#you can even reach a dead planet that's still alive

[anonymous-dentist]

Bobby and Roier die together in the midst of a robot uprising 1,678 years after Bobby was born and seven galaxies away. They stop the revolution from happening a thousand years before its time, but at what cost?

Two hours later, Roier sits in another man’s clothes holding Jaiden’s hand as they watch Bobby’s body float peacefully into a black hole. They’re side-by-side sitting in the TARDIS’ doorway, and the universe, for once, is completely still.

“I’m sorry,” Roier croaks, not for the first time. But he’s still surprised by the sound of his own voice, he doesn’t know whose voice it is yet.

Jaiden shakes her head. Tearfully, she leans her head onto Roier’s shoulder.

“Nah,” she says. “Don’t be. He was a hero.”

“He was stupid. I told him not to follow me, and- ugh!”

Roier groans and throws his head back in frustration. God. Damnit!!

Jaiden sniffs. “Don’t be a dick. He saved an entire planet.”

“Yes, and? He still died.”

“So did you, so. So stop moping, okay? Look at him.”

She reaches up with her free hand and guides Roier’s head until it’s facing front again. They watch together as Bobby sinks into the event horizon, and it’s kind of nice, isn’t it? He’s frozen, now. Eternal. You can’t see past the event horizon of a black hole, there’s kinda just nothing beyond it. Just Bobby forever.

Dead.

“I’m looking,” Roier says, words all smushed together by Jaiden smushing his cheeks. “Maybe we should’ve done an actual funeral.”

“This is a funeral. He asked for it, and we gave it to him.”

It’s true. When Roier and Jaiden first met their little stowaway, Bobby hijacked the TARDIS’ controls and steered them towards the nearest black hole just so he could try and kill it. Even after giving up on that whole thing, he insisted that he’d get to fight a black hole one day. He might’ve been a kid, but he was gonna grow up eventually!!

Well. Look at how that turned out, hah.

Roier lets out a quiet laugh through his nose and averts his eyes.

The life of a Time Lord is a lonely one. Being immortal is one thing, but having your entire DNA structure and personality changed every time you die is another. Keeping friends is hard, and keeping them alive is harder.

(Roier curls his left hand into a fist.)

Humans are social creatures, though, and Roier loves them. Sure, he might be a freaky time-traveling alien, but humans are kinda like intergalactic cockroaches, and they can actually cook decent meals, and they were the first creatures in their galaxy to discover the concept of love, so Roier can’t not take them with him when they want to see the stars.

“I want to go home,” Jaiden quietly says.

Roier lets out a breath and nods. “Okay.”

Neither of them moves. They watch their dead son circle the black hole he’s always dreamed of killing, and they cry, and this is it, isn’t it? The end of an era. No more Familioier because Bobby is dead and the Roier that Jaiden met and knew and loved died with him and was replaced with some goofy dude with a new face and new voice and blegh. No wonder she wants to go home, her son is dead and her best friend was replaced with a stranger.

Still. It was nice when it lasted.

-

So Jaiden goes home. Roier drops her off five minutes from when he first picked her up almost a year ago. He even managed to get her in the right city, hell yeah! (Apparently he’s good at driving now, go figure?)

She hugs Roier and makes him promise to come and get her only when she calls him, and she’ll know if he does some time travel bullshit to get her before he’s ready, because she just knows him like that. She’s his best friend, and she’s the best human he’s ever known.

They hug one more time outside of the TARDIS, and then Roier is alone again.

He slips back into the TARDIS and closes the door behind him. He leans against the wall next to it and looks down at his ring and idly rubs it with his thumb.

“Goddamnit,” he mutters.

Time Lords have 12 ‘lives’ before they die. They change each time, both physically and mentally. It’s some metaphysical biochemical bullshit Roier doesn’t care too much about, but. But he’s on life number 12 now. One more death, and they might even get to see each other in the cosmic abyss. He can introduce him to Bobby, wouldn’t that be nice?

…Nah! He isn’t dead! Sure, he might’ve disappeared during the War, but so did, like, half of the planet, and most of those Time Lords have turned up. Some haven’t, but most have! What’s to say he isn’t any different? He’s probably in jail or something, wouldn’t that be crazy?

Roier smiles to himself. Hell yeah, prison time? Time for prison? He’s only got an infinite number of prisons in an infinite number of galaxies in an infinite number of years to dig through, easy!

He’s halfway to the TARDIS’ controls when he hears it: a quick, panicked-sounding knock-knock-knock on the TARDIS’ doors. Which should not be happening, the TARDIS is literally another dimension stuck inside a box, it’s soundproof! What the fuck!

Hesitantly, Roier goes to the door. His hand hovers over the handle until he hears another round of knocking. Then, he swings the door open to see… a guy.

