#original plot

[intistone]

Inktober stuff! :D

Ranging from a lot of fandom and original blorbos yep

[bestducky]

Master Chief x fem! Reader

Chapter 4: That's one big map!

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Summary: Bridges made of light!? Portals!? Can we please use a normal form of transportation!

Notes: Things get more interesting, I changed some scenes from the game, otherwise everything is canon!

The path ahead rose gently, carved from cracked stone and overgrown with wild grass that rustled under their boots. At the summit, something utterly alien dominated the landscape. (Y/N) felt herself slow as they approached. The building was massive—an impossible fusion of nature and machine. Its outer shell gleamed a pale, metallic white under the filtered sunlight, so smooth and seamless it could have been poured from the sky itself. Luminous accents of blue and gold traced delicate patterns across the surface, pulsing softly with a life all their own.

It was beautiful in a way that felt almost cruel.

The air around them buzzed faintly, the hum of unseen energies vibrating against her skin. The closer they got, the more the world itself seemed to quiet—no birds, no insects, only the low, ever-present sound of power thrumming through the ground.

(Y/N) tightened her arms around herself, feeling the rough fabric of her shirt between her fingers. Every logical part of her brain screamed at her to stop, to turn back, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. There was something terrifying about the structure's perfection, something deeply wrong in how it stood untouched by time, by decay, as if it had simply been waiting.

Chief moved ahead without hesitation, his heavy steps unwavering. (Y/N) trailed after him, her own movements cautious, almost reverent. Her gaze flicked across the strange architecture—arching spires, floating platforms suspended in shafts of golden light, walls that shimmered like living stone. She had never seen anything like it. Nothing human, nothing natural.

When they reached the entrance, she hesitated.

The doorway stood three stories high, no hinge or seam, only veins of light tracing its edges. No handle, no welcome—just silent, mathematical permission. Then, with a deep, resonant groan, the metal split along hidden seams. Panels shifted and slid into the walls with fluid precision, revealing a passageway beyond. Cold air spilled out, brushing against her skin with a strange electric bite.

(Y/N) flinched back instinctively, heart hammering against her ribs. She had seen automatic doors before—at malls, at hospitals—but this was different. There had been no sensor, no sound of hydraulics, no visible command. It had reacted to them as if it knew they were there.

She stared into the gaping entrance, her muscles locked in indecision. Every part of her screamed that this was wrong, that stepping through would be a mistake she couldn’t undo. She looked toward Chief. He waited at the threshold, one solid hand resting lightly against the frame, his gold visor reflecting her small, frozen figure back at her.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

She clenched her fists at her sides, feeling the sharp bite of her nails against her palms, and forced herself to move. One step. Another.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the hum grew stronger. Not louder—but deeper, like a bass note thrumming in the bones of the world. The air inside was colder, thinner, laced with a metallic tang that tasted like ozone.

The walls of the corridor were impossibly smooth, curving upward into a vaulted ceiling etched with glowing lines of shifting script. The floor underfoot was the same seamless white metal, marred only by hairline fractures spiderwebbing outward like old scars. Shafts of pale light streamed down from hidden sources far above, catching in the mist that clung low around their boots.

(Y/N) slowed, tilting her head back to stare at the dizzying height. Awe prickled down her spine, battling fear. It was too much. Too alien. Her engineer's brain itched to understand the mechanics of it—the materials, the construction—but her instincts recoiled. This wasn’t built. This was grown. Or shaped by hands that didn’t think the way human hands did.

Her fingertips brushed lightly against the wall. It was cool to the touch, almost soft, as if the metal itself was breathing. She snatched her hand back, heart leaping.

Chief kept moving ahead at an even pace, scanning the path with methodical sweeps of his rifle. His steady presence anchored her, gave her a rhythm to follow when her mind wanted to spiral into panic.

(Y/N) forced herself to breathe slowly.

One step at a time.

One breath at a time.

The corridor opened wider ahead, revealing a massive inner chamber lit by an eerie, sourceless glow. Great pillars of white stone and metal spiraled toward the unseen ceiling, their surfaces engraved with delicate patterns that seemed to shift when she wasn’t looking directly at them. Floating platforms drifted lazily through the air, tethered by thin streams of crackling energy. In the center of the room, a towering obelisk pulsed with soft light, casting long shadows across the misty floor.

She turned slowly in place, trying to take it all in—the impossible architecture, the terrible beauty of it. Her heart ached with the enormity of it all, a sharp, painful longing for home, for anything familiar.

(Y/N) stopped dead in the entrance, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

An immense circular platform stretched out before them, suspended high above a bottomless abyss by columns of shifting, braided light. Floating geometric shapes drifted lazily through the air, orbiting a towering central spire that pulsed with a cool blue glow. Narrow bridges branched out from the platform’s edges, leading into darkness and distant doors she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Above them, the ceiling disappeared into swirling mist lit by shafts of golden sunlight that filtered down like something holy.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her hand tightening instinctively around the hem of her shirt. This wasn’t architecture. This wasn’t construction.

It was like stepping into the exposed skeleton of a god.

A sudden metallic trill echoed overhead. Narrow panels in the floor parted, and a flock of small machines drifted out on columns of pale light—orb-shaped cores ringed by three razor-thin arms that clicked and realigned with unnerving grace. Their central lenses glowed a cool amber as they fanned across the chamber.

(Y/N) took an involuntary step behind Chief’s bulk. “Uh—what are those flying machines?”

“Sentinels,” Cortana supplied, tone matter-of-fact. “Automated Forerunner custodians. They’ll monitor us unless we give them a reason to do something less friendly.”

One Sentinel paused directly in front of (Y/N). A lattice of light swept over her—head to toe—then receded. The machine issued a soft chirp, as if filing her under mildly interesting, and floated away.

She let out the breath she’d been storing. “Good to know we’re only rated ‘minor inconvenience.’ “

Chief resumed his advance, apparently satisfied the drones posed no threat. Their amber eyes tracked him for a moment, then drifted upward, leaving the platform clear for Cortana’s console work. (Y/N) followed slower, unable to tear her eyes from the grandeur towering above and around them, even after the Sentinels had left.

Cortana materialized as Chief slotted her into the console—her form flickering to life in a bloom of soft blue light above the smooth surface.

(Y/N) stopped a few paces back, watching in awe as Cortana's hologram leaned over the console, her fingers moving through holographic displays that shifted and twisted at her command.

"We’re close," Cortana said, her voice sharp and focused. "I’m picking up faint distress signals—"

(Y/N) tilted her head. "From what?"

Cortana glanced over her shoulder at her, faint amusement flashing through her flickering form. "Infinity," she said simply.

(Y/N) blinked. "Infinity?"

Chief answered without looking away from the room, his voice low and steady. "UNSC Infinity. Our supercarrier. Biggest ship in the fleet."

(Y/N) nodded slowly, her mind trying to wrap itself around the concept. Even the words felt too big. Supercarrier. Fleet. It made her world—the small workshops, the crowded streets—feel impossibly distant.

She watched as Cortana plunged deeper into the console’s systems, chasing something only she could see.

Then suddenly, without warning, the entire console shuddered violently. Cortana's form blinked and distorted before being violently ejected in a burst of static, her figure collapsing into thin air.

(Y/N) flinched back instinctively.

Cortana’s voice snapped sharply over the comms. "They’re locking me out of the system!"

The console darkened, streams of glyphs racing like veins across the platform as hidden mechanisms clicked into motion deep beneath the floor.

Chief stepped forward immediately, already assessing, already planning.

Cortana's voice crackled through again. "There’s still a way. Power couplings, connected to the core systems. If we can re-enable them, I can regain control."

(Y/N) watched as parts of the platform shifted—strange mechanical flowers unfolding from the walls to reveal pathways across the abyss.

Two glowing bridges of light—narrow and unstable-looking—extended from the platform toward floating generator nodes embedded in the stone around the perimeter.

Chief started toward the nearest path without hesitation.

(Y/N) stared at the luminous walkway, her heart hammering.

It wasn't solid. It wasn’t natural. It was a ribbon of pure energy stretching over a drop so deep it made her dizzy to look at it.

And yet—

A small, fierce spark lit inside her chest.

Beneath the fear, the awe, the endless crushing wrongness of everything around her, there was something else.

Excitement.

Her hands itched at her sides, aching for tools she didn’t have.

"This is..." she whispered under her breath, almost laughing in disbelief, "This is insane."

Chief paused halfway across the platform, turning slightly to glance back at her.

She shook her head, grinning despite herself. "Back home I was... sort of an engineer," she admitted, voice still breathless with awe. "Or at least, I tried to be."

Her fingers brushed lightly against the glowing lines on the nearest column as she passed, feeling the faint warmth radiating from the Forerunner metal.

"I used to fix broken junk in my apartment," she said, almost to herself. "Now I’m walking on light bridges built by gods."

Chief didn’t answer—he just nodded once, a small, silent approval she could feel in the gesture.

The platform beneath her boots vibrated faintly as the structure shifted again, unseen systems stirring in the depths.

(Y/N) pulled in a slow breath, steadying herself.

She had no tools.

No manuals.

No backup.

But somehow, in this broken, alien place, for the first time in what felt like days—

She wasn’t useless.

Not yet.

Not today.

And that would have to be enough.

They moved across the first bridge of light, the endless drop yawning hungrily below.

Behind them, the Cartographer core pulsed faintly, waiting for the system to come alive again.

And yet, some part of her—buried deep beneath the fear—ached with a different feeling.

Wonder.

Terrible, aching wonder.

(Y/N) hugged herself tightly, trying to hold the feeling together before it could tear her apart.

Chief stood nearby, silent and patient.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

She met his gaze—or rather, the reflection of herself in the gold mirror of his visor—and felt a tiny, fierce spark of determination flicker inside her.

She wasn't ready for this world.

She didn't belong here.

But she was here anyway.

The bridge of light solidified beneath their boots as they moved, humming with an almost musical resonance. (Y/N) kept her eyes forward, trying not to think about the abyss yawning on either side. The first generator came into view—a massive pillar of smooth metal carved with shifting glyphs. Its surface pulsed faintly, a heartbeat buried under layers of ancient code.

Chief reached it first.

He moved with efficiency, placing a gloved hand flat against a recessed panel. A series of symbols flared to life beneath his palm, and with a deep, resonant hum, the pillar began to unfold. Light spilled upward in a sudden surge, stretching back toward the core platform where Cortana waited.

(Y/N) flinched slightly at the sudden flare, but it was beautiful—like watching a sun rise in fast-forward.

Before they could admire it, Cortana’s voice snapped through the comms.

"Contacts! Covenant forces incoming!"

(Y/N)'s blood went cold.

She turned instinctively—and there, across the broken stone and floating pathways, a ripple of distortion twisted into reality. Bright bursts of energy crackled into existence, forming the squat, hunched shapes she recognized from before. Grunts. Behind them, taller, more imposing figures materialized, weapons raised, armor glinting in the strange half-light.

Panic surged in her chest.

Without thinking, she darted toward the nearest cover—an outcropping of fractured Forerunner metal at the edge of the platform. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she pressed herself against the cold surface, heart hammering wildly.

Blasts of plasma sizzled through the air.

Chief was already moving—fluid, precise, a living machine of destruction. He dropped into the fray with brutal efficiency, plasma bouncing harmlessly from his shielded armor as he cleared a path with his rifle.

(Y/N) crouched lower, arms wrapped tight around her knees, fighting the instinct to squeeze her eyes shut.

Stay calm. Stay hidden. Let him handle it.

