#why i keep on doing these huge lists is beyond me

[bridenore]

HD Party Games fic recs

Here are a few drarry fic recs in which party games play an important part. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

Back to You by @aibidil & daisymondays [8k]

The eighth years make Harry and Malfoy go head to head and back to back in a question-and-answer drinking game. The worst that can happen is they end up drunk, right?

Boom Clap (The Sound of My Heart) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [39k]

Post-war Hogwarts has been energized by its new teaching fellows program. Where once bitter enmity divided the wizarding community, Malfoy and Potter chummily patrol hallways together whilst Granger and Zabini seek lost parts of the castle at McGonagall’s behest and Chang supervises Quidditch when not lecturing in Charms. It’s a veritable wizarding utopia and life is predictable for the first time in years. Which is, of course, when everything blows apart as the result of a drunken dare and Malfoy’s life is ruined beyond his capacity to repair it. Ever. In a million years.

check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous by @lqtraintracks [7k]

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

Erase the Shame by FleetofShippyShips [6k]

An Inter-House unity party is the last thing Draco wants to go to. It's not long into a game of Truth or Dare when he is reminded why. But maybe his dare is worth it after all.

Exceeds Eggspectations by Elle Gray (LGray) [61k]

Eighth year. Winter. Christmas has been and gone. Harry’s just been dumped and so has Malfoy. There’s a stupid fake baby assignment to be done, and what’s the harm in doing it together, really, when life is this shit already? This is not slow burn, this is a roman candle pointed at a pile of dry twigs that represent your heart.

Games Night by @agentmoppet​ [6k]

Harry has no idea why Hermione decided that an inter-house Games Night would be a good idea, but he’s here now, and he intends to beat Malfoy, no matter what game he chooses. But, who would have thought muggle games could be full of so much... tension?

How to Handle an Enemy by who_la_hoop [7k]

Everyone knows that it’s no fun playing truth or dare with a Slytherin. But add a little Veritaserum, a scheming duo of Slytherin girls and surprising things can be revealed. Particularly about the fine line between love and hate… Turnbout Is Fair Play by who_la_hoop [10k]   After a – cough – revealing game of truth or dare instigated by  his fellow Slytherins, Draco Malfoy finds himself in possession of a).  the interesting knowledge that a certain Gryffindor horror may not be as   immune to his personal charms as hitherto suspected and b). the   password to the Gryffindor Tower. But Draco makes a fundamental error   when he decides to make use of these facts.

Love, Harry by Zzzara [26k]

Harry Potter keeps a huge secret: that scary thing he can’t tell anyone about. Until a mysterious penfriend changes his life, because he keeps a secret, too.

Never Have I Ever Thought That You Might Want Me, Too by @drarrymyheart [8k]

“When it’s his turn, Ron gives Harry an ominous look. “Never have I ever wanted to kiss any of the boys in this room.” Harry freezes. Dean, Seamus, Hermione, Hannah, Pansy, and even Blaise are all immediately lifting their drinks. Malfoy moves to pick his up as well and Harry tracks the movement as if watching in slow-motion…The ridge of Malfoy’s bottle of cider pushes against his lower lip as he takes a sip. Harry nearly groans. Steeling himself, Harry drinks.” Harry and the crew take a ski trip. Harry can’t seem to keep his eyes and thoughts off a certain blonde.

One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore [41k]

Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers. 

A Perfectly Valid Dare by kitty_fic [5k]

“It’s a perfectly valid dare,” Pansy says, and somehow she looks like she actually believes what she says. “I am not doing that,” Draco insists. He really has no idea when daring someone to wank in Harry Potter’s bed became a perfectly valid dare?

Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks [73k] 

Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

Silk Scarves and Enchanted Handcuffs by TommyLane [28k]

It was only supposed to be for seven minutes and then the blindfold would come off and he'd be free from the dark cupboard and his mystery partner - only Harry was no longer sure he wanted it to end.

Starts With a Spin by Maxine [119k]

It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there's almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.

Truths, Dares, and Love Affairs by @ronbinary [17k]

NEWTs are approaching, Mind Healing is mandatory, and something is wrong with the castle. And then, there’s Potter.

When I Put My Eyes On You by Zzzara [31k]

When a hero defeats a villain, there’s supposed to be a happily-ever-after… but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there’s more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

where all the veins meet by eight_of_wands [146k]

It’s the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort’s soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now? His friends try to help, but the only thing that can hold his attention—one of the only things that ever has—is Draco Malfoy, out on parole and weirdly hanging around the British Museum. As they keep running into each other, Harry sees that Malfoy is different, and he wonders if he can be someone else, too. Featuring rumpled band shirts, poker games everyone hates, fumbling sex, and a Harry going a little mental over how wands even work.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[srjlvr]

SEVEN ROYALTIES

7 brothers. 7 new kings. 7 new thrones. 7 love stories.

note. im a bit early to do this, but we’re getting closer to 1.5k followers so i decided to drop it! i cant believe i am able to reach this amount of followers honestly! this is a special series to show you how thankful i am. i wouldn’t be here without y’all.

THE seven brothers of hybe’s kingdom will be getting each a new throne and kingdom of their own to rule, and each one gets a love story of his own too.

GENREs will be included in each member’s story and so are the WARNINGS and WORD-COUNTS.

TAG-LIST ; i’ll consider this tag-list to all members, send me an ask or comment on this post if you’d like to join.

PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz , @ohdudehesflirting

lee heeseung x fem!reader genre: strangers to lovers , commoner and a royal , fluff , angst ! warnings: loads of curse words.

you always knew your short temper will be a disadvantage, but you never thought that moment will happen when it came to a royal blood.

“watch where you’re going!” you yelled at the person who just bumped into you, “my apologies madam, perhaps i can offer you some sweet cookies as an apology?” he smiled.

you laughed at the nickname and the cute offer, “people don’t offer here cookies just because they want to apologize, are you new in town?”

he then shook his head, “you keep your things to yourself if you don’t want people to keep asking you for favors”

you ran before the person could even reply, “didn’t she realize who is she talking to?”

STATUS posted!

park jay x fem!reader genre: arranged marriage , one sided love at first , angst , fluff ! warnings: curse words , mentions of food (nothing serious, just dinner breakfast and all) , uhh dunno if it’s really a warning but just a rude behavior.

it’s been a few months since your huge wedding held in the castle, “i’ve married to you only because of the fact that i need to marry off to someone to get the throne” your newly husband groaned.

he’s been telling you the same sentence each time you remind him that you’re actually a married couple.

you’ve been taking care of him when he got sick, made him meals and even did most of the laundry, regardless of the fact that you have tons of servants.

jay has been ignoring you all day and all night ever since you first met, even ordered that you must have separated rooms.

but all it took for him to understand that he so longed for you, is to see you walk away. now, he’s determined to bring you back and love you all over again.

STATUS posted!

sim jake x fem!reader genre: strangers to lovers , fake relationship , he fell first but she fell harder , runaway royals , fluff , angst ! warnings: mentions of pregnancy(nothing serious i promise trust me) , mentions of food (not specifically, just meals).

your beauty is beyond compare, and you know that. your parents knows that too. which is why they’ve been forcing you to go on dates with filthy princes who wants nothing but to use you and your beauty as a trophy.

you hate that, being treated as an object in the eyes of other people. so you ran away. where? you didn’t know, but you packed your bag and left the house in the late late hours.

what you didn’t expect however, was to get caught by another runaway prince.

“who are you?” you suspiciously asked. “i’m sorry madam, let me introduce myself, i’m sim jake, hybe’s-“

“hybe’s prince” you gasped, “and you are?” he shrugged off the fact that you just cut him in the middle of the sentence.

“i’m l/n y/n—“ “the runaway princess?”

STATUS posted!

park sunghoon x fem!reader genre: childhood friends to enemies to lovers , one sided love somewhere into the story , heavy angst , fluff ! warnings: character’s death (not a main character) , curse words.

sunghoon has everything, wealth, power, a throne. but none of these matters when he can’t have you by his side.

“i hate you, park sunghoon” you spit out, nothing but hate is in your fierce glance at him. he just chuckled, “you don’t mean that”

“oh i do,” you nodded, “and i’m only doing it because i promised her it’ll happen”

“looking back at that promise, i realize why you used to believe that promises are stupid” you added.

“i’m sorry” he apologized, “sorry isn’t going to change anything, is it?”

STATUS posted!

kim sunoo x fem!reader genre: mistakenly falling in love , strangers to lovers , fluff , a bit of angst ! warnings: none atm.

the ballroom was full with young royals who are there the celebrate ni-ki’s birthday, the youngest out of the seven brothers.

it was a NO ADULTS party and therefore, the king and the queen ( aka the parents ) tried to describe him who is he going to marry. it was a pretty obvious force marriage.

“you’ll know it when you see her, she’s awfully pretty” they said.

“i’m l/n y/n” you introduced yourself with a curtsy, sunoo took your hand and kissed the back of it, “you look awfully pretty, y/n”

“oh! her name is minju!” right after the party, the queen and the king reminded sunoo that the girl he’s off to marry is named minju.

STATUS posted!

yang jungwon x fem!reader genre: childhood friends to lovers , promised to marry , fluff , angst ! warnings: mentions of food , pregnancy i think , maybe curse words (do lmk if i missed something!!)

you’ve known jungwon ever since you can remember. his castle is considered your second home and your castle is considered his second home.

you were pretty confident in your friendship, until you became teenagers and things started to fade away between you two.

he knows you’re promised to him, so why was he so unconfident about it when he saw you talking to other princes?

and you know he’s promised to you, so why do you feel like crying when he’s being introduced to other princesses as well?

STATUS posted!

nishimura riki x fem!reader genre: troublemakers falling in love , strangers to lovers , dumb and dumber relationship , fluff , angst ! warnings: none atm.

you were some kind of the black sheep in your family, always breaking rules and doing what you’re clearly not supposed to do. you love your freedom.

you heard about a prince who’s just exactly as you are, and you’re more than eager to meet him.

“are you…?” in one of your usual sneak outs, you bumped into a familiar face, “am i…?” he mocked.

“never mind” you shrugged, “i thought you were nishimura riki”

“i thought you’re l/n y/n” he chuckled, it was too dark for the both of you to see each other. “so who are you?” you asked, “nishimura riki, you?”

“l/n y/n”

STATUS coming soon!!

••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 17)

Hello, and welcome back to Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics! Apologies again for the huge delay. I've had a busy last couple of weeks, but also...well, I posted about this earlier, but I hath been consumed by the beast that is Deadpool & Wolverine and have fallen back into my Wolverine obsession. I won't go on too much about that here, because that's not what you're here for, but I am letting you all know that it is definitely the most to blame for why this is so late lol.

But enough about that! Back to the real reason I have these little openers: thank you all so much for your support of this series. It's crazy to me that anyone at all cares about what I've read and liked, but that so many of you have taken an interest and even shared these lists is truly mind-blowing. So, truly, thank you all so much.

I hope you're all having as good a day as you can, if not a great one.

Smoochies and squeezies!

List and links to previous parts below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

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Broken Things (It's Complicated) by PalenDrome (nerherderette) (G | 1/1 | 3,880)

It's been fifteen years, and Derek still has feelings about that Jeep.

[excerpt] “Stiles loved that Jeep,” the Sheriff says with a wistful smile. “It was Claudia’s. When he left it behind…” He turns his gaze elsewhere, at some distant spot beyond Derek’s shoulder.

Derek feels a claw rip through the fragile paper. He’s not sure if the Sheriff changed his mind about allowing Derek to take the Jeep. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he did.

“I’m doing my best. And I know; I want to get it up and running.” Derek wonders whether the Sheriff thinks he’s fixing it up for resale, or souping it up for an off-road joyride. Both possibilities leave him with an icy anger in his gut.

The Sheriff must understand what he feels, because his face softens. “What I meant is that Stiles loved that Jeep. He put whatever little savings he had into keeping that thing running. So, if he left it behind…” He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “Sometimes, things are too broken to be fixed.”

Derek nods slowly. He understands. But he also knows it’s not just that things break down. It's that sometimes, people give up on them, too.

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Sure of You by inhystereks (G | 1/1 | 4,129)

The Sheriff knew Stiles had found his not-so-little surprise when he went completely silent.

“Dad?” he called.

“Yeah, son?” John called back.

“Why is there a werewolf in the living room?”

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Shine Bright Like a Unicorn by HappyJuicyfruit (G | 1/1 | 5,392)

Stiles never stopped seeing his imaginary friend, Benji the unicorn, he just stopped talking about her.

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how to court a werewolf by graveltotempo (G | 1/1 | 6,592)

Stiles accidentally begins a courtship with Derek. Wary at first, the werewolf accepts, and Stiles ticks off all the boxes of a traditional Hale werewolf courting - oblivious to the whole thing.

Because of course he is.

Peter thinks the entire thing is hilarious.

Cora thinks that they deserve each other.

(spoiler alert: they do)

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Stiles' Annual Halloween Prank by LuneFaitLaFolie (T | 1/1 | 6,736)

Working the graveyard shift on Halloween night, John spends most of his time waiting for the phone call that Stiles and Scott have been caught attempting their annual Halloween prank.

He isn't expecting that call to come in the form of a neighbour seeing a group of people covered in blood and dressed as werewolves potentially breaking into his house. Checking up on it himself, he really isn't prepared for the absolute mess unfolding in his kitchen.

Maybe those traumatised teenagers caught smoking weed in the preserve knew what they were talking about when freaking out over werewolves and witches and a psycho with a bat...

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Special Delivery (subway edition) by FiannlyPhoebe (NR | 1/1 | 7,630)

“You’re what?” Stiles yells.

Derek jerks the phone away from his ear and waits a few beats before putting it back. “I’m adopting the baby I found on the subway last month,” he repeats.

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Oh, Alpha of Mine by whentheywrite (M | 1/1 | 9,806)

When the alpha came for him, it was at the library. But Stiles had never wanted the bite.

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A Heart That's Overgrown by Justagirlwithapen (E | 5/5 | 14,852)

When Stiles is five, he meets Derek Hale. When Stiles is seven an itch begins in his throat, and when he’s ten he can no longer ignore it. When Stiles is 11 and a half, he coughs his first petals. When he’s 12, Derek Hale leaves town and when he’s 13 the petals stop and the itch lessens. But at 16, the shit hits the fan. At 16, Derek comes home.

The disease is progressing at a rapid rate, Derek is focused on revenge and his betas, and Stiles can barely admit his feelings to himself let alone anyone else. But flowers are crawling up his throat, and something’s gotta give.

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One More Again by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (NR | 16/16 | 22,238)

When a strange man appears in the Hale Pack territory with an unusual proposition for Stiles and Lydia, Stiles is unable to resist going back in time to stop the Hale House fire.

Even after a few bumps in the road, Stiles finds himself in the past with one nearly-insurmountable goal - getting Talia Hale and the rest of her family to trust him with their lives.

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New Family series by DarkJediQueen (3 works | T-E | 26,986)

1. Life with the Hales (T | 1/1 | 9,681) Stiles finds a family that likes him for him. No change needed. He latches on with both hands and his heart. 2. Life with Derek and Cora (M | 1/1 | 9,240) Derek is more than happy to have Cora and Stiles with him in San Francisco. With them close again, he can start his courtship of Stiles. 3. Life in the Shop (E | 1/1 | 8,065) Stiles is back in Beacon Hills, living full time and opening up his new shop.

