if they lost their conviction.

Bucky nodded back, trying to latch onto the aura that Sam exuded.

It only lasted a second before the echo of gunfire rang out in the hallway and Sam ducked just as a bullet flew over his head.

Bucky skidded to a halt with his back pressed against the wall to shield himself from the open hallway where the gunfire had come from. Meanwhile, Sam threw himself towards the assailants down the hall without much of a second thought. Quickly switching into combat mode, Sam yanked the handguns from his holsters and began firing.

Bucky’s hand was inching towards his gun, edging over the corner of the hall, when Sam started waving at him frantically, turning over a cadenza lined against the wall and ducked down behind it to shield from the gunfire in his direction.  

“Go!” he shouted as peaked out behind the blockade and fired at the two men. “Go, Barnes! I’ve got this! Find Y/n!”

Bucky watched as Sam charged out from behind the cadenza and disappeared further into the adjoining hall, chasing after the two gunmen, until all he could hear was the distant echo of the gun’s discharge, until he heard nothing but the labored pants of his own breath.  

Sam was right. The team was getting picked off one by one from the chaos of Hydra agents infiltrating the base. He was the only one left, the only one who might be able to reach you before it was too late. He didn’t have time to panic and rush after Sam. There was only one priority right now and it was you. Bucky pushed himself off of the wall and sprinted further down the long, empty corridor.

Soon, the furnished halls and room turned to exposed beams and wooden framing, the cool air seeping in through the exposed walls until he came upon the heart of the east wing. He pulled to a stop in the same room he’d spent weeks renovating with Sam. The smell of fresh wood still present in the air, but there was something off. Tools thrown sporadically around the room outside of the box he had left them in, plastic sheets hanging from the ceiling ripped down the middle, and an aura of something sinister enough to get the hair on Bucky’s arm standing on edge.

“It is good to see you again, Soldat,” a voice spoke from behind him, low, familiar. It was the same voice from the speakers that spoke the Russian trigger words. “Let me reintroduce myself. You may call me Cain.”

Bucky turned, slowly, to catch a glimpse of Cain from the corner of his eyes before facing him completely. The scar running down the side of the man’s face was enough for a growl to rip through Bucky’s chest and he yanked the gun from its strap over his thigh and held the barrel aimed between Cain’s eyes. This was the same man who beat you and tortured you and humiliated you on streamed footage for the world to see. Bucky had never felt a rage in his veins quite like this. It was painful. It was all consuming.

Cain held his hands up to the side, almost defensively, laughing, and it made Bucky’s stomach lurch.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he smirked, “not when I’ve got such a fun surprise for you.”

Bucky’s position faltered for just a second, his grip loosening on the gun. His cold, hardened expression fell to one of agony, enough for Cain to notice before he could hide it. The knowing grin that followed only seemed to make the dread churning in Bucky’s stomach worse.

Then, Cain stepped aside, allowing space for something behind him, and Bucky watched with his heart in his throat as you emerged from behind the pillar.

It wasn't the black, skin tight suit, or the bold, red insignia of Hydra’s emblem on your chest that frightened him most, or the muzzle over your mouth, or the dark black paint over your face like a mask. It was the empty, detached look in your eye as you stared at him, looking straight through him like he was made of glass, like he was less than nothing. You were still, body stiff, awaiting orders and it was so familiar, Bucky’s knees nearly gave out.

“Impressive, ain’t she? Conditioned her myself,” Cain taunted, eyeing Bucky’s reaction as he ran a hand up the side of your arm and flipping the hair from your shoulder. He circled your back with the flat of his palm possessively; his touch on you a reminder of who you belonged to. You were unresponsive to your captor’s hands roaming over your body, too locked away in the confines of your mind to care, but Bucky was fuming.

“Get your fucking hands off of her,” he seethed through gritted teeth, his eyes trained on Cain’s hand upon your hip.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Cain stepped behind you and used your body as a shield. His chest was pressed to your back, his hands settled on your shoulders as he leaned around the side of your face. “You gonna shoot me through your girl here?”

Bucky’s head was pulsing, jaw aching from how tight he was grinding his teeth. Cain raked your hair away from your eyes, pushed it aside and licked a stripe up the side of your face. Bucky’s stomach dropped and he tasted blood in his mouth, his grip on his gun faltering as Cain kept his eye the whole time, daring him to do something about it. He didn’t pull away until his tongue trailed from the edge of your jaw to your temple. You didn’t even flinch. You were motionless.

Bucky could see the shine of Cain’s saliva on your skin.

“I’m going to kill you,” Bucky growled, trying to keep his voice even despite the heat boiling inside of him, “I will fucking rip you apart! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!”

“Not if your girl kills you first,” he shrugged, unfazed. “Listen Soldat, you’ve been a pain in Hydra’s ass for too long. If you’re not going to give up your little fantasy of pretending you’re some kind of hero and come home to Hydra where you belong, then we’re left with no choice but to eliminate you, to punish you for your decent. What better way to do that than with the woman you so pathetically fell in love with? Isn’t that right, эсминец?”

Destroyer.

You only blinked, unmoving, unaffected by the man’s taunts. Bucky kept his focus on you, desperately searching for a trace of the woman he knew you to be hidden somewhere in your eyes, screaming to get out, but it was naïve, foolish of him to even try. Sam had tried to warn him of that. The stories Steve had told him of what it was like trying to get through to him when the winter soldier filtered through the back of his memories. It was near impossible, he’d nearly beaten Steve within an inch of his life, but he did break through. Once.

He had to try.

“Y/n,” Bucky called out, directing his attention solely on you, even as Cain rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

“Y/n’s not home right now, asshole,” Cain scoffed, earning no response from Bucky.

“I need you to snap out of this,” Bucky tried again, recognizing the lace of fear in his voice he had no hope of masking. You were staring right through him, eyes glazed over. Bucky could hardly feel the thunderous pounding in his chest. “Please, I don’t want-- I won’t fight you. Please, baby, just wake up. You don’t have to listen to him. You know who he is. You know what he’s done to you.”

Still, nothing.

He should have expected that, but it didn’t make the sting of your empty stare any less painful.

“Sweetheart, please,” he choked out, the lump in the back of his throat threatening to suffocate him where he stood.  

“Pathetic,” Cain grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Never thought I’d see the day the Winter Soldier begged like a fucking love sick school boy. You’ve become nothing but weak since you turned your back on Hydra. We raised you. We gave you your strength, your power, and you dare to throw it all away for some mindless whore with a vigilante complex!?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Bucky spat, eyes still locked on you because the second he looked at that vile man again, he’d lose it completely. He’d empty his entire clip into him and there was no telling what you’d do. It wasn’t a risk he could take, so he stayed focused on you despite the flinch in his body at the mention of Hydra, of the Winter Soldier, the physical recoil of his past life thrown back into his face.

Cain shook his head, a film of disgust upon his features. “Your makers would be sick at the sight of you.”

Bucky clenched his jaw so tight he drew blood against his tongue. His hand was shaking. Copper burned in his mouth. It took every ounce of his strength to stay focused on you.

“Y/n, sweetheart, look at me. I’m not your enemy. You know me.”

Nothing. No flickers of realization or softness breaking through the dense, stone cold expression etched into your muscles. You were empty, a shell, like he had been once. You didn’t know him. You didn’t even know yourself.

A painful split ripped and tore in Bucky’s chest and he was certain his heart had ripped in two.

“We don’t have all day here, so let’s cut to the chase.” Cain leaned into your ear and you shifted your head just slightly, slow calculated movements, waiting for his orders like it was the only thing you knew. It was. “Kill him.”

You nodded and without a blink in your eye, grabbed the handgun from Cain as he extended it to you. There was no time to react as you aimed the barrel in Bucky’s direction and pulled the trigger.

The fire of the release echoed within the room and suddenly white hot burning shot through Bucky’s right thigh. He stumbled back a few paces from the impact, his shoulder painfully colliding with the sharp edge of a wooden pillar, his leg threatening to give out under him.

He clenched his jaw, breathing harshly through gritted teeth as his hand darted down to put pressure on the wound and blood seeped between his fingers, thick and oozing through the torn hole in his suit, in his skin.

When he looked up again, you were already halfway across the room, stalking toward him and all he could see was the lack of remorse in your eye, the unabridged need to finish the mission, to take him out because it was what you were told. It was a look he knew too well.

He'd never even seen you like that when facing your enemies in the field. You were always cautious, calculating, but you still managed to crack jokes by his side as you infiltrated Hydra bases. There was a smile on your face and you eased him by talking about playlists and trips to Brooklyn as if he wasn’t following you through the halls of enemy territory with weapons in your hands.

You were never like this; separate from yourself, cold and compartmentalized, a weapon of your skills alone.

“Y/n! Wait!” Bucky shouted, calling out for you knowing it would be of no use but goddamnit he did it anyway because the idea of you being lost to him, after all you’d been through together, was too much to let himself give up now. He dove between the exposed wooden pillars, just trying to get out of your line of sight for only a second, dragging his right leg behind him to find relief.

Blood dripped down his thigh, leaving red in his wake and soaking through the fabric of his pants. He glanced over his shoulder and you were suddenly behind him, a hand on his bicep gripping tight into the straps of his jacket and you yanked him hard, shoving his body against the nearest wall.

You didn’t usually have strength like this and Bucky couldn’t quite tell if it was the adrenaline, a foreign serum in your veins, or if his own body was weakened by the blood loss or just by the agony of it being you he was supposed to fight.

Dead eyes clouding over any trace of the woman he knew and you moved to slam your fist to his face, but he ducked just in time, sliding out of your grasp. The crash of drywall followed and you shook dust and plasterboard from your fist like it barely hurt.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Bucky panted, holding his ground a few feet from you as you cracked your neck. “Snap out of this!”

You stalked closer, a twitch in your lip and a growl in your chest.

“You’re only prolonging the inevitable, Soldat!” Cain called out, laughing as he leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. A coward who couldn’t be bothered to do anything but watch.

Bucky grunted, grabbing your hand at the wrist as you swung at him again. He held you steady, watching as your eyes narrowed in concentration and you tried to push forward, arm shaking in the attempt. There was nothing behind the hue of your eyes, no love, no longing, no semblance of the light he was so used to. It was only darkness.

“Sweetheart, please,” he begged, only for you to swing your free hand around and collide hard against his jaw. He stumbled back, grabbing at his face from the throbbing in his cheek.

You charged at him again, kicking him in the thigh where blood soaked through fabric and he cried out, the throbbing of the open wound aching through the entirety of his leg and shooting up through his spine.

“Look at me!” Bucky was growing desperate. He was running out of options. “You know me!”

He saw the flash of the gun quicker this time as you raised at him and rushed at you, slamming you hard against the wall and yanking the weapon from your hand, throwing it along the floor out of your reach.

Electric cuffs on the belt of his jacket released and he quickly adhered them to your wrists, leaving them bound against the wall like high intensity magnetics. You struggled against them, grunting and shouting, almost feral, and Bucky took a second to breathe.

Reaching forward, he removed the muzzle from your mouth and flung it aside, hands cupping at the sides of your face, touching the creases in your skin left behind by the sharp plastic. Fingers running soothingly over heated cheeks and you tried to stretch away from his touch like it burned you, like you’d never felt his hands before, like they were a stranger’s.

“Y/n, please, I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky pleaded, trying to catch your eye but you only growled back at him, fighting the restraints as your chest heaved in the exertion. He was gripping your face too tightly now but he was teetering on the edge of desolation, terrified of what could happen, and you wouldn’t even meet his eye. “Baby, it’s me. It’s Bucky. Just look at me. I’m right here.”

“Enough already!” Cain shouted, aiming a device over in Bucky’s direction, something he didn’t recognize.

As high-pitched ringing filled the room, your cuffs immediately released and you fell from the wall, shoving Bucky hard to the ground before you scrambled for the gun. He didn’t have even a second to stand before you were towering over him, gun aimed down at his chest.

This was it, he realized. This was the way he was going to die, staring down the barrel held in the hand of the woman he spent his whole life waiting for, the woman he loved. He’d already heard you say you loved him for the last time, already had his last kiss with you, felt your hands so tenderly upon his skin, saw you smile, heard your voice. It was all over before he even realized it, ripped away by the cruel utterance of Russian words over the speakers.

He wondered if you’d ever forgive yourself.

You released the safety of the gun, the click of it deafening in his ears, and he clenched onto his thigh. Blood oozed between his fingers and he winced at the pain of it as it shot up his leg. Glancing up at you, staring into the cold and empty look in your eye as you strengthened your stance, ready to pull the trigger. 

Bucky knew that if he was honest with himself, this fight would always end here.

He wasn’t fighting the way he should, wasn’t using his years of training and decades of combat and missions.

He could have swept your leg and pulled one of the knives hidden in his jacket, could have taken you by surprised and gotten control of the gun in your hand, he could have gained the upper hand and had you on the floor in a matter of seconds, but he couldn’t do any of those things without the risk of punishment from Cain reigning down on you before he could get you to safety or even convince you in this state that he was someone to trust.

He’d known what it was like to be in your position, to have nothing but orders in your mind and a determination that out-ruled everything else. You wouldn’t stop, no matter what he did, and he knew there was only one way to end this.

Cain wouldn’t let you leave here alive without accomplishing your mission. It was the reason they’d taken you in the first place, to break you and wither you down until they could shove the soldier into your head and rip away the woman he so adamantly loved, just so he knew in his last moments, it was you that killed him. Another sick form of torture that Hydra sought to punish him with. He’d always been at the mercy of those vile men, no matter what he did or how long he thought he was free from their grasp.

And they used you to do it.

Bucky made a decision in that moment as you stared down at him through cold, hooded eyes. Chest panting and sweat dripping from his brow, he tried to bring back the memory of your smile, your laugh, the light in your eyes he’d so easily fallen in love with.

The team would find you before Cain escaped. They’d find you and you’d be safe again.

It was all he cared about.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he exhaled, nodding slowly, hand gripping to the painful ache in his thigh. He hand was coated in red. “It’s okay.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused, and you glanced over at Cain for answers and he only shrugged, waving at you to get on with it. You adjusted your positioning, though your finger remained steady on the trigger.

“I know you’ll wake up from this soon,” Bucky continued, taking advantage of the time you gave him before it ran out, “you’ll wake up and remember this but I need you to know that I love you, okay? I need you to know that you’re the best thing that ever happened to me and this isn’t your fault.”

You blinked, furrowing your brow.

“You saved me all those years ago. Remember that,” Bucky urged, his voice softer than he intended, coming out in a broken rasp and losing energy fast. He coughed, blood spraying from his lips. “Do you understand me? This isn’t your fault, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.”

“Jesus fuck! This is pathetic!” Cain shouted, storming his way through the open walls and pushing aside half completed insulation. He stood next to you, raised his own gun to your head and releasing the safety with a deafening click. “Do it. Kill him, now!”

“Y/n, it’s okay,” Bucky pleaded, heart lurching at the sight of Cain’s finger inching closer to the trigger, the barrel pressing against your temple. “Sweetheart, it’s alright. You can do it now. I’m okay.”

But you didn’t move. You only stared at him, studying him, and for the smallest, most impossible second, Bucky thought he saw a flash of realization, but he knew it was only his mind playing tricks on him, a false hope he didn’t dare allow for himself.

“What the hell are you waiting for!?” Cain roared, shoving the barrel of the gun hard against your temple enough to force a falter in your position. “Kill him!”

“Y/n, please, it’s okay—”

“Listen to your goddamn boyfriend, princess! He’s fucking asking for it, ain’t he? Kill him!”

Bucky winced, feeling lightheaded from the throbbing in his thigh. He didn’t want to die, not anymore, not after he’d finally found you again and his world shifted into something beautiful and hopeful and filled with light. He didn’t want to die, but he’d give up everything if it meant keeping you safe.