That had been the plan.

Until she realized where she had ended up.

Through the shifting haze of battle, she spotted it— another generator, nearly identical to the first, tucked against the far side of the platform. The second activation point.

And she was closer to it than Chief was.

Far closer.

(Y/N) hesitated, terror clawing at her throat. Plasma scorched the air overhead. She ducked instinctively, her muscles locking.

She could stay here. Hide.

Let Chief deal with it.

Or—

She swallowed hard, heart slamming against her ribs, and pushed herself up into a low crouch.

I’m not useless. I’m not dead weight.

She forced her legs to move, darting from cover to cover, keeping her body low as she sprinted toward the pillar. Every step felt like it could be her last, but somehow—miraculously—nothing hit her.

The generator towered above her, humming with latent energy.

(Y/N) stared up at it, trying to remember what Chief had done. The panel—his hand—the symbols—

Biting her lip, she mimicked his movements as best she could, pressing her palm flat against the smooth surface.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then the pillar pulsed under her hand.

And the entire structure responded—not sluggishly, not with mechanical delay, but immediately. Like a living thing recognizing something familiar.

Light flared upward in a brilliant rush, faster and brighter than before.

(Y/N) flinched back, shielding her eyes.

She stared at the activated console for a stunned second, blinking.

"...Huh," she muttered under her breath, brushing dust off her jeans. "Thought it would take longer."

The words left her mouth without thought, more confusion than pride. She stepped back quickly, scanning for cover again as the battle raged nearby.

Chief, having just cleared the last of the nearby Covenant, turned at the sudden surge of light. His helmet tilted slightly, his posture shifting in that subtle, careful way she was starting to recognize.

Assessing.

Calculating.

Cortana's voice chimed in the comms, sharp but not accusing. "The generator’s online. Faster than expected."

(Y/N) ducked her head, half-shrugging as she jogged back toward them. "Got lucky," she called out breathlessly.

Neither Chief nor Cortana answered immediately. But as she fell into step behind him again, she could feel it—their attention lingering just a moment longer than usual.

Not suspicion, but respect, if she could call it that. Which made her proud, showing them, she wasn’t just useless.

The bridge behind them solidified, a new path unfolding back toward the core platform.

(Y/N) tightened her fists at her sides, her skin still tingling faintly where she had touched the console.

She didn’t understand what had happened.

The chamber shuddered.

A deep, resonant hum rolled through the floor under (Y/N)’s boots, rattling up through her spine as the Cartographer core flared to life.

The central spire blazed upward in a torrent of shifting blue light, expanding outward like a living tree made of pure energy. Thin strands of illumination spiraled across the platform, connecting the floating islands of Forerunner machinery with lines of burning code. Above them, a massive holographic sphere unfolded—spinning slowly, casting fractured light across the mist-filled air.

(Y/N) staggered back half a step, head tilted back in awe. The sphere was enormous, suspended above the platform like a captured star, its surface rippling with images she couldn’t understand—maps, symbols, complex structures forming and dissolving in impossible patterns.

It was breathtaking. And terrifying.

Nothing human could have made this.

She stared, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, lips parted in stunned silence. It wasn’t just technology. It was art. It was language. It was alive in a way no machine back home had ever been.

Cortana flickered into existence at the console nearby, her form brighter now, energized by the facility’s systems. She moved with quick, precise gestures, manipulating the swirling mass of information with her bare hands like a conductor orchestrating a symphony only she could hear.

"There," Cortana said sharply, highlighting a section of the sphere. "Deep beneath the surface. There's an access point near the core. If we reach it, we might be able to find the source of the signal."

Chief stood still, his rifle lowered for now, his gold visor catching and scattering the light from the hologram.

(Y/N) looked between them, frowning slightly. "Wait—core? As in, 'center of the planet' core?"

Cortana didn’t look up. "More or less. This entire installation is built around it."

(Y/N) blinked, then gave a short, incredulous laugh.

"Oh, great," she muttered. "We’re digging our own grave now. Didn’t know self-burial was part of the mission."

Chief’s helmet tilted slightly, a small, almost imperceptible movement. If he was amused, he gave no sign—but Cortana’s mouth twitched faintly at the corner, a shadow of a smile.

"It’s not ideal," Cortana admitted, her tone dry. "But it's our only option."

The platform beneath them shifted again, deep, grinding tremors rolling through the massive structure as more pathways unfolded—narrow bridges of white stone and shimmering light stretching downward into the misty abyss.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her stomach flipping uncomfortably.

Lower. Always lower.

She shifted the strap of her glasses nervously, tightening her hands into fists to hide the slight tremble in her fingers.

Chief moved first, stepping onto the newly formed bridge without hesitation.

(Y/N) hesitated a breath longer.

The glowing lines pulsed underfoot, inviting them downward into the heart of a dead world.

"Great," she muttered under her breath, voice almost lost in the rising hum. "First the end of the world, now spelunking into alien hell."

Still— she followed.

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

The corridor widened until it dissolved into light. Stone gave way to a sweeping ledge, and (Y/N) found herself staring at a sky that seemed too large for any horizon she had ever known. Mountains reared up in fractured ridges, their peaks lost in bright, swirling haze. Great white spires of Forerunner alloy pierced the cliffsides; smaller monoliths hung motionless in mid-air, tethered to the earth below by ribbons of molten-blue energy. Far beneath the ledge, rivers of light wound through silver forests and out across a valley floor she could barely see.

One step carried her onto weather-worn stone. The breeze was thin and metallic—sharp enough to sting her nose, scented with rock dust and something faintly electrical. She gripped her sleeves, half for warmth, half because the view threatened to tip the world sideways.

Back home she’d fixed radios in cramped apartments, brushed rust from broken circuit boards, breathed city air heavy with exhaust. Now she stood on a mountainside that wasn’t even on her star chart—still not sure which star chart she belonged to anymore.

Chief moved ahead along a narrow path etched into the plateau. Cortana’s hologram glimmered at his shoulder, her voice soft in the comm line. “The distress signal’s stronger out here. A Terminus should be deeper in the structure beyond those cliffs.”

(Y/N) followed, forcing calm into her steps. Somewhere overhead a floating platform drifted, its underside latticed with lights that rearranged themselves like living circuitry. Her heart ached to understand it. Part of her wanted to laugh—of course she’d crossed half a galaxy only to find the most advanced machinery in existence and not a single tool in her pocket.

A gust of wind stirred the grass at the cliff’s edge. Homesickness punched through her chest: not for an exact street or building, just for sidewalks, neon reflections in puddles, the warm buzz of voices carried on traffic noise. Normal things. Earth things. A world that still existed—somewhere, impossibly far behind her—but no longer within reach.

She rubbed the heel of her hand against her sternum, steadying her breathing. Chief glanced back; his gold visor caught daylight and threw it in fractured sparks. He waited until her steps matched his again before pressing forward.

They wound down a sloping ramp toward another entrance carved into the cliff face: tall, flawless, rimmed with glowing script. Luminous glyphs whispered across the doorframe, as though debating whether to let them pass.

(Y/N) swallowed. She was most likely light-years from every reference point she’d ever trusted, walking into halls no human had mapped. Yet the path kept opening, and Chief kept moving, and she—somehow—kept following. Hoping she could go back to Earth. They knew about it, so maybe it was possible?

One step at a time, she told herself as the massive doorway parted with a deep metallic sigh, spilling cool blue light across the stone

The corridor sloped steadily, each level dropping them a little farther beneath the mountain. No sudden lifts, no shimmering portals—just a long march down pristine ramps of pale alloy. The walls glowed with thin seams of light that pulsed in a lazy heartbeat, guiding the way deeper into Requiem’s silent gut.

(Y/N) stayed close to Chief yet still far enough back to stare at everything. Where cracked stone met seamless metal, she traced faint scorch patterns as though someone had once tried—and failed—to cut this place open. Half-buried conduits pulsed behind translucent panels; every so often, a thread of energy leapt from one vein to another, throwing sparks of blue across the floor.

“Hard to believe this is all older than humanity,” she murmured.

“It predates most recorded Forerunner history,” Cortana replied, voice projected from the slip-space of (Y/N)’s earpiece.“Even their own archives call this period ‘pre-dominion.’”

“Translation: antique.” (Y/N) smiled. “My specialty.”

Chief’s boots thudded on the ramp, otherwise silent. (Y/N) shot a glance at his broad back, then lowered her voice into a mock whisper. “Does he ever say more than seven words in a day, or is that classified?”

Cortana’s voice said, which sounded suspiciously like amusement. “You get used to the economy of syllables.”

Ahead, a small alcove opened on the left, housing a waist-high console the color of polished bone. Glyphs drifted lazily across its face like embers floating on water. Chief passed it without slowing, but (Y/N)’s feet stopped on their own.

Curiosity won before common sense could throw a flag. She reached out, brushed the back of her fingers over the smooth surface.

Light flared. Symbols realigned into crisp lines of text no human alphabet had ever taught her. She yelped and jerked back. “Whoa—sorry! Didn’t mean to wake you.”

The console dimmed again, settling into a quiet pulse that almost felt amused. Nothing else stirred.

Chief paused, half turning. “Status?”

“Fine,” she said, cheeks hot. “Console’s friendly. Or merciful. One of those.”

Cortana’s avatar flickered up beside the panel, arms folded. “Whatever you did, you pinged a diagnostics sub-routine. No harm done.” She smiled—just a hint. “Consider it a handshake.”

“Great. I nearly shook hands with a supercomputer the size of a continent.” (Y/N) flexed her fingers, still tingling. “Back home I needed two weeks just to get a toaster to stop murdering bread.”

“You were an engineer,” Cortana ventured as they resumed walking.

“Amateur scavenger, borderline fire hazard—depends who you ask.” She smiled despite herself. “But yeah. I liked fixing things that had no business working.”

Chief led them onto a ascending ramp. The air cooled further; somewhere below, turbines—or lungs—hummed in steady rhythm.

“Part of me wants to take one of these panels apart,” (Y/N) admitted. “Other part remembers the plasma grenades and votes no.”

“Wise,” Cortana said. “Forerunner tech isn’t forgiving. Though you seem to have a… rapport.” Her tone held cautious curiosity rather than suspicion.

“Rapport with walls. My résumé keeps improving.”

Chief’s voice cut in quietly. “Stay focused. Unidentified hostiles still in the area.”

“Right. Serious mode.” (Y/N) mimed zipping her lips, shooting the gesture toward Cortana since Chief’s broad back was already turned to lead the way.

Surprisingly, the AI’s hologram matched the motion—two translucent fingers pinching an invisible zipper across her own glowing mouth. The playful mirrored action was so unexpected (Y/N) couldn’t help the soft grin that bloomed on her face before she hurried after Chief up the ramp, a little warmth flickering in her chest at the first spark of real companionship.

The giant door split apart with a groan, light shearing through the seams until each half slid into the walls. A causeway of white alloy extended beyond—straight, narrow, and impossibly long, suspended over a gulf so deep (Y/N) could see no bottom. Giant pillars—huge hexagonal shafts of metal and stone—rose and sank far below in slow, deliberate patterns, as if the planet itself were breathing through machinery.

At the bridge’s end, a lone console glowed—an altar of glass-smooth metal awaiting a key. Chief strode toward it, and (Y/N) hurried to keep up, clutching her palm against her side. Halfway across, the voice slid into her thoughts again—clearer now, cold as split granite: Reclaimer… fracture… unworthy. She winced, pressing fingers to her temple.

What the hell was that?