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Morning Light by heartsdesire456 (T | 1/1 | 27,272)

After two years as a deputy for the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department, not to mention a lifetime of being the kid of an officer of the law, Stiles had seen some things in his time. Some weird shit happened in Beacon Hills, really. However, no amount of animals mauled in the woods, people going missing, psychotic teenagers going on killing sprees with their trained pet mountain lions (or so the official report stated; Stiles didn’t trust his dad’s account of that night back when he was in high school) could prepare Stiles for the sheer ‘what the hell?!’-ness of waking up at six in the morning for his shift, pouring himself a cup of coffee, and then noticing that outside the back window there was a little girl playing in his flower beds.

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Here We Are Again series by crossroadswrite (2 works | G-T | 27,528)

Basically I listened to Taylor Swift's All Too Well, got feels and this happened.

1. You Remember It All; When I Loved You So (T | 1/1 | 21,413) Derek takes a step forward and then stops. Stiles can see the way his muscles tense and tremble like he’s holding himself back by a hair. “What-“ his voice breaks, he gets a little choked off and has to drop his eyes. It’s been one year. He doesn’t think he can look at him after one year. “What are you doing here?” he mumbles into the floor, knows that Derek will hear him. “I-“ 2. I Can Picture It After All These Days (G | 1/1 | 6,115) Derek’s not nervous. He’s done this a thousand times. He just has to knock on the door, greet Stiles and somehow try to convince him to take his sorry ass back so they can date and live happily ever after. Derek shifts a little on the porch, shaking out his arm like he’s loosening his muscles for a fight. He can do this. He can totally do this.

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don't know what i'm supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli) (T | 1/1 | 30,926)

Stiles sees dead people. Yep. Seriously.

(He’s got this. He’s totally got this. So what if one of them is Derek’s mom?)

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Hold The Day by Daisyapples (NR | 1/1 | 38,405)

Derek froze, fear and anger battling inside of him.

“Personally, I’m very protective of the things I love,” Argent continued. “But that’s something I learned from my family. And you don’t have much of that these days. Do you?”

“Wow, man.” Stiles suddenly rounded the petrol pumps and put himself between Argent and Derek. “Low blow.”

It was almost amusing to see how put out Argent was; he shifted on his feet, hands clenched into fists as if he wanted to hit Stiles. Derek wanted to grab the boy and put him behind him but he also liked having a shield between him and the hunter.

“You know who this is, right?” Stiles gestured wildly, almost hitting both himself and the Camaro. “Little orphan Annie here lost almost his whole family in a house fire. You wanna learn a bit of tact?”

Derek was almost amused at the boy who had just called him little orphan Annie preaching tact.

Almost.

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Timing is Everything series by ChloeWeird (ChloeBYoung) (5 works | T-M | 63,159)

Starts off as accidental baby acquisition, then morphs into full-fledged domestic fluff with bonus angst.

Series is complete, but there might be a couple more little ficlets in me, just timestamps on the series.

1. Perfect Timing (T | 3/3 | 9,613) Nothing had tried to kill them for three whole years. His dad stopped updating the "Supernatural Accident Free for X days" counter. The pack was stable. The timing was perfect and they could totally do this. Stiles just had to convince Derek. Somehow, taking their relationship to the next level doesn't go as planned. 2. Comes With Time (M | 7/7 | 22,787) Four months ago, Stiles and Derek rescued a terrified young werewolf from an animal shelter, and now, they call him their son. But loving him may not be enough to help him heal from the trauma of months in captivity. 3. Borrowed Time (T | 1/1 | 3,014) Stiles gets a harsh reminder that their son wasn’t always theirs...and that Teddy’s family was never located. 4. That Time Again (M | 6/6 | 11,713) Stiles and Derek decide that they want to add to their family. But life doesn’t always work out the way they want it to. 5. Time Outs (T | 8/8 | 16,032) 1k-2k ficlets set in the "Timing is Everything" Universe. May be updated if I get inspired, but I'll mark it complete for now.

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The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific (E | 2/2 | 82,866)

Derek doesn’t want to call the window repair guy. He doesn’t want to sweep up the glass. He’ll inevitably miss a few shards and pull them out of the bottom of his bare feet for weeks.

He doesn’t want to try to make this place feel like home when it isn’t.

Derek stayed in Beacon Hills and tried to make it work because he wanted pack, wanted purpose. He gave his best effort and found himself back where he started: alone, with a few begrudging allies. He’s tired, and even though his werewolf body heals quickly, he feels the weary ache down to his center.

He packs his car with the few things he cares about enough to drag them from place to place. He locks the loft and calls a realtor about listing the building he’d bought in a misguided attempt to secure a future.

And then he leaves.

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southpaw series by elisela (13 works | G-E | 83,390)

Hello, 'tis I, Tin. Once again, Tumblr is throwing a hissy fit about me including all of the series summaries for the individual parts of this series. Usually when this happens, I give you my own little synopsis of the series in effort to entice you, but I'm going to do it a little different this time. Instead, I offer you the summary for the main story that I think is the perfect enticement to the series as a whole--

From part 2 of this series, "ahead of the count":

“Yankee fan,” Derek says, laughing when Stiles makes a disgusted face. “The Bronx Bombers, Stiles, you can’t be a New Yorker and—” “Stop talking right now,” Stiles sighs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I still want to kiss you after that,” he says, pulling Derek in by his coat. “This is making me rethink everything." “I’ll never watch them again,” Derek promises, and Stiles laughs against his mouth.

Or: Stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY Mets when he meets and falls in love with Derek. Derek doesn’t know.

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Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex (weishen) (E | 12/12 | 109,100)

Crown Prince Stiles is gifted a direwolf on his eighteenth birthday by King Gerard I of Venatia. The only instruction? Never remove the collar.

Stiles never has been one to do as he’s told.

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Shut Up and Help Us series by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (2 works | NR | 144,162)

1. Of Course It's Fairies (NR | 54/54 | 100,257) While still suffering from the after effects of the Nogitsune, Stiles and the pack stumble upon and save a trapped fairy. The boy's parents, not wanting to be in the pack’s debt, offer each member of the pack who assisted in the rescue, the opportunity to bring a loved one back from the dead. Having been blissfully reunited with several of their once-lost friends and family members, everyone must work together to figure out how to function as a new pack, and how to defeat a new incoming threat. [I did not include the Fae & Fairies tag because after the first three chapters or so, they do not really play a large part in the fic, so I didn't want to mislead anyone!] 2. Survival Is A Habit (NR | 31/31 | 43,905) Nearly a year after the Hale pack defeated their first real threat, Talia gets a call inviting them to attend the Triennial Pack Convention. They gladly accept, hoping to use the TPC as one last celebration before the younger members go off to college. But when a series of events puts the pack at risk, they find themselves in desperate need of allies.

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What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm (E | 4/4 | 118,749)

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

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[1800jjbarnes]

◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟗: 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 ◇

My Everything

【Synopsis】 : Rain was pouring, and your heart was aching. You didn't care what the villagers nor that priest thought about him. You loved him, and you were going to prove it.

『W.C』 : 2.14k

-> Genre: Smut. Fantasy. Demon Au

Paring: Gargoyle!Bucky x Human!Reader

[Warnings] : Public sex [in a garden] sex in the rain. Oral [both receiving] fingering, clit play. Cum play-ish. Making out. Swearing. Pet names. use of the name Soldat. allusion of Hydra in old timey lore. Demonic and religious concepts. Dirty talk. Cemie pie. Squirting.

This story is my own flare of the original creators' webcomic. So the lore, characters, and other story design have been tweaked and changed to fit what i wanted to write. Make sure to check out the original author of this wild story.

I want to thank the original creator of this amazing universe and beautiful character's, @ilustrariane. Please check out their work! It's to die for. You can get there full 18+ E-book and its argh my happy place.

Masterlist | Kinktober List

You ran faster than your legs could carry you, nearly slipping over even bend and turn you took. The pouring rain had soaked your tunic and all of your undergarments. Your shoes were also squelching with every stomp your feet did. You were in a panic, frantically praying that he would be alright. The priest of your village warned you―more like threatened you―about involving yourself with the devil as he put it. ‘Those beasts are not to be trusted. They are demons in disguise. Filth. Inhuman.’

You obviously ignored the old man, having no time with such lies. That beast was the most kindest creature you know. He was more caring than any human you've ever met. He understood you, heard you, got to know you. Everyone in the village only looked at you as the witch's daughter, the spawn of the devil herself. You were nothing and the only way to be something was to submit. Be one with god, marry the priest and prove you were devoted to the lord.

“Soldat! Soldat where are you!!” You called in the blistering winds, repeating the fake name he gave you when you first met. You see, he was in fact a demon, just like the priest had screamed at you, but he was more. He was a gargoyle, one of Lilith's children, trapped, bound to the ruined castle just beyond the village. One of the priests from the before had managed to get his real name and trap him with a blood curse, locking him to only do the bidding of the said man. But now that Soldat was alone, he had no way to break the curse, living the rest of the days in the place he called home, imprisoned by sunlight. You had climbed stairs and rock structures to get up to one of the garden points in the castle, seeing where your lover usually lays, under a concrete arch, empty and bare. Where was he?

You called again but this time your voice got caught in your throat as a giant rumble crashed down to the earth's core. Soldat’s wings were spread wide, having landed only mere meters from you. His huge form was hunched over, his palms spread out on the wet pavement. He had tears in his cold eyes. “I told you to never come back! Why do you not listen.” his voice bellowed around you into the forestry beyond, having enough power to shake the trees.

“I can’t leave you Soldat. Please.” Your tears were covered by the heavy rain pour, your hair sticking to your red puffy face. You couldn’t just forget about him, not now that he had tainted you. He was yours and you, his. And you were going to fight for it, until your last breath.”Look at me!”

Your yelp got the demon's attention, making him stand at all his height. His fanged mouth growled, annoyed but also riddled with guilt. He would never thought the night he had with you was a mistake. Frankly, it was one, if not the best moment in his lifetime. But he needed to keep his distance from you. He needed you safe. Protected, alive. And he was something that was unable to do so. He was filth. A demon. You are this light. Innocent human. He shouldn’t, he can’t be the one that taints such a delicate flower. “Darling, please. I… I can’t.”

You stomped over to his form pushing on his strong broad chest. He fell with little effort landing on the wet concrete, soaking the fabric that wrapped around his waist. He could have held his ground not letting you move his large body with such ease, but he didn’t want to. He needed you close no matter how hard his mind was fighting him. You wasting no time in locking your lips against his. If talking wasn’t going to work then you were going to show him that he was meant for you. You needed him like the air you breathe and he wasn’t about to make the choice to die and leave you alone on this earth without you trying your best to stop him.

“Don’t leave me.” You whispered against his lips, feeling his long demonic tongue slip into your mouth. You moaned climbing the creature so your legs dangled over each of his crossed thighs. His hand, the same width as your waist, held tightly on your hip while the other cupped your face, holding you firmly in place. His tongue abused your own for a moment, basking in the rain now only lightly pouring. His nose brushed against yours, lips moving from yours, to your jaw, and then to your collarbone.

“I’ll never leave you my flower. I promise. I’m sorry.” His voice was raw, filled with pain and sorrow. He would never want you to fear such a thing but in toe, had made the fear brew from his outburst. You slide down off his lap falling in between his thighs. Your fingers quickly fumble with his cloth before tugging his growing cock free. The cold rain pouring down made the demon hiss, but your warm hands made his mind spin. Your fingers could barely wrap around the almost hardened cock. Now looking at him probably you now wonder how it even fitted in you in the first place. Your mouth took his tip, jaw aching at the sheer size of him. but you bushed forwards sucking on him making him groan, dipping his head backwards. Your mouth felt amazing even if you couldn’t take him whole. Your whimpers and gags vibrated on his cock in the perfect way and your harsh grip was sending him over the edge. “fuck, if you keep going I’m gonna cum down that pretty throat of yours.”

His growl went straight to your pussy, making you try and take more of him in your mouth, letting saliva drip down your chin, soaking his cock along with his precum. You used one hand to continue stroking him while you used another to slip under your soaked dress, pressing your fingers firmly on your clit. Your moans were the perfect missing piece to send him over the edge, emptying his hot seed down your throat. “Fuck!!” his hand that held your face snaked and tighten in your hair, holding your still as he jerked his hips slightly. You pulled away making some of his juices squirt out on your face.

God, was it a sight to see.

Your wide eyes looking at him with nothing but devotion while covered in his cum.  How did he ever get so lucky finding you in such a cruel dark world? He sat up quickly, ripping all the fabric on your body, throwing the drenched tattered material somewhere across the garden. His huge hands gripped our thighs tugging you up until you sat on his chest, feeling some of your juices leak out onto his scarred body. You felt embarrassed, but your lover couldn’t think about anything in that moment other than having your pussy over his face. So with his insane strength, he lauds you forward, letting your cunt meet his lips. He pushed you down light so your body could lay on top of his while on your back. Tilting your face to the right you see his hardening cock twitch. His long demonic tongue licked a strip up your slit making your whole body visibly shivers. Your nails digging into his hips trying to hold onto any part of his giant frame. “Ffffucckk please!”

His tongue enters you, fucking you slowly as one of his hands lays flat on your tummy pushing pressure onto your body and making your toes curl. His other hand that still gripped tightly on your inner thigh opens slightly so his large thumb could reach your clit, pressing harshly on your nub. He could eat you for hours and never get tired of the way your body moves, the way it responds to every touch he gives or the way you moan and whimper his name over and over again. It was like an angel singing. Elegant, perfect and pure

“Hmm come.” His voice was almost not audible as he kept eating you like a starved beast making the vibrations hit just the right spot to send you reeling over the edge. He gave you no time to relax after your high though as your demonic lover picked you up with no effort at all and bend you over the concrete statue seat that he would sit at for centuries waiting for freedom. All your clothing had been ripped and torn away at this point leaving you completely baring in the cold dark night. The rain had not stopped but only got lighter for a moment before pouring some more. You would surely get sick after this encounter if you were not to leave at this moment. But neither of you made an effort to find shelter or privacy. No, he needed you now just as much as you to him. “Deep breaths Darling.”

His deep grumble was almost lost under the loud blanket of rain echoing in the night. But luckily you hear him, taking a deep breath, steadying yourself on the rock. The tip of his cock rubbed against your soaked folds, before inching in slowly. The burn was pleasurable but still painful. But you couldn’t care at this moment. Another inch went in and the demon had to pace himself, screaming over and over in his mind not to just snap his hips, making you take his cock in one quick swoop. No, he needed patience, even though he was no patient creature. But he managed to find some, only for you. Once he was able to completely bottoming you out. You were both a panting and moaning mess. Your whines didn’t stop as he started to buck his hips in and out. In and out. Testing the waters, seeing what you could handle. And once he saw a green light, his grip on your hips tightened as he began to ruthlessly fuck you against the rough concrete.

Your screams caught the breeze, shattering through the heavy sound of rain. He had turned you around in one single movement need to to feel your body close to his. Your legs couldn’t even wrap fully around your lovers huge waist as he continued fuck you hard and quick.