He’d give up his life.

“I love you,” he said to the woman who didn’t know him, words falling out in an exhale as his eyes fluttered closed, just needing to focus on the image in his mind of you, of lying under cool sheets and curling against bare skin, of warm smiles and the soft touch of your lips. He needed it to be the last thing he knew as the darkness took him under.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I love you.”

Bucky settled in, waiting, hands trembling and breaths shaky in his chest.

But the gunshot never came. One minute later. Then two. Still nothing.

Slowly, Bucky opened his eyes again to see you clenching your jaw, nostrils flaring as a rage boiled under the surface. Your hand gripped and clenched at the handle of the gun, eyes flickering down to the barrel as if the very action of its aim repulsed you. There was a war fighting in your head, sweat beading down your temples as breaths came in thick and heavy, chest panting.

The soldier didn’t have emotions like that and Bucky felt his heart start to pick up in pace again as he dared to meet your eye.

Panic, confusion, shame, fury, all rolled into a single moment and a tear slipped down your cheek, blinking away another. Your lips parted, almost in a gasp, and it was like a cloud of smoke broke from the emptiness in your gaze, replaced with a complexity of human emotion all your own.

Bucky’s chest was tight, painful, and he realized he had stopped breathing. He sucked in a harsh breath, shaking on the exhale, as he kept your eye. You remained still, Cain still none the wiser as you had yet you drop your gun, though your finger had strategically moved away from the trigger.

Almost as if in slow motion, you turned to face Cain, prodding the gun away from your temple with the back of your hand until he held it down by his side. You clenched your jaw, eyes darkening over at you looked at him, losing traces of the woman Bucky knew you to be in favor of a vengeance that ran deep in your veins.

“What the fuck are you doing, princess?” Cain seethed, readying to lift the gun at you again but a scream, pained and broken, ripped through your lungs, echoing through the east wing, and you threw yourself at him before he could move.

Bucky propped himself up on his elbows, unable to do much else from the dead weight of his right leg, and watched as you slammed Cain to the ground, throwing his gun far away from his reach as you sent punch after punch against the side of his face until blood splattered along the floor.

But then, Cain kneed you hard in the side, throwing you off of him and managing to get the upper hand. Bucky tried to crawl towards you, desperate to do something, anything to help as you scrambled to your feet, but his body was fading on him, too weak to stand, let alone fight.

Cain laughed, spitting a gob of blood from his lips as he grabbed a hold of your shoulders, throwing you at the nearest pillar and Bucky flinched as he heard the sound of your head against the wood. You were too slow to get up, unsteady as you clung onto the wall with one hand and pressed at your temple with the other. Your vision was doubling and you fell back to the floor.

“You think you can beat me?!” Cain bellowed, arms stretched out to the side, “I am the embodiment of Hydra itself and Hydra cannot be killed!”

In his arrogance, he didn’t notice Bucky’s hand grasp onto the cold metal of the gun that had slipped from your hold in the struggle. He didn’t notice Bucky meet your eye for an impossibly short second before he slid the gun across the floor to you. He didn’t notice your fingers curling around the handle, pointer on the trigger as you released the safety with a short flicker, before it was too late, and without even waiting a beat, you fired a shot straight into Cain’s chest.

He stumbled back; words caught in his throat as he glanced down to red seeping out through his shirt. You pushed yourself to your feet, holding the gun with both hands and fired a second shot just as Cain attempted to lunge at you again. This one brought him to his knees. Then a third shot fired, until Cain collapsed to the floor. Even when he laid upon the ground, unmoving, eyes rolled back, you emptied the entire clip.

“Y/n,” Bucky called, trying to catch your attention over the sound of the gunshots, the ringing in his ears from the close quarter discharge pulsing painfully. You couldn’t hear him, firing round after round, refilling the magazine, watching as Cain’s lifeless body flailed with each shot. You didn’t stop until the weapon was firing blanks.

“Y/n!”

You froze, turning over your shoulder slowly, like you were afraid of what you’d see. Upon laying eyes on Bucky, the gun slipped from your hand, falling to the floor with deafening sound.

You rushed at him, skidding on your knees, hands hovering over his thigh, his chest, his face, so irrevocably afraid to touch him because you’d already caused so much damage but longing for the feel of him, to confirm the beating of his heart under your fingertips and the breath exhaling in warm gusts from his lungs.

Tears welled in your eyes, and Bucky grabbed your shaking hands.

“Oh, God... oh, God, what did I do...”

“I’m okay, love,” Bucky tried to assure you as you threw yourself against his chest, arms wrapping tightly around him and a world of relief filled him. Your whole body shook with every sob as it made its way through your spine and Bucky rubbed his hand soothingly down your back.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, hands clenching around the thick fabric of his jacket, “I’m so sorry, Bucky, I didn’t-- I didn’t know how to—how to stop--”

“I know, sweetheart. Trust me, I know,” Bucky said, kissing your forehead. There was no control when the triggers were activated, no fighting back. It was a feeling Bucky knew too well.

You nodded against his chest, curling up tighter against him and Bucky did his best to run his hand gently along your back. Steve’s voice came in through the coms letting him know that they’d taken care of the last of the stray agents and he quickly mumbled back that he was clear with you but he needed time. The numbness in his leg long forgotten. The serum in his veins would give him the time he needed.

It took a while before you calmed down again, breaths coming back in an even pace, steady exhales warm against his neck, and your grip on him slowly began to ease. There was something on your mind, something you were ruminating about, because he could feel the heaviness behind your breaths and the subtle twitch in your hands. Bucky swallowed, knowing what was coming.

“You were going to let me kill you, weren’t you?”

Your voice was soft, aching, and so quiet Bucky almost didn’t hear it, but it still managed to make his heart skip a beat. He sighed, not knowing what the right answer was, so he landed on the truth.

“Yes.”

Pulling back, you met his eye and he saw a world of pain swimming behind your irises. “How could you—why would you--” you exhaled, trying to steady yourself, “do you still want to die?”

Bucky’s features softened immediately. He didn’t know how you found out about that, about the darkest moments of his life when he let his secret slip to Steve that night in a Hydra base after he’d killed a dozen men. You were smart, though, intuitive beyond measure, so he shouldn’t be surprised you put the pieces together.

“No,” he responded honestly, sincerely, and the answer would have shocked him if someone had asked him a few months prior. “No, sweetheart, I don’t. I’ve got too much worth living for now, but I... I wasn’t going to let him hurt you, Y/n. It wasn’t a death wish, but it was the only thing I could do to make sure you got out of there alive.”

You shook your head, tears sliding down your face. “But what about you? You think I’d just be okay after all that? You think I’d be able to just move on, that I’d be fine, after I-- I killed you?”

“You’d be alive.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“I know,” Bucky sighed, his hand trailing up the side of your neck and cupping your cheek. You leaned further into his touch, and he brushed his thumb over your cheekbone to capture the tears as they fell. “The one time I was able to break through the conditioning was when I almost killed Steve. I thought... maybe if it came to that, if you were ready to pull the trigger, you might snap out of it like I did.”

“That’s a hell of a bet, Buck.”

Your voice was aching, shaken, and Bucky could hear the lingering heartbreak present behind every word. He knew the gravity of what he was saying, knew he was basically telling you he’d rather you kill him than have to watch you die again, but it was the truth and he was never going to lie to you. Not after all you’d been through.

You collapsed back against his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him and Bucky didn’t say anything else. He just held you because it was the best he could do, the most he could offer because he’d been where you are right now. He knew what it was like for something so evil and vile to snake its way into your mind and rip you from your body, to watch yourself commit violent acts and have no control of your hands as you pulled triggers on countless victims. He knew the war going on in your mind and the painstaking guilt of it being him on the end of the barrel, the same way it had once been Steve on the end of his.

It changed you. Broke you.

It broke him, too.

***

You didn’t know how long you laid there with him until he finally called for Steve over the coms, letting him know they he was ready for the team to head to the east wing now that things had settled down. One by one they all filtered into the room and you kept your hold tight on Bucky’s waist, face pressed against his neck.

A short glimpse over your shoulder and you found a deep red gash over Steve’s forehead, cracks and chips in the paint of Tony’s suit, blood trailing down Natasha’s arm from the cut of a knife to her shoulder, and a varying mixture of blood, dirt, and dust covering over most of Sam’s exposed skin.

Steve carefully kneeled down by Cain’s body and checked for a pulse he wouldn’t find. You had emptied nearly two full clips into the man. He’d been dead by the third bullet.

Slowly, the team started to piece together what had happened. The open wound in Bucky’s thigh, the red emblem of the Hydra symbol on your chest and the faint markings of black paint around your eyes, eerily similar to what they made Bucky wear the first time he encountered the team on the highway in D.C. The red in your eyes and the flush in your cheeks and they all knew without asking what the man with the scar down his face made you do.

It was Natasha that carefully pried you away from Bucky. He whispered soothing praises in your ear, reminded you he was okay, that he was right here, and wasn’t going anywhere, and you reluctantly released him from your grasp. You curled up against Nat as Steve and Sam propped Bucky up between them so he could favor his right leg.

You muttered another apology to him as he tried to put pressure on it but recoiled in pain, and he was quick to remind you it wasn’t your fault. Sweet, encouraging, lovely smile on his face and he reminded you again and again, because he meant it with everything in him and if he believed you when you said it to him about the horrible things he’d done under Hydra’s control, he’d find a way to make you believe it too.

Nat led you down the hall behind them to the med bay. She tried to steer you away from the chaos of bodies and SHIELD agents you encountered along the way, but it was no use. There were too many of them. SHIELD agents cuffing the Hydra affiliates they managed to capture alive, cleaning crews coming in to remove the dead bodies and the pools of blood in their wake. Tony urged the rest of you on while he stayed behind to help organize where to send the Hydra agents for custody.

Some of the Hydra agents tried to taunt you as you walked by, sneering at their emblem on your chest and calling you ‘Destroyer’, but Steve had left Bucky in Sam’s hold just long enough to scare the men into keeping their mouths shut as he flung his shield into the wall just above one of the men’s head. It clipped off the ends of his hair as it embedded itself into the wall and the room silence immediately.

Tony rolled his eyes, listing off another task that needed to be taken care of to the damage control staff as he yanked the shield out from the wall.

Steve grumbled under his breath, sending a wink at you, before he swung Bucky’s arm back over his shoulders and continued down the hall. You surprised yourself as a soft smile lifted your chapped lips to see the agent quivering where he sat.

When you made it back to the med bay, Dr. Cho was waiting with a bandage over her head and a kinder smile on her face than you deserved after you’d attacked her less than an hour earlier. Steve and Sam helped Bucky into the bed and she cut a strip up his pant leg to expose the bullet wound on his thigh.

A team of nurses came up behind you and tried to pull you out of the room to examine you themselves but a jolt of panic rushed through you, eyes catching on Bucky and he sat up further on the bed.

“She’s fine here,” he ordered, glancing to Dr. Cho who nodded at the nurses to step back.

“I’ll examine Agent Y/l/n myself once I’ve finished with Sergeant Barnes,” she said and you exhaled a steady breath, leaning into Natasha as she helped usher you to the seat by Bucky’s bed.

Slumping into the chair, Bucky reached down and grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips and kissing them tenderly, enough to remind you he was there and to keep your head from spinning in the clouds. You smiled at him though it didn’t reach your eyes, but he understood. It was the most you could manage for now.

Dr. Cho worked silently as she retracted the bullet lodged in his thigh. Bucky did his best to keep his face stoic, to not let you have to see an ounce of pain as Dr. Cho pulled the metal fragments from his leg, but the subtle twitch of his upper lip and the furrow of his brow were enough. You squeezed his hand harder, a silent apology and Bucky turned to you, softening his features quickly and tugged you closer to him. Always so understanding, so forgiving, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

A few hours later, after Dr. Cho used some kind of laser to seal Bucky’s wound together and she attended to the minor scars and scraps on your arms, Tony came barreling in with a laptop with Sam and Steve hot on his heels. Natasha sauntered in after them casually and sent you a wink before she collapsed into the chair in the corner of the room.

“So, I found out who the asshole with the scar is,” Tony grunted, propping the laptop up on the edge of the bed. An image of Cain illuminated in the top right corner of the screen and you leaned in closer to Bucky, feeling your heartrate elevate just as the sight of that man.

“Alex Cainning,” Tony started, “was dishonorably discharged from the US Army back in 2010 for a series of physical altercations against his own unit members. Made him an easy recruit for Hydra. Looks like he was a part of the Winter Soldier project for a few years, too.”

You looked to Bucky, wide eyed, to find he was just as surprised. He’d recognized Cain’s voice but he had assumed it was from the videos, not because he’d known him in his past life under Hydra. It would explain his vendetta against Bucky for escaping.

“So, he’s a certified bad guy,” Sam shrugged, rolling his eyes, “he’s dead. What does this matter?”

Tony pursed his lips, sending a scowl in Sam’s direction, before turned back to you and Bucky. “I thought the two people whose lives have been uprooted by this monster might want to know that because of this intel, we tracked down the base he held Y/n at. I’ve got a team of agents heading there as we speak to blow the joint to kingdom come.”

“That includes the machine they used to condition both of you,” Steve added, a hopeful edge of lips curving up at the ends.

Bucky nodded, a wave of relief present on his face and you pressed yourself to his side, arm wrapping over his waist as he pulled you tight against him. Warm and solid and tangible in your hands, you breathed him in, smelling of copper and sweat and lingering florals from your body wash. The never-ending enigma that was Bucky Barnes.

“It’s really over?” he asked cautiously, unsure, because it never had been before.

Tony nodded. “We’ll have to ship Y/n off to Wakanda soon so Shuri can get those words out of her head, but the good news is that she already has the procedure down after spending all that time experimenting on Barnes.”

You laughed into Bucky’s chest, smile obstructed by the thick Kelvar of his vest but he could feel the movement in your back, the vibration in your chest, and it eased him more than anything else. Tony went onto explain the logistics, of how he was readying a jet as they spoke and had already put in a call to T’Challa to let him know you’d be on your way. Shuri was more than excited to have someone else to test her procedure on and while Bucky stiffened at that, you only laughed more.

It was an odd feeling, to have such laughter in your chest and smiles on your faces while you wore a Hydra emblem on your suit and Bucky was held up in a hospital bed from the bullet you’d shot into his leg. But your world was full of chaos and unpredictability and nothing was ever guaranteed. This makeshift family of yours was the only constant in your life, the dynamics between them, the push and pull, the teasing and the heartbreak.

They would hold you together. Even through the worst. They’d pull you back from darkness.

----

ahh one more chapter to go! feedback is always so so appreciated! pls reblog and comment if you enjoyed

tags ❄️ @sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @panic-naran / @fairislesheets / @kaliforniacoastalteens / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @daydreamsquad / @deanssweetheart / @maybesomedaytho / @montypythonsholysnail / @saharzek / @jillybeaner13 / @chubby-dumplin / @searchingforbucky / @alohafromhell1 / @tabalugax / @shesalatesh / @whyamidoingthistomyselfhelp / @aliensbecameourstyle / @bucksgoat / @serpensortiaaa / @trash-rats-unite / @hungry-pasta / @nervosaa / @lbuck121/ @get0verit / @obama-mia / @imsoft-barnes / @this-broken-band-girl / @michelehansel / @itz-kira / @forever157 / @grey-water-colors / @sebastianstan-posts / @sarcastic-and-cool / @no-clue-whats-happenin / @capsgrl / @happyeyesandsunshine / @slithredn / @13sunken-ships13 / @thefandomplace / @wxstedhexrt /  @jennmurawski13 / @galaxkay / @moonlessnight14/ @kittybritty7 / @pancakefancake / @vitamingrant / @justendlesssummerfeels

[elmidol]

Sed Non Obligant

Three Blind Tooke Part Three Death Is An Art

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Three Blind Tooke 

 Part Three: Death is an Art

 Chapter Sixty-Eight: Sed Non Obligant

For with you, I am now one;

 For with you, our life has begun.