Chief reached the console and slotted Cortana’s data chip into the interface. Only then did her hologram flare to life, casting pale blue over the platform.

“According to the Cathedral,” Cortana began, scanning glyphs far above (Y/N)’s comprehension, “this Terminus is just one node of a larger transit grid that spans the entire planet.”

Chief’s visor never left the shifting projections. “What?”

“When I tried to access the outlet closest to Infinity’s transmissions, the system responded with this.”

An emblem spun into view—two arcs orbiting a single dot.

“What is it?” Chief asked.

Cortana’s tone turned almost breathless. “That’s the kicker. It’s the Forerunner symbol for Reclaimer.”

Humanity. The word fell through her like lead shot—heavy, irreversible.

“Humanity,” Chief confirmed. “That’s got to be Infinity. Can you get us to those coordinates?”

“Let me try to open a portal.”

“Whoa, portal?” (Y/N) blurted before she could stop herself. The last “portal” she’d experienced ripped her straight out of her apartment. “We’re skipping steps here, guys!”

Cortana didn’t answer. Light whipped around her, coalescing into a sphere—and then everything faltered. Her hologram stuttered, static rippling across her edges.

“I’m picking up unknown energy signatures,” she said, voice tight.

Chief’s grip shifted on his rifle. “Where?”

“This can’t be right.” Cortana’s figure dimmed but remained fixed in the console. “Set a waypoint out of the tower—”

She broke off as a violent tremor shook the bridge. Beneath them, the pillars surged upward like spears. From their mirrored faces unfolded shapes—metal giants that assembled themselves in glowing seams. From her point of view, they stood maybe even taller than Chief, plated in shifting segments, skull-like masks bathed in amber light; forearms unfolded into blades of crackling energy.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched. “Those are not Covenant.” Whatever they were, they moved with unnerving grace—their machine parts moving smoothly, even if they weren’t connecting with anything.

Chief leveled his rifle. But before he could shoot, Cortana screamed:

“How did—Quick! Into the portal. Chief, GO!” Cortana’s voice snapped from the console. The hologram vanished as her program jumped back to the chip that Chief pulled out of the console and into his armor.

A disc of incandescent white flared open in midair near the console, distorting the view beyond it. (Y/N)’s stomach lurched; every instinct screamed that doors should have hinges, not horizons.

Chief braced, grabbed her wrist. “Move.”

They sprinted. The knight-like machines shifted, tracking with smooth, predatory precision. Before they could even attack, they were already jumping at the portal...well more like Chief jumping and (Y/N) being dragged along in the air, legs kicking at nothing.

“Next vacation,” she gasped, adrenaline surging, “I pick the destination!”

Chief didn’t answer—twelve words was apparently his daily limit—but his grip tightened around her wrist, pulling her hard toward the roiling light.

They plunged through. White swallowed everything: the bridge, the pillars, the metal phantoms, the echoing hum of Requiem’s heart. For one dizzy instant (Y/N) felt weightless, lost between moments.

Then the world slammed back—new ground, new air and the nightmare they’d left behind dissolved, at least for now.

But the voice lingered, faint and amused, at the edge of her mind:

Flesh… bone…pathetic.

[thisismysafeescape]

Entangled Fates | A JJ Maybank X OC Intoxicating Love Story

Links: Wattpad | AO3

Summary:

Kassandra Grey had been raised to play the part—your typical picture-perfect Kook Princess, living a life of privilege, wealth, and luxury. JJ Maybank was her opposite in every way—reckless, untamed, the embodiment of the free-spirited Pogue lifestyle, where survival meant outsmarting the system and living fast enough to outrun the consequences.

They were two completely different people, living in two vastly different worlds.

It was as simple as that... Or was it?

Kassi, trapped in a life of high expectations and is desperate to escape her volatile, destructive relationships, finds herself undeniably drawn to the Pogue world, seeking freedom and adventure. JJ, with his laid-back yet fiercely loyal nature, becomes her unexpected guide and protector against Rafe's relentless obsession.

What begins as an unlikely alliance spirals into a tangled web of secrets, violence, broken friendships, tested bonds, and an exhilarating treasure hunt that could cost them everything.

And in the midst of the chaos, something even more dangerous ignites between them—an electric, all-consuming love, wild and untamed, burning too bright to be ignored. They crash into each other like a storm, drawn together by an undeniable pull, their connection as reckless as it is irresistible. But love doesn't come without consequences, and in a world built on lies, trusting each other may be the most dangerous gamble of all.

All the while, beneath the surface, something far more sinister lurks—a hidden network of power, corruption, and long-buried crimes woven into the roots of their families. The people they thought they knew—their parents, their mentors, their so-called protectors—are far more than elites and outcasts; they're players in a long-buried game of deception, murder, and greed.

As Kassi, JJ, and the Pogues chase the truth, they begin unearthing secrets that were meant to stay buried—shattering everything they thought they knew about their pasts, their families, and even themselves. The deeper they go, the more dangerous it gets.

The past is clawing its way back—and it's coming for them next.

[randombookcreator]

CHAPTER 4 HAS BEEN POSTEDDD!! >:D

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 18}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader) ; brief Force Sensitive! Reader and M!OC

Summary: There are restrictions for entering the main city, some of them Din could agree to and one he absolutely could not. His helmet would need to be left behind, but isn't removing it what caused this entire situation to begin with? Meanwhile, you wake to a new environment, cautious of the things around you and the words of your mother.

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, we meet readers betrothed and he needs his own warning, reader's mother also gets her own warning, kidnapping, reader is being kept against her will, hostage situation, use of narcotics, use of drugs, sedatives, self-depreciating thoughts, thoughts of self-harm, ptsd symptoms, medical trauma, past medical trauma, feelings of inadequacy, sexual themes, sexual content (not detailed), there are a few more but they will spoil the chapter!

A/N: more din pov! because it's so much fun and there are some things y'all need to see through his eyes before some explanations are given c;

all of you were right to think din is gonna need a disguise! but i don't want anyone to think that the desert environment and the choice of clothing is ignorant on my part in light of what is going on in palestine. i've had this original arc planned before the first chapter was even published. here are some resources for aiding those that need help. i've also provided a link to the moodboard for this particular arc, which does include a visual for din's new attire

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Maker, your mother was really doing her best to keep you to herself. It was smart to warn the protection around you of him, to anticipate that he would make an attempt to take you back. But he loathed how much harder it was going to make even just getting into the city.

The weapons he could forgo, but his armor? She knew from her past experience with Akiz that it was a punishable offense for a Mandalorian to remove their helmet. And it was frustrating that she was using his religion, his Creed, his culture, his way of life to keep him at bay and to keep you under her control.

It was an injustice he couldn’t wrap his head around. It was just so conniving, and it was hard to believe how you had turned out so drastically different when being surrounded by someone capable of such extremes. He only hoped that your mother hadn’t done anything drastic to you, caused you to take matters into your own hands. He only hoped that you knew he had spent the last several weeks tearing through the galaxy in search for signs of what had happened to you. That he had rushed toward the planet you were taken to the second he had found it out.

Din needed you to know that he was trying, that he was searching for you, that he missed your presence by his side and aboard his ship. And not simply for the fact that you were a strong, capable fighter. But because the things he had whispered and promised you before he ruined it all were true. He did care for you. He had begun to care for you alarmingly fast after that first encounter.

And maybe it should’ve scared him, been a warning he heeded, the way his heart had lightened and opened up to you. Even despite the circumstances and the breaking of his contract with the Guild. He had been willing to change the circumstances, to do away with the contract he took on when his fingers closed around your offered tracking fob. Because it had felt right to do so, despite the inherent break of what he stood for in that moment. His willingness to do so, it only made him realize that this was real, because he had never felt like this with anyone before. Had never wanted to provide for anyone aside from those that made up his covert before. He had meant it when he had choked out those words back on Nevarro.

“I can’t wear that.” Din had been cautious as he looked out the cockpit viewpoint and down into the hangar space. The looming racetrack just beyond it, offset from the main city. Crowds and clusters of people swathed in billowing layers and a severe lack of weaponry was a worrisome observation. Upon her return from the markets, offset from the other side of the city, Cara had held out a bundle of clothing to him.

“I did enough recon to know the guards are the only people permitted into the palace without verification. That Sarad’s always surrounded by at least two of them when outside of the palace, though her mother never joins her outside the walls.”

“Because she knows I’d kill her on sight.” Din can’t help the growl of his words, knowing the truth behind them was all too real. Because he would, without hesitation, take out the threat that had presented itself after lying in wait. Striking at the most opportune moment even months after having first contracted your return to her when it seemed like it was fruitless.

“This the only way you’ll get close enough to her, by blending in.” Cara shimmied the bundle at him, wanting him to take it from her despite his trepidation.

“My face will be exposed.” He argued as he stepped away from her. His mind and thoughts at war with the notion of having to remove his armor and the one of doing it in order to save you. He picked up a grumbling ad’ika from where he had been settled in his pod. Taking a pack of dried jerky from the pouch attached to his belt and handed it to him. Happy coos filled the hull of the ship, Din helping to reach into the pouch for each piece the child devoured.

“They wear head coverings and cover their faces. More than a third of the people I saw. Both men and women. I know it’s not ideal, Din,” Cara risked using the man’s real name. Wanting him to hear her and believe that this was the best way, the only way to move about with having to worry about being stopped or appearing suspicious. Hoping to convince him it was the best scenario to avoid showing his whole face should he have to forgo his helmet. She didn’t seem too keen on having to don similar clothing that left little room to conceal a weapon. “Some have mesh over their eyes.”

Din reached out, taking the outfit from her. He would try it on, get a sense of how he felt in the clothing before making his decision. He had half a mind to fly the ship directly into the palace grounds and open fire until you were safely back in his arms. But realistically he knew that was a terrible plan. The man who you had been promised to was entrenched in the New Republic, someone of high standing and to attack him would bring on a whole new level of concerns into his life, into your life.

Setting ad’ika back down into the pod, Din tucked your cloak around him before making his way to the room.

What use was all his armor and weapons if he couldn’t keep you safe? The thought was sharp in his mind as he set about removing each plate, the clasps snapping in the silence of the ship. He stored them in a crate he had brought from his own ship. In it was the pair of pauldrons you had left behind. The armor settled together tugged at his heart, making his chest tights as he wished for you nestled beside him in his bed much like the beskar in the crate. Closing it and setting a lock on it, he already missed the feel of his vambraces, of the weapons hidden over his frame.

Despite being alone, he kept the cowl about his neck in place. The necklace of his people hidden beneath it and he wondered where the one he had gifted you ended up. The ship foreign to him, giving him pause in removing it as he looked over the robes Cara had collected for him. They were all black. Made of a light, flowing material that would cover his entire body. And he began to pull the wide legged pants over his legs.

The top was less a shirt and more of a tunic, cut shorter in the front to fall just below his waist. It offered coverage of his crotch, while the length billowed out down to his knees on either side. He wondered if he should chance donning the chainmail he had retrieved from your home on Tatooine underneath it. He felt exposed, too vulnerable even as he set about fastening the brown leather harness to cross over his chest from his shoulders and the belt that had an empty pouch fastened to it on his left.

Two arm braces made of bronze had been folded up in the clothing, and he slid those over his forearms, grateful for at least something similar.

Thankfully Cara had been able to find something that would allow him to cover his face- mostly. His eyes would be exposed, and he wouldn’t be entirely comfortable forgoing a visor or something similar to hide them behind.