“Fuck Darling. You feel so good. So tight. Taking my monster cock in such a small body. Good girl.” he snapped his hips with every word. “My. Good. Girl.”

It didn’t take you long for your band in your tummy to tighten. You were so close to the edge and you needed just a little extra. Just a little more. And The demon seemed to read your body like his favourite book, pinching your clit with his large fingers you whaled his name squirting all over his cock. “PLease fuck argh. Your cock is so good. Fuckkk.”

He growled like an animal, latching his sharp teeth on your soft shoulder, wrapping his muscular arms around your tiny human frame. He picked you up, fucking upwards in a new angle. Your body was like a rag doll, letting him fuck you in any position he seemed fit.  His wings caged you, almost like he was protecting you while he also ruining you.

For a beast that seemed to only want to fuck, he cared so much about you. Without him ever saying it, he knew you were the love of his life and he was willing to die for you. Heck, he had already killed for you. And he could kill again if you asked. No matter what the code says about demons hurting humans. He would gladly serve an eternal sentence if it means hurting the ones who hurt you first.

“I’m gonna cum in this ruined cunt of you. Hmm, baby. You gonna take this demon seed?”

“Yes, yes. Please. Give it to me.” and with your soft submissive cries he came deep in your cunt. Filling your full. His come mixed with yours, spilling down his legs, before washing away on the wet floor. His cock slipped out of you but he did not let you down. No, he opened his wings and took off towards the castle without another world. He held you tightly as you watched the garden where he had just defiled you disappear into your view. He was taking you back to his den. The home he had to made for himself. Away from any human or beast's eye.

Were he could tend to you and make sure you were okay and possibly―Most definitely―fuck you some more.

[lisenberry]

Blend In

Suggestive/Explicit Language, Mystery 141 x F!Reader.

MDNI!

1111k words (heavy on the -ish)

For @the-californicationist Nameless Challenge!

Congrats on 500K words, Cali!!

Put your guess in the comments as to who you think it is!

You had no idea why you’d been chosen for this assignment, but you were not going to argue.  Certainly not with him.

Keeping any doubts to yourself, you checked the mirror in the bathroom one last time before exiting into the hotel room you shared with your teammate.  Well, not your teammate yet, but if all went well, your fingers were crossed for a spot on his elite task force. 

“What do you think, sir?”

As a mere corporal, just about everyone had a higher rank than you.  There was the distinguished Captain Price, Lieutenant Riley, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish.  Big (huge) shoes to fill, but you were ready to prove yourself.

“It’ll…do,” he muttered, turning his head quickly towards the surveillance equipment set up on the nearby desk.  “And don’t call me that.  We’re undercover, remember?” 

“Do I get a code name or something?  You all have badass nicknames, and I’m just...the new girl.”  You shrugged your shoulders and tried not to fuss over the plunging depth of your neckline that barely covered your pushed-up boobs, or the uncomfortable way the fabric hugged your hips.

“No, New Girl is the new girl.  You’re—Ah, fuck.  Here we go.  Time to get out there.”  He picked up something on the camera feed of the hotel’s ballroom and pointed to it with his finger.  “Target’s moving.”

“Who picked this dress?  I thought I was supposed to blend in.  It’s obscene for a wedding.”

“Not for an oligarch’s wedding.  Tits up, back straight, and do your job.”  He gave you one last look over, dragging his gaze up to meet yours, finally, before giving you an encouraging nod.

“Aye, aye.  Sir.”  You couldn’t help but add the last with a bold smirk.  Maybe it was the dress, or the mission, or the unexpected glint in his eye, but you had a good feeling about this.

********

You’d been gone for only ten minutes, and he was already doubting every aspect of this assignment.  As the only fluent Russian speaker who didn’t scream special forces in the ranks, you’d been the easy choice.  But you were also soft around the edges, and sweet as hell, with a smile and an inner kindness that would lower anyone’s defenses. 

What the fuck you were doing in the military, or how you’d made it this far, he had yet to figure out.

He’d only agreed to this at all because the stakes were low, as was the risk of danger.  All you needed was a cigarette butt or a discarded champagne glass.   A piece of cutlery left behind on a tray.  Even just a partial fingerprint would be enough for Laswell to make a positive ID.

He was not prepared for you to strike up a conversation with the third most lethal psychopath on the watch list, or let him put his hand on your ass and squeeze you close to his hips as he whispered suggestively in your ear. 

“Careful, sweetling,” your commanding officer gritted low into his radio.  The comms device in your ear was undetectable, but he didn’t want to startle you or alert the target that you were in contact with someone.

It could also pick up your conversation, not that he understood any of what you were saying.   It seemed to be mostly flirty banter and coy laughter.  The man was obviously trying to get in you back to his room.

He didn’t know much Russian, but he knew enough about men’s appetites to get the idea.  He’d had his own thoughts, just the good sense not to say them out loud.

And he could not believe what he was seeing on the camera.  A sudden, sinking flood of anxiety made him jump in his chair and clench his fists at the stress.  You were going with the man, following him as he escorted you out somewhere beyond the surveillance feed.

“Do not leave that ballroom.  I can’t track you out there.  Get back.  Abort!”

He knew you could hear him, but you weren’t following orders.  Being ignored was most certainly the root of his blinding rage, not his concern for your safety.  Or the hungry way the bastard had looked at you in the dress he’d handpicked himself for the way the color made your skin practically glow. 

The cut and size may have been a miscalculation, he admitted to himself, as he checked the clip in his handgun and hurried toward the door.   

“Fucking hell.  You’re going to get yourself killed, and if you don’t, then I’ll do it myself.  When I get my bloody hands on you, Cupcake, I swear—”

“Cupcake?  That’s the best you can do?”  You stood on the other side of the door, with your hands on your hips as he pulled it open, with a fierceness you’d only heard about from other recruits.

Suddenly directed at you, it was worse than you’d imagined.  He looked ready for war as his words caught in his throat. 

“There you are.  You’re alright?”

“I got his prints on my purse, his DNA on my tits, and a retina scan on my phone.  And his phone, for shits and giggles.”  You quickly held up your loot for his inspection, before he could catch his breath long enough to lecture you on your recklessness.

He swiped a big hand along his mouth for composure, but he still looked like he wanted to kill something.  Mostly you.

“DNA?”  His eyes darkened quickly, somehow even more than before, as he looked from your face to your aforementioned tits.

“Saliva, big guy.  I’m committed, but not that committed.  Calm down.”  But he didn’t of course, because you’d never actually seen him relaxed.  At least not around you. 

You’d heard stories that he was a generally likable bloke once you got to know him.  Earned his trust.  Maybe someday you would get to see that side of him.  From the looks of it, this wasn’t it.

“Your country thanks you for your service.”  He deadpanned, not appreciating your snark.  

“What about you, sir?  Did I make the team?”  You shifted on your heels hopefully, still brimming with energy from knocking out a man twice your size, watching him piss himself, and staging the scene to look like he’d passed out on his own.

“I’ll put in a request to my commanding officer as soon as we get back.” 

“Really?”  You stifled the urge to hug him in your excitement.

“No.  You’re never allowed to leave the base again.”

You weren’t deterred as you rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue behind his back.  You’d wear him down.  One way or another.

[elliespassagerprincess]

Scream for me - finale (ellie willams x reader)

This is the final part of the series:)

Part 1

Part 2

Pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are always open! feel free to send one:)

Warnings: HUGE warning for this one: detailed descriptions of torture, death, murder, blood, knives, body mutilation

Summary: maybe she should've killed you

(If you want to be added to my future works, just leave a comment and ill add you to the tag list)

Abby Anderson. Ghostface’s most brutal kill yet. Everybody knew Ghostface was a violent killer, but fuck this was on a whole other level.

Abby Anderson, aged 21. Eyes missing, fingernails pulled off. Almost every fucking bone in her body was crushed. The girl was beaten beyond recognition. 13 teeth pulled out, and her fingertips burned to a crisp. Instead of having the classic 20 stab wounds, Abby had over 100 wounds. It took them weeks to identify her body, and that’s exactly what Ellie wanted. She didn’t want people to know who Abby was. Abby didn’t deserve it in her eyes, and Ellie hoped she was burning in hell for trying to get close to her girl.

The night of Abby’s death, you had walked in on Ellie torturing the innocent girl, when you fainted Ellie had to think of a plan.

 You walked in on her. This was bad. What would happen when you wake up?  Will you call the cops?. You looked scared. Where you scared of her?

She picked up your unconscious body and gently placed you onto your bed. Ellie ran her fingers across your cheek, and slowly placed a kiss onto your cheek

“I’m sorry you had to see that baby” she whispered “I have to kill her to keep you safe”

And just like that she got up and left your room closing the door behind her. As soon as she stood outside she was filled with rage.

This was all Abby’s fault. Abby woke you up. Abby scared you.

Ellie walked back to where Abby sat and smiled at the sight: Blood dripping onto the floor, Abby’s entire body swollen and bruised, her wounds looked infected already.

 She slapped Abby across her face and she let out a muffled cry.

“You woke her up” Ellie practically screamed “you-you fucking made her hate me” Ellie said as she slapped Abby on the other side of her face.

Ellie sat on the cold floor breathing heavily. If she didn’t stop herself, she would kill Abby. That was the plan, but not yet, not now. To Ellie’s irritation Abby wouldn’t shut up. She just kept crying and begging.

“Jesus fucking Christ can you shut the fuck up” Ellie yelled.

She needed to think. She needed something that would hurt her. And her eyes landed on her favorite knife. A smile grew on Ellie’s face as she got up and picked it up.

 “She’s a pretty girl” Ellie started as she brought the knife up to her face “she’s my pretty girl and I don’t like it when dirty sluts like you look at her”

 And without a second thought Ellie brought the knife into Abby’s right eye. The pure shock in Abby’s remaining eye made Ellie chuckle. She slowly wiggled the knife out of Abby’s eye socket and she pulled out the entire eye ball, blood seeped from the empty eye socket, and Abby was screaming. Ellie removed the eyeball and took it between her two fingers.

“I thought it would be squishier” she said as she examined the eye, she threw it behind her “lets see if the other one is softer”

Tonight was going to be a long night

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

“That’s not true” you whispered in disbelief.

“It is” Ellie said trying to convince you.

When Ellie was eventually done with Abby, she wrapped Abby’s body plastic wrap and she cleaned your floors.

“can’t let my girl wake up to a dirty house” Ellie thought.

 Ellie didn’t mind being all bloody, because this was a part of her plan. She would tell you she came over to thank you for the other night, and Abby attacked her.

Ellie was the victim. She killed Abby in self-defense.

 She hoped you believed her

“No” you shouted “Abby would never do that” you cried tears running down your cheeks.

Why the fuck were you crying for someone who was only going to hurt you?

“I’m sorry baby” Ellie whispered, “but she brought it upon herself”

Ellie moved closer to you, bringing you in for tight embrace, she felt how tense you were but she still continued hugging you, taking in your scent.

This is everything she’s always wanted.

“Ellie” you whispered

With a content smile she pulled away “yeah baby”

“I’m going to fucking kill you”

“What?”

And everything went black for Ellie.

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

Ellie had a pounding headache when she woke up. She couldn’t move. She was tied up?

“You know” she heard your voice say “it’s not nice killing people”

Ellie watched your movements in silence. In shock.

 How could someone so pretty be so evil?

 “You killed my best friend” you continued as you held the knife Ellie used to gauge Abby’s eyes out. The blade still wet with her blood. You brought the knife to your lips, and licked the blood off. If Ellie wasn’t tied up right now she would be turned on.  

You were doing this for Abby. You weren’t going to let her die without justice.

You walked over to her, dragging the knife down her left thigh.

“it’s time to give you a taste of your own medicine” And with that you brought the blade down stabbing Ellie in the thigh, Ellie let out an ear piercing scream.

“That’s it baby” you whispered with a wicked grin “scream for me”

Ellie let out another painful scream at the feeling.

She should’ve fucking killed you.

Ellie Williams. Aged 23. Her body was found brutilized, with over 43 stab wounds.

This was a new era of Ghostface. People thought Ghostface just became more violent, more sadistic. But little do they know, the pretty girl the real Ghsotface fell in love with took her place.

And she’s worse than Ellie.

Authors note: Thank you so much for the support on this series! Remember you are loved, and to always be kind:)

Yours truly,

Zia <3

My pookies <3 (the tag list): @macaroni676 @mqddieas @uraesthete @igoferalforelliewilliams @ellieseyesonly

[r3dr3ality]

PuppyLove(it is what I'm calling it)or JackAce fem fanart <3

Mini Rant under the cut

I have a lot of irks when it comes to genderbends because people don't know how to keep a characters traits when turning them to the other gender(this is specifically for genderbending into a female), but one that annoys me beyond believe is people not keeping a male character's muscles in their fem design! I have seen this so much with Leona, Jack, and Sebek.

People completely get rid of their muscles and just make them skinny, big chested women when that doesn't even make sense! Big breasts are generally just fat, which super muscular characters like the three I just listed don't have a lot of, so giving them huge breasts doesn't make sense. And why won't people give them their muscles? Big muscular women are hella attractive!

I know in this drawing you can't see fem Jack's muscles, but you also can't exactly tell in Jacks regular uniform either soo... I'll probably do another JackAce drawing with fem Jack's muscles on display because they are currently rotting my brain.

[lickmycoffeecup]

I’m normally never up this early, but couldn’t get back to sleep, so lets goooo

TMAGP 26 spoilers

I can’t believe we got a sexual implication/innuendo warning for that joke 😂

And I guess kinda what happens at the end but /hand wave

ALICE IS SO SMART, and I am so worried for her. Sam has shared very little of his ‘Magnusing’ with her beyond their little trip to the burned down building. AND SHE PIECED IT TOGETHER WITH NOTHING BUT HEARING “Archivist.” Seriously, Celia and Sam should involve her, they would have solved this shit already.

Also, is it weird the OIAR’s system DOESN’T include an ‘Archivist’ category? Cause that seems weird 👀

The statement was interesting, but mainly [ERROR] MY BELOVED ❤️

I love it when they show up. I’m a Vast girlie, but The Eye has a special place in my heart.

Its curious that [ERROR] is literally scaring people to death. That seems really counter intuitive, cause you can’t really control how long it will be until someone dies, and you have to move on to someone else. Death was always just a result in TMA, not usually the goal. Not that I think [ERROR] is trying to kill people.

But it really feels like that part of Jon that just had a need to feed, stumbling upon random people with trauma, and asking for their story to get a fresh meal.

Also brings up what comes with having an addiction.

Something about the statement it was taking though. It didn’t sound supernatural. Neither did the drowning lady Alice came into contact with.

If I had to guess, maybe these people experienced someone dying themselves? Why else would you run like you’re being chased like that? If you weren’t afraid of the same thing you witnessed happening to you?

Thats just speculation, but guess we’ll see.

Oh, some thoughts cause I saw @/hemi-demi(❤️) talking about it. “An” is definitely a curious descriptor. Cause not only does it imply ‘more than one,’ which might explain how we keep seeing [ERROR] in the places we do. That they are not a singular being. It feels like a call back to Jon being “The Archivist” and eventually “The Archives.” It divorces that sense of self and humanity, that just makes me love [ERROR] even more. (Oh you say you’re not human? TOO BAD, I LOVE YOU ANYWAY.)