 Transitioning from limitations on social interaction to pursuing the company of multiple individuals threatened to wreak havoc on your nerves. There were some of those beings that you did not worry how they would react to your prolonged absence. Others, though, you were unsure how awkward things would be in those first several minutes. Would they make any scathing remarks? You thrust aside those thoughts, opted to seek out the former persuasion of folks, and thus were able to breathe. One such being was absent from the planet; Rey had returned from the world of her birth only to be called away to assist in some matter of piracy. Due to her abilities in the Force and the planet that had been targeted by the pirates, she was more welcome than the newly instated galactic law enforcement--nevertheless, Dameron had gone along with her, albeit unofficially and as a partner rather than in any position of authority.

 Prior to his death, while you had felt a kinship with Vicrul, it had been different than the bond that you shared with Ap’lek or even with Cardo. There was a portion of him lost to you now that you would never touch, never know; in the same way, there were parts of you that he would not know. When he had held your hand by the edge of the pool, that squeeze of reassurance, of understanding, that had simultaneously been a farewell and greeting. It was Vicrul that you sought, though you were aware that Kuruk was with him at the time.

 Floral and fruit scents wafted through the room the moment that the doors parted to permit you entrance. You inhaled deeply, allowed your eyes to close, and gave yourself the opportunity to remember the planet of your birth, your childhood. Things dead and lost, memories that opened doors for your future. Peace settled within you. Reopening your eyes, you studied the potted plants in the nursery. Kuruk observed you from one of the corners of the room. He wore his normal attire, whereas Vicrul had removed his helmet and a layer of his clothing. You nodded in Kuruk’s direction, and he returned the greeting before gesturing with his head towards the other Knight of Ren.

 Heart thudding in your chest, you pressed one hand to your heart and closed the distance that had remained. Vicrul gave a grunt of acknowledgment as you drew up to his side. His organic arm twitched, meanwhile he squeezed a mechanical fist around a bag of soil. You heaved a sigh, understanding him though he had not spoken, not yet. You did not pity him, and that was likely why he did not pull away from you when you touched a hand to his upper arm while saying a soft hi.

 “It’s quiet here.” There was no joy in his words, although you would not say that there was resentment either. Boredom perhaps. He was struggling to find his place in this galaxy, which was what would have occurred even if he had not lost a limb. The two of you were, in essence, in the same boat.

 You reached forward to toy with the leaves of a plant. The action, the feel of what you had touched, sent a series of tingles running along your spine. “Do you feel caged?” In answer to your question, Vicrul held both of his hands palms up in front of himself. He stared at their surfaces then curled the two limbs into loose fists. His body was the cage, these new limitations obstacles that he would overcome. An end to the war left him with little to take his frustrations out on. “There will be missions of some sort.”

 “Rules.” You barely managed to contain the snort; a choked sound erupted from you, earning Vicrul’s full attention. From his position, Kuruk swiped the back of his hand along the lower half of his face, as though he was also stifling proof of amusement. He may have been agreeing with his fellow Knight of Ren. For how long had they traveled among the stars without being forced to abide by laws? They had a reputation, one that had taken years to develop. This adjustment period would be more difficult for them than it was for you.

 That was, strangely, humbling.

 You lingered in the nursery for the remainder of the shift that Kuruk and Vicrul were taking to care for the plants. Afterwards the three of you walked together towards the medical facility in which Cardo received his scheduled therapy for the damaged nerves in his right hand and left foot. The injuries had not been enough to keep him down, however he battled occasional numbness. This was not much of an issue when it came to his hand, though his foot losing feeling was not something he had yet grown used to. You did not know a lot regarding the treatments that he was receiving, and you did not pry.

 Ushar had joined Cardo for the session, which allowed you to meet with the pair at the same time. You felt more of the nervousness that had started to bubble forth again die down. These men were a part of your family--and while family could disappoint you, that was not the case with them and you. “You’re looking well.” Not a jab, more a statement. You could barely remember when last you had stood face to face with Cardo, or even face-to-mask. It was a blur, a swirl of moments that had elapsed after you had come back from death.

 “I’m trying,” you replied. There were not a lot of other ways to explain it. You were not unwell, however you could not say that you were well in the general sense. The path you had decided to take was getting you there. A small smile tugged at your lips, and Cardo relaxed upon noticing it. “There are so many decisions to be made. Things to figure out.”

 “War is swift, yet so is peace.” Swift or fleeting, which would be the more correct term? You hoped it was the former. Nodding, you drew closer to Ushar so as to give the physician in the room enough space to finish their task before leaving to tend to other patients. “Politics were not part of my plan.”

 Oh, how you felt those words on a deep level. Understanding that politics were involved in war, it remained different than being actively political in the sense of attending meetings. Action versus discussion. One of the offers that had been extended to you for a future had been to serve as an aide to politicians that your mother knew. As before, you had no interest in that. Less interest, you thought while observing the four Knights interacting.

 Trudgen would join them in time; the medically induced coma had had the side effect of plaguing him with night terrors since he had woken. You wondered--without fully wishing to know--what sorts of things so bothered him that Trudgen had become more reclusive. That his sleep pattern was disturbed enough to have physical side effects. He had requested that you meet with him one-on-one later, and you planned to do so within the coming hours of that same day. In the meanwhile, you watched his fellow Knights of Ren and resisted the urge to ask them for how to prepare for the upcoming meeting. This was no stranger. It would be okay, you told yourself.

 And it was.

 The pair of you met outdoors rather than inside, and you found yourself pleased with the arrangement. Trudgen’s desire for fresh air was one that you shared. The two of you sat together under a large tree that was native to the planet, its branches stretched far and providing ample shade from the bright sunlight. You toyed with a flower that fluttered down from the tree, rolling its petals between your fingers while looking at the Knight of Ren’s helmeted visage. He wore his usual armor, his weapon within reach despite the peace that the planet was enjoying.

 “How many offers did you receive?” His voice did not break. Trudgen sounded little different than he had the last time you had spoken with him. In reply to his question, you first took a moment to consider what proposals had been extended to you regarding potential futures.

 You relinquished your hold on the flower and watched as it fluttered away on the light breeze that stirred the cloth of your shirt. “Eight, technically speaking.” He grunted at that. “There were only ever three that seemed honest to me, that felt as though they were meant for me personally.” You paused to observe Truden, who cocked his head to the side. “One of those, to help gather remnants of Naboo and to write the tales I grew up with as a child, that can coincide with another offer. That was the one I thought about the most.”

 “What does your mother think about that?” Teasing but honest, genuine curiosity. It made you chuckle, your eyebrows rising as you remembered her face when you had mentioned your decision. She had not been displeased nor hurt; if anything, the two of you seemed to understand one another more. With the war over, the two of you had been able to communicate things that had been looming over your heads. “When you wear that expression, it’s obvious that the two of you are one.” It was one of the highest compliments that you could be paid, where before you would have shrunk from such a comparison. You felt a warmth permeating throughout your entire being. The Knights of Ren understood Kylo so well, and for any of them to see that the two of you were one meant more than when others realized it.

 “It wouldn’t make sense to do anything else though,” you said at last, wrapping your arms around your legs. Conversation died away for a while after those words were spoken. Trudgen tensed multiple times during the silence, which prompted you to start talking. He listened to another tale that you had learned during your schooling on Naboo, although this story had not originated on your birth planet. It was one that Trudgen was familiar with, a fact that you learned when he commented on an upcoming element. You nearly stopped, feeling rather self-conscious and unsure if he was interested at all in you continuing. At his urging, you did finish the entire story.

 The two of you did not part for the remainder of the day; he accompanied you on your visit to Ap’lek, who was in the process of studying laws on planets that Kylo’s presence had been requested. These texts had been provided by your mother, and you recognized a number of them from when she had hoped to secure you a job as an aide. Millicent released a loud meow at Trudgen. She slunk along his legs, weaving through them then returning to Ap’lek, whom she had clearly adopted as master. It was much the same as how the akk dog had formed a bond with Kylo and you. Where normally the creature would bond with a single being, this was more proof for you that you did indeed share a soul with Kylo, that the two of you had all along been on a path of self-destruction. Millicent nudged Ap’lek with her head, and you saw in him a flicker of utter peace that you knew on a deep level.

 You moved over to the pair, kneeling down and stroking Millicent’s ears. She leaned into your touch. While petting her, you thought of the assortment of electronic pets that you had collected. They were in a box within the quarters that you shared with Kylo, a box that was easily stored on a ship when it was time to leave the planet. The plants, on the other hand, would remain behind in the nursery with the exception of two smaller ones that were transportable. One belonged to you, the other to Vicrul. Millicent and the akk dog would join you as well. The Knights of Ren--they would never not be that--and Kylo, that was where you would go. Wherever fate took them, you were along for the ride. Along the way, you could complete your task of writing the tales from Naboo. You could collect relics. Most important of all, you would be with those you cared for.

 Even your mother, much to your surprise, had voiced her support after listening to how you had spoken of your decision, of your thoughts on the matter. Due to the political nature of Kylo Ren’s position, your paths would cross many times with your mother. That was something that you quite liked. Having her support, having her in your life while being able to make your own decisions, to forge your own path, to be yourself.

 Scooping Millicent up into your arms, you cuddled her to your chest and let yourself smile. Ap’lek noticed this within seconds. “Where’s your dog?”

 “With Finn, I think. I’m seeing him later.” That was still another bonus to your choice; Finn planned to study more regarding the Force with the Knights and Kylo between lessons with Rey. You were not losing anyone, not really. Poe was another familiar face you would see. Rose had signed on to assist in ensuring equipment was up to date.

 The children that had been studying the Force with the Order of Ren had returned to their families until the academies devoted to teaching them how to wield the Force were completed. The older students had copies of texts that Rey and Kylo had acquired, albeit the basics. Anything advanced would be too much of a risk. There would be no Jedi, no Sith. Just the Force, a balance within it. An acceptance of the Dark and the Light, which the heroes of the Rebellion had not fully achieved. It was this that instilled in you more hope, that allowed you to believe this peace might be real.

 It was not perfect. There were pirates, there were criminals. There was no galactic war. That was the difference. That was why hope was spreading in a much greater capacity than it had before.

 Learning from the past, Kylo was not going to demilitarise completely as the New Republic had done--that had allowed the First Order to rise from the ashes of the Empire. All in a single lifetime, two great wars. For some, three great wars in just one lifetime; the Clone Wars were not that ancient. You almost whistled at the thought.

 Instead you were drawn out of your thoughts by Millicent squirming to get away so that she could climb onto the datapad that Ap’lek had just laid out. He dragged her off the device, much to her chagrin, and scratched under her chin as he read. Trudgen had since taken a seat next to you. He, from what you could tell, liked the noise, the company. You liked to think that once you all set out, there would be more improvements.

 “Have you read this one?” Ap’lek asked, drawing your gaze off of Trudgen. You tilted your head as you considered the text that was displayed then gave a nonverbal response indicating the negative. “Hmm.” That noise reminded you of Kylo, who had also been reading more texts on the matters. They were both rather dutiful students even if they were bored out of their minds. That dedication, though, was what caused others to respect them.

 “What planet is that for?” By way of response, he scrolled backwards in the text until the name was visible to you. It was something from Wild Space as far as you could tell, not a planet that you readily recognized. “Interesting.” This was in reference to the first paragraph, which you skimmed through. Trudgen chuckled, and Ap’lek sighed again.

 Hours later, when you were with Finn, you curled against the akk dog’s side. It was pleased to be in your company, which had been a rare occurrence since you had returned to life. More often than not the akk dog had remained near to Kylo since you preferred solitude. You ran a hand under its chin, sighing in contentment. Finn stretched his arms above his head before stifling a yawn. His training was taxing mentally as well as physically, although this was in part because he was helping some of the children on the planet that were Force sensitive. He rather enjoyed that.

 It was nice, you thought, that there had been not a second’s worth of awkwardness when you had entered the room. Finn had greeted you as though the pair of you had spoken just the previous day if not earlier in the morning or afternoon. You did not have to pretend with him. Finn saw the hesitation in you, the ever-present threat of being overwhelmed, and he did not pry. He had been forced to adjust to a new life all too fast when he had left the First Order.

 “Have you heard from Rey?” you asked him. If you reached out, you might have been able to feel her in the Force. Finn would more easily be able to do so due to his natural abilities and the bond that he had with her. You imagined that they communicated with one another in that way from time to time, although it would not be often; that would drain the two of them, which could give the criminals that Rey pursued the upperhand. Finn nodded, revealing that he had spoken with her via commlink a standard hour before you had arrived. She was wrapping up with the mission that she had undertaken. The target had jumped to a new sector in space, one that did welcome those under Dameron’s command. “That’s good.”

 “Yeah.” He grinned widely. “Poe said to tell you that he’s open to give you more flying lessons any time. You pick things up easily.”

 “So do you,” you teased, mirroring his smile. He could fly basic speeders and smaller ships, however Finn did not have any desire to pursue those skills or any dreams of flying a vessel such as the Millennium Falcon. That he was leaving to his friends. To your friends. Your smile lost some of its length, and your hand paused in its stroking movement on the akk dog’s chin. “Finn?” He hummed acknowledgment whilst nodding, urging you to speak, letting you know that he was listening and that he would not say anything that would make you regret opening up to him. “Sometimes I don’t feel real. I used to have those moments before everything happened. Even before I joined the Resistance. It’s just more pronounced with this. I feel as though I’m not me, I’m just pretending.”

 You knew that there was a proper name for that: imposter syndrome. Speaking in a more technical sense did nothing to lessen the weight of what you felt. It made it too clinical, too cold. It simplified things and made you feel like a statistic.

 Finn reached for your hand, slipping yours into his and giving you a squeeze that you quickly, readily returned. The friendship that you shared with him was one of the elements of life that made it worth living. Where other relationships of the past had helped you to become who you were, Finn was one of those individuals that played a part in who you would transition into, just as you were the same for him. The pair of you understood one another, complemented each other in a different way than how Kylo and you were. He touched and saw your soul without being your soul.

 You released a breath, thinking how Kylo had revealed to you that he had sensed something in Finn when they had been on Jakku together. That was after you had been captured, you remembered. Finn had confirmed that he, too, had felt the connection. It was similar though different than what he had with you. The way the two men explained it, they felt things in the Force that you could not. Instead of hating this as you had in the past, it sent a new warmth through you. There were mysteries in the galaxy. There were new discoveries to be made. The war was not the entirety of your life.

 “Hey…” His voice trailed off as you turned your head to meet his gaze. “I… You know, as a stormtrooper--I never interacted with you.” You nodded, aware of this already. “When I learned more about you, how you were his prisoner, I wondered if you resented the fact that I helped Poe escape but not you.”

 A laugh erupted from you before you could stop it, and you could have sworn Finn was blushing at your amusement. “Sorry. I just--no, it’s funny, because I hated the Force at that point but I prayed… I prayed that Poe would get away. You helped do that. You helped answer my prayers. You helped me regain a sense of hope. You touched my life in a good way without knowing it.”

 He audibly swallowed, his throat bobbing. You smiled at him, your expression soft and one of appreciation for his presence, for who he was. This man and Rey had both offered you hope before you had met them. Their existence had saved your life, had saved Kylo’s, had saved the soul that you shared. You squeezed his hand once more, and Finn returned the gesture. Relief overcame his expression. The guilt he had harbored, no matter how small, was washed away.