But he set about containing his trimmed curls underneath the cover, wrapping it around twice before securing it with a black leather tie around his forehead, letting the rest of the fabric fall over the back of his neck and shoulders. The smaller black kerchief was secured over the cowl, adding another layer to hide his identity from the world, fastened behind his head and tucked into the leather keeping the head cover in place.

It would be harder for him to track you, to pick up on threats without the settings of the helmet, but he knew that it would immediately warrant attention. He had to leave it behind, depart from the ship without it. It was the only way he would be able to do his own reconnaissance.

Sighing, he turned to face the mirror set into the wall beside the door.

He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. He was swathed in flowing black from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. His boots no longer weighed down with a hidden blade or the ring of bullet casings for his pulse rifle.

Sharp brown eyes set under thick, dark brows the only visible part.

Still far too much to be seen. To be witnessed so easily by those around him. By you.

Worry spiked in him, you wouldn’t know it was him. At least, not at first glance. He hoped you would feel a pull to him similar to the one he felt when around you. A comfort in the closeness of your body and presence. A familiarity and sense of connection, the things you had found in each other allowing you to recognize that it was him beneath the different clothing, what was always beneath the armor and helmet.

Self-consciousness, he realized, was the feeling making his stomach flutter and his nerves jittery. He hadn’t been outside of the ship and around people without his armor since he had been inducted into the training corps. He hadn’t been without his helmet since swearing the Creed. The thought of this breeching such a commitment crosses his mind. And while…yes, he had removed his helmet, his face was still concealed.

It was much like the unspoken loophole of removing it in the cover of darkness. The intention of which would have allowed him to give into your pleas for his lips on yours. That he had wanted to do, despite the skimming of lines that should not be crossed. The lines that defined his Creed.

He looked…like one of the natives of the planet. And that was the only consolation he could find in the need for the outfit.

They’re merely walking through the marketplace, when they see you among the stalls. Din’s instincts urging him to turn onto the street.

You’re right there.

You’re real.

You’re okay.

His heart skips a beat and then quickens, nearly vibrating it’s so fast a pitch. His breath stolen from his lungs as he sees you moving among the crowds. You…you’re so beautiful and luck seems to be on his side as you look unharmed. You seem to be at ease, moving from stall to stall with a pair of guards trailing behind you by a few yards. Black flowing robes much like his own, but the rapier style swords fastened to their sides acted as a silent threat. Weapons in the main part of the city were forbidden.

But you…you were so magnetizing, and Din’s feet were carrying him toward the stall you had stopped in front of. Distantly, he heard the hush of Cara warning him to be cautious. But it was as if the world had shrunk down to just you, his eyes tracking you as if you would vanish should he look away for the barest of seconds.

The fabric of your rather elegant dress a mix of soft white and pale cream. It highlighted the natural golden hue of your skin, though the only part visible was the length of your neck down to your chest with a rather low neckline. The supple skin of your breasts was accented by sparkling golden beading along the collar, creating a dip between them where it was concentrated. The bodice of the dress was cinched by an intricate belt made up of diamond jewels set into gold that created a floral shape right over your stomach before the skirt of the dress billowed out in flowing layers.

The sleeves were long, bishop in style, allowing for the fabric to be loose before cinching around your wrists. Allowing for you strong, capable hands to be exposed. Golden designs of lace woven into the fabric of them and the front of you below where the belt rested on your front. You were sparkling, from the bangles around your wrists to the delicate headpiece that kept your hair away from your face. He could see it as you moved about to take in the fruits of the stall, the way that thin netting was laid over the length of your hair, stones glittering in the sun as you did so. You were a vision bathed in white and gold, his brain short circuiting at the sight of you after so long apart.

But you didn’t look to be a captive, aside from the guards keeping close. No, you looked like you were free of worries, complicit in the life you had been stolen away to be a part of. It was as if this was just another day to run errands and take in the sights of the city, no undertones of eyes glancing around to look for an escape. No tension in your muscles as if poised to run at the first chance. And alarm bells sounded in Din’s mind, loud and harsh. Stirring unease in his middle, bubbling up to tighten in his chest.

He couldn’t help but approach you, even if he had no clue what words to breathe should he be able to find his voice. Even if he had no clue how you would react to seeing him after the emotional fallout from so many days ago. But when you turned to him with a smile, lips closed and eyes kind, they only flitted over his face before they moved down along his body toward where ad’ika had popped his head and chest over the top of the bag slung over his shoulder.

He certainly hadn’t expected you to recognize him, he was without his armor. And though you knew the shape of his body and the way it reacted to your touch; you didn’t know him as he stood beside you now. In flowing black robes and brown leather, a head cover secure over his curls and a flowing material hiding his face aside from his eyes. He realized you wouldn’t be able to recognize them, having never seen the brown of them before. And he greedily drunk in the sight of you without his helmet, delighting in the way the sun lit up the features he had come to admire.

But your attention wasn’t even on him, it was on the small form that had reached out for the bundle of berries in your grip. Plucking one and popping it in his mouth with a satisfied hum. But there was no recognition that flickered over your face upon seeing ad’ika either. It was as if you were seeing him for the first time, a polite curiosity in your gaze. And Din’s gut lurched.

It hadn’t been long enough for you to forget the child, forget him. Forget the life the three of you had carved out from circumstance. Unless you were playing along to not alert the guards of being reunited, not wanting them to suspect anything was amiss. But…but Din didn’t think you were pretending. There had been no fast glance back to him upon seeing the child crop up, there had been no hitch of your breath as realization of him standing beside you set in.

It was as if you didn’t know him at all, know the small form of the child holding your adoring attention.

“Well, hello there, little one.” Your voice was so smooth and calming, like silk against his ears after having not heard it in so many days. He watched as you tilted the bowl closer, making it easier for a tiny green claw to retrieve another berry. A laugh bubbled from you as the child smacked on the fruit, happy sounds flowing from him unbidden.

And then, with a simple question, Din’s heart shattered.

“He’s rather cute, is this your child?”

You had focused your attention back up to him, though you avoided his eyes again. Something he was beginning to think was just a part of every version of you. Because the one standing in front of him was not his own. It couldn’t be.

Words, so many of them, burst to life and died on his tongue in the silence between you two. None of them making it past his lips, his voice lost in injustice of finally being reunited with you and you having no clue as to who he was. Of how much you had been through together, the promises you had whispered to each other, the soft sighs of waking up together, the harsh grunts and desperate whimpers shared between yearning bodies. You had no clue what you meant to him. The only thing he was certain of, was that he was a stranger to you.

Clearing his throat, he managed to utter an affirmative to your gentle question.

“I’ve never seen any like him before, he seems like the sweetest thing.”

And he wanted to tell you that you allowed for him to be so, for the child to have the protection of your skills and caring heart to be just a child after being held a captive for so long. That he had stolen him away from those who wished him harm with your aid. But suddenly, you were being approached by the vendor, your attention splitting from them both beside you.

“Ma’am, you’ll have to pay for- oh, Princess Cala. I’m so sorry.” Strict words and steal façade falling as the man approaching realized who you were. Princess. Because that’s what you were, had been swiped from him to be another’s wife. All memories of your commitment to him forgotten in a cruel twist of fate that Din was determined to get to the bottom of. To rectify. Though he had no clue how to even begin such a daunting task as he was still struggling to accept that it was so. “I was unaware you were in the markets today. Please, take whatever you wish. I will send for payment from Sir Cala at the end of the day.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright.” You appeased gently, hands digging into a small pouch hidden among the layers of your dress. Credits clinked as you set them down atop the table, the jingling of your bracelets catching ad’ika’s attention and he reached for them. “It’s just a little snack today, nothing too crazy.”

As the vendor turned back to duck inside, away from the bright sun and the watching eyes of the guards, it happened.

Ad’ika’s skin connected with your own and you were buckling at the sudden energy that Din could feel flow between you both. Ripples of is cascading through the air. Body overwhelmed and knees weakening at the onslaught as a strangled gasp fell from your lips. Just as you had done back at the compound, history repeating itself in a way he hadn’t expected. He was quick to close the distance, to wrap his arms around you and hold you up. You allowed him to pull you close, your chest flush with his as heaving breaths matched his stuttering ones.

His body igniting at the feel of you against him once again. Of the way your hands gripped his arms to support yourself. The prick of your fingers digging into his muscles and the way your mouth had fallen open in surprise. It was all so normal, the reactions of your body against his. Natural, the magnetism between your bodies making everything feel alright even if it was just for the barest second.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la. Are you alright?” Voice low, he felt it robbed from him when your lashes fluttered, and your eyes met for the first time.  They glinted with something and then –

“Unhand the princess, no one is to touch her!” Twin forms of the guards watching over you were suddenly closing in. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to not take all your weight securely into his arms and run. Hush of swords being pulled from their sheaths had you tearing your eyes away from him, had you shifting your footing to hold yourself up a little better though you didn’t let go of him. And he was grateful for the prolonged seconds of getting to feel you in his arms.

“It’s alright!” You assured the guards, halting them in their steps with a polite smile. “I just tripped is all!”

Loosening the hold he had on you, his hands remained steady as you stepped back from him to stand on your own once again. He was aware of the hard looks aimed at him, as distance bloomed between your bodies.

Endlessly considerate and caring toward the ad’ika, even if you didn’t know it, you carefully handed the bushel of berries into his small claws.

You were bidding him goodbye with an impersonal bow. And he wished to feel the unspoken greeting and departing habit of your forehead nudged against his own you two had established over the course of your time together.

He fell in line behind them, a safe distance away to not attract their attention or suspicions. His focus so completely on you, the captivation you held over him even now, especially now, spelling his feet forward through the last of the market and through the streets. He was silent as Cara fell into step beside him, questions flowing from her that fell on his straining ears. You were talking with the guards, though it seemed like you were merely confirming the rest of the plans for the day.

And they would know, they would be by your side every time you left the palace, he mused as he watched your trio wait outside of the large wooden doors that led into the place you now called home. It was surrounded by a large, easily fifteen-foot wall made up of decorative tiles and white stone. He caught a glimpse of large gardens, complete with bright blue ponds and lush plant life making a beautiful backdrop to your form. But his eyes snapped back to you, taking notice of how the guards had begun to walk away and toward a small building that must act as their command center. They were replaced by two young women, dressed in long pale blue layers that followed your every step.

As you began to move along the paths lined throughout the garden, a figure approached you. And the tension Din had been worried to not see in your shoulders seemed to slam into you. The figure moved from beneath the shade of a large palm, having been waiting on a bench. It was a woman, one who bore a strong resemblance to you from tone of skin to the color of your eyes. Your mother.

Arms were slung together and Din could see even with the distance how her touch made you uncomfortable. And it was all so confusing. You remembered your mother, memories of her intact but you had somehow forgotten who he was, who ad’ika was. Forgotten who you were enough to not make an attempt to escape, submitting yourself to the life your mother had created for you.

And then, a man in elaborate robes adorned with jewels and lace designs much like your own approached you both. He was dressed in colors that complimented your own clothing. His own jewelry fastened over his head cover much like yours, though decidedly heavier, more masculine to the dainty feminine of yours. Matching.

A hand came over his shoulder as he realized he was breathing harshly, no helmet to disguise the deep push and pull of it as he watched you disentangle from your mother and step into the man’s personal space. The front of your bodies touching together as his hands splayed wide on your shoulders, as your own wrapped around his neck. As you perked up to press your forehead to his, in the way that was Din’s.

His chest hurt, his hands clenched, body alight with the need to rush forward and tear the two of you apart from each other. His ears hurt with the silence pressing against them too firm to shake. To press his own forehead against your own and plead with you to see him, to remember him. Remember what you meant to each other.