Now onto the best part.

HELEN.

Does anyone else think it’s wild that she’s also a real estate agent in this universe? CAUSE SHE SEEMED SUS AS HELL. The laugh, the willingness to help, giving them a list to possibly dangerous places.

Of any of the fears I would expect to be hard to kill, The Spiral is it. I would not be surprised if this is our Helen. Cause its WAY too convenient for her to be a real estate agent, have connections to The Magnus Institute, and be just SO HAPPY to help.

HELEN IM WATCHING YOU.

But also it was so nice to hear her again.

Imogen loves Helen more than anyone, and I just know she was so excited to voice her again.

Also I LOVE how unnerved Celia was by Helen. Never beating those originally from the TMA universe allegations. I need Celia thrown off balance more. SLIP UP! SLIP UP!

I’m with Chester, thats a huge nah from me, listening to people get it on 😂

Also Chester not beating the asexual allegations, same bro.

This was a fun episode! A lot going on! The sense of dread at the approaching finale is not getting any better. But I get excited every time Tuesday rolls around now!

[sergeantsporks]

Dadrius Week 2024 Day 5: Grimwalker

Luz quietly closed Hunter’s door behind her, tilting her head back at the room beyond. “Is it just me, or does Hunter seem a bit… listless? I haven’t seen him this low energy since…”

“Since the Day of Unity,” Amity said grimly. Luz hadn’t wanted to think it, but Amity confirmed the lingering feeling in the back of her head. “Actually, I think he looked more alive then. You think it’s just the blood loss?”

“That’s definitely what he wants us to think.” Luz scratched the back of her neck. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just bummed about Darius dumping him here. I know I’d be pretty upset if Eda ditched me with Darius.”

“You’d probably chase after her, though,” Amity said with a laugh, “I don’t think Darius could keep ahold of you.”

“True. But that’s what has me worried about Hunter. Either, unlikely, Darius is trying to get rid of him, or Darius is in danger—both those options would usually have him pacing frantically trying to figure out a solution. And he was at first, but it’s like he just… dropped off. It’s probably just the blood loss, like you said, but…” Luz shook her head. “I don’t know. Something seems wrong, Amity.”

“Maybe his painkillers were wearing off.” Amity gave Luz a quick peck on the cheek. “He just had a flight here, on top of it all. Give him a few hours, make sure you’re following whatever instructions the healer gave him, and see if he improves. And get Eda back. Why’d she just leave like that?”

“I think Darius left her with a grocery list. Which is, of course, an excuse to get out of here before we could interrogate her. Maybe that was her plan all along, to let Hunter tire himself out making up his own theories before he could get any information out of her.”

Amity laughed. “Well, whatever the case, wait for her before you take any huge leaps, okay? I’ll see what I can wriggle out of my dad. I’ll pull the ol’ ‘don’t you want to make up for lost time by telling me everything about your work now?’ card, works like a charm.”

Amity disappeared down the path with a wave, and Luz sighed. She was probably right. Still. She rifled through the papers Darius had handed off. Besides the foods list Eda had taken with her, she could see medication times, underlined reminders to keep him hydrated but not let him near caffeine, and… A chill ran down Luz’s spine. Instructions for how to recognize if Hunter’s wound was infected.

Darius had given him the wound. Sure, the healer was probably perfectly good at her job, but if abomination had gotten stuck in there, she could imagine it would wreck absolute havoc on him. Luz bounded back up the stairs, quietly pushing open the door to Hunter’s room. He’d curled up in a little ball, already fast asleep. Luz frowned. That definitely wasn’t normal—she couldn’t recall a single time when Hunter had managed to go to sleep in under an hour.

She knelt next to him, carefully putting the back of her hand to his forehead. No fever. His arm didn’t look swollen or red from what she could see around the bandages. There was one last test… Luz leaned in, sniffing his arm.

“What are you doing?” Hunter mumbled sleepily. He pushed at her face with his good hand. “Why are you acting so weird?”

Luz pushed him back. “I was concerned about your well-being and the non-infected status of your arm, but fine, I won’t bother next time.”

“Good,” he grumbled, “I’m not infected. Just… tired.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, Luz. It’s just…” his eyes drifted shut again, and Luz cleared her throat. “It’s just the blood… lossssss…”

He closed his eyes again, and this time, Luz let him. She wandered back into the living room Maybe Amity was right. She just… really didn’t want to overlook a big problem that could seriously hurt him. Not again.

“When Eda gets back,” she told herself, and as if by magic, a knock sounded on the owl house door. But instead of Eda when Luz opened it, Darius stood there, looking strangely desperate.

“Is Hunter alright?” he asked, “Have you noticed anything strange?”

“Um—hey—it hasn’t been that long.” Luz rubbed the back of her head. “But, uh… he’s been pretty tired. That’s not weird, right? I mean, with the blood loss and all. He seems to think it’s fine.”

“Do you know—the day he got injured, was he wearing gloves when you saw him at school?”

Luz blinked. That was an… oddly specific question. “I’m not sure,” she admitted, “I don’t think so? He hasn’t worn them in a while, not unless he’s doing plant work, or maybe potions. Darius, is something wrong?”

The big man sagged like he’d been punched. “The sigil,” he murmured, “Hunter doesn’t have magic—but why would it do this, it doesn’t make…”

Luz’s heart started to thud against her ribcage. “The sigil?” she echoed, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s been activated,” Darius told her, “Mine, too—but just enough to drain my abomination magic, nothing that’s been exhausting me. Not like the Day of Unity.”

Luz put a hand to her mouth. “Hunter’s not a regular witch,” she whispered, “He’s—he’s—”

“A grimwalker,” Darius cursed, “How could I forget—how could I overlook that? Of course it affects him differently, of course—he doesn’t have a bile sack, so it must be pulling his energy directly.” Darius paced back and forth. “Where is he? I’m taking him home. Thank you, Luz, and let Eda know that I apologize for the switch, but he’s coming back with me.”

Xxx

The moment the words left Darius’ mouth, a small voice in the back of his head said ‘that’s not right,’ but his mouth wouldn’t work to take his declaration back, and too late, he realized that the concealment stone did nothing to hide his hair—it had turned into abomination on its own.

No. No, no, no, no—

Darius wanted to scream, but Luz led him to another door without a question. “He’ll be really glad,” she told him, “He was worried about you. Is there anything I can—”

“No, thank you,” Darius’ mouth said, even as he pounded his fists against the walls of his own mind, demanding to be let out, for Luz to notice something was wrong, for Eda to come home and stop him, anything. Yellow tinged the corners of his vision, and while Darius was pretty sure the thing controlling him just didn’t want Luz to be able to notice he was being controlled, it felt almost as if they wanted him to watch.

Luz left him, and Darius pushed the door open. Hunter lay curled up in a bedroll, his breathing short and quick. If Darius had thought he looked pale and sickly before, he was a ghost now, barely there at all.

“Hunter,” he called with a gentleness that sickened him, knowing what hid behind it, “Hunter, wake up.”

Hunter’s eyes slid open a crack. “Darius?” he croaked.

“I’m here. I’m sorry to have left you, but I’m fixing it now. You were right. We’re going home—get up.”

Hunter lurched to his feet, stumbling forward until he leaned against Darius for support. “I don’t… feel so…”

DON’T TOUCH HIM, Darius screamed at the thing controlling him, but against his will, his arm moved to wrap around Hunter, his hand settling against Hunter’s wounded arm. Hunter flinched, but didn’t pull away. A year ago, he would have, a year ago, he’d scooted out of range like a kicked puppy every time Darius made a sudden movement. Now, Darius wanted to scream at the unfairness that was Hunter’s hard-won trust being used against him like this.

Believe that I’m out to hurt you, Darius begged him, Please, go back to that, believe that was intentional, because this time it is, and you need to run.

Not that a half-conscious, teleportation-less Hunter would be able to outrun him, especially now that he had his magic back. But still, Darius felt sick.

“Everything will be alright,” his voice soothed Hunter instead. Abomination magic swallowed the two of them whole, but they didn’t resurface at home. Instead, they appeared in the Bat Queen’s forest, right next to the palistrom sapling. Steve startled to attention, his eyes quickly sizing up the situation. For a brief moment, Darius let himself feel a glimmer of hope that he’d be able to stop this, but almost immediately, his magic lashed out, slamming Steve against a tree. Hunter cried out, and pulled away from him, staggering his way towards Steve.

“Why’d you do that?! Darius—”

“He’s been compromised—it’s not his fault, but we can’t trust him. They have control over him.” Darius’ voice took on that oozing gentleness. “I’m sorry I frightened you.” His magic flowed around Steve, binding him to a tree. “We’ll send someone to take care of him. He’ll be alright.”

Darius’ arm formed a shovel, and he dug at the palistrom sapling, looking for its roots. So that was the reason they’d targeted him. It wasn’t just about the magic; they’d been after the tree. Steve never would have been able to beat him in a fight, so he was the best person for the job. Whoever had him had gotten a lot better at finer skills, but they still weren’t perfect, and Darius winced every time the shovel whacked against the tree’s delicate trunk.

Hunter’s good arm wrapped around Darius’, tugging fruitlessly against him. Even Hunter going deadweight on him wouldn’t stop the digging. “Stop it—Darius, stop!”

“We have to move it,” Darius’ voice told Hunter, “It’s not safe here—don’t you want to take care of it?”

“Of course I do—but the roots—you’ve got to get the dirt with them, or you’re just going to chop through and kill it.”

The thing controlling Darius seemed to consider for a moment, then stepped back with a nod. “I’m glad you’re with me,” his voice told Hunter, and Darius wanted to gouge his eyes out rather than see the startled, happy-proud look on Hunter’s face. It’s a trap! They’re using you, just like they’re using me!

His magic cut into the ground around the palistrom tree, scooping it out of the earth and bundling it up tightly.

Hunter huffed a short sigh of relief. “We can go home now, right?”

The yellow on the edges of Darius’ vision exploded, turning the forest into a haze of gold. Hunter stepped back, horror and realization dawning in his eyes, but too late. Just before Darius lost all awareness, he saw his hand quickly grip Hunter’s wrist, and heard his own voice slithering through his ears.

“Yes. Let’s go home.”

Darius didn’t know how long his body paraded around without him this time, but when he could see again, a horribly familiar yellow-and-blue stared down at him through the bars of a cell.

Darius surged to his feet, equal amounts of panic, rage, and betrayal flooding through him. “You-!”

“Good morning. You must have been exhausted; you know, you’ve been asleep ever since you arrived yesterday afternoon.”

Darius stopped short. This wasn’t the Collector. He stood almost as tall as Darius himself, and wrinkles creased his face. Most startling were the dark furs he wore, the complete opposite of the gauzy pastels the Collector appeared in. This wasn’t the Collector—or a hypothetical Archivist relative. He was just a regular witch.

Which meant he could easily be killed.

Darius lunged forward, reaching through the bars and wrapping his hands around the man’s neck before he could move away.

“You’ll regret what you did to us,” he snarled. He remembered, uncomfortably, the way his hands had wrapped around Hunter’s throat like this, too, but he pushed the uncertainty away. This wasn’t Hunter. This wasn’t poor Steve. This was the person who’d taken control of his body. This was the person who’d forced him to hurt Hunter, who’d used him to pull up the palistrom tree. Strangulation was the kindest fate Darius could wish on him.

The witch raised his fist, unconcerned, and opened his hand, one finger at a time. Darius’ own fingers uncurled against his will, dropping the man.

“No need for that. I’m sure we can talk this out like reasonable people.”

“Where’s Hunter?” Darius demanded.

“Don’t you remember? No, I suppose not.”

An icy chill ran down Darius’ spine. What had happened? What had he done? He remembered how this man had been in his head, had made him think he should snap Hunter’s neck while he slept, and panic started to close its claws around his chest.

A small smirk twitched across the puppeteer’s lips, as if he could see into Darius’ mind and had been hoping for that exact reaction. “No need to fear. He’s right there.”

Darius hadn’t taken in much of his surroundings before immediately trying to kill the strange witch, but now that he did, he saw that his was not the only cage. About five cells lined the wall, and in the one next to him, Hunter lay curled in a ball on the floor, panting as if he’d run for miles.

“Let him go,” Darius demanded, “You don’t need him.”

The witch laughed incredulously. “Are you serious? With the power he’s provided?” He whistled. “That galderstone heart is something else.. His own magical energy—which wasn’t much—is bouncing around in there, amplified by his heart, and the more we take, the more it amplifies to replace the loss. We might not even need any other witches with the way you two have been filling our quota.”

“Your… quota?”

“Ah, yes. I suppose you wouldn’t know who we are.”

“Archivist worshippers,” Darius guessed, “You’re painted like the Collector…” That explained Alador and Viney’s confusing findings and the half familiarity of the curse—the spell was the Collector’s, but put into place by the magic of Isles witches. Which was all very well and good, but what could they want?

“We prefer the term ‘titan trappers,’” the witch corrected, “Much more related to what we do.” An ugly grin spread across his face. “With the energy we’re amassing and using the palistrom tree as a conduit, we’ll be able to open a gateway for the Archivists; the titan will be so busy watching the skies, they’ll never suspect a portal over the sea. So… thank you for your contributions.”

“What?!” Darius hissed, “They don’t need a gateway! Did you not get the message? The Collector—”

“The Great Huntsman,” the titan trapper spoke over him, “Would approve our efforts. We may have failed to free him over a year ago, but we will not fail him again.” He flashed Darius a sickly-sweet smile. “Thanks to our newest member.”

Darius growled, lunging forward again, but the trapper stepped out of reach and disappeared down the hallway with a laugh.

Darius slumped against the wall of the cell. He reached for his magic, but he knew already from his stationary hair that it was gone. “I should have let Alador put me under observation. At least there would have been some warning. Maybe they could have stopped me, or Eda could have, or…” He sighed, glancing back at the other cell. “At least you wouldn’t have been dragged down with me.”

“Mmm.” Hunter lifted his head slightly, his eyes burning magenta deep in their sockets. “I’m… ssssorry. I…”

He dropped again, exhausted from the effort.

“This was never your fault,” Darius told him quietly, “Not even because you came to rescue me.”

“Should have… realized…”

“While you were half asleep from the gaping wound in your arm, and the constant drain of your energy? You may be observant, but everyone has their limits, little prince. How are your energy levels? Worse than before? Better? About the same?”

“Um… worse… I think.”

That sounded… well, it sounded like the spell was taking more energy than Hunter could replace. If it was connected to his heart, and his heart was amplifying what Hunter had… what happened when there was nothing left to amplify?

“We need to get out of here. No chance you can use your magic, is there?”

Hunter shook his head, dragging himself towards Darius. “Tried to… teleport. Couldn’t.”

Darius growled softly. “I certainly can’t.”

Hunter leaned against the bars between them, breathing heavily. “What are we…” he took another deep breath, and Darius could see the effort it took him to form his next words. “…going to do?”

Darius took his hand. “I’m getting you out of here,” he said fiercely, “I am going to find whatever is stealing your magic, and I’m going to smash it into a thousand pieces, just like you did for me. And then I shall drown that wretched titan trapper in abomination matter.”

“Mmm… well, at least your hair is coming back… that’s a good sign, right?”