 The akk dog leapt up to its feet, behaving in a manner that exposed its excitement. Finn grunted in understanding while you rose to greet Kylo as he entered. The exhaustion that so often showed on his face after conducting political business was absent. He handed the datachip he had been carrying to Finn. Next he turned to you, setting one hand on your upper arm while touching the top of the akk dog’s head with the other. You said a quick farewell, aware that you would see Finn in the early hours of morning, and allowed Kylo Ren to lead you away. The akk dog followed along without any prompting.

 “All of the Knights survived,” you said. This was not the first time that the words had left you. Kylo nodded all the same, not annoyed. You slipped your hand against his, the backs of your limbs touching. If you had needed him to hold your hand to be more grounded, that would have happened. It was not a necessity. The contact, small as it was, was perfect. Each brush with every step a reminder that the two of you were together. “We’ve all changed though. We’re still changing.”

 “We are adjusting, which you are rather skilled at.” The compliment made your heart flutter. It was not just the words, but the meaning behind them. Kylo admired your ability to adapt, he had said so countless times. No matter how often you accomplished this feat, he was left in awe when next you succeeded. It was not that he doubted that you would succeed on any of those occurrences. The simple things in life were sometimes the most important, the most marvelous of all. Like the stars that one gazed upon in the sky, the stars that appeared each and every night.

 When the war had ended, Kylo had given you two separate offers, one based on the words that he had spoken to your mother, promising to return you to her. He had, you had told him, already done that. For the rest, it was your decision to make. To remain with her or to go with him. Whichever was to be the case, the pair of you would not separate. For the past few days, he had prepared himself for you to remain behind in part due to the fact that your mother’s offer for a job had been extended after he had given you the option to remain behind. He knew how worn the war had made you, that dying had made you.

 “Like the Knights, politics aren’t my favorite,” you said teasingly. He half turned his head, his eyes darting about your face as he took in your features. Even if you traveled with him, politics played a role. You twitched your fingers, threading them through his though you did not hook them together. It was a passing union. As you began to draw your hand back to yourself, he shifted his and rethreaded your fingers together, hooking them into a loose embrace. Your palms were not touching, but that did not matter. “Kylo.”

 He tugged, steering you in a new direction that would lead to one of the more secluded gardens that the owner of the building had given Kylo access to. There was no official name yet for the position that Kylo was in. He rejected the idea of being referred to as Emperor. Supreme Leader no longer held any appeal, although for the time being that was what many continued to call him. He accepted it without a word, at least not publicly.  Kylo had voiced his thoughts with you on the issue, how he felt detached from those labels.

 There was time to breathe between the meetings with politicians. Moments that the two of you were able to share and be yourselves. To just be.

 You entered the garden, which had a gazebo that Kylo led you towards. Vines crawled along its sides. Blossoms grew from them, many of the buds not yet in bloom. There were seasons, which made you happy. You stood within the gazebo with Kylo, facing him and memorizing the scars on his face. The moles. The flecks of color in his eyes.

 “You’ve never wanted a title.” You had not thought much about that; whatever title he took on, it would change how others referred to you. Had he been keen on emperor then you would have been empress. You shook your head, agreeing that you did not desire any title like that. “Names are fleeting for you.”

 Ryoo-bud. Tooka. Tooke. Supernova. KS. Prisoner. Glitterstim. Fate. Wife. Daughter.

 “For you as well.” He dipped his chin.

 Ben. Creature. Monster. Commander. Supreme Leader. Master of the Knights of Ren. Husband. Son.

 Kylo spoke your name. You reached up with both of your hands to cup his face. Your thumbs traced his lips, which parted then pushed together as he kissed their pads. This was a Kylo that few were able to see. Fully exposed, baring himself by dropping all emotional defenses. He stared into your eyes as you stared into his. Seeing each other. The rest of reality dropped away until there were just the two of you. The sun, the moon, the planets, the stars. Everything existed within you, composed of those who had touched your lives.

 “It doesn’t matter what they call us, not really.” Words could not define what the two of you were, who the two of you were.

 At one point, while in turmoil, he would have brought the galaxy down to its knees, quaking in fear. Now it bowed in admiration for all that he had overcome.

 “We’ll be together.” You dropped your voice. “Nothing will stand in our way.” His eyes pinched in the corners at your teasing, and you grinned. He knew that you were not mocking him, not being cruel. “I can focus on creating, on breathing life into the remnants of Naboo and other planets, people that would otherwise be lost. At the same time, I’m going to be with you. Helping you. Whatever you need. We determine our fate--together.” 

 No one else could do that, no one could choose it for you. Regardless of what they thought of you, what they called you. Only your choices would matter. Kylo bent down and kissed you. “Yes, we will.” And he said your name once more, breathing more life into you, completing you again, as he always did simply by existing. As you did for him. One soul, which could not and would not die. Together throughout all of time.

[the end]

[mikereads]

What S5 of Supergirl should have focused on.

I wanted to post this before the season finale, just because it may have a good finale that doesn’t make up for all the mistakes the show made along the way, especially the ones that could have been easily fixed with some proper storytelling that not only pleases the fans but better suits the story your trying to tell. 

1. Kara and Nias friendship/ mentor ship. This season preferably 5B is somewhat focusing on Kara trying to catch Lex. Get proof on him that proves he is not what he seems to be. One of the ways she is doing this is through journalism. Instead of having Kara work with William she should have worked with Nia and here’s why. Not only does it make sense but it would improve the plot the only thing William has is a bad feeling about Lex and as good as that can be think of Nia who not only has the same feeling but knows he’s bad because she has her memories from Earth 38 while to back that up while on the other hand William does not. It’s a wild goose chase with him he doesn’t know what he’s looking for but Nia does. I mean just think that through who would make more sense for Kara to work with Someone who simply has a biased gut feeling that he’s bad because of what happened to his friend vs someone who has all of her memories and knows he is bad so she simply knows what to look for and can investigate what Lex changed comparing her new vs old memories. Its logistically makes more sense to use Nia. As important as diversity is and as much as the show should value its woman more above all that it just makes sense. When they first introduced Nia they implied they wanted them to have a similar relationship to Supercat this time reversed having Kara be the mentor which is great. It can show how much Kara has grown since season 1. Last season they started to do that but that’s been mainly dropped since 4B and its a real shame. They could have a similar type relationship if the show focused on them more but if they don’t then they won’t be able to because it won’t have the same amount dept. They’re showing vs telling but then again the show has been having a big problem with that lately with many characters/aspects of the show. 

Also hes not even a good reporter/journalist Lex said he has been spoon feeding William all his info. It’s such a joke the show tried to amp him up as being such a good reporter yet he’s awful heck Winn could have done a better job at reporting. 

2. Karas past/ trauma 

Kara has been through so much this past season and it isn’t even finished yet. The fall out of her relationship with Lena. Lex rising to power once again and lastly LOSING HER ENTIRE PLANET AND FAMILY once again! The show really hasn’t discussed/ tackled Karas trauma/ past since s3 and even then it was only briefly and contained to one episode arcs vs in s1 when it was dispersed throughout the entire season. With everything that has happened this would have been a perfect season to do that and go back to its roots of S1 but in true Supergirl fashion they didn’t. So far has contained Kara only mentioning her past when it comes to Hope speeches which even those are rare now a days. Since crisis ended I think Kara has only mentioned it twice if at all and that’s when week of the villains forced her to (other Brainy bottling his earth). Kara has lost everyone once again in s1 it was Karas main mission to make sure that wouldn’t happen again she would save earth like she couldn’t save Krypton at whatever means necessary. Then in crisis she wasn’t able to do that and despite everything she did she wasn’t able to do so and lost everyone. Her sister her moms her friends everyone. She succeeded in getting everyone back but it shouldn’t be dismissed that she lost everyone yet it is. 5B should have heavily focused on this through the main of the week plotlines/ through her relationships with her friends and family. Like Melissa wants this finally should have been the season where Kara goes to therapy. Like I genuinely don’t get this show Kara lost everyone yet its barely mentioned Kara and Alex only share one scene discussing it and that was during the crossover in the legends episode it wasn’t even an episode of Supergirl that did it (big sigh) when another show does better things with your characters then you do that’s a problem. She lost her mom Eliza yet they have shared no scenes well none outside the funeral which had nothing to do with her and was another example of them not letting her grieve. Its so unrealistic that Kara wouldn’t have flown to Midvale the minute she was able to do to give Eliza the biggest hug it doesn’t matter if Eliza wouldn’t have her memories Kara would (the actress returned this season so she was clearly available to shoot more scenes yet didn’t because this is supergirl after all). Sidenote can they have Kara call Eliza mom more often like having her call her mom doesn’t make Alura her mom anyless she can have two moms because she actually does I know mind blowing. She lost her mom Alura twice yet they refuse to mention outside of a line or two that’s there more so to move along the plot. This has been a problem ever since they had her return in s3 but Kara has so many unresolved feelings and now she’s lost her twice and yet they still refuse so address it which is not only frustrating but sad for Kara as a character. She should be able to address these feelings about how she’s mad at her/ how she felt abandoned by her and still love her a the same time. Them showing Kara be mad at her doesn’t mean she loves her anyless and would be more healthy in the long run yet they won’t do it. 

3. Lenas past, ptsd, and her mother. 

They have been teasing for years whether not not Lena would turn truly evil but hinting at things over and over again and even though everything Lena has done proved the opposite it was still a lingering question. This was supposed to be the season that finally tackled this subject headon and show where Lena would land now knowing Kara/ Supergirl’s secret. I’m not upset Lena did questionable things going into this season I knew they would do so more then ever and from 5x01 that was adamant and I think it was very important to finally do for her character going forward to finally confirm that Lena was good/isn’t Lex. If they wanted to show and contrast how different Lena is from the Luthors there is so many others ways to do that, by just letting Lena be Lena is one of them. You’ve have been writing her that way for 4 YEARS, don’t change that by trying to make the show more interesting by adding “drama” you began to ruin it and an amazing character. That being said the way the show executed that was very poorly 5A was okay but 5B like it did with a lot of things was ultimately the down fall for this season. They’re first big mistake being Non-nocere. Now seeing 5x18 I get its overall idea and reason for being there but it still only should have been a side plot that was around for 4 to 5 episodes tops in the beginning of the season. It also really proves that it was never truly there for Lena it was a plotline made for Lex and to show just how manipulative he can be over which is so frustrating because once again they throw their main women characters to the side to help the men which are guest/minor. It was dragged on to long and stayed way past its prime to the point where it was unenjoyable even Katies amazing acting skills can only carry a bad plot line for so long. Non-nocere should have been there to help Lenas plot line not the other way around. It should have revolved around her story but not be her entire plot line for the season. I think them just going over Lenas trauma, abuse, neglect and abandonment issues would have been enough and a much more effective storyline then Non-nocere but if they wanted to use it then I think they should have atleast called back to Lenas past storylines. When Lena found about what Jack was doing with Biomax she was not only disgusted but terrified her feelings on that wouldn’t have changed so instead of it being nearly implied it should have been mentioned and it should have been one of the things that helped her realize how bad it was sooner. Her getting over the lo0se of Non-nocere and how she feels as though she failed once again would have been much better than the actual story of her using non-nocere itself. She was so afraid in season two that her feelings would get the best of her “I am very, very afraid of the person I might be”. This should have been explored way more and lastly instead of them only focusing on her mom for one episode for the plot (the medallion) it should have been a recurring storyline all season. Not only that she misses her but how her death affects her and how she puts her mom up on a pedestal because she never really knew her only what she remembers about her which isn’t a lot. The guilt she feels over her death etc. If they wanted to use it to move the plot forward they easily could have done that. There was a fan theory Lena’s mom was not only alive but behind Leviathan and that would have been so interesting. Here’s a woman she’s held up to such high standards all her life it would be interesting to see the effects of that. That maybe her mom wasn’t who she believed she was to be and that combined with Karas betrayal could have launched her going to the “dark side”. Also I love Katie and I love seeing more of her on my screen but they really couldn’t find another actress to play her mom or better yet not use a shitty wig. A wig isn’t gonna change anything we all know its Katie. It’s fine you used her many shows use there actors for multiple parts the wig was so unnecessary especially when it’s that bad (thank god Katie could pull off any look, ugly outfits and party city wigs included). Using her to play the mom wasn’t bad and would make a lot of sense as to why Lillian hates her so much she’s a spitting image of her mom. It doesn’t excuse the abuse Lena was a child but it makes sense. I mean she did say Lena looked so much like her etc. Then again shitty wigs are the least of their problems, fix your storylines above all else. 

Bonus: You know your fan favorite couple is Lena and Kara and since this is supposed to be a season about their relationship just lean all in don’t tease and then not have them interact for 5 episodes in a row it’s frustrating. 

This post is becoming a little too long so I may make a part 2 because I sure have a lot more to say. 

[js116]

Silent Planet’s Everything Was Sound

22 May 2021

A wee bit of background before we get to the main event:

Silent Planet is an American post-rock metalcore band from California headed by retired psychologist/therapist Garrett Russell, and Everything Was Sound is their second studio album. Released in 2016, this concept album did nothing short of blow my mind; the total runtime is 41 minutes, but it took me a couple hours to write out everything I picked up from each song. 

Everything Was Sound has thirteen tracks, standard, so that is the album I listened to for this review! For the purpose of sticking with the album’s story concept, I’ll be adding my standout lyric quotes with the description of the song, rather than sticking them at the end. 

- I want to post a warning before I get into this album: this one covers topics some may view as disturbing. There are mentions of death, suicide, war, several mental disorders including depression and eating disorders), politics, and generally dark themes. This is where you should stop reading if any of these will bother you. -

The concept for this album revolves around the idea of the “panopticon,” which describes a circular prison surrounding a central guard tower. There are bright lights shining down from the tower so that the prisoners cannot see into the tower, where they are told there are guards watching them constantly. The prisoners are isolated from the guards and each other, being unable to see into the tower or other cells due to the walls and the lights. This setup removes the autonomy of the prisoners, and the paranoia that the guards are constantly watching (whether there are truly guards in the tower or not) removes the will to try to escape or act out. 

This concept is introduced in the first track of the album, Inherit the Earth. This first song begins by referencing the events of the previous album’s last track (Depths II from album The Night God Slept, in which the viewer has a vivid vision in the forest before falling asleep) as having happened only a few hours before, and now the viewer is waking up in the woods to find it is starting to rain. The viewer (us) stumbles through the rain and the forest under they find a structure: the panopticon. They enter the prison to escape the weather, and so we are pulled into the story of the album -- a metaphor for the human condition. 

“We inherit the earth, we inherit the war / I inhabit the wound, I dwell in the harm / Oh how far we fall: We’re casualties of time / Oh how far we fall: Forgive existence.”

The second track, Psychescape, (and each subsequent song, except the last one) introduces us to the contents of one of the cells: Schizophrenia. The theme of this song is paranoia and delusion, and the tower’s lights and watching guards are revealed to us; there are two distinct, conflicting voices. 

“I waited on the tracks of reason / But my train of thought never came / It never came.”

“Scrawled across the walls the suffering saint cries out: / ‘Is it madness to retreat from the myopic gaze that holds us captive?’”

Dying In Circles, the third track and second cell, holds the prisoner Organized Religion. Heavily rooted in Biblical principles, I was surprised to find this track used those principles to highlight and call out the hypocrisy of the modern church; the gatekeeping, neglect of those in need, the isolation of outsiders. Silent Planet calls on systematic religion (particularly modern Christianity) to return to its original purpose: to care for others, rather than turn them away or determine their worth as an organization. They are charged with trading their religious superiority for the awe and compassion for humanity they once had; to return to being a religion about the life of God, rather than being solely about his death. I really do love the idea of the “Image of God” being represented by a homeless person sleeping on church steps. 

“Beside the shadow of a frozen chapel / Under the marriage of cross and crown / Outside the privilege of the ‘chosen ones’ / The Image of God is sleeping on the ground.”