It was a small blessing of the Maker that your back was to him, because he didn’t think he would be able to take the way your gaze had softened as you looked into the eyes of the man holding you. The same one he would find aimed at him throughout the day, mirth in your eyes as your lips pulled into a soft smile. Adoration and admiration soothing the concentrated look you normally held. Not when the man looking back at you held the same exact expression.

The one always hidden behind his visor.

The same face that was now hardened in a flurry of emotions, his jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding, and eyes ablaze as he watched the man dip his face and press his lips to yours in a kiss.

A kiss.

The very thing that had unraveled the entire life you two had created out of circumstance and connection, the very thing you now shared with another.

Your easy laughter was what brought his senses back, though it was cut off from him as quickly as it had been delivered as you began to walk hand in hand with the man down the path leading to the palace entrance.

Din’s mind was working, working, working. Trying to figure it out, trying to come up it a way to figure it out. To rectify it. To make it right. To make everything right.

And as if a chip was falling into place, he realized. They could fall into line as a guard and a handmaiden.

It was so obvious, so easy, the plan coming together in his mind as the wooden doors swung shut and stole you away from his watching gaze.

“Mando…” Cara’s voice was gentle, as if she was worried she would startle him. Spur him into movement toward you, tackling the obstacles that stood between you both despite the consequences. “I don’t know exactly what-“

“We’ll talk back at the ship.” His words were rough, voice rumbling as if he had just swallowed gravel. It felt thick in his throat, coating his tongue and making it hard to speak.

“It’s customary for visitors to stay in the tourism sector.”

“I’m…low on credits.” He admitted, aware that his words were carried on deep exhales, air hard and solid when breathed in. Aching, hurting, stinging in his throat as he closed his eyes to rid himself of the image of you embraced so intimately with that man, with your husband. But the image was burned into the backs of his eyelids, pressing on him even as he clenched them shut.

“Good thing I’m not. Let’s go, I have a feeling you’re going to tell me this isn’t going to be as simple as sneaking in at night and whisking her away.”

Din followed the woman’s lead through the city, through the gates and toward the collection of tourism amenities. The sounds of the ocean waves getting louder the further they moved away from the palace.

The suite was grand, decorated lavishly in soft earth tones. Bright jewel tones accenting it all around.

But Din’s eyes were unfocused, unseeing as they stared down at the carpet, his head in his hands as he sat rigidly on the couch. With a deep breath pulled in and then let out, he deflated. Chest tight like he was being retrained with ropes, his limbs tingling as if the blood was having trouble flowing through them. His nerves felt both numb and overwhelmed all at the same time.

Cara just paced around the room, searching for potential bugs while she ensured ad’ika was settled in a chair with the fruit you had bought for them in a bowl for him to occupy himself. Din’s voice returned to him when he felt the couch shift with her weight on the other side.

“She doesn’t know who I am.”

“I wouldn’t recognize you, Mando, it’s just the clothes. I’m sure she was just pretending to be clueless to avoid suspicion. She saw ad’ika and even got him those berries.”

“No. Cara.” He surged up, feeling the need to move. To be on his feet, his mind hurling endless self-depreciating thoughts. This was all his fault, you were in the arms of another man because of him, your mother had been able to snatch you away because of his carelessness. His lack of speed when chasing after you, his lack of ability to have tracked you down and bring you back to the Crest as quickly as possible. He had failed you, he had failed you beyond comprehension and you didn’t even remember it.

He meant nothing to you, he was a stranger to you. While you willingly lived alongside that man who had every intention of letting you know how much he wanted you, desired you, who kriffing kissed you.

Aware of her eyes on him, Din paced back and forth in front of the couch. Feeling the need to move, to run, to chase, to track, to fix. She was watching him, a conflicted look about her features as she thought over the things they witnessed. The blatant issues that they had to move around in order to get to you.

Maker, what if…what if you shared the man’s bed. That would add another layer of complication to breaking you free of your imprisonment. Was it even imprisonment anymore? Did it qualify if you didn’t know the people who surrounded you were the ones who had manipulated you so completely, so intricately that they had somehow wiped your memory and fed you a story of what they wanted their lives to be in order to make it a reality?

Even if he could manage to convince you that you weren’t meant to be a dank ferrick princess in a palace, how would he prove to you that you were meant to be with him? His ship was old, needed repairs too often, his way of life, it all paled in comparison to the residence you had now, the quality of life you had now. How was he supposed to make you understand that he cared about you and that you cared about him if you didn’t know who he was?

Your mother certainly knew what she was doing. From the wiping of your memory to make it harder for him to convince you that your life was a sham, a lie, a false thing made up by those around you to the warning posters of him plastered around the city. The version of you he knew was wary of strangers and he would bet everything in his name that you still held that reservation. That anything he or Cara had to say wouldn’t be taken lightly, most likely result in their immediate order of removal should you find them guilty of trying to manipulate you.

“She doesn’t remember me. Or ad’ika. Her mother must’ve done something to her. There was no recognition in her eyes.” Heart thudding hard in his aching chest, Din couldn’t stop the sob that wracked through him. “I’m nothing to her.”

Darkness and the pull of the cold feeling drumming through your veins lightening ever so slightly as you begin to rouse, body limp and not heeding your commands to move. Alone. You’re alone. Metal clinking and heavy around your wrists and ankles. Around your neck.

You’re shackled, restrained, drugged.

Like so many times before, like you had never wanted to be again.

It’s quiet, unnervingly so.

Opening your eyes doesn’t allow you more of the setting you’re in, only darkness of the room you’re hidden away in. Gravity lurches and you know, can sense it: that you’re aboard a ship that has just taken off into the air. Traveling and distance growing, taking you away from them. From him.

Had he even realized you were gone? That you had been seeking solace, a way to return to him without shame prickling your skin and guilt flooding you, body tight and mind remorseful.

Everything was a haze. Everything jumbled up into a messy recollection. The pleasure that had been igniting you, the feel of his fingers deep and hitting that spot just right, building you up and tearing down your inhibitions. Enough so that you had pleaded with him for the one thing you knew he wouldn’t give you. And then it was gone, shifting to rejection. The blank, emotionless helmet shielding the way he must’ve been so repulsed by your question, your desperation to have more of him when he had already given you so much. Needy, selfish, you had been so wrapped up in him that you had offended him beyond words. Warped the path you two had been traveling together, guiding him without realizing it, off the distinguished trail and into the unknown. To the forbidden. Toward sin.

You had tried to convince him to break his Creed.

Heart heavy and mind trying to piece everything back together, you convulsed. Shocks ripping through you at the sudden movement.

Whimpering, you felt it was more than deserved. This punishment, being forced to submit once again at the hands of your mother. All of it was because of the temptation you had dared to whisper to a man so devoted. He would’ve lost everything had he followed you into it. From the very identity of himself to the new standing of a clan he had just been granted. All gone.

And for what? A measly kiss with someone who didn’t even know how to want without asking for too much. A shared mingling of breath and teeth and tongue with someone who should’ve been long dead for their own sins.

Brightness burst into the room, assaulting your senses as footsteps shuffled close.

The prick of a needle sharp, the swoop of your nerves being calmed and then raised to tingling heights.

A gentle caress of a hand on your cheek and the last thought you had before you were pulled back into the darkness heart more than anything your mother could do to you:

He hadn’t come after you. He had let you walk away.

We can’t…I-I don’t...

Through the hull and off the ship, let you slip into the crowd where he hoped you would disappear from his sight. Vanish from his life and taking the sins you had tempted him with.

Compliant. You would be compliant this time around. Now knowing that there was nothing else for you, the entire galaxy making a mockery of your attempt at finding a life other than this. The blood of so many on your hands and cleaned off the hilt of your saber, the reason as to why you didn’t deserve happiness or comfortability. That you hadn’t deserved him.

And it hurt. More than the throbbing high spurred on by the drugs in your system. More than the memories of everything you had ever known being ripped from your desperate hands, not once but twice. The thought of him simply sat on that cot still, slowly dressing, gathering the things you had left behind and shoving them in a crate to never be opened again, hurt. The thought of him climbing toward the cockpit and bringing the ship to life, of guiding it up into the air and leaving the planet behind, leaving you behind, hurt. It was devastating.

Because you knew, you know he would’ve come to your aid if he had known what had happened. That you had been on your way back to the ship with an apology on your tongue when you had been ambushed. You know he would’ve protected you, even if he didn’t want you. Out of some sort of personal obligation, out of the empty commitment he had made to you that now felt like a ploy to get you into his bed.

He had known your past, seen the evidence of it in your words and nightmares. He had known to how use it to his advantage, to whisper sweet nothings and notions of care beyond what you could provide him with your body to get exactly that. He had known to not pressure you, to let you come to him and he would get what he wanted all along. The same as every man, only seeing you as a body to warm your bed.

But…he wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

He had said it first, as he bled out on that dirty cantina floor as the building crumbled around you both.

Anything spoken by a man of few words had to mean something. Had to be genuine. Had to be real.

And that hurt far worse, that he cared and had still let you walk away. Disappear into the crowd of the planet, only to be taken hostage and away from him. That he had let it happen.

The confusing and painful thoughts circling around in your sluggish mind were cut short, turned to smoke that wafted away when the metallic clang of what had to the locking mechanism on the door to where you were being kept. Artificial light filtered into the room, blinding you as your eyes tried to adjust to the sudden shift from near blinding darkness. A soft voice was speaking to you, thought you couldn’t make out the words. Brain scrambled and too loaded up to understand.

It was astonishing, really, even through the haze, that your mother’s hands were gentle on you despite the things she subjected you to. Comforting caresses and fingers moving your hair and clothing in ways to avoid pinching or pain as she removed the shackles and began to untangle you from the chains that had wrapped around you. It felt like a loss, to no longer have them pressing into your skin, no longer holding you up as your head rolled on hard to hold up neck.

“Oh oh oh, it’s okay, sweetie, I’ve got you.” Your mother’s voice was syrupy sweet, coating you in its allure. The only thing you truly knew was real in this moment of time. Her hands helped you up on weak legs, arms going around your waist to hold you to her, support most of your weight. “We’re home, my darling. I think it’s gonna treat us well, this time around.”

Confusion colored your senses and prompted a warbled sound to fall from your lips as she led you to the fresher. She helped to disrobe you, carefully peeling the clothing from your scuffed and sweaty skin. The weight of your hair being let loose from its braided updo stirred the beginnings of a headache. Trying to establish itself even in the presence of the drugs thrumming through your veins.

She washed you free of the sweat and grime that had built up on your skin in the time it had taken to guide your sluggish and unaware form onto a ship for travel.

Hands that didn’t feel like her own filled your senses. Larger than hers, rougher than hers, more intentional than hers. The feeling being washed away along with the suds and bubbles down the drain as you felt the prick of something in your neck and everything became fuzzy.

Things slowly returned to you as you felt the hum weighted over you lighten. Gravity shifted and a feeling of foreboding bubbled up in your stomach, prickling the instincts compressed inside your mind until they could do nothing but trigger ever so slightly. The hush of the door opening had you shifting atop the bedding, looking toward it to see the shadow of your mother approaching you with a cloak.

But it wasn’t yours, because the one you had been gifted, the one with the beautiful floral clasps to keep it closed, had been left behind in your haste. Haste to run from the feelings of inadequacy and heartbreak that threatened to overwhelm you even if you couldn’t piece together the specifics. Too overcome with the things your mother pressed into your veins to have you sluggish and heeding her commands.