“What?” Darius reached up, barely daring to hope. His hair—it was abomination again, but only for a moment, before it disappeared again. “That was…”

Hunter shifted, reaching through the bars and touching Darius’ hand again.

Darius’ hair turned to abomination beneath his fingers.

“Galderstone heart,” he breathed, “You’re amplifying my magical ability and giving me the boost to break through the sigil’s magic.

Darius quickly released the magic holding his hair in place. He didn’t know if his own magic using Hunter’s amplification would drain him, but he didn’t intend on finding out for his fashion sense. He took Hunter’s hand again. “I think I can get us out of here. Will you be alright if I use your power?”

Hunter nodded faintly. “I trust you,” he whispered.

Darius had meant physically alright, but the three words warmed his heart. Hunter had no reason to trust him; they both knew that the titan trappers could regain control of Darius any time they wanted. And yet…

Darius gave Hunter’s hand a squeeze, summoning all the magic he could muster. “I’m getting you out of here. I promise.”

[astramachina]

Do you like spooky stuff? Do you like cringefail MCs who are both pathetic little men and the worst people imaginable? Do you like anti-colonialist narratives and gothics featuring POC characters desperate to break out of generational cycles of abuse? Then let me tell you about my novel.

The Unbinding of Wicked Things

Mile High Paranormal struck it big as one of YouTube's premier ghost hunting shows of 2021, but following the tragic death of one of its beloved hosts, sibling producers Nick and Kim decide to pull the plug on their beloved post-college project. Determined to go out in a blaze of glory and amidst the throes of internet notoriety, Nick devises the perfect plan for the perfect series finale: an investigation at a location so remote and obscure not even locals dare speak of its existence. Beyond the idyllic hills of Moorwich, England stands Blackthorn Manor, an ancient manor house whose shuttered doors keep the still-festering secrets of the Middleton family locked inside. Rumors of missing children, witchcraft, and illicit familial affairs plague the manor grounds and the neighboring village, dooming any family who dares take up residence on the land where blackthorn bushes grow. Fortunately, the MHP Team does not believe in the paranormal. Unfortunately, vivid nightmares of burning alive and episodes of misplaced time begin to affect Nick during their stay. Phantoms now stand outside the inn's windows, and bipedal hounds chase him towards a monster that screams its lament in the dead of night. The thing about Nick Miller, however, is that he would do anything for the content.

COMING SOON.

I hope you also like unreliable narrators, gay shit, trans shit, and general ghost hunting infodumps. More info under the cut.

The Unbinding is an Adult genre fusion of gothic horror, dark romance, and "epistolary prose". It is also a fake memoir. Kind of like a burrito wrapped inside of another burrito.

Some influences behind the story include Crimson Peak, House of Leaves, Demon Theory, and I hesitate to list Episode Thirteen because that book actually came out after I wrote this, but it has a very similar style (which is in part why I ended up shelving this project for so long). Some less serious influences are Ghost Adventures, Grave Encounters, and a bunch of other ghost hunting related media. I'm just a huge sucker for that kind of thing, okay? I also love fucked up family dynamics, hence why gothics are just so *chef's kiss*.

The cast is mostly QPOC which means the story includes instances of homophobia, transphobia, racism, and general bigotry. Other trigger warnings include themes revolving around suicide, dysphoria, and plenty of death. But this is an Adult Horror, so like, bad things should be expected. Bad tings can and do happen. Explicitly.

Lastly, the tag for this project is "wip: the unbinding". Mostly for my sake.

[k-s-morgan]

Hiiii! Could you perhaps post a snippet of Atlwetd next chapter?

Hi! Yes, sure, I finally prepared something.

-----

“Can we not do this now?” Harry asked tiredly. His eyelids felt so heavy that he feared he might be physically unable to keep his eyes open. “The match starts in thirty minutes. I still need to force myself to eat something and to change. I’ve had a very bad night, and considering that I’ll have to evade Bludgers not just from Hufflepuffs but also from our own Beater while looking for the Snitch, my chances aren’t good. So I’d really appreciate it if you stopped adding yourself to my list of nuisances today!”

His outburst didn’t impress Riddle. He continued to study him, his eyes sharp and dissatisfied.

“Explain to me why you are so eager to defend some half-breed when you refuse to defend yourself,” he said. Clearly, he chose to dismiss Harry’s words altogether.

Aggravation stirred in his stomach, and Harry almost growled with it. Damn Riddle. Why could he never back off?

“Because I can take care of myself,” he snapped. The corners of Riddle’s mouth twitched.

“You had a bad night,” he echoed sardonically. “You are about to enter the field where you’ll have to evade Bludgers not just from Hufflepuffs but also from Graytwig, all the while looking for the Snitch. As you have eloquently put it, your chances aren’t good. So how exactly does that translate to you being able to take care of yourself?”

His headache grew worse. The pain pulsed in his temples, radiating unpleasant heat, and it took a huge effort to stop himself from yelling.

Sometimes it was completely impossible to deal with Riddle. He was like a dog with a bone, and he must have really hated Harry getting into trouble to protect Hagrid if he continued to harass him about it.

“Graytwig didn’t manage to knock me off my broom the last time and I won’t let him do it today,” Harry uttered through gritted teeth. His temper continued to crackle dangerously, and he knew he had to step carefully. “Hagrid is defenceless. I am not. Is that enough for you or do you—”

“You aren’t defenceless in theory,” Riddle pointed out darkly. His eyes flashed. “But as you refuse to defend yourself, I think the word fits. You haven’t followed my advice. You did nothing to make it clear that you are not to be interfered with. What do you think is going to happen today?”

That’s it.

“I don’t care!” Harry shouted. He knew that everyone who was still in the common room would hear him, but at the moment, it barely registered with him. “Let him do his worst! If Slytherin is that eager to lose, who am I to disappoint them?”

Riddle pursed his lips. Harry couldn’t tell what he was thinking and he was beyond caring. Jerking his tie in a fruitless attempt to make it look presentable, he crossed the bedroom and walked towards the stairs, bypassing Riddle. Or trying to. Because when he came close enough, Riddle grabbed him by his hand, gripping his index finger and twisting it back. His other hand wrapped around Harry’s waist, jerking him closer, and all his angry thoughts instantly vacated his mind. Harry stared, shocked into speechlessness.

Riddle was unexpectedly close. Throughout the months Harry had spent in his company, he had memorised his features well, but this close, they gained a new disturbing layer of almost supernatural beauty.

This, the arm around his waist, and the way Riddle was staring quickly sent a rush of blood to his head. Harry tried to recoil as his heart pounded unevenly, the remnants of his thoughts racing forward but failing to form any coherent conclusion.    

It was some… some mockery of an embrace. Despite the unbearable closeness, Riddle’s face remained dispassionate, his eyes calculating and cold in their assessment. Worse, he continued to crush Harry’s finger in his fist, slowly but unwaveringly bending it back.

“Have you ever tried to fly with broken bones?” he asked. “To catch the Snitch with numb fingers? How about sitting on a broom that keeps sending electric shocks through you whenever you change direction? Because these are the most innocent plans I know for a fact Graytwig has been nurturing. Are you still prepared to walk out there and ignore him?”

Blood kept roaring through Harry’s ears so loudly that it took him a while to interpret what Riddle was saying to him. Something was smouldering in his chest, in his stomach — his whole body felt on fire, and not in a good way. The confusing mix of fascination with Riddle’s face, the pain in his finger, and trepidation electrified every nerve ending he had, and all Harry wanted was to shake himself out of this daze and regain normalcy, whatever normalcy meant these days.

“I have,” he said finally. His voice came out rough, and he frowned at this. “I played Quidditch with a broken hand and I still caught the Snitch. I fell from my broom because I lost consciousness and it didn’t stop me from being ready to play again after I recovered. And if I feel that something is wrong with my broom—”

“You fell?” Riddle interrupted him. He stopped his assault briefly, but his grip remained unyielding, and Harry almost hissed in pain. “From that height? That is blatant suicide. I assume you survived because I caught you with my magic.”

“What?” Harry’s frown deepened. “You didn’t. It was Dumbledore.”

The brief flare of surprise on Riddle’s face mirrored his confusion. He almost made a step back, although his grip on Harry’s waist only tightened.

“Why wouldn’t I catch you?” he wondered slowly. “You could have died.”

“I don’t know, but you didn’t!” For a moment, Harry felt genuinely dismayed, but then the awareness flooded him, and he swallowed back more words that were swirling on the tip of his tongue.

What was wrong with him? Of course Riddle hadn’t caught him — Riddle didn’t exist in his world, there was only Voldemort!

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” he added awkwardly. “I survived. And the point is, I really doubt that Graytwig can do anything new to surprise me. I’m not going to attack him first just to maybe prevent something I can deal with.”

Riddle’s eyes narrowed. Something dangerous flickered there, and then he jerked Harry’s finger back with such malicious force that the bone snapped. Harry cried out, half in pain, half in surprise. The same moment, Riddle finally let him go, stepping back and watching him silently.

Clenching his teeth to avoid making any new sounds, Harry stared at his finger in angry disbelief. It was broken, no doubts here. Right before his match. Why would Riddle keep warning him about Graytwig just to go ahead and attack him himself?

He didn’t know what to do about it. Confusion and shock paralysed him briefly, and Harry glanced at Riddle, cradling his hurt hand against his chest.

How was he supposed to respond? By attacking Riddle back? But… it was just a finger. It felt strange to curse Riddle over this. Punching him would definitely be satisfying, but Harry wasn’t sure he could do it as long as they weren’t involved in an active confrontation.

Sending Riddle a glare, he turned away and stormed from the dormitory, skipping over some stairs to put more distance between them faster. To his frustration, Riddle followed him.

Some Slytherins were still loitering in the common room, including Graytwig. He gave Harry a long derisive stare, and the hostile challenge in it instantly proved that Riddle had been telling the truth. Graytwig was planning something, emboldened by Harry’s lack of reaction.

Disgust welled up inside him, and Harry walked to the door, too fed up to stay here a second later. With the corner of his eye, he saw Riddle emerge. Everyone immediately fell silent. Ignoring them, Riddle traced Harry’s steps, moving towards the exit, but when he reached Graytwig, he paused, subjecting him to a long, chilling stare.

“Do not,” he warned. Without waiting for a reply, he crossed the rest of the distance and opened the door, giving Harry an expectant look.      

[xclowniex]

Every time people talk about how Israel isn’t losing as many people in wars, I want to groan so much that my throat gives up on me. Like, dude, why do you think that is? It’s not because Hamas doesn’t try. It’s the fucking Iron Dome, which takes a huge amount of money and portion of the budget to keep going. It’s because the buildings are specifically been designed with a shit ton of infrastructure that can survive missiles and rockets. It’s because there’s the bare fucking minimum in Israel of bomb shelters

You know that it’s actual regulation that almost every building needs to have some sort of shelter? They do this with flats too, my cousin and her boyfriend’s shelter is literally their bedroom because they NEED this and there wasn’t enough space to put it in other places. It used to be just shelters below buildings, but they’ve changed it to other rooms too because in the 90’s the chance of missiles which used toxic gas were becoming increasingly high (this is something my parents went through, once there was a missile attack, they were told it could be gas too so they couldn’t go to the shelter. What they had to do was stay in their homes and just put wet towels on ever window and door that had a gap in it. My parents were on the phone the entire time, they were both beyond terrified and my mum thought she was going to die)

And here’s the thing— Gaza could absolutely have that too! Gaza could have missile diverting technology, Gaza could have shelters, Gaza could have strong infrastructure that can survive bombings much better. But they don’t. And the reason— Hamas takes all of this aid supplied, billions of dollars, and either siphons it off for their leaders in Qatar to enjoy, or uses it to build their tunnels and buy more weapons. And it’s a fucking tragedy, when I think about it I start to feel sick and you should too. Because this is horrible, and Gazans deserve so much more than this. But they can’t have it, because their government (if you can even call the mess that is Hamas a government) has decided that their lives aren’t valuable enough

You can criticise Israel for its current assault on Gaza, absolutely. While the idea that the idf as a whole (not talking about individual soldiers, which is still horrific when it’s only a person and not a system, don’t get me wrong) is actively targeting civilians is ridiculously wrong, and leans into the ‘bloodthirsty Jew’ trope. What you can say is that while the idf provides warning, they still aren’t putting civilians high enough on their priority list. They’ll warn a family and help them get out if they’re about to bomb their house or near it, but they won’t not bomb it if the family refuses to evacuate. You can absolutely cut criticise that (just make sure you understand that, very upsettingly, this is a very common thing in war). But this— acting like Israel using aid to help its own civilians, and then implying that it’s its fault for somehow not doing the same for Gaza? This? Is fucking bullshit, and all you’re doing is showing that you care more about the perceived reality of the ‘evil oppressor Israelis who have never faced anything in their lives’ than you do about the truth and real people’s lives

(Also side note, why do they always point to Tel Aviv to be like ‘see! Israel isn’t affected by the war at all’?? Like, of course Tel Aviv isn’t going to be affected by rockets and missiles much. It’s well in the Iron Dome’s territory and very far from Gaza. If you want to see the devastation from this war for Israel you can go to Sderot, or any Bedouin village, or the Golan if you want to see what Hezbollah’s done. They just live in a fantasy world lol)

I 100% agree.

[swallowprettybird]

beginning| previous | next

At the same time ..

[Mayor]: Ms. Holliday, you're asking too much of me, you know?

[Ms. Holiday]: Is it really so hard for you to do a small favor? You are the mayor, mr. Sterling!

[Mayour]: Yes, but it is beyond my capabilities. You know, I have the utmost respect for you and your family, but...

[Ms. Holiday]: Respect, but don't even want to listen to me!

[Ms Holiday]: Sooner or later, "the Great Pass" will end up in someone else's hands. My family has served this city for decades! It can be put to good use!

[Mayor]: *firmly* You know very well that "the Great Pass" is not for sale, ma'am. They are going to build a railroad there. Why do you need it so much? In fact, it is just a wasteland.

[Ms. Holiday]: Why not build a railroad to the north? Logistics makes it possible. In addition, even a wasteland can be built up and turned into noble land. Shouldn't you, as the mayor, know this?

[Mayor]: I know. That's also why I know it's a huge expense. You don't have that kind of money. And I don't have enough money to build a railroad by a longer route.

[Ms. Holiday]: No need to count my money, Mr. Sterling. Yes, when my father died, we found ourselves in a bit of a bind. But I will find the funds if necessary. Besides, we keep the mine, you know that.

I can't imagine him leaving everything to my brother. He's completely indifferent to household chores. Everything rests on me!

[Ms. Holiday]: And everything would have been even better if not for the damage that this bastard, this scumbag Day, had not done to my farm. I will not let this go!

[Mayor]: Nice try, Ms. Holiday. But that's it. The matter is closed.

[Mayor]: About Jack Day. Don't worry. He's already been put on the wanted list. It's only a matter of time and he will be detained soon.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Credits:

thank you so much @miralure for allowing Ms. Holiday to appear in our story ☺️ i think she looks gorgeous here!