“We are the eulogy at the funeral of God.”

“Trade your certainty for awe.”

The fourth track took me for a spin, personally, as I’ve encountered the prisoner described here myself. Understanding Love as Loss opens with a few brief lyrics outlining the suicides of writers Sylvia Plath (“Searching for solace in a toxic temple--” death by toxic inhalation), Earnest Hemingway (“Fragments of lead climbing through your head--” death by shotgun to the skull), Virginia Woolf (“Stones load your coat as you wade through the winter current / Dancing with the dead on the riverbed--” death by drowning), and David Foster Wallace (“Wanton hanging of the wise pale king.” death by hanging). 

The line immediately following the deaths of these writers stuck out to me, as a fellow writer who has struggled with depression: “And I see myself.”

The title of the song explains that love is sacrifice; you lose a piece of yourself when you love someone else. Lose that piece, Silent Planet urges in this song; lose that piece to another person instead of losing yourself to your suffering. 

Lead vocalist Garrett Russell: “[Sometimes with depression,] the world feels like there’s no color. Even if you can’t see the color, be bold enough to ask someone to describe the colors of the world to you.”

This song was my favorite this far into the album, for its bare, unflinching honesty on the subject. The footnotes for this song in the album booklet include the number for the National Suicide Hotline. I respect that. 

The fifth track, Tout Comprendre, draws its title from the first half of a French quote, and translates loosely to “To Understand All.” This song is an interlude, meaning it does not contain any lyrics, and it is the first of two interludes on the set. 

Immediately following Tout Comprendre comes Panic Room, a track that tells the story of a veteran who has come home, but is mentally haunted by the war. The lyrics take us to bloody battlefields in desert sands, and lay out the plague of terror-memories. Panic Room’s prisoner is PTSD, and it delves into the American treatment of returned veterans and their struggles with armed-conflict trauma. 

“Praise me for my valor, lay me in a crimson tower / Justify my endless terror as my ‘finest hour’ / Treat me as a token to deceive the child / Whom we fatten for this scapegoat slaughter / I learned to fight, I learned to kill, I learned to steal / I learned that none of this is real, none of this is real / None of this is real, NONE OF THIS IS REAL”

Just after this verse, there is a brief, almost total silence, before the song resumes. There are several breaks like this in the music; periods of calm between the intense music. 

We move on to the fifth cell and seventh track, REDIVIDER. This song threw me off at first; I thought the words were being reused and rearranged before I realized the song is a palindrome. About halfway through, the lyrics flip to mirror the first half of the song. 

“Death ran away then life flooded in world / This I am: Imbalance, beautifully so / Hands connected, perhaps… / Then dead reflections saw you / I did, didn’t I? / I didn’t, did I? / You saw reflections dead then / Perhaps, connected hands… / So beautifully imbalance: Am I this world? / In flooded life then away ran Death.” 

The fifth prisoner is Bipolar Disorder. 

Nervosa is the name of the eighth track; this one disturbed me the most out of all of them. My first impression of this song was, if you’ll excuse my Irish here, “Holy sh*t.” None of the imagery prior to this song was nearly as vivid and disturbing as it was here. The clean vocals (singing instead of metal-screaming) are very well done, capturing the desperation of the situation in a very raw way, which is fitting for the theme of the song -- this cell’s prisoner is the deadliest of psychiatric disorders, bulimia nervosa. The entirety of the lyrics are well-written (although, again, vividly disturbing), so I chose the most poignant of them.

“I am not my own reflection / I am not myself, I am not myself / I am haunted by a non-existent lover / The spectre, the ghost, the self-starving host / I am haunted by a non-existent lover / I was gifted with the vision but cursed to be the witness.”

This song, too, contains links to help services for eating disorders in the footnotes of the album booklet. 

We come now to the second interlude, C’est Tout Pardonner, titled after the second half of the French quote, the entirety of which translates to “To understand all is to forgive all.” The prisoner held in the two of these is ignorance. 

Just as C’est is the second, contrasting half of Tout, which was followed by war-themed Panic Room, so Orphan, the second, contrasting half of Panic Room, follows C’est. 

Orphan relays the perspective of orphans of war, the prisoners of this track. Particularly focusing on crimes against peaceful civilians (especially in the Middle East), Orphan also describes the reunion of two brothers on opposite sides of war. 

“I’m finding the violence -- it looks like me.”

“Terrified little son, encumbered by your sword / You can hide your fear, but won’t shed the weight of your humanity -- Humanity / You can face me toward the mountains / Where I meet our mother’s gaze / Too blinded by this hatred / To recognize your brother’s face.”

The eleventh track, No Place to Breathe, was both ahead of its time and should not have had to be written in the first place. The prisoner in this eighth cell is fascism, specifically within enforcers of the law. It dives into how easy it is to turn a blind eye to issues like systematic racism, police brutality, and inherent injustice, if these things do not affect us personally. There are three murder victims, (Eric Garner [2014], Hernan Jaramillo [2013], and Kelly Thomas [2011]) all killed by police, whose last recorded words are attributed in the song: “I can’t breathe.” 

Does that sound familiar from more recent news? This album was released in 2016, to give some perspective on how things have changed. 

“We shout at fascists, hands fixed on asphyxiating those in need / Place your hands to the pulse of this city / Keep your ear to the ground / Hear him gasp, / ‘I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.’”

The ninth and final cell is explored in the twelfth track, First Father (which is the partner of a song called First Mother from their previous album). The final prisoner is the grief over losing a loved one. Switching between a rushing, loud tempo and a low-toned quiet of guitars and vocals, the song captures the process of moving forward through personal loss. 

“‘You pulled me through time,’ through the edgeless night / I’ll learn to love as you learned to die / I’ll begin to feel again and finish the chapter you couldn’t write / Candles in the dark, defiant to the night / Defiant to the shadow / You pull me through time, through the edgeless night / I learned to love as you learned to die.”

With the thirteenth and final song, we’ve literally come full circle and are finally at the prison’s central tower, where we discover we are the guard watching the prisoners. Titled after a line from the first track’s lyrics (”We inherit the earth[...] We inhabit the wound”), Inhabit the Wound tears down the guard tower, freeing the prisoners from the confines of their situation or disorder. Each of the nine prisoners reaches into themselves and retrieves a seed, which is planted in the place of the tower. The album closes with this image:

“The earth, with a final gasp, shook free from our inventions. Grace and nature reconciled as I heard ‘it is finished.’ The final seal was broken, the concussion blew me back -- I teetered on the edge of re-creation and the wrath. The nine lovers stumbled out of their shells of brokenness, they reached inside their wounds to find the seeds borne from their suffering. Coalesce upon me to plant the tree of life inside the heart of the machine. Reach inside -- heal the wound -- make us whole.”

I found this album to be an absolute masterpiece, and metal isn’t usually a preferred genre of mine. I’ve got to give this one five out of five symbolic and vivid frogs. Well done, Silent Planet, both in composition and in raising awareness about different types of struggle.

Next week I’ll be reviewing an album that was recommended to me, and that was released today: Twenty One Pilots’ Scaled and Icy.

Thanks for listening with me!

[stonefreeak]

So! Here we go, another update for 2020! I hope all of you are still having as much fun with CK as I am!

Dooku snarls at the latest news. Slowly but surely his hold of the separatist worlds is slipping. Many have already left, and once the Republic proved that they would be reasonable during peace talks—there is no doubt in Dooku’s mind that that is entirely because of Kenobi—even more saw it as their chance to return to an improved Republic. The winds are shifting, the trajectory of the corrupt Republic is changing, unjust laws are being brought back to the Senate floor and retracted.

Somehow... Somehow Obi-Wan Kenobi has managed to turn the Republic from a cesspool of corruption to a place that is slowly but surely starting to try and drag itself out of the mud. it's not there yet, not nearly... But Dooku can see it happening.

And so can the Separatists worlds under his rule. They see the change happening, they see the possibility of returning to what was once a stable—if corrupt—government that was without war and is now starting to fix itself. They can almost taste the possibility of return, of being part of that change. And they want to, many many worlds want to, because of Kenobi, because of the changes already taking place in the Republic. Especially now that corrupt senators of the republic is starting to face the proper consequences of their actions.

It was so easy before, to look at the terrible things plaguing the Galaxy and point the finger at a scapegoat: it was them, they're the problem. If the Jedi were not so complacent, if Master Yoda was not so old, they would do what was needed to root out Slavery in the galaxy. It used to be so easy to twist people's opinions to such obvious falsehoods, by hiding behind real issues, but pointing at the wrong source.

The Jedi has never had the capability to root out slavery, they do not have the numbers or the power to do it themselves—even if they were only to root it out in Hutt space, they'd still need an whole army to do it, and then somehow manage to instil a stable governance in the old system's place—and the Republic has never cared what happens outside its borders. Why would the Republic go to war with the Hutts over slavery, when that slavery benefits many of the most powerful senators in it?

And yet, now, these same corrupt senators are facing consequences for their actions. For their greed and corruption.

It is something Dooku could only have dreamed of. Something he never thought he'd see before the end of his life.

There are whispers in the Separatist Senate, about the Confederacy slowly losing ground to the Republic, of the Jedi’s tireless attempts and returning order to the Galaxy—that story slowly starting to overshadow the stories of the Jedi’s warmongering and the clone trooper's valiance against impossible odds—and Chancellor Kenobi’s tireless efforts to start peace talks.

It’s frustrating to realise how much of the Separatist Generals depended so much on the intel Dooku gave them, intel coming directly from Sidious. Without Sidious, without that additional information, the Jedi are starting to prove themselves superior. There are other leaks, of course there are. The Banking Clan and the Trade Federation are doing very well in this war economy, and Dooku has no illusions regarding their greed and wishes of prolonging this war. They may pretend to be on the Republic's side... But, well, corporations are always going to be looking towards their bottom line. Giving them equal presentation in the Senate is, and always has been, madness.

But even so, the Jedi are gaining grounds. They are raised as peacekeepers, but “peacekeeper” means more than simply “trained diplomat”; especially when it comes to the Jedi.

He joined the Sith to root out the corruption in the Galaxy and show the Jedi that they’ve lost their way, gotten complacent; he Fell to purge the old and pave way for something new and healthy to grow in its stead—like burning down and ripping up and replanting a garden overrun with weeds and plagued by infection. He Fell because he knew what needed to be done, and he knew it was the only way to ensure it would be done.  He would remake the galaxy in his image, purging the corruption and bringing out something stronger from it.

Dooku was certain of his path and his choices. Now, however, Dooku sees Kenobi’s work, and he wonders...

A shift in the Force.

Dooku frowns and shakes his head. Merely a flight of fancy. Besides, it's not as if Kenobi would ever have gotten the chance to do any of this if Dooku hadn't Fallen in the first place, if the war had never happened. Dooku is not wrong. He cannot be. He breathes deeply and turns back to the list of potential troublemaking planets.

He cannot stay idle, cannot do nothing, but he also cannot do anything before the star systems show their hands. Too strong preventive action and the entire Confederacy may slip through his fingers.

And yet... Despite his efforts, they all seem to be for naught. Slowly but surely his carefully laid plans are failing. Slowly but surely it's all falling apart. This must be what Sidious feels, no doubt. This rage and frustration with no proper outlet.

And yet... a small part of him, a part he thought he'd destroyed years ago, is glad. There's joy and fierce pride in watching your padawan's legacy reach such tremendous heights.

Oh, if only Qui-Gon could have been here to see it.

He reaches for the Force, wants to draw it in to bolster his hate and anger. He cannot let these soft feelings stay, it's not proper or useful for a Sith. Calm nostalgia is nothing compared to burning passion and ocean deep hatred in terms of strength. He reaches to the Force to amplify his feelings, start a loop to rage ever increasing.

Instead...

He touches warmth.

The gentle kind of warmth of the early spring sun on Serenno, not the heat that comes from extreme cold. It is a warmth he thought he'd forgotten the feel of as it is far from what the Dark side usually feels like.

It's breathtaking.

For the briefest of moments, Dooku finds himself thrown back in time, standing on a lush plain of Serenno with his still braid-wearing padawan at his side. He remembers showing the Coruscant-born young Jedi his master's home planet. He remembers the awe on Qui-Gon's face, the way he'd lain down on the ground and closed his eyes, almost overwhelmed with the feel of so much life.

For the briefest of moments, Dooku remembers peaceful days long gone, and the love of a child still alive—one now ripped from his side.

He's warm.

But only briefly.

The joy of the vision is soon overtaken by the icy chill of grief and devastation.

Qui-Gon's memory is ripped from him once more, and Dooku finds himself alone in his castle.

He grits his teeth and clenches his fist.

His nostrils flare.

They will all pay.

Every single one of them.

If he must rip them asunder with his bare hands.

Once more, Yan Dooku steps aside, and Darth Tyrannus takes his place.

There will be no mercy.

—

(Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi masterpost)

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) gar shuk meh kyrayc STAR WARS

(belated)Whumptober no.23 - What's A Whumpee Gotta Do To Get Some Sleep Around Here?

Comfortember no.1 - Rescue

His body feels like one massive bruise. Squinting blearily, Fox tries desperately to push the pain away and keep his attention on the paperwork on his desk. He’s exhausted, and sore, and tired, but he has work to do - he has work that the Chancellor needs done by the end of the day on top of his own paperwork as the Commander of the Coruscant Guard, a Marshal Commander, and the paperwork for the Senate Guard. He has patrols to organize and lead, investigations to take care of, meetings to attend, and Shinies to marshal. He also needs to be available for the most minor of issues the Senators may face.

A clogged toilet? The Coruscant Guard is called.

Mismanaged documents? The Coruscant Guard needs to be mobilized.

An intern gets the wrong kind of meat on a sandwich? This is obviously an issue the Coruscant Guard needs to look at.

Even the most mundane of problems were apparently to be turned over to Fox and his men to deal with, as if they were maintenance droids. To the Senators, and thus in the eyes of the Galaxy, the clones weren’t sentient beings; they were property - less than droids. In their eyes, the Vode shouldn’t need rights or rest or even simple kindness. They were simply things to use, abuse, and discard when they got too broken to continue.

As the Commander of the Coruscant Guard, Fox is the first point of contact of the GAR to the Senators. It’s his duty to always be there, ready and willing to take orders, so that the Vode on the frontlines could continue to get the supplies they need. He’s not the media golden clone like Cody or his pet CT are - the clones serving directly under the Negotiator and the Hero With No Fear are almost always present in Republic footage - but his actions have consequences. One wrong move could have the Chancellor denying a Legion the extra rations they were asking for or the new weapons a Battalion needed just out of spite. He’d done it before, so Fox had no doubt he’d do it again for the sake of making a point to the Coruscant Guard.

One clone out of place, one brother not meeting regulations or following orders to a T, then the Vode neck deep in the War would suffer for it.

Fox has barely slept in the last month, only enough to function in his tasks, and it’s the same for food. He hasn’t had the chance, and any downtime he had had started with him being called to the Chancellor’s office for a quick meeting and losing more time, waking up at the end of his leave without any memory of ever doing so, and feeling more exhausted than ever. It had gotten to the point that Fox had stopped taking leave all together, to hopefully cut down on his episodes, against the advice of Tea Leaf and the other medics under his command.

His batchmates hadn’t been pleased either anytime he had had to turn down sabbac night after sabbac night whenever they were planet-side. Most of his squadmates had stopped inviting him to go drinking with them. Fox doesn’t blame them, none of them know about the episodes, no one does outside of Tea Leaf - they can’t know, because Fox needs to be the perfect Commander or risk them all being on the next casualty report - so to them he’s just been skipping out on them. They were probably grateful that Fox had started turning them down, instead of just never showing up and not being able to explain why.

Prime’s tits - Fox is so tired.