The flash of a shiny reflection of sunlight against the metal of a sword stirred something in you as you walked alongside her. She was supporting most of your weight, guiding you along down the ramp of the ship and you paused at the sight before you. Blinking, ensuring that the image wouldn’t melt away and that it was real, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

A garden. Lush and green, was stretched out before a grand palace of white and sandy stone. Pillars and domes accent the different parts of grand sight. It was magnificent and entirely too complicated for you to be able to find a way to escape once within the walls. Guards cloaked in black were stationed at the main entrance and along entryways within the halls. Women in rich jewel tones scattered about the palace as your mother guided you through it, being led herself by a man who held an air of authority about himself.

Your heart beating fast, dizzyingly fast and your breath becomes labored, pitchy. It garners the attention of your mother, the shift from quiet to increasing panic as your led further into the maze of halls and buildings. She holds the control to the shackles about your wrists and ankles in her hand, waving it at you to quell the twitching of your muscles as you tried to resist running, of harnessing the Force to send everyone around you flying through the wide hallway. The silent threat of the electricity sparking through your synapses paired with the way the world didn’t feel quite right, everything off kilter and slightly blurry, fuzzy all around you had you obeying her without a word.

She commanded the people around you both as you were ushered through a door into a sterile room, medical equipment and first aid supplies collected in a large cabinet. The medical center, you guessed through the haze and worry spiked through you. What was she going to have them do to you?

With soft words, she urged you to lay down atop one of the cots. Smoothing your hair away from your face with gentle hands as the prick of a needle startled you. An attendant, a man dressed in dark red billowing layers, had stuck you with a syringe.

Before you could form your lips around a question, a plea, the edges of your vision blurred. Within seconds, the room was spinning and your eyes fluttered shut. The last thing you thought of before being pulled under the influence of the sedative was a plea for Din and ad’ika to be safe, wherever they may be.

“Alright,” Your mother chirped once you had fallen unconscious. The man in red regarded her with a blank expression, knowing that he was here for one reason and one reason only. Being paid generously for the use of his skills and the machinery that he possessed. He was one of the few who had been sought out by the New Republic to recalibrate and repurpose something used by the Empire that would prove useful for them as well.

Rumors of such a machine were whispered across the galaxy, most believing them to have been destroyed. But they would be wrong, they were very prevalent in the reformation and reintroduction of the Empire’s countless forces back into the general population. To break the spell of indoctrination imposed on them with low force electric vibrations. The Six-O-Two Mitigator, otherwise known as a Mind Flayer. Curtesy of the royal families firm standing within the New Republic and their generous donations to help fund their endeavors.

“Is it ready?”

“Yes, it’s been calibrated to perform at a higher voltage to achieve what you’ve requested.” He spoke as he watched two attending medics wheel the cot you were laid upon toward the doorway that lead into another room. He followed them, with a wave of his arm to allow for your mother to proceed him. She did so with a dip of her head.

“I’m sure you know how to oblige what is being requested of you. From me and from the Prince. We will settle for nothing less.”

“I do, you want me to target the memory glands.”

“Yes, eradicate anything that sparks in response to the Mandalorians and the Jedi. Warp them if you have to.”

“I will do my best, it may take multiple sessions.”

“That’s quite alright, we are here now. We have the time.”

Something was wrong. Something was missing.

And your head was pounding, a dull pain throbbing at your crown and moving down, down, down to coat your entire body. Groaning, you realized you were laying in a large, plush bed. Pillows and soft blankets surrounding you, having allowed you the comfort to sleep deeply. Deep enough that you couldn’t recall the location of where you were.

The room is beautiful, all pale, soft tones that match the way you had always wanted to decorate your own home one day. But it was a lost thought, something that would never come to fruition. A personal home that you would never have, a home that you would never share, because the people that you love no longer exist to you, faded into blips you can’t recall. But there was one shadow that you could sense in the back of your mind. And it was making you worry about the way you couldn’t fill it. The underlying feeling of something wrong settling low in your gut.

The room is completely foreign as is the scene of a desert city surrounded by large, formidable walls of stone. You now stood on the balcony, having crossed the spacious interior decorated with tapestries and thin beaded curtains to take a look outside. Your body protested the movements, sluggish to respond to your need to figure out where you were.

The door creaked open, a pair of young women with a tray froze as they say you out on the balcony.

And then, a familiar figure shouldered past them with a wide smile.

“Mother?”

“Yes, my sweetheart, how are you feeling?” She was across the room, her arm over your shoulder as she guided you to take a seat in one of two chairs that surrounded a small, low table. Across from them, on the other side, a long, curved couch that looked to be velvet stretched out.

“I feel okay, I’m just a little confused. When did we move….here?” You felt like something was missing still, aside from the curiosity of the foreign environment. You were looking around the room, trying to nudge that vague shadow of whatever it was into a more concrete form. And then it did, the shadow took the form of a man and your heart skipped a beat. “Is he okay?”

“Who, honey?”

“Um…the man I’ve been traveling with. He- he was injured, his…his head!” You felt panic ripple over you, very real and so overwhelming. You had been traveling with someone, that much you knew. But the name, the specifics of him weren’t coming to you. But it felt so real, the phantom feel of the man who you had been with, you carried him with you, and you needed to know if he was okay.

“Honey, he wasn’t the one that fell. You were.”

“Where is he?” Her words didn’t shake the panic settling into your bones. A memory of kneeling in front of an injured man, cradling his face in your hands as he lay before you flashed in your mind’s eye. The feeling of heat washing over you, as if trying to consume you.

“He’s a very busy man, he was going to visit this afternoon.” You mother tried to console you, moving to sit on the arm of your chair and reaching out to cusp a hand over your shoulder.

“I need to see him now!” You stood, anger spiking. Lungs aching for air, for the vision of the man whose touch was ghosting over your skin, whispers of promises and comfort filling your ears. All coming back as the shadow in your mind grew larger and larger, taking space and becoming all consuming,

“Alright, honey, hold-“ She caught your hand as you walked past her, set on searching for him. Needing to see him, to ensure that he was okay. The feeling of warm blood thick on your hands.

“That’s quite alright, Lena.” A deep voice spoke from the open doorway and you felt your knees buckle as you looked over toward it. The tall figure of a broad man was standing there, dressed in orange and gold. He had dark, thick hair on the top of his head and decorating his face. He looked healthy and relief replaced the panic. The feeling of comfort at his few words urging you back up from where you had reached out for the couch. Memories of laughter and teasing, of time spent together coming back to you as if he had brought them into the room with him. “I had a spare moment today, is everything okay here?”

“I-I just…I needed to make sure you were okay.” The words left you in a shaky breath. His image filled the form of the shadow, pushing you toward him. He opened his arms and you moved into them, lifting up on your tip toes to press your forehead to his own and everything whirling around in your mind calmed.

“My heart, are you alright?” His breath fanned over your face and your eyes focused on his lips. Waiting for an answer to flow from them. For all the memories that had flooded back when you first looked at him, you couldn’t recall the feel of his lips on your own.

“I’ve got you, beautiful. Everything is going to be okay.”

Before the last word was uttered, you were surging up and pressing your lips to his.

Weeks go by, the days spent with your mother and the maidens assigned to look after you and ensure you had everything you needed. Prince Cala was accommodating, doting almost when he was free from the responsibilities that came with running a successful city. He was a prince, you learned. Set to inherit his royal standing of king and full control over the city once the marriage he had proposed to you in your murky past came to fruition. He was all soft, casual touches and kisses pressed to your temples. He hadn’t kissed you fully since that first day you had woken up and you could understand his hesitancy. You were still struggling with your memory, no exact recollection of your lives together.

Assurances spoke from both him and your mother that this was indeed your life, even if everything seemed so new and part of a routine you didn’t quite feel like you were a part of. You were…slightly uncomfortable in your mother’s presence, when alone. An almost fearful undertone as you watched her movements closely, feigning focused interest in the things she told you and shared with you to mask the way your eyes catalogued everything. There was a faint weight that pulled in your gut when she would touch you, her hands always gentle but it was as if… it was as if your body was waiting for the gentle to give way to something more sinister, more ill-intentioned.

You felt more at ease with the man who had filled the shadow in your mind, his presence calming and kind. You weren’t waiting for his touch to sour, though it didn’t spring forth any feelings of desire or yearning from you. A causal intimacy between you both. Slightly disjointed in the way that you had separate room when you could recall sleeping beside a warm body before your accident. In the way that he would press his forehead to yours in greeting each morning and departure each night, the warmth of his skin against yours feeling….wrong as you recalled a coolness in the memories of the practiced motion. In the way that your flowing gowns and light layers looked beautiful in every color provided to you helped to alleviate the heat of the planet but felt too…impractical when you could recall feeling different clothing against your skin, practical, durable.

But for all the things that felt slightly shifted, you also found familiarity.

The ever present heat and bright sunshine of the planet, so unlike your own world of K’ath and yet it was almost comforting in a way. The food you enjoyed at the words of your mother and fiancé to the kitchens to keep on hand. Fresh fruits, crispy vegetables, and warm bread slathered with salted butter fresh from the ovens. Plenty of soups served over rice and easy broths for you to sip from ornate china, never anything too heavy or slathered in rich sauces. Sweet treats in the form of artisan chocolate, decadent cakes with frosting covering them in intricate designs and an endless supply of fresh, strong caf.

But you took it all in stride, spending time in the gardens, memorizing the walkways that wound through them and around the cerulean ponds filled with colorful fish. Spending time in the library and reading through the history of the planet and the city. Spending time in the lush sunroom decorated with plush rugs, overstuffed seating, and a nice view of the grounds just beyond it. Spending time overlooking the beautiful sights of the city and the distant ocean from your balcony, unable to shake the feeling like you were supposed to be somewhere else.

You tried to ignore the guards hovering around you as you explored the streets of the market. You had earned the outing after your good behavior, showing restraint in the questions you had wanted to ask but didn’t want to repeat yet again the night before. Shaking those thoughts from your head, you reached up and adjusted the dainty crown atop your head. The beautiful netting sprinkled with jewels fanning the base of it cascading over your hair in quite a nice way and it would look beautiful if the piece weren’t a deadly threat. It was a little overkill, you thought. Even if you had been nothing but willing to play along to your mothers and husbands’ words despite feeling like something was wrong, missing, like this wasn’t your life. But they were all that you knew right now, the figure of your mother familiar from childhood and you heeded her words.

You were at a stall that had an array of colorful and fragrant fruits, the sweet perfume of them blending together too tempting for you to bypass without checking out. A creature of habit, your mother called you. A woman of expensive taste, teasingly aimed at you from your husband. They knew you

You paused to hold a bundle of sunset orange berries up to inspect. A small green hand with three fingers suddenly reached out for the bowl in your hand and you jumped only slightly at the sudden company you had as you perused the stalls offerings. You turned a cautious look over but a smile broke out on your face at the cute visage of a small, wonderous face peeking out from a canvas bag that seemed to be his safe space.

“Well, hello there, little one.” You lowered the bowl for the small creature to reach for a berry, the fruit stuffed into his mouth with a happy sound that had a laugh bubbling up from your chest unbidden. “He’s rather cute. Is this your child?”

You canted your attention up, at the broad man dressed in all black who was wearing the child’s bag over a shoulder. His clothing was nondescript, matching that of the priests who littered the town. Flowing cassock and wrap atop his head. His face was obscured, much like their own by black gauzy material draped from underneath it. His dark brown eyes were the only thing visible, and you smiled at him trying to come across as friendly. You didn’t want to anger anyone in town lest they had a connection to your new family.