[bleue-flora]

So while I’m all for drawing the conversation away from legality, trauma, innocence, bashing c!Tommy in the name of c!Dream lol….etc. I did basically write this essay about c!Tommy first and someone asked me to share, so I shall. @poisedava this is for you. ;) <3

Here’s the thing and this is important - it does not go both ways. If c!Tommy wants to be considered an innocent ‘child’, a teenager, a minor, who is too young and naive to know that what he does is wrong and how that hurts people and has consequences then he doesn’t just get to act like an adult and start wars, serve as a government official, build nations, torture, steal, murder, enslave, commit terrorism, blackmail, assassinate…etc and face no repercussions because ‘he didn’t know better.’ If you want to act like an adult then you’ll be treated as such.

Now I don’t believe that we should view the dsmp in the realm of irl crimes, since there is no legal system or set of rules in place in the dsmp (besides the ones c!Dream set and everyone breaks of course), but if ya’ll are going to say c!Dream deserves prison because of his ‘crimes’ and write off c!Tommy’s actions as less because he is a minor then I will look at it, especially because the term ‘minor’ is connected to the legal system of our world and that is where we are deriving this perceived innocence.

On that note, there are crimes in many countries that even if you’re a minor or a child you can be tried as an adult for reasons like a severe crime (for example first degree murder) and/or if it is a repeated offense despite disciplinary actions. In this case, both apply, as many of the things listed above are repeated abhorrent offenses. Secondly, the definition of ‘minor’ and the age of becoming an adult, while typically set at 18 is not universal. In Scotland for instance, 16 is the legal age of adulthood, which is how old c!Tommy was when he joined the smp.

But looking beyond legally speaking, I for one hardly consider 16 to be a child or an innocent naive minor in the first place. At 16 I could legally drive and drove me and my sister to school. I made sure people had what they needed to keep things from falling apart, whether that’s helping with grocery shopping, making dinner, running errands, helping with homework, making lunches… etc. I hardly think someone who drives is a child unable to face consequences like speedings, drinking and driving… etc. On the topic of age I would also like to highlight that the gap is like 5 years, which all things considered is not a very big gap, not to mention one of the reasons young people are considered irresponsible and given a bit of slack is because until the age of 25 your brain is still developing, and as c!Dream was also under the age of 25 that also applies to him and a huge portion of the server.

But being young doesn’t give you a free pass to do whatever you want and then complain about the consequences. You don’t get to just run a red light and kill kids crossing the road and claim innocence because you are a new driver. Because you are young, because you were distracted, because you were just trying to change the song and didn’t see them, because you didn't mean to. You are still responsible for killing people.

And if you don't want to be responsible, if you want to be treated like a child, then stay a child. But as a child you are not considered mature enough to know what is right from wrong, which is where guidance from guardians comes in. Children (really generally speaking), don’t know better, which is why they get grounded, spanked, their mouths washed out with soap, forced to write lines, get things taken away, time out, scolding… etc - punished. They are not free and independent to do what they like. Now obviously, when it comes to the dsmp there are really no such guardians or parents in charge of the minors, but the point still stands, if you do not understand your actions are wrong then someone should teach you and (whether you or not you agree with that) that is often through punishment.

Under that guise, c!Dream taking away c!Tommy’s discs for starting wars and breaking the rules and murdering him, is a form of parenting. (You can argue with whether you consider it good parenting… but that's not really the point). Even further, Exile then could be considered a more extreme form of time out and/or grounding, which is extreme because the violations are extreme. If you steal a cookie you are forced to go to your room for a bit, if you burn down the king’s house then you get exiled from the land. In Exile, he is forced to lose items which could be considered revoking privileges and getting his belongings taken away (like if your parents ever took your phone for a week). Hell, even hitting him with the axe could be seen as a super extreme spanking for not complying with his punishment. Now am I staying that makes it justified? Am I saying those were ok things to happen? Am I saying c!Tommy deserved being treated like that? No. Not really, I am just simply pointing out that in a world where the crime isn’t spray painting a building but burning said building down in an act of terrorism it almost makes sense in a twisted way that the punishments are more severe to fit the infraction.

(I would also like to point out that c!Phil has a moment with c!Tommy where he forced him to smelt stone and then destroy it over and over again and isn’t that kinda what c!Dream was doing in Exile?… just saying, not to say the behavior is right, just something I noticed and thought was interesting.) And the reason why the act of losing items is important is because a huge part of his character arc is surrounded by the value of objects and treating people like he treats objects. It was a big moment of deliberation for him to give up the discs for c!Tubbo’s life. Do you even realize how screwed up that is? A person over an object. But the thing is, somehow in c!Tommy’s mind those two things were synonymous, he was never there for c!Tubbo when c!Tubbo needed someone to have his back. When c!Tubbo goes to get revenge for his missing child and dead husband, he teams up with his literal worst enemies the people who took his canonical lives. Where was c!Tommy?… But whenever c!Tommy needed c!Tubbo to go after c!Dream or support him even with the things c!Tubbo disagreed with, he’s there. Honestly, he’s less of a best friend and more of a sword. The dsmp completes c!Tommy’s character arc by him giving up the discs for c!Tubbo’s life and to for once listen to c!Dream. His character arc, put very very simply, was valuing and treating people as people instead of things.

So the - it’s understandable, it’s less bad than what c!Dream did because he’s young and didn’t know better - is just not reasonable to me. Exile being used as justification isn’t really valid either. Ok so for a week, yea he was abused, he lost his things, people didn’t visit him, sure some were tricked into not visiting him, c!Dream took all of his items over and over, c!Dream hurt him when he did not comply, sure c!Tommy was suicidal as a result. But ya know, when no one else could be bothered to show up, c!Dream came by everyday. Plus abuse on the server is like scuffed so I hardly hold Exile as a gold standard for trauma like y’all I don’t know if I need to make a complication of how many times on the dsmp people hit each other with axes and hurt eachother or force eachother to comply or something. Or if I need to make a list of everytime c!Tommy has done worse even before Exile, but yeeeesh. Like don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Exile was deserved, I don’t think anyone deserves abuse. Period. But on the scale of the dsmp and considering how many people he hurt and the circumstances that got him there, I find it hard to feel for him. And that’s coming from someone who (before medication) used to have panic attacks multiple times a week, who has been bullied, who has been isolated, who has been abandoned and betrayed by my best friends, who has been so so lonely, who has been suicidal, and who was a nasty person as a result of being hurt. So I get it, I really do. But to me it doesn’t really matter much, it doesn’t make him the hero, or redeemed, or innocence, or any more likable, especially when so many other characters on the dsmp have similar instances on their arcs.

And if we want to compare, c!Tommy’s ‘crimes’ to c!Dream’s because he’s ‘just as bad,’ the thing is, I’m not so sure that’s true, for many reasons. One of which is that c!Dream has really only ever reacted. Over and over he gets pushed into reacting, but usually he gives people a way out and he tries to do the better thing at first, but eventually after failing he turns towards the latter. While on the other hand, c!Tommy continues to provoke, over and over and over. Look no further than the finale where he shows up to the prison to assassinate c!Dream, after c!Dream literally hasn’t done anything to him since the prison break (unless you count c!Tommy and c!Wilbur breaking in… which again - provoke). And there really is no such transformation for c!Tommy, he doesn’t start off trying to do the right thing at all, which also brings us to motivation… which continues to baffle me, what is c!Tommy’s motivation? Because if it’s truly to have a home and be happy with his friends then why does he constantly do things that would jeopardize that?

So, you want me to feel bad for and root for someone - who often worked against their own stated motivation, who did drugs, tortured people, started wars, killed, enslaved, destroyed, used, stole, was sexist, xenophobic, disrespectful and constantly talked over people, who didn’t even have his friend’s back more importantly his best friend’s, c!Tubbo’s, back who continued to risk his life for c!Tommy’s schemes - because what? He is a minor? Because he was abused and suicidal after facing the consquences of his own actions? Because we get his pov? Because he declared himself the hero? Because c!Dream personally targeted him for no reason - because he’s so innocent and was no threat to c!Dream… after he literally KILLED HIM multiple times with much less armor, then with no armor at all (in one of the first streams)? …..…. Like heh?

Ah nah you’re so right… c!Dream definitely deserved prison - He killed c!Tommy after all!… in a war, where he was given a chance to surrender or face no mercy… in a fair dual, where he set the terms… in prison, where he provoked c!Dream, killed the cat c!Dream admitted to caring about all after c!Dream had been no doubt going insane from being isolated in prison for months already… I mean… come on, in no way do I see any of those as specifically targeting c!Tommy (don’t even get me started on the finale where he mentions Spirit just to piss c!Dream off).

And ya know, after saying all of that, I would even go as far as to say that c!Tommy is not a hero, nor even an anti-hero, since he is neither selfless, noble or full of goodness, which are some of the more fundamental qualities. In fact, Theseus, who c!Techno calls c!Tommy, is a Greek hero who in the beginning becomes infamous because he slays many savage murderers and monsters on his way to Athens. But I ask you, what savagery has c!Tommy stopped? What noble feats has he done for the sake of the safety of people?… He may be a protagonist, but honestly I don’t think he qualifies as a hero. Sure, both c!Dream and c!Techno’s reference Theseus, but they are really more highlighting the end of his life. Overall, I don’t think hero (even a flawed Greek one) is an adequate description for him. Perhaps anti-villain would be more fitting, a villain with some heroic traits?… I mean his most heroic moments are probably the duel, willing to fight in doomsday with or without help, and willing to be nuked, but like eh… the first two were over a piece of land, a country. It wasn’t about protecting people. I mean in both of those he was part of provoking the conflict in the first place, so is it heroic to help in a conflict that you helped cause? And in the last one, I mean it is the end of his arc so anti-villain technically still works for having a good selfless heroic moment at the end ;) ……

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Two.

Ahhh, fuck it. Why not another chapter to get the ball rolling? You guys are so good to me with your lovely comments, so in turn, you get more story!

Previous chapters - One

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,312

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Hey Jade, I’ll give you some privacy,” Marv, their driver spoke with his usual wide smile upon seeing her climb onto the bus with a guy he recognised but couldn’t immediately place why. “Need to go find me some food anyway.”  

“Alright, Marv. The food truck has just about everything tonight. No more bad burgers!” she chuckled, moving through the narrow gangway. The bus wasn’t what he’d expected it would look like, a small lounge area at the front, two rows of sleeping bunks towards the centre, a tiny kitchen area and even smaller bathroom (complete with an amusing handwritten sign that advised if anyone took a crap, their head got flushed along with it) and finally, another lounge area right at the back.  

The seating section surrounded a small table, the space perhaps the least claustrophobic on the bus. It certainly looked a lot larger on the outside than it did within. How she coped being cooped up in it while travelling, he didn’t know.  

“Do you want a drink? I’ve got wine somewhere, do you like Merlot?” she asked, beginning to root around in the overhead cupboards. “No, it’s in the kitchenette. Hang on.” 

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.” Sitting down, he had mere moments to take stock of what an interesting day it had been so far. It had started out not so great, jammed against a barrier with a crush of a permanently apoplectic mosh pit behind him, the early evening bringing with it something much more comfortable and sedate. He was joined again quickly by the woman who only continued to captivate him further with every passing moment, passing him a solo cup half filled with red wine. 

“Sorry for the uncouth receptacle. We don’t keep breakables on the bus beyond coffee mugs, save things getting smashed to hell,” she explained, taking a seat. “So, tell me more about you. You’ve fascinated me so far. I want to know what lurks beneath the extremely attractive exterior.”  

Yes, she certainly was very naturally charming, Adrien feeling his stomach flutter pleasantly. She hadn’t asked him about his acting, or which industry people he knew, what he’d be working on next, oh no. Him. She wanted to know about him. It made for a refreshing change, although eventually she did inquire into his profession, one she was slowly making waves in herself. Lamentably, although she’d been in quite a high number of projects over the past eight years, he hadn’t actually seen her in anything. Or so he thought.  

“I mean, it was only a small, independent movie, but I’m really proud of it, playing an icon like Janis. She was such a huge influence,” she spoke, watching his eyes widen. 

“Shit, I have seen you in something. I saw you in that! Sorry, it’s just, you look very different to how you did playing her, obviously.”  

“What did you think?” she asked, sipping her wine. “No need to flatter me either. Be honest.” 

“Honestly?” He paused a moment, scratching his chin and pulling his cigarettes out, lighting up and knocking the pack across the table to her, Jade sliding the ashtray closer. “I think you did the best with what you had to work with. You played a very convincing Janis Joplin from what I know of her, but the direction of it wasn’t great. They could have done a lot more. From what I remember, you really put your heart into it, green to playing a lead role as you were - and that did show – but your performance what made it.”  

His words surprised her. Not because he hadn’t enjoyed the direction of the biopic, but the fact he’d been completely honest with her. “Thank you. See, so many people have been phony about it, blown smoke right up my ass, but what you said was exactly how I felt. I put my all into it, although I ultimately felt like I was only as good as what I was given. They skipped over so much of her life that would have made it even more interesting, only to go for the sensationalist element. Bloody pissed me right off.” 

He loved the way her speech was a mishmash of Britishisms and Americanisms, a slight New York lilt coming through on every sixth or so word.  

“You’ll learn the further you get into it, be more selective over what you give your time to.” She asked him if he minded giving her a little more advice there, Adrien only happy to, liking very much how completely unpretentious she was.  

In her world, she was a big deal, huge, in fact, but in acting she was still a relatively small fish in an extremely large pond. As for Jade, she considered herself extremely lucky, getting to listen to the wisdom a man who since winning an Oscar seven years before had only gone from strength to strength. 

“I know it comes with the job, speaking to press, but I always feel somewhat antsy about it,” he began a time later, as they spoke of the pitfalls of their respective careers, chewing the corner of his lip. “It isn’t even an editing thing; your words just tend to get filtered through the gaze of so many other people and it ends up as a rendition of you rather than the definitive portrait. And preconceived notions can be tough to shake.”  

Oh, the affinity. His words definitely struck a chord. “This is why I’m very interview shy. I’m too much of a juxtapose, and people don’t know how to take me. Yes, I’m quite quiet and introverted to a degree, but also, when it comes to my work, I don’t take any shit, and I will call people out on it. This leads to me being labelled as difficult, all because I tire of the same bullshit questions that my male counterparts don’t get asked, for example.  

“So, I set certain terms, dictate which are allowed and unallowed questions, and that apparently makes me an obstreperous bitch. Journalists go in there and instead of focusing on what I actually say when they meet me, they’ve already made up their minds. Then the filtering you speak of happens, and it gets even fucking worse.” She paused then, tightening her mouth a little. “Just say if I talk too much. I tend to jabber on when I feel comfortable with somebody.”  

He reached for her, sweeping the apple of her cheek with his thumb. “You’re fine. I like hearing your thoughts.” In turn, she liked sharing them, too. There was something about him she felt inexplicably drawn to, like she could trust him with anything, and not receive a drop of judgement; just a very good ear.  

“So, why Seventh Gate?” he asked a while later, watching as she played with the flame on a candle she’d brought in to illuminate the space the darker it got. She detested false light as much as he did. “Is it from the urban legend?” 

“Yes!” she enthused, utterly delighted at his accuracy. Surprisingly, not many people guessed right away. So the aforementioned legend stated, if anybody passed through all seven specific gates dotted around in a woodland area within Hellam Township in Pennsylvania, they descended directly to hell.  