He squints through blurry vision and the stabbing pain behind his eyes. The Marshal Commander lets himself put the datapad down - for only a moment, he tells himself - to rub at his temples and close his eyes to try and fight off the dizzy spell that had come over him. He breathes heavily through his nose, tilting his head back to rest it against his office chair.

Fox would love to do what his body is begging him to. He’d love to toss all the paperwork down a trash shoot and collapse into his cot, to sleep for the rest of his life and never wake up again. He wants what he had on Kamino, to be able to curl up with his brothers in a pile when the Kaminiise weren’t looking, surrounded by the warmth and safety of his batchmates.

But he can’t have that anymore.

The sound of his office door hissing open has Fox flinching as a fresh wave of agony comes over him, and he opens his eyes to glare at whoever had disturbed him. Thorn stands in the doorway, fully kitted out but with his bucket tucked under his arm, and at his shoulder stands a familiar brother in dress greys, a characteristic scar curling around a golden-brown eye.

Cody.

“Told you that he’d be here.” Thorn says cheerfully, stepping into the room, and the door slides shut behind the two Commanders.

“Thorn.” Fox hisses furiously. He had told his men not to bother him unless there was another emergency for him to scream at - bringing his younger brother to witness Fox’s failure was not classified as an emergency. “What do you want?” He purposely doesn’t meet Cody’s eyes - maybe if he ignored him long enough he’d go away to pout at Bly. It had always worked when they were cadets. “You’re supposed to be on leave right now.”

Thorn grins sunnily, flouncing over to Fox’s desk, dark eyes sparkling mischievously in the way that makes Fox leery of whatever he’s ever planned. “And Commander Thorn will be going on leave.”

Fox narrows his eyes suspiciously, and he makes the mistake of letting his eyes drift towards Cody, wondering what Thorn had dragged the other Marshal Commander into, and how he’d convinced Fox’s batchmates not to throttle him on sight. In that moment, as he stares at Cody’s determined expression, Thorn slips past his guard, and Fox yelps when his squadmate shoves his chair away from the desk.

“Thorn!”

His subordinate beams, “We’re rescuing you!” Thorn tells him, stepping back, and Cody takes his place, trapping Fox against his chair. Behind Cody, Thorn starts unclipping his armour, and Fox can only watch in numb confusion.

“What-” Then Cody’s hands are on him, gentle and precise, and a minute flinch racks his frame. His mind and body expect pain to follow, but it doesn’t, instead his little brother works methodically to divest him of his armour.

It should scare him, having his only defense against the outside world stripped away from him, but it doesn’t. The warmth of Cody’s hands sink into his bones, and Fox finds himself going limp and compliant under his brother’s touches.

“You’re working yourself too hard, vod.” Cody is telling him, voice soft, and despite himself, Fox whimpers in response. “You need to take a break.”

“I can’t.” Fox says in defeat, meeting Cody’s worried amber stare. “There’s too much to do.” There’s so much more he should say, to make his brother understand why he can’t let himself relax, but it gets caught in his throat and sticks to his tongue.

It’s a weakness, and Fox can’t let himself be weak.

Cody reaches forward, gently grasping the back of Fox’s neck to tap their foreheads together, “Fox, we’re all worried about you.” His little brother tells him quietly, “Thorn called us and told us what was happening.” Fox flinches again, and Cody rubs his thumb against his pulse to ground him. “You’re working yourself to death, vod. Gar shuk meh kyrayc.”

Fox swallows, his throat feeling tight, “I have to finish this paperwork.”

“And Commander Fox will.” Cody tells him, a small smirk twitching on his lips - it’s the same smirk he had worn the first time he had nearly given Alpha-17 an aneurysm during training, knowing exactly what he was about to do. It spells trouble.

“Cody.” Fox’s chestplate falls away, followed quickly by his kama.

Cody’s smirk widens, “Fox.”

Thorn is back at their side, stripped down to his blacks, and he’s leaning down to start pulling off Fox’s lower armour. Fox’s eyes narrow, his overworked brain trying to mull over what Thorn and Cody are doing. He’s disappointed with himself that it takes until the moment his brothers start replacing Fox’s armour with Thorn’s to figure it out.

Thorn is taking his place.

The two other Commanders have matching mischievous grins on their faces, and Fox doesn’t think he’s ever feared a team-up more. Thorn and Cody are the two most chaotic bastards he knows, and he’d never seen them put their heads together to make a plan without it ending in either explosions or the two of them at each other’s throats. They’d never gotten along, the results of a childish rivalry that Fox will never understand, but it seems that they had put that aside and combined all that chaotic energy to figure out how to make Fox take a break.

He ends up just being swept away in the mess that follows.

 

(When a helmeted Commander Thorn leaves Fox’s office with Commander Cody, heading for the barracks, no one gives them a second glance.)

[sgrayonderii]

faster than starlight

Growing old together was a luxury. Sasusaku AU. 

It makes absolutely no sense that the child in front of him is his daughter, yet as soon as she utters a heartbroken “Papa,” Sasuke knows it to be true.

But he doesn’t have time to concern himself with mismatched memories and unfounded theories. The facts are these: someone has threatened his child and his wife has been kidnapped.

In the aftermath, he is so relieved that he writes off his hazy memories of a child barely reaching his knees as a manifestation of his desperation.

---

During  his regular check ins, Naruto grumbles that he needs to stay in contact more often. The Hokage waves his arms around in a way that is supposed to be threatening and berates him on proper reconnaissance protocol. “And Sakura-chan is lonely with you gone so long!” he adds in at the end of his tirade.

Sasuke scoffs because that idiot is the last person to be talking to him about protocol with his noodle stained shirt and toppling mountains of paperwork. And he can't help but feel a bit insulted by the implication that his self imposed gag order included Sakura.

She is his wife. His beloved partner and his most trusted confidante. Even if it was technically not related to his mission, he keeps contact with her regularly without fail. Sasuke has never been as good as expressing himself as well as he should, but he knows that Sakura in her endless patience found a way to understand him.

---

Sometimes, Kakashi invites him to lunch.

It is always slightly awkward and spent more often than not in silence. Or in uncomfortable one-sided conversation about erotica.

But at the end of every meal, Kakashi claps him on the shoulder, telling him to not be a stranger with a chuckle. But the laugh never quite reaches his eyes.

“Remember you always have a home here.” Kakashi tells him. 

---

At times, Sarada is overjoyed when he comes back. She attaches herself to his side and chatters about nonsensical things that reminds Sasuke of his wife.

But sometimes, Sarada is cold.

She is stand-offish and acts as if he committed another unforgivable sin. She makes snide comments about leaving mama by herself and scathing comments about forgetting his daughter’s face.  

Perhaps this is a rebellious phase? Children grow up fast Sakura tells him.  And who is he to question her?

---

It is subtle, almost unnoticeable. But there are times at home when things are slightly off.

The apartment always seems to be in need of some repair. Every time he seems to even blink, a new piece of technology seems too occupy their living room mantle. And there are no calendars in the house.

In hindsight, he is sure that Sakura is the first to notice. But Sasuke is a boiling frog and he doesn’t realize until it’s too late.

He should have figured from the relief in her eyes whenever he returns home. Or on the quiet nights when she holds his hand so tight as if he will disappear. He should have noticed from the desperation in her kisses. He should have seen it in the falter of her smile.

And then Sakura starts hiding her appearance.

At first, Sakura brushes it off as a bad haircut she is too embarrassed to show others. Then it’s a particularly bad sunburn. After that an allergic reaction to a lotion from Ino gifted her.

He tries to not let it bother him. But with every progressive visit home, the stronger the illusions Sakura wraps herself in. 

He feels like he has not seen his wife in ages.

Until, one day on an unexpected stop home, he catches an unfamiliar middle aged woman in his home. This woman attempts to cast her genjutsu as soon as she notices him but his eyes are quicker. Sasuke dispels the illusion, striding forward until they are face to face.

He reaches out to her but she flinches back. The woman immediately starts apologizing, but Sasuke in between the roaring in his ears and the constricting of his throat, cannot make sense of her ramblings. However in the midst of her panic and his confusion, he does recognize the seal on Sakura’s forehead.

And for him, the pieces finally start falling into place.

So Sasuke asks the question that he has been dreading but never acknowledging, “How long have I been gone?”

---

The further he travels, the more time passes. It is simple physics. It is the law of the universe.

The remnants of Kaguya are far in between and past distant suns. His Rinnegan, his wife theorizes, is like a blackhole connecting two points, compressing space and time in a way that cuts across the cosmos.

Sasuke is a shooting star in the grand scheme of things, where great distances are crossed in a blink of his eye while all he cares about on earth is spinning madly on without him.

He watches as Sakura carefully aligns the hundreds of letters and messages and gifts he sent in the order she receives them.

Sasuke picks up the last correspondence, two weeks ago for him but half a year for Sakura. After a long time when he can finally keep his voice from trembling, he asks “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t know how to tell you.” Sasuke has never seen Sakura look so ashamed. She covers her face to hide from him but her tears still fall silently. “It would have just caused you more pain.”

“And keeping this from me wouldn’t?!” He is shaking and his Sharingan bleeding. He feels the familiar sting of betrayal. Because of all people, his wife is the person he trusts the most.

But Sakura, despite her tears, speaks calmly. Determined. Resigned. She still does not look at him and he cannot see anything else but her. “If you had known...” she is shaking too now. “If you had known dear, that this would happen every time you go.... Would you still leave?”

And both husband and wife know his answer.

---

A presence like Kaguya’s cannot be tolerated. Even if he cannot watch Sarada grow up. Even if cannot be by Sakura’s side. As long as they are safe in a corner of the universe, Sasuke is willing to sacrifice anything.

It is a habit now to check the date when he returns.

Sometimes only a few weeks have passed. Other times, months have elapsed. But regardless, Sasuke tries to return as much as possible if only for his own sanity. 

Those visits home reinforce what he is fighting for. He wants to protect the place his brother died for. He wants to help Naruto who saved him. He wants a world where Sakura can smile and where Sarada no longer has to fight.  

But most of all, in the darkest most fragile part of his heart, he knows that in reality he just can not bear losing anyone else.  

And eventually, the Seventh Hokage informs him that the last visages of Kaguya are discovered in the depths of a lost faraway planet. The final nail in her coffin.

It breaks his heart to tell his family.

There is no telling when he will return, if he returns at all. And judging by the distance, Sasuke isn’t even sure anyone will be left to return to.

It is a selfish thing for him to ask of her. He should be wishing for her happiness; he should be freeing her from being chained to him. But he asks anyways, because even if it is a lie, Sasuke needs a reason to endure.  A quiet request. A promise.

“Will you wait for me?”

Sasuke desperately wants a home to return to and to him, Sakura has always encompassed that feeling.

---

The next time he returns, his mission is complete and it has been a decade since Sarada’s face has been carved onto the mountain.

Sakura’s hair is gray now and her vision is blurry. She has wrinkles under her eyes and her once strong hands are withered.

They are separated by a lifetime now.

I’m home.

“Sakura, I’m sorry for everything.”

But she still smiles for him like she always does. Like she did when they were young and so hopeful for the future. “Welcome home Sasuke-kun.”

---

Nowadays, Sasuke Uchiha is nothing but ghost story. More legend than man and more cautionary tale than hero.

And nowadays, man slightly younger than the Hokage accompanies Sakura Uchiha.

No one knows where he comes from, just that he appears one day and immediately worms himself into the heart of the Uchiha matriarch.

On the good days, the villagers watch the young man walk side by side with the aging woman. Sakura Uchiha speaks more animatedly than she has in years and the young man smiles tenderly at her as if she is the only person in the world.

Some villagers click their tongues in disapproval. They raise issue with the Hokage about how this swindler is taking advantage of the affections of poor old woman. The old woman’s years of loneliness has made her susceptible to his gold digger’s charms.

Others pity Sakura Uchiha. She is a woman from such a humble background who rose the ranks and accomplished  so much only to be abandoned by the man she loved. Even if it was unorthodox, they wanted the old woman to have a bit of happiness.

But Sarada Uchiha dismisses these rumors and speculations with a sad smile, merely telling her bothersome citizens to leave the couple alone and let them live in peace.

And this man, who comes out of nowhere like a lone meteor, stays by Sakura Uchiha’s side until the end of her days.

A/N: Another sad one, but time dilation has always been one of my favorite physics/sci-fi concepts. Thank you for reading and Happy Holidays!

[dadolorian]

Just like me - Part 3

A/N: Here it is, part 3, i hope this makes up for their little split in p2  Credits: Thank you @oloreaa​ for being my Beta reader/editor !

Title: Just Like me Fandom: Prospect (2018) Ship: Ezra/Reader Warning: More talk of injuries/mental issues as a result. Word count: 6K + KILL ME Master List Request status AO3 Link Previous part Next part - coming soon

It was a good year and a half later when you landed back on central next. Almost two years since you had met Ezra originally. Simultaneously feeling like a lifetime had passed and feeling like you had just seen him yesterday.

True to your word, you had taken the next job you could, taking a standard contract to mine a newly discovered mineral deposit on a sulfur heavy moon for scientific research. It was a decent enough pay once you handed in your harvest to the research team. It didn’t provide you the rush that Aurelac harvesting did, though. It was the kind of job that was a ‘safe bet’, not a gamble, like it was on the Green. You might have waited for something more exciting, but you had wanted to leave central as soon as possible after you had said your goodbyes to Ezra. Wanting to push the memory of him away as quickly as you could. Stupidly believing that out of sight meant out of mind. You followed that job up with another on the same planet, harvesting a highly conductive metal similar to gold, it was used in electronics. It was not the most dazzling payload you had ever collected, nothing exciting or too complicated like the Aurelac, it was backbreaking and tiring, but it filled your pockets well. Despite it being the busiest job you had ever been on, constantly surrounded by the other harvesters on the teams or the research scientists, it was the loneliest you had ever felt on the job.The loss of Ezra’s companionship screamed loudest at you during that time, much to your annoyance. You had taken the job to distract yourself from him, not lament even more.  As you laid in the crowded communal bunk, surrounded by people, physically closer to more people than you ever had been in your entire life, but more alone than ever. Ezra had made you feel like the only other person in the entire galaxy when you spoke, that feeling had not faded due to distance or time. What was once something that made you feel special, important, the center of the entire universe, now made you feel isolated and lost, forgotten, with no Ezra around, feeling like you were the only other person in the universe suddenly became soul crushing. You longed to see him more than all the points in the galaxy, you dreamt about losing yourself in a conversation with him once more, of becoming bewitched in his sparkling dark eyes and alluring, crooked smile. Oh to simply have him curled up beside you on your bunk, not even speaking, just there. You did not slowly start to forget about him as you had originally feared you would.