The figure didn’t speak for a moment, seeming to take stock of you, gauging if you were a threat or not, something everyone seemed to be doing when interacting with you. A newcomer, an outsider, not one of the many tourists visiting the city for their own amusement, but someone brought in to be a part of the ruling family. Confirmation sounded through the fabric masking his face from you and you nodded to show you heard. “He is.”

“I’ve never seen any like him before, he seems like the sweetest thing.” The child let out small coos, as if knowing he was being talked about. He reached for another berry but held it out to you this time. You shook your head lightly and another laugh bubbled up even as you felt the heavy gaze of his father on you.

“Ma’am, you’ll have to pay for- Oh, Princess Cala, I’m so sorry. I was unaware you were in the markets today. Please, take whatever you wish, I will send for payment from Sir Cala at the end of the day.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. It’s just a little snack today, nothing too crazy.” You smiled wide at him, hoping your behavior will be relayed back to your new family and they will lower their intensity. But you also genuinely appreciated this man, he treated you like a person while everyone else in the market kept a wide berth around you. Afraid of either you as a newcomer or the guards that tailed you, you hadn’t been able to work it out yet. You reached for the small pouch attached to your belt, the jingling of the bracelets on your wrists drawing the attention of the child.

You felt the tug of on them as you reached out to place a few credits for the bowl of berries on the stand, nodding your thanks as you turned to face the child again. He was gripping the bracelets tightly, his skin touching yours as he did so and a clash of emotions flooded you, causing you to gasp and your knees buckled. Before the guards could reach you, the tall man had stepped close and his arms were wrapped gently around your back, holding you to his chest to help steady you.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la. Are you alright?” His head was pitched so his voice was right beside your ear, and it sent a shiver through your body, the timbre of it so alluring. It was all you could hear though you were aware of the soft babbling of the child close to you and the harsh voices of the guards. You felt completely calm with him, like returning to your home after a long day. Comforted, safe, cared for. His touch was so familiar, the way he held you feeling like a faint memory though you had never met him in your life.

“Unhand the princess, no one is to touch her.” The guards closed in around you both, trapping you between their bodies and the stall.

“It’s alright! I just tripped is all!” You raised your voice even though it was rather hard to concentrate with the strong body pressed up against you and holding you. You felt the man loosen his hold and step away as you stood straighter. You weren’t quite sure what happened, but he had been quick to help you, even at the expense of drawing the guards’ attention. You smiled at him, something genuine. The feelings he had stirred in you were confusing but not unwelcome. You had no idea why. He was a stranger after all.

“We must return now, Princess Cala.”

When his touch retracted, the warmth that had blossomed in your chest and the quickening of your heart beating against the cage of your ribs didn’t wane. 

You retrieved the bowl of berries and held a few out to the slightly dejected child, his large ears turned downward. “Here you go, little one. Make sure to share those with your papa, okay?”

Another glance roved over his face, a soft smile just for him, and you were bidding him a good day with a bow of your head. The urge to press your forehead against his strong, but you resisted, knowing that it felt too personal a thing for the stranger standing beside you. Your brow furrowed slightly, unsure of where the need to do so rose from. The comfortability and underlying feeling of complete and utter safety that the man stoked in you confusing you, he was a stranger, and yet it felt like there was a string wrapped around your heart that pulled taught and uncomfortable as you began to move away from him.

And with that you were turning and walking away from the stall, two guards leading you back to the palace and two behind you. You could feel the kind man’s brown eyes watching you as you did, daring to look over your shoulder to get one last look at him yourself.

Your breath hitched as your eyes met his even from the distance of the street and you felt the heat from his intimate touch and soft words encompass you completely. A dull pain throbbed in your temple, forcing you to turn away.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @beskarandblasters @feral-ferrule @bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77 @picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @genetics4life @mosssbawls @vivian-pascal

[corncobmass]

He's beautiful 2 me

[jayb1rb]

Boom. Evil OC. What a jumpscare. Anyways today is my last planned day for OC picrews and today we have Circe "Circus" Dor'an. I like how evil looking she is. She looks like the kinda gal to twirl her handlebar mustache. I also don't have any art of her on me, and this is making me realize how much of my art I have committed to paper but not picture. Probably cause I suck as taking pictures. Anyways. You all were so awesome! Thank you guys for sharing this journey, hopefully we can do it again sometime with other characters of mine. I have so many different characters, and 2 separate plotlines that occur before this one, so will I do them? Why not. See you all then.

[generalanachorcollective]

Photo editing go brrr....

Anyways may or may not make a plot out of this

Would you guys wanna see a plot made out of this?

[hollister-mc]

A rant/dump about my current MHA project, I avoid spoilers for the current arcs

Yall I'm literally ill, I've never had a show impact me this much, I've never had characters affect me this much. I stopped watching mha during the Eri arc due to personal shit, like me moving and just losing motivation to watch. I still consumed the media, like fanfics, or honestly chat bots, but I just didn't watch the show anymore. (still havnt but I'm working on it)

I have a long-term fanfic that I've been working on for like... years at this point. It's longer than The Great Gatsby currently. I flip-flopped forever on the main ship, and even if it was going to be an x reader. I think I've ultimately decided that it's going to be Bakudeku/OC. And I need yall to understand why.

I originally started this fanfiction years ago as kinda a crack fic. It was a self insert of me and my best friend at the time. We were twins I put us into the series. Of course, we started it cause we simped for the characters. I wrote it, and she would give me input and ideas, but I ultimately did the main work, which was fine, I was the writer. Our friendship slowly faded, and so I slowly stopped writing. I was hurt for a long time, we were best friends for like 8 years, and she gradually stopped talking to me after she got into her first relationship.

The fic was abandoned for a long time, until during a trip to go see my other best friend across country. We talked about what happened with my old friend. At one point I told her about the abandoned fic I had, how I had started the fic for fun for us, and we had sort of a plot line for our characters, but of course nothing serious, as my ex friend just stopped giving me input and ideas for everything. I told her it made me sad, but overall, I was just bitter from what my ex friend had done. My long-distance friend looked at me and said, "Why don't you just turn it into your own? Redo it. Consider it like a personal revenge." And that my friends, is what sparked a flame in me. I reformed everything, I actually developed lore, I made characters, storylines. In doing so, I realized the main characters were no longer me and my ex friend, but two completely new characters. I won't bullshit you, the main character used to be me, but she, Iris, has completely transformed into this new character. That's why I decided to make it an OC fanfic instead of reader. I put too much work and soul into her, there was no way to portray her in a vague light, enough for anyone to put themselves in her shoes. I worried for a bit, cause I know a lot of people don't like OC stories. But I personally never turned away from OC fics unless the characters personality was too much for me to focus on and insert myself into. Cause I won't lie. I read to escape my reality, most of the time, I put myself into the main characters' shoes. So I figured, I probably wasn't the only one. In the end, I'm doing this for me. If people enjoy it too, then damn that's a plus.

Another thing I want to be clear, yeah I started rewriting this story as a way to express my upset at my ex friend, but truthfully, it's no longer like that. When I think about what happened with my friend, sure, I'm still bitter sometimes. But for the most part, it's become a part of my past, theres nothing I can do to change anything. I've worked for the past few years writing, drawing, and just daydreaming about this story. Im not lying to you when I say there isn't a day that I don't think about it at least once. I haven't been able to write lately, and it's been killing me. I moved out for the first time in my life months ago, and before that I was so busy and worked to the bone I had no motivation to write, even when the thing I wanted to write about consumed my waking moments. I'm still exhausted, but goddamn if the new episodes and Manga chapters haven't grabbed me by the metaphorical balls and twisted. I won't go into detail for anyone who isn't caught up, I gave up on trying to avoid spoilers.

I think my biggest hesitation is the fandom, and potentially backlash. Is that I'm no longer the teenager that started this fic. A lot of people don't like that, and will probably see it as weird that I'm making a fanfiction based around teenagers, especially the romance part. But honestly, I don't care. I started loving these characters when I was their age in show, and I'm sorry that they don't age like I do, but unfortunately, for us all, I still have an unhealthy attachment to it. So we're just gonna deal with it. The other side was the question of ships. I bounced back and forth for a long time on if my OC was going to be with Deku or Bakugo. It was hard, cause my initial thought was 'fuck it, both' but I hesitated cause poly ships, especially like that, aren't common or popular in fandoms, or taken seriously like I want this fic to be. Recently in the fandom I've seen how much popular the Bakudeku ship has gotten, and I finally decided to say fuck it, and just go with my original idea. So this fic will not be a love triangle, well- honestly it'll have juicy dramatic parts, but I'm going agaisnt the norm and saying fuck it, they all love eachother. I myself am not poly, (at least I think? Idk I'm unlabeled, the only poly relationships I've ever thought about being a part of are with fictional characters lol) So it won't be perfect and maybe not entirely accurate. If anyone who is poly wants to give me advice I'd be open and appreciative of it. Now that, that's all out of the way...

I'm going to give a summary of my plot, and i want to know if you guys find it interesting.

In a world where humans are given superhuman abilities, the norm, quickly changes. This world is not black and white. Prejudice and discrimination never truly leave humans, if it's not one thing, it's another. And in this world, if you don't have a quirk, or if your quirk is seen as undesirable or... potentially dark in nature, then you are immediately singled out and ostracized.

Our main characters, Iris and Ivy Blackwood, are born into an unfair world, where they are ultimately dealt with a hand that is hard to burden. Being the children of famous pro heroes is one thing, it's another when said pro heroes are constantly in the eye of the public. A scandal happens every week, it seems. You can't go far in research without seeing someone question the pro heroes' motives. Forsythe and Natalia Aphelion-Blackwood are powerful people, with powerful quirks to match. What sets them aside is the nature of their powers, powers that aren't normally seen as heroic. In fact, the whole blood line is filled with ominous powers, shadey actions, and downright morally questionable choices. When these two families married together, the media burst. Obviously, it was a quirk marriage. The only thing was they just couldn't prove it. When the twins were born, everyone waited in baited unease. Just what the hell could these bloodlines produce in power? Surely it couldn't be that bad...

Ivy's quirk manifested shortly after her twin, sprouting fox ears and tail(s) her quirk was Kitsune. Similar to her father's shape-shifting quirk, but of course had stark differences. Iris, on the other hand? Well, let's just say she won't be stepping into churches anytime soon... At the ripe age of 5, Iris Blackwood sprouted, wings, horns, a tail, claws, and red eyes to match. This girl was given powers seemingly from the devil himself. Her quirk? Demon. The nature of her power is unknown, the extent? unknown. No quirk specialist stuck around to figure out just what the hell she could do, but from the brief research done, it's believed the girl is able to do whatever a demon can do... What an odd analysis, considering no one really knows what that can entell.

Iris was forced to keep her abilities under lock and key, with great luck she's able to hide her physical features. The rest of her powers, she doesn't know, and she honestly doesn't want to find out. She's trying to become a hero, what kind of hero has a power like that? The twins' parents put them on a path, one that was built and prepped long before they were even born, what a burden to put on children. Iris wants to defy all odds, to show the world that she's not her quirk. It doesn't matter if no one believes in her, not even her own parents. She has her sister, her twin, someone who's been by her side since birth. Someone who will always have her back, that will never change... right?

This story is one of betrayal, manipulation, all kinds of abuse, moral questioning, and even questioning of one's sanity... but it's also a story of friendship, trust, found family, love, and the indomitable human spirit. This is the very definition that sometimes, your family can end up being the ones you share no blood with.