“A few buddies and I went and did the trail one time, drove down there with the location details of all the gates, but completely chickened out of crossing all of them. It was dumb, because it’s a complete myth, but nope, we were way too pussy to do it,” he laughed, watching as she giggled with mirth. 

“We shot a music video there, got wasted drunk and ended up running through all of them. We did the last one bare assed naked, me with Jen on my back while chugging a bottle of vodka and screaming ‘take me Satan!’ at two in the morning, with the entire production crew crying laughing.” 

“You’re fucking insane,” he laughed, that laughter loudening considerably as he pictured it. 

“Yeah, we’re a little mental when the mood takes us.” 

He could well believe it. “I sense there’s a lot more you could reveal that’d probably make my hair stand on end.” 

Hmmm. To divulge her years as an absolute hellion to the nice guy sitting adjacent to her, or keep quiet? “C’mon, spill.”  

Well, he asked for it.  

“We got arrested for inciting a riot outside Tower Records in downtown Oklahoma, about five years ago. Huge police presence, fans jumping on cars, us thriving in the middle of it with our security team going crazy. It was fun. We got let out shortly after thanks to the negotiation skills of our manager, played the show that night, and then caused about ten grand’s worth of damage at the club the afterparty was held in. 

“Still though, through all of that madness, I think I was just playing a part, getting the hedonism out of the way. I found fame so early, signed at seventeen, an album recorded in the same year and thrown out onto one tour after another for sixteen months without a real break. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still like to party, but not to those kinds of extremes.”  

“Not so wild any longer, huh?” 

Oh, the grin that spread across her perfect, pillowy pout. It made him twitch quite sharply in a place he wasn’t sure he should quite so soon after meeting her. “Only in two places. On stage and in bed.” 

He arched an eyebrow, eyes sweeping her a few times. “Being a tease again, hmm?”  

“Depends.” The look she fixed him with amped his pulse instantly, Adrien not able to remember the last time he’d had such efficiently potent sexual magic cast upon him. 

“On?” 

Taking a big gulp of her wine, she licked a drop from her lip, staring into the blazing green of his eyes. “Whether if I came over there and straddled your lap, you’d let me kiss you or not.”  

He had to admire her nerve. She had way more game than he did. His eyes fell to his thighs, then back at her with a smirk. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”  

She moved the three feet separating them slowly, her glide all feline, much more cheetah than tame house cat, her eyes glinting like blue shards through the dim light. Moving carefully astride him, it burned slow like napalm, her hands resting to his chest, stroking down as he clasped her narrow waist, their foreheads touching.  

“Mmm, wow, Mr. B,” she purred, her heart thundering through an inferno within her chest. “Aren’t you absolutely divine close up?” Her lips had caught his before he could even think of replying, their kiss deepening to a slow dance of tongues within a second. It was lazy, yet scorching, their hands roaming one another as the burn gained heat.  

A soft moan echoed her throat, her hands moving to rake her nails down the dark stubbly beard flecking his cheeks and neck, the sound darting right to his cock. His entire being hummed with it, the desire to slowly peel off her clothes, but he wouldn’t be that guy. He never had been, and oh, how his body hated him for it, feeling her pressed right up against him, aching in his gut to take it further.  

“Oh wow,” she murmured, her mouth moving to his neck to lay delicate little kisses, swirls of her tongue tasting his flesh, the salt of sweat mixed with whatever cologne he wore faintly lingering there against his gorgeous skin. “The way you kiss gives me serious cunt flutters.”  

He snorted, laughing softly at her so alluringly delivered crudeness. “Yeah?”  

“Mmhmm.” That little hum preceded her mouth landing upon his again, and god, how she could have ripped all of his clothes off and ridden him to the edges of heaven right there and then, she was so torridly aroused by the man beneath her. She wouldn’t, though. Gone were the days of quick sex with a hot guy simply to sate her desire. With him, she knew she wanted more. “Okay, if I don’t control myself now I never will, but please know you make that very difficult.”  

He shook his head, arms tightening around her. “Sorry. I’m not about to let you go.” More kisses followed, a little calmer, gentler passions exchanged, the contented murmurs he made causing her heart to skip happily. At thirty-one years old, it had been a long, long time since a man had made her feel like she was a young woman in first flushes of becoming utterly besotted with somebody, and even though she was more than used to it, it pained her that she’d have to let him go in a few hours. 

That feeling? It was entirely mutual.  

Eventually, they settled to resting beside one another, two sets of long legs propped up on the table, Jade lying with her head against his chest as they talked, and talked, and talked.  

“So, why’s it complicated?” 

“Well, I suppose it isn’t really, but some would see it that way. We’re just a mixed bunch of nomads,” she began, before launching into the story of how she came to be. “So, my mum is the daughter of Italian immigrants. My grandmother was originally from Staten Island, brought there as a baby in arms after her parents moved from Sicily, but then relocated to the UK when my great-grandfather got work over in London for way more pay. They used their entire savings to take the ship voyage over and lived penniless in the Walthamstow slums until his wages came in. 

“She grew up poor, but eventually prospered, met another son of Italians and married him, had my mum, but their marriage ended when she was eleven, so my grandmother moved her back to Staten Island for a fresh start. She wanted to be with a man who actually had time for her away from his career. My grandfather worked his way up from washing dishes to head chef, eventually restauranteur, and he always put work before his family, so my gran bailed and went back home. 

“Then after four years, very sadly and quickly, she learned she had breast cancer and passed away, so my mum and uncles crossed the ocean again to return to London and live with my grandfather and his new wife. Are you keeping up so far?” 

“I am,” he confirmed, making a side-to-side motion with his hand. “There’s a lot of back and forth between Staten Island and London, but I’m with you. Carry on.” 

“See what I mean, though? Nomads! So then, mum starts dating this guy at eighteen and unexpectedly falls pregnant. She had no idea what to do, of course coming from a very devout Catholic background she felt guilty as hell over the idea of abortion, but knowing she’d only be nineteen when she gave birth was scary, too. To make it scarier, the guy she was with told her he wasn’t ready to become a father and vanished into thin air, leaving my poor mum alone with an impossible decision to make. 

“Well, that was until she met my dad. They fell in love very quickly, and he told her it didn’t matter that she was carrying another man’s baby, he wanted to stand by her and raise me as his own. He always says, “We are not bonded by biology, but god sent you to me as my baby. You are my first born, always.” His name is on my birth certificate, and he adopted me right away. I mean, it’s obvious I’m not his biologically because he’s black, but he’s the only dad I know. You might have seen him earlier, actually. He was the guy who looks a little like Morgan Freeman who was probably looking at me with a mixture of mild despair and a lot of pride. He’s out here for work currently, so swung by to watch us.” 

“Why despair?” he laughed, trying to remember if he’d seen such a man in the chaos of that afternoon. 

“He says I’m entirely too noisy with a microphone in my hand.” 

His mouth twitched into a lopsided grin, kissing the top of her head. “He’s got that right.” 

“How are your eardrums now?” she asked, looking up at him with a grin that had him in soft fits. 

“Better,” he confirmed, tightening his arm around her. “Continue.” 

“Right, so yeah, dad is originally from Harlem, but he got a scholarship place at a university in London based on his academic excellence. And believe me, my dad is so, so smart. He’s a cardiothoracic surgeon. So, years later, after he’d fully qualified as a doctor and done five years of residency, he was offered a job at New York Presbyterian, we moved back to Harlem, lived in an apartment for a while and then they bought a beautiful brownstone that they still live in to this day.” 

“Why did he choose London?” he asked, curious when there were so many amazing colleges in the US. 

“He said he wanted to see a little more of the world before he locked himself into being a surgeon, so applied further afield. When he was still studying, him and my mum used to save all their cash and take little backpacking holidays in Europe when I was a baby. There’s a great picture he keeps in his wallet, holding me at the top of the Eifel Tower when I was one, screaming my lungs out!” 

Something she had made a very good career out of, he thought. “Do they just have you, or have you any siblings?” 

“A brother and a sister four years younger than me, twins, too. Rachel and Marco, named after my maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother. I got named after my mum’s favourite gemstone. She’s really into Oriental artefacts, it’s what she studied at uni around looking after me, Asian art. She works as a curator now at the Guggenheim, specialising in antiquities from Asia.” She then paused, looking up at him sheepishly. “I’m talking too much. Again.” 

“Shut up,” he scolded softly, “I could listen to you tell me about your life for days.” 

That made her smile, always thinking she went on entirely too much when she spoke of her life and loves. “Tell me more about yours. About your parents and siblings,” she requested, idly stroking his abs through the dark fabric of his t shirt. 

“No siblings, mom said I was too much trouble to think about having more,” he joked, smiling at he thought about her. “She’s a painter and photographer, and my dad is a professor, he lectures in social science at NYU. He likes to paint, too, it’s what bonded them. He met her at an art class they were both taking while they were at university, and he said he has never, ever seen paint used in the haphazard way my mother creates her art. That’s what first attracted him to her, seeing this woman with her hair all pinned up with paint brushes, paint smudges all over her face, staring at her canvas with the kind of focus that made her look constipated, apparently. 

“When I was a baby, she used to put my hands and feet in these huge tubs of paint and let me crawl around on giant canvases, and I’d thrive, covering myself in as many colours as I could, rolling around and making a huge mess. My grandmother used to shake her head, baffled at it all, but my mom was just like, “He’s expressing himself, I’m starting him early!” I love to paint for hours, days even when I’m not working. My overall creative drive definitely comes from them. Well, her mostly. The Lois Brody method.”  

Her head shot up, eyes rounding. “Your mum is Lois Brody? Oh my god, she’s a legend! I love her photographs!” she cried, Adrien smiling with pride. 

“Yeah, she’s amazingly talented. Has this way of capturing something completely minute that others wouldn’t notice and making it the focal point of the entire photograph. I don’t know how she does it, but she’s incredible at seeing what others miss,” he revealed, still smiling widely. He was very proud of his mother, and it showed.  

“I had no idea you were her son, but then I don’t know who anybody is. It’s actually embarrassing, how it sails over my head, or how I get people confused. I met Katy Perry and thought she was Zooey Deschanel recently. I told her I recognised her from the TV show Weeds, and she’s just like, ‘eh?’ at me. I’m such a twat,” she confessed, hiding her face behind her hand as he laughed.  

“Don’t feel bad, I’m not clued up on pop culture either,” he reassured her, Jade suddenly snorting. 

“That isn’t even my worst one. Jen and I went on holiday to Nepal a few years back, and I saw a guy dressed in orange riding a bike and thought he was the Dalai Lama! The tour guide was in hysterics.”  

As was Adrien, laughing so hard, he had tears in his eyes. “His holiness on a bicycle. That’s amazing!” 

“He might like to cycle! You don’t know that he doesn’t!” she cried in a cutely comic voice, her laughter escalating as she sat up, the gorgeous man who embraced her unable to stop himself from completely falling apart.  

“Stop it,” he hissed, one arm still around her, the other hugging his stomach, which was starting to hurt. “You’re so damned funny, oh my god.” He composed himself for all of three seconds before falling to pieces again, Jade softly slapping his chest. “I can’t breathe!” 

“It isn’t that funny,” she protested, laughing now purely at him continuing to crack up. 

“Yes, it is!”  

He wouldn't forget that in a hurry, or the night he was sharing with her either, looking at his watch and becoming painfully aware he likely didn’t have long left with her as ten o’clock loomed, asking the question he’d been putting off for the last few hours. “How long do I have you for, then?”  

“Until midnight. Then I turn back into a pumpkin.”  

He raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“You know, like Cinderella.” 

Oh, god. He couldn’t handle so much laughter. “Cinderella doesn’t turn into a pumpkin, her coach does!” 

Cringing, she hid her face, shaking with laughter. “Oh, yeah that’s right.”  

“You’re incredible,” he laughed, holding her close again. “I don’t know how the hell I’m gonna let you go in two hours, you know. This idea doesn’t sit well.”  

“No,” she sighed wistfully, stroking his chest, placing a kiss against his collar bone. “Not with me either. God knows when I’ll get to see you again, because I really want to. I’m locked into touring until December, though.”  

“Yeah, I have two weeks off as of today and then I’m going to Hawaii to shoot Predators. I’ll be there for a month for all the outdoor filming, then back for a month and a half in LA to finish the rest, then I have three weeks of press stuff booked more or less solidly until mid-December.” 

“Boo hiss,” she pouted, hand moving to stroke his face, hating that it would likely be around three months until she got to spend time with the lovely man whose arms she lay in again. “It’s what we signed up for with our careers, but it doesn’t stop it from being disappointing when things like this happen. When you meet someone you really find a connection to, and then can’t spend any further time with them.” 

He looked sad, kissing her head, the cogs in his brain beginning to turn as he entered a few moments of contemplation. “What if I didn’t have to leave you just yet?” Met by a face of curiosity, he continued. “How do you feel about tour bus stowaways coming along on tour with you for a week, should said prospective stowaway be able to make that happen?” 

Her eyes lit up, pushing herself to sit straighter. “Really? You could do that?”  

“Maybe. Gimme ten minutes to go and check.” Kissing her, he stood up, lighting a cigarette and pulling his phone out, heading back down to the front of the bus to make a phone call, the night air cooler than the heat of the day he’d felt himself baking under. While he made a call to his manager, Jade sat and fiddled with her jewellery, nervously awaiting his return. What if he couldn’t? But, oh. The joy if he could.  

She could scarcely believe it, that the man actually wanted to blow off his commitments in order to spend a week on a bus with her while she and her band travelled around California to continue to west coast dates of their tour. Seven days with him, although of course it wouldn’t be all of the time, having her own interviews to be present for along the way, visits to radio stations as well, a webcast she was also taking part in too around their live performances. Some of the time would be better than nothing at all, though. 

When he walked back in, her heart catapulted into her mouth, his face expressionless before slowly, he began to beam. “Looks like you have me for another week.” 

He was deafened for the second time that day, this time by the pitch of the excited shriek she let out, scrambling from her seat and bouncing up into his arms, raining kisses all over his face as he laughed softly, holding her tight.  

Seven days. Seven days that would change everything for them both.  

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 4

The Supplication of a Dead Man's Hand

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 3.2k

Warnings: angst; injury; fake medicine; hurt comfort; alcohol use; Fox girlies don't come for me

Suggested Listening:

Summary: The Rex, Echo, and Gregor return with Fireball, and Riyo gets to know Echo a little better.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones. A huge thank you to @freesia-writes for beta reading this chapter!

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Here the stone images are raised, here they receive the supplication of a dead man's hand under the twinkle of a fading star.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

Setting up the surgical pod took the better part of the day, and Riyo was grateful she had no pressing business in the senate. She knew Cerra didn’t really need her assistance, but it was such a relief to not have to keep up her careful masquerade, and Riyo was grateful for the invitation. 

If she were completely honest, Riyo had to admit she found Cerra somewhat intimidating—even a little terrifying, at times. There was something about her silent intensity that made Riyo wonder just how close the woman was to snapping at any given moment. It made the senator nervous, and she found herself babbling awkwardly in her presence.

Cerra surprised her. Yes, she was prickly, but she was also surprisingly kind, and Riyo had ended up revealing more about herself than she had ever intended. She wasn’t sure why; Cerra certainly hadn’t pressured her. Quite the opposite, in fact. But when Riyo had spoken of her grief for Fox, something about Cerra’s reaction made Riyo think she empathized more than she let on.