The return to Central was significantly different this time around, your days aboard the ship home made you more resentful of your past self, as you wandered the halls the two of you used to explore. You couldn’t bear to spend extended time in your quarters, that was where you had enjoyed his company the most, choosing to be in there only for sleep. The departure was much quicker than the last time, you pushed yourself through the busy crowd gathered in the ships entrance foyer to get out as quickly as possible. While the weather was nothing to note when you had last departed, this time it was raining, and dark, well into the night. The ship had landed much later than scheduled due to a passing meteor shower which only dampened your mood further. You had not once stopped thinking about him, you had been convinced you would get over him eventually, you often scolded yourself for how much you yearned for him, the two of you were never anything more than friends but you longed for him the way you imagined you would have a lover. It was like he was your other half, and now a piece of you was missing, ironic for two people who had both physically lost parts of themselves. Returning to the place you had last seen him did nothing to change those feelings. You pushed it away once more, cowardly retreating away from your feelings once again when given the opportunity to make things right. You knew he had to be somewhere on the planet, huddled up in a little home with Cee, you hoped so at least. He was ready to put so much work into becoming her guardian, it would be a huge disappointment if he had been unsuccessful. It would be so easy, to just go grab a phone and call, you knew the number by heart now. You would often trade your books for new ones on a job but you refused to part ways with the one Ezra gave you, even if the messy scrawl was etched into your brain forever. It was the only reminder you had of him, the only proof that he had ever actually existed in your life. You were never able to separate from it, no matter how much you had wanted to push his memory away. You passed the payphones, considering it for the briefest of moments before the call of the job listing board won out to you. Calling him meant confronting the emotions you were trying to bury, and facing your fear. ‘Coward,’ Ezra's voice echoed in your mind, the same thought that you heard every time you considered reaching out. You were terrified of what he would say if you ever saw him again. Shaking those thoughts out of your head, you made your way over to the flickering, beat up screen displaying all the departures, groaning as you went through them all. The next sling out for your company was more than a month away, meaning you had two options, stick around and take a break, or change to a different company. If you changed, you would forgo your 2nd class lodgings and ship, you didn’t have a hush deal with anyone else, so you would have to rent a pod just like every other prospector, your own quarters and ship was a luxury you did not want to pass up. You didn’t even have the chance to use your own ship for the last job, it seemed like a waste to not use it. You groaned loudly in annoyance, running your hands through your hair as you relented that you would have to wait for the time being, last time you never had the opportunity to revel in the spoils of your harvest. 

You supposed this time you could, maybe that would be a better distraction. You trudged out of the arrivals and departures terminal you were in, past the wall of payphones again, hesitating for just a moment before pushing on, through the rain to walk to the strip where you knew there would be hotels. You didn’t bother with a cab, the strip wasn’t that far away and you were cheap, you could walk the distance. Your tired body protested however, the long boring trip after months of backbreaking work, mixed with the rain and delay in arrival, it all wore you down, the emotional baggage you were carrying certainly didn’t help much either. A walk that should have taken you five minutes tops once you left the space port took you close to twenty. The light rain turned into a downpour. It couldn’t get any worse.  

Of course, when someone says ‘it can’t get any way worse’ the universe always seems to prove them wrong. And it seemed the ‘merciful’ universe was conspiring against you, because as you arrived on the hotel strip you were angered to find two were locked, no one bothered to come to the door no matter how many times you rung the service bell, one was shut for construction, another two were out of rooms and the last had a rather snooty desk clerk who decided, just by looking at you, that you couldn't afford their luxuries and you were promptly shooed away. You gave him a piece of your mind as you were escorted away, angrily flipping the clerk off as security escorted you out. This was the industrial district, not a place where high end clients tended to stay. You almost cried as you walked the streets alone, too tired to try and find a new place on foot or even formulate a plan. You were all but ready to collapse in a bus stop or under a bridge, ready to admit defeat and sleep anywhere that was dry when a buzzing light caught the corner of your eye. A singular, beat up old payphone. His number flashed in your head again. You were all but ready to push the temptation away until you realized you were already inside and dialing. Perhaps you were just a little too tired and desperate to stop. Your stubbornness vanishes in hopes for a dry, warm place to sleep. You held your breath in anticipation and dread, a potent mix of emotions swirled through your mind as you waited for it to either ring off or for him to answer. You weren’t sure which one you wanted more. “Hmm? Who the fuck is calling me so god damn early in the morning?” a familiar, tired voice groaned. Your breath hitched. “I swear you telemarketers never understand people need to sleep, I have to wake up early tomorrow- today I imagine for wor-” “Ezra” You whispered, voice barely there, interrupting his tired rambling. “A-Angel?” He gasped, sounding considerably more awake and alert. The two of you listened in silence, him waiting for your response, you struggling to talk. “Y-yeah, it's me,” you sighed, eventually breaking the silence, curling in on yourself to protect yourself from the cold and his reaction. “W-well not that I'm not happy to hear from you, because I am, exceedingly so, but what the matter? Why are you calling?” he asked cautiously, hopefully. “I-uh, I landed back in central like an hour ago...” you whimpered just a bit “I have nowhere else to go. No Hotels and no ride...” You heard some quick shuffling on his end, it sounded like fabric, sheets maybe? He was getting dressed, your tired mind eventually concluded. “Where are you? I’m on my way,” he said. Nerves and panic overcame you for a moment, suddenly faced with the realization that you would see him, as much as you wanted too, you were too scared to face the reality of being confronted by him again. “N-no, there's no need for that,” you stammered. “I shouldn’t have bothered you, I'm sorry I woke you-” “Don’t hang up!” he begged, pleading. It reminded you of the last night you saw him. Guilt stabbed you in the stomach and twisted.  “Please, it's no trouble at all….. I’m not letting you sleep out there all alone, in this rain nonetheless. I am begging you, please let me help you out of this situation. I just want to make sure you're safe, so please, where are you?” You hesitated, biting your lip and listened to his deep, calming breaths before telling him your current location, tiredly reading dim, fluttering neon signs to help him figure out your exact position. He sounded pleased as he was getting ready to race out the door, apparently you weren’t too far from his home. He had to hang up as he headed out, begging you not to go anywhere before he galloped out his door. Once you were greeted with the dial tone once more you hung up the phone and sunk down slowly to the floor of the payphone, too tired to keep standing and soaked to the core as you waited for him. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you had almost fallen asleep, shivering in the cold when soft knocking on the glass roused you. There he stood, on the other side of the glass, drenched to high heavens, goofy, crooked grin you had missed so much, he greeted you with a wave of his one arm. He opened the door with a struggle, you shivered more as the cold night air hit you, and he helped you to your feet. “Easy, Angel, let's get you out this cold and into something dry,” he said, taking your bag from you and leading you in the apparent direction of his home, with his arm securely around you. His hand kept caressing you as you walked, and he constantly glanced at you as if checking you were really there. It was a good thing he lived so close, because apparently he didn’t have a vehicle. You supposed that made sense, driving with one arm would be difficult. He helped you walk all the way there, encouraging you to walk just a bit further each time you sagged tiredly. Before too long you were pulled into his small apartment, too tired to take it in and ready to collapse once more, on the floor if you had to, soaking wet or not. “Angel, I'm going to run the shower for you,” he said, setting your bag down. “I know you’re tired, but you are soaked to the bone. So let's get you warm and dry, hm?” he suggested leading you gently into an equally small bathroom. He ran the shower for you before going off to collect some dry clothes and a towel. “Here, get yourself all warmed up, you can wear these, your bag’s just as soaked as you are I am afraid, it doesn’t fare well for any of your spare clothes,” he said, handing them over to you. Grey sweats and a plain black t-shirt, they were his. “I’ll make the couch up , and you can take my bed.” You began to tiredly protest, mumbling an insistence that you would take the couch, but he wouldn’t allow that. Instructing you to get yourself warm and dry before you got sick. The only reason you relented, apart from being too tired to put up a decent argument, was because he wasn’t going to shower and warm himself up until you were done. Getting him sick wouldn’t help your guilt. Once you were finished in the bathroom, dressed in the spare clothes of his you walked out, half dead, he led you to the bed, helping your groggy mind remove your prosthetic, he placed a towel under it and leant it against the wall upside down. It was something you had never told him to do, but he had most likely noticed you doing it after every shower, back on your return from the Green. A gentle hand tucked you in, hushed whispers to you of how happy he was to see you again as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead and wished you sweet dreams. You weren’t sure how much your tired mind was conjuring it up, but you felt him caress your cheek tenderly before finally leaving. You were quick to drift off, the smell of him surrounding you and the sound of the shower running relaxing you and letting you finally succumb to sleep. 

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Happy chatter and a boisterous laugh awoke you the next morning. Alarmed, you sat up quickly trying to figure out just where you were. The room was unfamiliar, a bed with worn, plain sheets, a dresser partially opened with unfolded clothes spilling out, your prosthetic leaning against the wall. The bedside table and the dresser had multiple novels piled on top of them, but otherwise the room lacked any other personal touches that might have helped your sleep delayed brain. You were alone, and in clothes that weren't yours. Thoroughly confused, you were about to panic, before the smell hit you, a familiar masculine smell you had not forgotten, even after such a long time. A smell you associated with safety, books and a singular warm arm embracing you. Ezra. That’s right, you had called him out of desperation last night. You listened to the voices in the next room, you recognised them as both Cee And Ezra. They were laughing together, you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but they were happy, relaxed. You sat in silence, trying to figure out what to do. There was that stubborn side of you that wanted to run, to double down on the stupid belief that you had kept since you last saw him, simply because you were too prideful and afraid to admit to yourself that you were wrong. But realistically, you knew you could run anymore, you were in his bed, you would have to face him and accept the truth: that you had fucked up, that cutting him off had not made anything easier, that you had been miserable for the past year and a half, even though you had ended your friendship with him to avoid that happening. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ you thought to yourself as you heard what sounded like the front door close, and the muffle conversation ended. A few seconds later a gentle knock rapped at the door, Ezra cautiously poked his head into the room. A smile spread on his face when he saw you sitting up and awake. “Angel!” he praised, allowing himself to enter the room. He sat himself on the edge of the bed and took one of your hands in his, stroking your knuckles softly. “I have just made some breakfast for the Little bird, there's still plenty left, would you like some?” he asked, the familiar charming smile that you had missed so much still plastered on his face. You sighed and nodded, giving a timid smile back, put your leg on and quietly followed him out into the main living area, still holding his hand as he led you to your seat at the kitchen counter. Now actually awake you took note of the space. It was small, nothing fancy, just the basics in terms of furniture. A very small lounge area right by the front door, the kitchen directly to the right, with a small island and bar,. A similar sized table and matching chairs stood by the windows, and three doors in the little ‘hallway’ by the kitchen, the bathroom, Ezra's room and what you would assume was Cee's room. The only personal touches around the place was a mess of papers and more piles of books, just like in his room. You were too busy looking to realize Ezra had been speaking as he cooked up some breakfast, it was pancakes. “-And Birdie’s hoping to apply for a literary scholarship, she has the aspiration to become an author, surprise surprise. I instructed her that she has to dedicate at least one of her books to me, and that I intended to get her first copy, signed, mind you.” You managed to catch the end of what he was saying as he finished serving up your breakfast, putting the plate in front of where you were sitting at the little counter bar. He leaned onto the counter opposite you with a smile, allowing you to dig in. You ate in silence, appreciating just how much better the food was compared to the ship you had just gotten off. You were steeling yourself for the conversation that was coming, tension hanging in the air. “I missed you,” he eventually said after you had been sitting silently for too long. You didn’t know what to say, as usual, so you just kept on eating awkwardly, not looking at him. Mentally scolding yourself, ignoring your issues had proven to be ineffective, why do you bother keeping it up? “Please don’t tell me you already regret calling me Angel?”  He sighed at your lack of response, brushing some of your messy bed hair from your face so he could see your eyes better.  You shook your head. “N-no, I just don’t know what to say. I’m not like you Ezra. I can’t just..say how I really feel.” Frustrated with yourself, you looked down at your lap. “Did you miss me?” he asked, voice a mixture of hope and nerves. You sighed loudly, did he really think you didn’t? “Of course I did, Ezra,” you whispered, looking up and meeting his gaze. “I have found myself unable to stop thinking about you Angel,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck and turning away from your gaze. “Nothing I have done has quelled the longing in my heart for your company. I am happy, with this new life I have built with my Little Bird, but I must concede that I have not been successful in my endeavors to find a friendship that meant half as much as yours did to me.” Yet again you were at a loss for words, tears welled up in your eyes and you bit back a sob.  “Angel?” he asked, concern thick in his voice when you let out the chocked sound and the dam inside you broke, the tidal wave of emotions crashing through you that had been pent up inside you for the past year and a half. He was quick to round the counter and pull you off your seat and into his embrace, soothing you with gentle strokes to your back.  “Easy, Angel, easy,” he soothed. “Tell me what is upsetting you so?”  You shook your head, unable to articulate yourself the way he seemed to do so with ease.  “Are you upset about seeing me again?” he tried, you shook your head no again. “N-no, I’m happy to see you again, Ezra, really,” you mumbled into his shirt as you continued to cry.  “But these are not happy tears, Angel,“ he pointed out, cupping your face gently and directing your gaze to his. He brushed a tear away with his thumb. “You are not crying because you are happy to see me. Which perturbs me. I beg of you to tell me what’s wrong?”  “I’m just…” you trailed off trying to find the words, he was looking at you with such patience and support, silently encouraging you to continue. How could you have ever pushed him away? How could you hurt him like that? You did not deserve his kindness, his care, and yet, after pushing him away for no other reason than stubbornness and pride he still, still dropped everything to come help you out, even in the middle of the night in the pouring rain. You wanted to confess every thought, every regret for what you had done, proclaim to him how wrong you had been and that you were an idiot for not listening to him. But those words were trapped, all you could manage was a quiet whisper of “I’m sorry.” His body slumped as he let out a breath you didn’t notice he had been holding. His soft smile grew as he shook his head and pulled you in a tight embrace again.  He placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head. ”And here i thought something was wrong,” he sighed, gently nuzzling the top of your head with his cheek. “I forgive you, of course I forgive you,” he murmured, not letting you go.  He was just too good to you. “You were right,” your voice tight and eyes filled with more tears that threatened to spill. Your fingers gripped the material of his shirt tightly. ”I-I was just being stubborn and there was no reason to cut you out. How can you even look at me? All it did was hurt me more and I let it happen. I hurt you, Ezra.”  He kissed the crown of your head once more. “That you did,” he began,“But I forgive you anyway, Angel. You did not do it out of malice or rancor. I cannot blame you for a misguided belief that you were protecting yourself, as much as your actions pained me, not when you have accepted your faults and have come to amend them.”  “B-but I didn’t,” you admitted in shame, burying your face in his chest. “I had multiple opportunities to call you before last night, I passed them all up until my circumstances changed and I became desperate. I was actively trying to avoid seeing you again until I ran out of options.”  “Such a stubborn woman,” he murmured, rocking you ever so gently in his embrace. “I truly do not care about any of that now, Angel. All that matters is that I was gifted the pleasure of seeing you again. That you did eventually decide to grace my life with your presence once more." Ezra beamed at you, before continuing, "I have sorely missed your company and I am simply too overjoyed about your return to me to even entertain thoughts about anything else." He paused, shifting slightly. "Just please tell me, now that you are here that you will not leave me once more?”  Your arms cautiously wrapped around his middle. “I’ll have to go back to work eventually,” you muttered. “Not like that Angel, you know what i mean,” he said, cupping your face again so you could meet his gaze. “Tell me you won’t cut me out again,” he said, brow stern and eyes searching yours, searching for a truthful response. 