Okay, so tell me, does that sound interesting? I hope so, cause these characters, this plot, has been on my mind for years nonstop, it's something that needs to be told. And I feel like a lot of people can relate to some of the things in this fic. I'm currently rewriting the first 6 or so chapters, cause once I picked up the story again long ago, I just kept writing from where I left off, so the first chapters aren't adjusted to the new direction the fanfiction is now going. It's going to be Canon compliant but not perfectly, it will have its own arcs and storyline, and of course, depending on how the show finishes, I'll have to adjust. But overall, I love the plot of MHA, so I don't want to change too much. I appreciate anyone who supports me with this. Thank you guys a lot. Stay tuned.

[atomicarose]

♤The Reinette♤

"Darling, are you well?" The man, her perfect man had said, he was concerned for her, she has been tending to him for almost a week now.

The man had ivory bone skin and dark chocolate hair. She would stare at his ruby eyes as if she was looking at a murder scene.

Staring endlessly at her idea of the perfect man. She couldn't help herself at all.

She would completely ignore his words as she was to enchanted by his good looks.

The first born son of the great De Benitez family, Oliver A. De Benitez. He was a powerful Duke, soon to take over after his father... That old man would be dead soon just how she planned...

Just how all of his siblings slowly but suddenly were dropping dead. The people soon thought he would be next. As he too had gotten the poisoning just as everyone in his family estate.

Her lover lays in his bed, she too did poisoned him. She didn't want her perfect lover to be accused of their deaths after of this hard work has put into this plan.

It would ruin her intentions. She will not let society ruin her, but even if it... She'd over it up with money after all she will become the Crown Princess once her older brother is out of the picture.

"Reinette? Darling?" He had moved his hand to her arm to catch her attention, her wondering mind was doing her no good.

She looked at her perfect man, she was full of woe. At least that's what she looked like to him... He was always detached from the outside world, forced to study to become the next head in his home.

"Oh, my sweet Oliver!" She cried, taking his hand and putting it on her cheek.

They were to be officially engaged in a week. "I am just so scared, our engaged is a week away!" She cries as she looks down.

"My darling, I will fight this for you, for us.!" He gave her one of his stoned smiles. He was bad at expressing emotions.

Oliver's thoughts were fill of his family, but then Reinette's upset face appeared, she looked like a cute wet kitten. As if he does died he'll abandon her.

He couldn't let that happen, she was his first and only love. Leaving her alone forever would kill him more then this poison in his body.

- atomicarose -

Should I continue this? It's been in my drafts for some time now.

[fr3ak-ed]

Roleplay Ad For My Fantasy World!

Monologue For The RP

The world of Averion consists of Multiple Realms. The Underworld where the dead rest and the fallen go, the Underworld is ruled by the watchful eye of the God & Goddess of Death. The Ethereal Realm is a Realm that consists of multiple different sections, each section acting like a minor world that belongs to a God & Goddess living in the Ethereal Realm. Then the mortal realm Jorsol where the living exist, Jorsol is home to all kinds of living things, Jorsol is huge and has many different areas, the world being the playground for the Gods & Goddesses. But soon, there would rise a threat to the whole of Jorsol and potentially the other Realms when a trio of three villains stole three ancient powerful artefacts hidden away from any mortal eye to see due to the danger and power of the artefacts, these artefacts being purposefully hidden by the gods & goddesses to protect the world of Averion. The first of the Three villains is a High elf Dark Wizard known as Lord Griswold, the second villain is a Half-elf rogue known as Prinoa, then the third villain is a Half-orc Paladin known as General Hanugar. The three artefacts they stole are the Staff of Divitae, the Gloves of Sanguis & the Helmet of Bellum. With the world of Averion in danger, the retired hero Araykos travels all over Jorsol to seek out five adventures from all over Jorsol. The fate of Jorsol was now to be decided by these five adventures.

The roleplay is looking for 5 people of the ages 15-18 who wanna join. You only need to have discord & be fine with LGBT things. I play the role of the Narrator, NPCS & the deities.

The whole storyline & plot is my own creation, as well as the characters I play.

This is inspired by Dungeons and Dragons, Baldur Gate 3, lord of the Rings and several other fantasy media.

You will be able to customise your own character who will play the role of one of the five adventurers, you can use Picrew or whatever you want to depict the character's appearance as well.

My discord is fr3ak_ed if you are interested, feel free to reach out. I'll send you the link to the server once we are connected on Discord.

If you have any questions before joining or adding me, feel free to ask, and I'll try to answer them for you.

[randombookcreator]

When they take proper pictures in a photo booth for the first time:

I actually just got back from Colorado so that's why I haven't been doing much here 😅

[shellidel]

I was inspired buy multiple Japanese horror stories

[delicatenightfury]

Star of the Mountain Part 4 Preview

Warnings: fluff, angst, canon-level violence, spoilers for the Hobbit films

Pairing: OC x Thorin Oakenshield

Beta'd By: @mistys-blerbz

Author's Note: please do not steal my work! I do not own the Hobbit or the characters, but I do own my OCs and the parts of the plot that are not part of the movies. I have worked very hard on this fic. Please be respectful and do not steal.

“I don’t know how much longer I can handle this,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. Balin and Dwalin walked on either side of him as they made their way to the council hall for the upcoming meeting. “I can barely get close to her.”

“Vedis does seem more protective than usual,” Dwalin said.

“Her sister was injured not long ago,” Balin pointed out. “Perhaps Vedis is just being vigilant.”

“Oreliell can look after herself,” Thorin said. “I haven’t had one moment with her since before the battle.”

The sons of Fundin exchanged a look.

“Perhaps that has something to do with it?” Balin said. “Unfortunately, things were not left well off. Yes, the sickness had great influence, but perhaps it has left a lingering wound for Oreliell.”

“And that is why I wish to speak with her, Balin,” Thorin said. “She is my One. I want to make amends, but that is hard to do when I can’t… Kili, what are you doing?”

[afriendlyneighborhood]

Petra stood at the front steps of her family home. The windows once illuminated by the shadows of amazing people now remain dead and cold. Petra knows deep down that the house hasn't changed much. Its paint is still peeling lightly from years of rain and snow, it's garden still flourishing as if her father still came out to tend to the little blooms, the house's bedroom windows still lit up as if someone was living there.

Whatever was in the house wasn't human, is what Petra decided. After all, what human would do what he's done and not face even the slightest of consequence? What human could stand in the once bustling home and not feel guilt. That must mean the thing that now roams those halls was something less than human, or perhaps something more?

So Petra stared blankly, no longer feeling as though she had the energy left to cry. All of her tears have been used up. Dry sobs wracking her body as she fell to the pavement, her head cracking into the ground, unable to even hold up its own weight under her grief.

Why? Why her mother? Why her father? Why her brother, who had not even begun to live his life? Why not whatever monster was living underneath her siblings skin.

Her head was pounding, her chest felt heavy and constricting. She needed to breathe, needed to feel something that wasn't the disgusting dread that crawled up her back. Leaving a slimy trail of defeat in its wake. She needed to tear her own chest open, if only to breathe in more than her own panicked breath. Her vision blurry, she began wondering if she might pass out.

A noise startled her in her increasing panic. As Petra looked up, she froze. It was that thing. That disgusting beast that did nothing but take and take and take.

"Why are you here, Petra?", a question that should not have been posed as it was. He spoke as if she was a friend visiting, as if he wasn't sure why she would be at her own home. He spoke as if nothing happened.

"You-", she began, but fell short at the look of confusion on what used to be her twins face, "what have you done."

Her voice broke as she looked at Peter. Just as happy as he had been not even a week ago, entirely unbothered by the lack of life that used to thrive in this home. Despite her inability to shed any more tears, she felt her body heave.

"You. Sick. FUCK." Petra snarled in anger at the open door, her only surviving brother staring blankly as his back was illuminated by the lights from in the house.

"How could you?" She felt as if she was hearing her voice from miles away, crazed even to her own ears.

"HOW. COULD. YOU." Her throat was raw from the scream that tore and clawed it's way from her throat.

"You're not getting away with this."

Why wasn't Peter moving?

"I'll tell the police."

Why didn't he feel *guilt?*

"I'll fucking get you."

Did he have no remorse for Mother and Father?

"I won't stop until you are rotting in a god damn cage.

...Did he feel no remorse for Able?

Petra was startled out of her thoughts with the sound of approaching footsteps. Her head snapped up, petals whipping violently from how quickly she moved.

Is this it? She wondered, is he going to get me to?, she hoped. She hoped she could leave with her family, prayed she could leave with her family. Desperate from the rapid development of this hellish new existence.

"Oh Petra...", her head whipped to Peter's face, his eyes carefully blank and his smile painfully wide.

"We're playing a game of Cat and Mouse now!" He looked giddy at the prospect of playing with her, as if her suffering was nothing more than *entertainment.*

"And..." Peter seemed to think for a moment, "... Well I sure as hell ain't the mouse, right?"

Petra felt sick. If she had anything left in her stomach she is sure that she would have thrown up. Nothing but water and pain medication left.

And it was a game.

Petra could swear that her blood was boiling out of her skin, her head pounding in her ears, and chest beating so heavily that it felt as if the ground was shaking.

She looked up at the monster that prevailed in her twin's skin, the creature that dared to pretend to be human. The vile things that did it's best to act like it could feel. It circled back, in a way, as looking up at the terrifyingly bored eyes of that monster reminded her.

Reminded her that even if it pretended, even if it fooled everyone in this bumfuck town, it could not feel.

The creature she was looking at was not human, and so she backed away, fearful of contracting whatever caused this disease to take hold in what used to be her twin's mind.

Peter didn't move. Perhaps he didn't feel like playing a game of chase at the moment, perhaps he didn't find her worth his time, perhaps he knew it wouldn't be much longer before she was gone anyway.

Petra stood at the opposite side of the street, and found that she no longer had the energy to scream, to yell, to fight back.

Peter looked at the shell of his twin and somehow managed to smile even wider, the grin cutting across his face in a terrifying line. He held no emotions behind that smile, and even less behind his eyes.

"No one will believe you." The words were chirped in such a chipper tone that for a second she thought she had heard him wrong.

Peter repeated the phrase. An impossibly cold laugh ripped its way out of his mouth, his empty smile falling away for a brief second to reveal something worse.

Ice traveled up Petras spine, a sinking cold enveloping her mind as she watched the abomination in front of her double over in laughter. The cackles that left his mouth even less human than his words, otherworldly shrieks of joy that left her to wonder again what it was that was standing in front of her.

Peter wiped a tear from his face as he straightened his back, looking more carefree than he has in months.

"No one will believe you..." Peter sounded almost wistful as he said it, as if the idea that Petra being regarded as crazy would bring him nothing but joy.

Dusting off his coat and straightening his gardening jacket, Peter turned around and reentered the house. A monster returning to prowl the halls like a ghost in a house full of nothing but.

Petra could have stood there for minutes, hours, days even. She wouldn't know. And when she finally felt as if her body was her own again, she ran. She ran away as quickly as her legs could take her.

And if she collapsed into heavy sobs behind her apartment room door, no one would know. If she threw up the water in her stomach, bile curling in her throat as an ugly mess of sick, no one would know. And if she swore to get revenge on that disgusting creature that now haunted her families home unburdened by it's actions... no one would know.

[electronicrobotdreams]

If I made a Discord RP server would anyone want to join?

Seems so many peeps looking for RP partners are Discord only. Honestly I'd like to RP on Tumblr too, so DM me if you'd like to RP with my muses.