They had just finished calibrating the surgical pod and was running a final diagnostic when a loud beeping sound reverberated through the garage.

“What’s that?” Riyo asked, alarmed.

“Proximity alert,” Cerra replied, wiping her hands on a rag. “It’s probably Rex.”

Despite Cerra’s calm demeanor, Riyo couldn’t help but notice that her hand drifted almost imperceptibly toward the blaster strapped to her thigh. Riyo slipped off the pod and hurried to the front of the shop as they heard the familiar clang of a ship landing on the platform outside the garage. 

She’d be lying if she told herself that the opportunity to spend more time with Echo hadn’t formed a large part of her motive for visiting the shop, and she was relieved that he had returned before she needed to depart. A small stab of guilt coursed through her. Am I being disloyal to Fox? Is it too soon to be interested in someone else?

Cerra followed more slowly. The freighter ramp was down, and Rex disembarked first, supporting a clone in green armor as he limped out of the ship. He was carrying his helmet, and his face was tense with pain. Gregor and Echo followed behind Rex and the new clone, and Gregor thumped Echo on the back, laughing triumphantly.

“Welcome home, boys,” Cerra called. “Need any help?”

“I could eat. Not if you're cooking, though,” Gregor said with a cheeky grin.

Riyo’s eyes flitted to Cerra, wondering how she would react to the commando’s casual taunt, but surprisingly, a tiny smile flitted across her lips, and she hurried to help Rex as he reached the bottom of the ramp.

“It’s your lucky day,” Cerra said. “The senator brought snacks.”

“Fireball, I’d like you to meet Cerra Kilian and Senator Riyo Chuchi,” Rex introduced them.

"It's nice to meet you, Fireball," Riyo greeted the young clone.

"Senator," he gasped through gritted teeth.

Cerra moved to support him under his other arm, easing his helmet out of his hand and passing it to Riyo. “Easy, buddy. I've got you. Do you need a medkit?”

He shook his head. “Rex patched me up on the shuttle.” His voice was tight. “Just waiting for the bacta to work.”

Together with Rex, Cerra led Fireball to the shabby old sofa and got him situated as comfortably as possible. Riyo went to the kitchenette and doled out the soup she’d brought in a heated delivery canister, then distributed it to the grateful team, checking in with each of them to make sure everyone had made it back safely. Cerra declined the cup Riyo offered her, mumbling something about checking the ship’s supplies, and then disappeared into the freighter. Riyo went to Echo last and settled next to him on the sofa, basking in his soft, warm smile as she handed him his food.

Cerra was relieved to escape into the silence and solitude of the freighter. She could only hope that someday her treacherous brain would stop seeing Fives in the face of every clone she encountered. It wasn’t as difficult when she had time to prepare, and she knew that she would eventually have to get used to it if she stayed with Rex. 

She took a quick inventory and restocked the ship’s medical supplies. Even from inside the freighter, she could hear Gregor telling the senator about the mission. It sounded like it had gone relatively smoothly, right up until Fireball took a blaster bolt to the thigh. But the clone was alive and free, so Cerra counted it as a win. She worked methodically, telling herself that she was just being conscientious, and not that she was avoiding interacting with Fireball until her brain had time to catch up to reality.

It’s not him, she told herself sternly.

Heavy footsteps on the ramp warned Cerra of Rex’s approach.

“Did you get the pod up and running?” he asked.

“Just finished when you got back,” she replied.

“I’d like to remove Fireball’s chip as soon as possible,” he said.

“Do you think he’s up to it?” Cerra asked. “His injury looked nasty.”

“It’s too dangerous to leave it in,” Rex said with finality. It was unmistakably an order, even if it wasn’t phrased as one.

“Understood,” Cerra nodded, before adding, “So long as he agrees.”

“How are supplies?” Rex asked, ignoring her tiny show of insubordination.

“Getting low,” Cerra acknowledged. “I’ll have to make a run soon. But we should have enough bacta and stims for now.”

He nodded in acknowledgment. “When you go, take Echo with you.”

Cerra frowned impatiently. “We’ve been through this. It’s too risky for a clone to go. If anyone recognizes him—”

“They won’t,” Rex interrupted.

“You don’t know that,” Cerra said with an irate huff, but she let it go for the moment.

She finished restocking the supplies, and when she exited the ship, Riya and Echo stood alone on the landing platform. They leaned close together as they spoke, and Cerra hurried into the garage, acutely aware that she was encroaching on a conversation that was not meant for her to hear. 

“Have you been keeping safe?” Echo asked.

He stood close to Riyo, close enough that he could smell her subtle, sweet perfume. Close enough for him to admire the way her tattoos curved over her cheekbones and emphasized her beautiful eyes.

“Yes,” she said. “My guards have doubled their shifts, but they haven’t uncovered any further threats against me. It seems that Rampart was the only one behind the assassination attempt, after all.” 

“I hope so,” Echo said. “I hate to think that you’re putting yourself in danger for us.”

In the semi-darkness, the whirling lights of air speeder traffic reflected in Riyo’s golden eyes as she stared up at him. “Isn’t that what you did all through the war? Put your life on the line to protect us? It seems only right that I return the favor.”

“That was different,” Echo objected. “We were soldiers. That was our purpose.”

“You’ve always been more than that,” Riyo said, taking his remaining hand in both of hers as she swayed closer to him. “May I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” he replied.

“It’s somewhat personal, so please don’t feel you need to answer if you’d rather not,” she said hesitantly.

Echo smiled. “Noted. Please go on.”

“Why did you decide to join Rex?” she asked. “You had a chance to have a life away from all of this—a life with Omega and your brothers. What made you choose to stay and fight?”

He paused for a moment, considering. “Fighting is—well, it’s all I’ve ever known,” he said slowly. “It’s what I was created for. When I was with the Batch, I was still risking my life nearly every day, but it was for petty, meaningless things. Missions that only served to make someone else rich. With Rex, at least I’ll know that I’m fighting for something. For a cause. That I’m risking my life to make a difference, to help people. And if I die…”

Riyo looked away, distress written plainly on her features. Echo cupped her chin gently and tilted her face back toward his, ghosting his thumb across her soft lips.

“If I die,” he continued, “it will be for something worthwhile.”

He felt her take a deep breath as she gazed up at him. “Echo—���

Raucous laughter burst from the garage, and she startled away from his touch.

“I should probably get back to the embassy,” she whispered, tearing her eyes away from his.

“Would you like an escort?” Echo asked.

“It’s kind of you to offer,” Riyo said with a smile, “but you must be exhausted after your mission. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Echo replied.

“Perhaps some other time,” she said.

Echo nodded, not wanting to pressure her. “Of course, Senator.”

He helped her carefully into her speeder, then watched as she piloted away from the platform and disappeared into the swarm of Coruscant traffic.

Rex caught Cerra’s eye and tilted his head meaningfully at Fireball. She took a deep, steadying breath, then went and sat next to the clone.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Free,” Fireball said with a shaky laugh.

She smiled. “How’s the pain? Are you up for having the inhibitor chip extracted?”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded.

“You can just call me Cerra,” she said. “Everybody else does.”

He nodded again, visibly relaxing. “Does it hurt? When you take out the chip?”

“You’d have to ask Rex or Gregor what it’s like,” Cerra said. “But you’ll be sedated, so you shouldn’t feel a thing. I’ll have to shave your head, though. Got any preferences for a hairstyle?”

“How do you think I’d look with a mohawk?” he asked with a roguish smile that reminded her so much of Fives that Cerra nearly gasped aloud.

It’s. Not. Him.

“Let’s find out,” she said with a forced smile. “You can always shave the rest of it off if you hate it.”

Echo rejoined the group just as Cerra finished shaving the sides of Fireball’s head. Since they already had experience using a similar pod to extract the inhibitor chips from the Bad Batch, he and Rex performed the extraction. Cerra and Gregor observed so they could handle the procedure in the future if necessary. The chip came out without any complications, and before long, Fireball was recovering on the sofa, sipping a glass of water while the rest of the team sat around him on crates, sharing a flagon of spotchka.

“Kilian, you said?” Fireball asked, eyeing Cerra curiously. “My first assignment was under an Admiral Kilian.”

Cerra nodded. “My uncle, Shoan Kilian. Whole family is military. That’s just what Kilians do.”

“And what did you do?” Fireball asked.

“Supply officer,” Cerra said with a self-deprecating shrug. “The more things change.”

“The admiral was a good man,” Fireball said. “I heard he retired.”

“He did,” Cerra said. “He lost someone close to him.”

“Ponds,” Fireball nodded.

Cerra looked at him sharply. “Yeah. After Ponds d—” The word lodged in her throat, and she swallowed before she continued. “Well, after Ponds, it was like all the fight went out of him.”

“I guess that’s understandable,” Fireball said.

“Not to me,” Cerra replied.

Echo followed the exchange closely, his gaze flicking between Cerra and Fireball. Cerra shifted, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

“I’m going to get some air,” she said. She grabbed another bottle of spotchka as she made her way to the edge of the landing platform. She sat down and dangled her feet over the abyss, staring out at the whizzing speeders. 

She hadn’t spoken to her uncle in over a year. She hadn’t spoken to any of her family, actually. It was too much of a security risk, and besides, she couldn’t bear to face their disappointment and anger after she’d abandoned her post on the Ro-Ti-Mundi following the battle of Coruscant. In their eyes, it was the worst possible thing she could have done. She sometimes wondered if they would have preferred her to have gone down with the Resolute rather than desert.

She avoided her uncle Shoan for an entirely different reason. He knew better than anyone in her family what she had gone through, but at least he had retired honorably after his lover’s death. A bounty hunter had executed Ponds as Shoan watched, helpless to intervene. It had been a brutal but swift death in the line of duty, at the hands of a clear enemy. Fives had been hunted like an animal and then gunned down by his own brothers. He had been lost, confused, and terrified, and he had been murdered by the very men whose lives he was trying to save. 

So no, Shoan did not understand Cerra’s decisions.

Lost in her thoughts, Cerra didn’t hear Gregor’s approach until he lowered himself to sit next to her on the edge of the platform. Had it been any of the other clones, she would have scowled at them until they went away. But it was Gregor: warm, steady, funny, comforting Gregor, who had taken a single look at Cerra and simply claimed her as his best friend the day that Rex introduced them all those months ago. 

He settled next to her, bumping her shoulder with his and holding out his hand for the bottle of spotchka. Cerra handed it to him wordlessly, and he took a long drink. They sat together in silence for some time—unusual for the commando, who could run his mouth with the best. Sometimes, he reminded Cerra of Fives in that way. Gregor was gentler than Fives, whose sense of humor sometimes made him a little abrasive, but both of the clones had a way of drawing everyone around them into easy, friendly conversations that somehow became unshakable bonds.

Cerra felt immensely lucky to have a friend like Gregor, which is why she didn’t shove him off the platform when he inevitably started talking.

“How are your ribs?”

“Fine,” she said. “Definitely not broken.”

He gave her a skeptical look but let it go, and they once again lapsed into silence. Unfortunately, he couldn’t resist prodding again.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

She shrugged. Suddenly, she felt exhausted. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm loosely around her back and pressed a kiss to the top of her shaved head. His lips were warm against her skin, and she sighed as he rested his head against hers.

“Talk to me,” he cajoled.

“I talked to Riyo today,” she began slowly. “About Fox.”

Gregor’s shoulder tensed. “Yeah?”

Cerra hesitated, not wanting to reveal Riyo’s personal story that she’d shared in confidence; not even to Gregor. “They were friends. When she talked about him, it was so different from how I’ve always thought of him.”

She paused, and Gregor waited in silence as she gathered her thoughts. He squeezed his arm around her encouragingly, and she scooted closer to him, reaching for the spotchka bottle. He handed it to her, and she took a fortifying drink. At length, she continued.

“It was like, in my head, I’d built him up to be this monster, but Riyo only ever saw him as a good man.”

Gregor waited a moment to see if she was going to continue before he replied, “We all want to think the best of our friends. Heh, and the worst of our enemies, too.”

“Do you think Fox was under the influence of his inhibitor chip when he killed Fives?” she asked. Her voice sounded very small.

“Maybe,” he said. “We can never know for sure. But I think it’s a good thing that you can consider the possibility.”

“Yeah?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied firmly. “It’s progress.”

“Did it bother you to hear me talk about him the way I did before?” Cerra asked, feeling a stab of remorse about the many, many times she had cursed Fox in front of Gregor. 

“Nah, kriff that brother-killer,” Gregor said easily. “I never knew him, and I don’t give a single kark about honoring his memory. But I give a lot of karks about you.”

Cerra laughed, a thick, ragged sound. “You’re a really good friend, Gregor. Maybe don’t say that in front of Riyo, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “Is there anything else on your mind? You’ve been even quieter than usual the past few days.”

She looked behind them to make sure they were still alone on the platform before she replied.

“It’s Echo,” she confessed. “It’s strange to have him here, this constant reminder of Fives.”

“Is it the usual problem?” Gregor asked. 

Cerra had told him months before how she struggled when meeting new clones, but that was not her current issue.

“No,” she said. “He looks different enough that I don’t get… confused.”

“What is it, then?” Gregor asked. He sounded a little defensive, and Cerra knew that he was torn between his friendship with her and his loyalty to the clone who’d helped rescue him from the Imperial base on Daro.

“It’s nothing he did,” she hastened to reassure him. “It’s just hard to meet the other person in the galaxy who was closest to Fives, but we don’t know each other at all. It’s like this giant, looming thing. I don’t know how to talk to him. I don’t know how to tell him that Fives and I—”

She faltered.

“Maybe you should get to know him,” Gregor suggested.

“Rex certainly seems to think so,” Cerra said with some asperity. “He wants me to take him with me on my next supply run.”

Gregor chuckled. “I don’t think Rex will ever stop feeling responsible for the boys in the 501st.”

“He needs to channel that energy into something productive instead of hounding me all the time,” Cerra said, disgruntled. “I hear needlepoint is very soothing.”

“Heh. I should ask him to embroider me something. Maybe a TK trooper helmet with the words, ‘Aim. Shoot. Miss.’”

“You know, you’re the one who taught them how to shoot,” Cerra pointed out.

“Good thing, too. We would probably be dead by now if I’d taught them properly,” Gregor said.

“Oh, so it was a strategic decision from an elite commando, then,” she said.

“Exactly,” he said with a giggle.

Cerra snuggled closer to him, reaching across to hold his free hand. She knew that the hoarseness in his voice sometimes made him self-conscious, but to her, it was the most comforting sound in the galaxy, because it was his.

“You know I never met Fives,” Gregor said quietly. “But I do know Echo. He’s a good man, Cerra. He saved my life. If Fives was anything like his twin, then it’s even more of a damn shame that I’ll never get to know him.”

“Fives would have loved you,” Cerra said. “I can’t imagine what kind of bizarre pranks the two of you would have gotten up to if you’d met.” Gregor laughed and nudged his knee playfully against her leg. “He’d be happy to know I have you to watch my back.”

“I always will,” Gregor promised, squeezing her into a hug. They stayed that way for hours, watching the airspeeders streak across the neon city, their dazzling lights swarming through the darkness of the night sky: a spiraling, unnatural galaxy of stars beyond number.

---

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