Your lip trembled.”I won’t,” you whispered, voice quiet but resolve clear. “Okay, good,” he sighed, releasing his gentle hold on your face. “Then that is all that matters. We can put the past behind us and continue on.”  “Just like that?” you asked, struggling to accept he was willing to forget everything that went wrong.  “Do you want to sit down and talk about it?” He asked. “I am more than willing to, if that's what you wish Angel.”  “M-maybe not right now,” you sigh, not quite ready to resolve all that emotional baggage just yet.  “When you’re ready, then,” he said, soft encouragement in his voice, kissing your forehead and releasing his hold on you. “Come, let's get you sorted. Your belongings are still soaked, we can get them all washed and dried,” he hummed, trying to cheer you up.  “I can do it at the hotel, when I find one,” you said, not wanting to trouble him.  “H-hotel?” he asked, “I hope I do not come across as too selfish but I would very much like you to stay here. If you’re receptive to that idea?”  “This is your home Ezra” you pointed out. “I don’t want to invade.”  “Nonsense, you are more than welcome. I know it’s not fancy like some of the hotels you can stay at, so I understand if you would choose one over my humble little apartment, but in all honesty I was hoping you would stay, if only for a short while.”  “What about Cee? This is her home too,” you pointed out, brows furrowed in worry. “I spoke to Birdie this morning before she left for school. She is more than happy to have you stay as well,” he said, folding up the blankets still thrown on the couch as best he could. “I made sure of that. I would never invite someone to stay if she was uncomfortable with the idea.”  “I don’t want to trouble you any further-” you started. “It’s no trouble, please Angel,” he said, cutting you off. “I am asking because I want to, and I am not ready to say goodbye to you yet, even if it is just for a few hours.You can even take my room-” “Keeva no, Ezra,” you sighed. “I’ll stay, alright. I don’t want to say goodbye just yet either, but I am not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own home.”  “I am quite alright with it Angel,” he said.  “Yeah right,” you scoffed. I can tell just by looking at that thing you don’t fit on it properly. I’m smaller, I'll actually fit on it. And that’s final,” you said poking him in the chest. He was about to protest again, ready to insist  but you interrupted him before he had a chance to voice himself. ”If you do not accept me sleeping on the couch I will go find a hotel,” you said, tone stern as you crossed your arms, challenging him to continue.  He sighed, giving up. Reluctantly letting you take the couch so you would stay. 

It felt good to have him back in your life, helping you once more, and you him, there was still a little tension between the two of you which you would have to talk about eventually, later, as you had agreed. For the time being, it was just nice to have him back. He helped you with all your wet clothes in his apartment buildings tiny laundry room, the two of you sitting opposite the running machines on the scuffed ground side by side as you waited, catching up. Absence had done nothing to wear at the connection you shared. He told you of the difficult process of becoming Cee’s legal guardian, the hoops he had to jump through. The desperate search for a stable job and apartment so he could provide for her. You felt another pang of guilt, having abandoned him in such a difficult time, but he assured you he felt no ill will. He now had 2 jobs, one meaneal labour job that wasn’t so difficult he couldn’t do it with one arm, and another at the spaceport you had just departed from, he was essentially a security guard. It was basic work, he had told you, nothing he took particular pride or passion in, just something to pay the bills and provide for Cee until she went to college. He confessed just how much he missed prospecting, he chased that thrill of a good harvest just as you did. He begged you to tell him tales of your last exploit back out into the stars. “Sorry Ezra, my last job was far from a thrilling adventure” you huffed, amused. “No gems or exciting digs. Just backbreaking labour to mine some standard ore, and help a research team dig up a newly discovered mineral.” “Angel, that sounds more than stimulating to me,” he said with a grin, stupid puppy dog eyes sparkling at you in hopes of a tale. “Tell me,” he urged excitedly, puppy dog eyes sparkling at you that you couldn’t resist. You sighed. “I don’t think I've ever been on a job so physically demanding. Nothing like the drops down to the Green. It was this huge team led by the researchers,” you explained, eyes cast down in thought as you tried to remember details. “It was… lonely,” you admitted casting your gaze down. “There was a potential for a pharmaceutical use for the mineral, it was difficult to collect, and fragile, so they hired big teams to collect as much as possible. Huge professional gig so everything was provided, and we got paid by the day as well as bonuses if we managed to collect more than the minimum requirement.” He whistled at that in awe. “Damn Angel, that sounds like that meant one hell of a payload when you were done then.” You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, not going to lie, it was a little boring compared to Aurelac harvesting, and difficult, but it was more than a decent pay,” you huffed in amusement before continuing. “The next one was basic, just, mining for ore. Standard kinda job, not one of the thrill seekers things either.” “We all get those kinds of jobs every now and then,” he nodded, leaning back and closing his eyes. You could imagine him reliving the memories of his former life behind those closed lids.  Playfully nudging his shoulder to get his attention, you grinned at him when he brought his wistful eyes to meet yours. “You’ll be back there, soon enough,” you encouraged. A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I truly want that to happen, Angel,” he sighed, tearing his gaze away to stare off at the opposite wall. “I must confide that I have begun to fear my severed arm has proven to be far too arduous to deal with certain tasks. I have taught myself to become ambidextrous in my writing but there are things I have discovered are too… difficult to accomplish now that I am without part of myself.” You listened to his concern with an understanding smile before leaning against him, resting your cheek on his shoulder, looking up into his sorrowful eyes that were staring into the distance. “Do you remember when I told you it gets easier?” you asked, barely above a whisper, he glanced at you before nodding slightly, sighing as he did so. “I meant it,” you continued. “It will get easier Ezra, when you get a prosthetic, well then, the world better watch out.” You took his hand in both of yours, giving it an encouraging squeeze and smiling at him. “What if I can't?” he asked, brows furrowed in worry , giving away a hidden fear. “What if I do not bounce back? And I stay this broken shell of my former self?” You rolled your eyes, he was the dramatic sort sometimes. “Ezra, look at me,” you whispered as he tore his gaze away again, you cupped his face lightly to bring it back to you.  You weren't one to initiate physical affection from him, but his absence had made you crave it so much during your time apart, that you were willing to throw a little caution to the wind.   “You’re not some ‘shell’-” you started, cut off when huffed and rolled his own eyes, not agreeing with you. ”Hey now, I never knew you before this,” you gestured to his missing arm with one hand. ”I didn’t know Ezra before, I only know this Ezra." To underline that, you poked him in the chest with a single finger. "And I like this Ezra.” You playfully flicked his forehead afterwards, laughing as he pouted at you. “Don’t pout at me like that, mister,” you snickered as he rubbed his forehead. “Look, ok, I don't think you're this shell, in fact, I wish I could express just how amazing I think you are, Ezra,” you started again, shy smile on your face. “But I know how you’re feeling, I’ve been there too, remember? I’m just like you. So if you’re having any self deprecating thoughts because you’re an amputee, then I'm afraid I will have to take that as a personal offence, because if you’re less of a man for losing your arm, then by that logic, I’m less of a woman for losing my leg.” Raising your chin at him, you stared him in the eyes, challenge written in your face. He looked at you, aghast, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “Angel, I would never think that way of you-” “Good, then you can’t think that way about yourself either. It’s not allowed,” you said sternly, not allowing him any room to argue. “You lost an arm, so what? It’s a part of your life now and you just have to deal with it.“  He queried his brow at you.  “I think I prefer your gentle consolations over this,” he mumbled, making you snort with laughter.  “Sometimes, it helps to have a dose of reality. Recovery is a long process and it can’t always be soft encouragement. Sometimes it’s better to give you a shove than to hold your hand,” you said, letting go of his hand to empathize the point. “I like when you hold my hand, Angel,” he whispered, hand reaching to take yours back but hesitated. “Makes me feel safer than I have felt in a long time,” he said, you weren't sure if he was talking metaphorically or not, but either way it made your stomach flip.   “Well,” you began, feeling a little flushed over his innocent little comment, voice pitched for a moment as you composed yourself. “You need a shove right now, but I hope me standing at the sidelines shouting that you can do it is a good enough substitute.”  “So long as you are there Angel, it's more than enough,” he smiled, resting his hand on your knee instead. The machines in front of you finally finished their cycles, bringing the two of you two back to reality. You smiled and patted his shoulder before getting up off the floor so you could remove the clothes from the machines.

You couldn’t remember being so happy since the last good day the two of you had spent together. He helped you hang up your clothes on a small drying frame in his apartment, he playfully waggled his eyebrows at you as he hung up your underwear, to which you were mortified and threw a wet sock at his smug face as he cracked up.

He had called in sick from work that morning, you later found out, so he could spend the whole day with you. You sat with him on his couch, chatting with him as if the two of you had never been separated. Cee returned home late afternoon, it warmed your heart to watch Ezra get up and greet her with a small hug and ask her about her day, offering her help with any homework she had. She said hi to you, a soft smile on her face as she made her way to her room to do her homework, refusing Ezras offer of help.

She emerged again close to dinner time, Ezra having ordered takeout to ‘celebrate’ your return. You were left alone together as Ezra went to collect your meals at the apartment gate. “It’s uh, really nice to see you again,” Cee said to fill in the slightly tense silence. The two of you never had a meaningful conversation with each other, accepting that the other just came with having Ezra in your life. “It’s nice to see you again too,” you said truthfully, giving her a soft smile. She shook her head, “no, i mean, yeah. It is nice to see you but I meant, I’m happy your back. Da- Ezra has been kinda mopey, since he last saw you. He’s happy again, is what I was trying to say. He’s missed you.” “I’ve missed him too,” you said, charmed that she cared so much for her adoptive father's happiness. “He hasn’t shut up about you you know?” she said rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly as she revealed something Ezra probably wouldn’t want her telling you. “He kept asking me what he could have done differently, or wondering what you were up to, he was really worried about you, not knowing where you were.” You felt a pang of guilt hit your chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt him Cee, I hope you know that.” “Yeah, I do,” she sighed. “ I wasn’t happy to see him so upset, but no one was angry at you. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, he’s happy now and you’re back together again.” “Together?” you balked. “W-we’re not together, just… friends. That’s all we are, friends,” you clarified feeling flustered and your face heating up. Cee snorted. “You’re just like him I swear-” she laughed , shaking her head as the front door opened and Ezra returned, brown paper bag in hand, declaring dinner was served with a cheerful tone. You didn’t have a chance to ask Cee what she meant, distracting yourself from your slightly flustered mind by helping Ezra serve and carry everything over to the couch where the two of you sat. Cee sitting adjacent from you on the floor, a content smile on her face as she watched Ezra happily chat with you while the three of you ate your meals.

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[randomeditscreates]

I'm sorry but who can take The Rise of Skywalker seriously, when, one! Emperor Palpatine is around after exploding twice! And even though his fucking ships can't go up! He decides to sent a text message to everyone that's hes back and is going to take over the galaxy. And that he apparently pooped out a very powerful force user[Snoke]

#2. Poe fucking Light Speed skipping, when it's stated in the OT[Original Trilogy] that you can't do it! And the fact that Rey, [Hermit crab] could've done it better, it's from Chewbacca!

#3. Rey, Poe and Finn acting like they've known each other, when this is the first time we get to see them interact with each other.

#4. Passana, not only do they act as if the celebration will cause an issue, when they have no where specifically in Passana to go! Kylo Ren fucking pulls a necklace off of Rey's neck, which causes many questions now!, but for the fact that they were going to be sighted anyways so why do it! Let's not forget that Rey couldn't levitate 6 people when the beginning literally shows her levitate herself with several rocks with no apparent struggle! But no it's fine because they find the mcguffin, and Rey just heals the creature, who just so happens to be covering an exit!

So many fucking conveniences!

#5. Rey after finding the Mcguffin, leaves and almost gets plowed by Kylo, who if you remember doesn't want to kill her!, so why the fuck, would he want to run her the fuck off! I guess it's just for the visuals! Then Kylo explodes and doesn't have a scratch on him, the plot Armour is strong with this one. And of course Chewbacca gets stolen by the First Order and when Rey tries to save him, she fucking shoots lightening out of her hands! I'm sorry but whatever happened to Force Lightening being one of the harded Jedi practice, which is why Palpatine is the only character who has it! You can't just shoot out Force Lightening and especially a character who, compared to any other character barely had any practice!

#6. Babu Frick, a mechanic doesn't have anything to store C3PO memory, and anyways, they find DO, so just have him read the Sith language and you don't have to do this stupid scene, but Fuck it, let's have C3PO death scene with literally no one's he should give two fucks about! Because that'll really pull on the hearstring

#7 Rey finds out she's a Palpatine... and then nothing really changed. She doesn't change and I have no fear that'll she'd turn bad, she's too good, too perfect and not in a positive way. She has a small hissey fit, but as soon as Luke tells her she's not evil,she decides to defeat Palps.

#8. Leia is dead, and we have no reason for how it happens, let's not forget about her stupid prophecy, her son[Kylo] will die at the end of her Jedi training, so she decided to give up her lightsaber to someone who will finish her training, killing her son, it's so stupid and honestly as much as I love Leia, she shouldn't have become a Jedi. But then again she does, so I guess it doesn't fucking matters anymore.

#9. Force Ghosts can use the force! So why in the world wouldn't they decide to come to Exegul to fucking destroy Palps, they can't die! And don't you dare tell me it's because that specific planet has alot of force, because then why in the world would Luke go there! Since he wants to get away from the force! And even still, State that! Or make it fucking clear.

#10. Kylo turns good, so I guess, that's okay, but how the hell did he find Rey on the Death Star, when A, you can only find it using the Wayfinder, B, It's placed in an area where you have to be standing in a specific place and hope that the place did not erode or was scavenged. And don't give me the stupid excuse was that the Wayfinder gives special coordination to the area, but, it you know how any map works, it doesn't give you the exact place to stand, it gives you the general fucking location, and even still, if Rey, was an inch to the left, they would be shit out of luck.

The fucking End! Rey is told to kill Palps so he could inhabit her body, so she kills him....with two Lightsabers, do you remember the Prequels, Mace Window was a skilled opponent and was at his best form and his lightsaber just made Palps bald! But apparently all he needed was an extra lightsaber. Oh and the whole, be with me! Solely there for the director to say that's the reason Rey won, not because she a Mary Sue, and can never lose, like seriously during the entire trilogy, she never fails or changes as a character. So apparently a force Diad can restore a force user to it's full ability, I guess that gives us enough info on force Diads, it not like we not need anymore information, Ashoka is apparently dead! And don't give me the crap about how the director said how she's not, he's just making up for his fuck ups. Kylo Ren heals Rey, and dies, not only can he heals someone with no experience, but even though when Rey heals Kylo of a fatal wound! She's perfectly fine when Kylo heals Rey, he dies! Oh and don't get me started on their kiss, honestly, that is not a kiss siblings have, and if your wondering, yes! Jar Jar Abrams told everyone that this kiss was meant to be a brother and Sister kiss! Honestly I can fix this, Rey dies due to Palps absorbing her powers, and only Kylo survives, and then Kylo kills Palpatine, it both a homage, to the original trilogy with a Skywalker defeating a Palpatine but it wouldn't bring into question of Palpatine inhabiting Rey's body. It would also be a great story arc for Ben[Kylo] as he like his grandfather, decides to become good because of someone they care for. And then if you want he could not die and save Rey, but personally I think these two infections should die together. It might be a somber tale but it would be a change from the original, and you could even show a new force user and then bang you have a new character to create a movie about. Honestly I just never really enjoyed this ending or movie, and the fact that the lat word a Skywalker utters is Ow, is just insulting to their legacy.

Dishonorary mentions: Rey took the Skywalker last name as her own, like Bitch, you did not deserves this, after you take all of their accomplishments and claim them as your own. It also makes no sense in universe as the only Skywalker, she was ever close to was Leia, and she continuously goes by in movies and books as Leia Organa, because you know, even if Vader was her father, she not going to take the name of the man who killed her only parents but also her people. So why not Organa or even Solo, Rey doesn't have a great connection with Luke during The Last Jedi, so why the hell, would she go by that name, also, What about your parents Rey, the people who literally sacrificed themselves for you, I guess fuck them. BTW, I love the fact that Rey's mother convinced Ochi, Ouchi? Doesn't matter, she tells the a Sith assassin, that Rey is not on Jaku, literally word for word, very convincing.

Finn, has some force abilities and while I would love to see how he would react to this ability all he ever does is yell Rey, literally, take a drink everytime he does it and you'll be blackout drunk by the halfway mark, it's so annoying.

Jada is fine, but I hate that's she just a Finn as woman, and their connection only goes as far as the fact that their both were once stormtroopers.

Honestly I enjoyed Zori Bliss' character but she was so useless and was only there to shout encouraging words to Poe, and gives him the medallion, which, if we think about, shouldn't work but I digress.

I'm totally done now, because I'll fully admit, that any other complaints are caused by the Last Jedi,