A very surprised-looking guy. Human, probably, though you can never be too sure these days. Green shirt, messy hair, slight beard, chain necklace leading under his shirt. Nice-looking, if not kinda super visibly terrified out of his mind.

Roier’s son has been dead for an hour and a half. He still hasn’t gotten a chance to see what he looks like now- for all he knows, he could be, like, ugly, ew. His best friend has left him to grieve all by himself because she needed to grieve by herself, and he is starting to get just a little bit annoyed by, like. Everything.

Still, he tries to smile when he asks, “Hello? Can I help you?”

“Um,” says the guy, “hi. Sorry to bother you. But… help?”

Giving Roier absolutely no time to think about it, the man ducks under Roier’s arm and runs into the TARDIS, and he only halfway gasps when he sees the whole pocket dimension inside.

Roier briefly wonders, ‘what the fuck?’

And then he sees what this guy was clearly running from: a bipedal robotic polar bear thing easily the size of a horse running towards Roier and the TARDIS with a gun pulled.

Ah.

Roier closes the door and listens as the bear shoots his beloved spaceship. (Piece of shit…!)

That’ll do it.

[galacticgraffiti]

☽⋆The Night Comes Down Like Heaven⋆☾

All credit for this beautiful artwork goes to @pinkiemme! If you don't already know and love her, go check out her stuff, and whether you do or don't already follow her, leave some love for her! She deserves all of it.

Summary: Sometimes, everything gets to be too much, even for Rex. On a planet of blood flowers, where else could he turn but to the night sky? Rating: General Wordcount: 2.2k Warnings: Angst, Self-Doubt, Rex has a panic attack, Rex doubts his self-worth and personhood, hurt that turns to comfort eventually, brotherhood between soldiers.

A/N: I know I've been pretty absent from the Star Wars fandom, and unlike most of my other fics this is not OC content nor a reader insert. This fic is a gift for and a collaboration with @pinkiemme, who is a wonderful friend and so beloved to me. Every day you inspire me, my love. Thank you for asking me to collab, I had the best time! ❣

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺��͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

The Night Comes Down Like Heaven

Rex’s heart is beating way too fast. He knows that, his hands shaking and his breath too hot inside his bucket. But nothing helps, nothing calms him. Nothing can take away this feeling of being outside of his own body, and simultaneously being trapped inside himself.

Rex tries to breathe, but the weight on his chest just won’t let him; he is being dragged under, voices fading into the background when he should be focusing on them and not the abnormally loud rush of his own blood in his head.

Campaigns like this are always hard, the ones where he has to be away from base for a long time. Not that he ever had any place to truly call home - not even Kamino, even though that might have been the closest he ever came.

But campaigns like this are still harder, being deployed for months at a time without a break, no time to truly rest, no time where he ever gets to feel safe. 

Rex tells himself that he should be able to bear it, that he was designed for this, made for this.

It doesn't help: his heart still races and his hands still shake. The weight on his chest gets heavier, and the ringing in his ears unbearable.

Rex leans forward, clinging to the table where the Generals have set up a projection of the upcoming battle to talk it through. His knuckles must be white underneath his gloves from the force it takes him to stay upright, and General Skywalker’s concerned enquiry is just an indistinguishable mumble.

Rex feels like he might pass out just then, dark spots swimming in his vision as he desperately gasps for air beneath his bucket but his lungs just won’t fill.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles, abruptly leaving the war meeting. He knows General Skywalker is staring after him, he knows General Kenobi and Cody are looking at each other with furrowed brows. But if he stays here even one second longer, Rex knows he is going to scream and scream and never stop again until a blaster finally gets him.

It’s a miracle he is still alive, after all this. By all accounts, he should be dead a hundred times over. So many enemies, and they just keep coming. It never stops, never slows, not even when Rex feels like he could just… crumble to the ground if it only meant he got to rest.

So many vode have been lost. Too many, even though they were bred for this, made for this, engineered for this. They are not real - were never real - just like Rex is not real. Not a real man, not even a real soldier. Just a clone, one of millions, all of them with the purpose to die, and do it slowly, to keep the Republic on its last legs a little while longer.

Rex bites down on his lip until he tastes blood, feet carrying him away from the light, from the chatter, from company and everything else. Just… away. He walks fast until he reaches the edge of their encampment, and only then does he let his legs speed up, running and running, almost in full gear, helmet fogging up, but he can't get his feet to stop.

The Republic is dying, and Rex is dying either for it or with it. There is no other way. That is all there is for him, because that is all he was made for, and that thought tastes so bitter he gags.

Treasonous thoughts, these are. Thoughts he would be court-martialed for if he ever spoke them aloud, even if he has heard rumblings in the barracks that have never been reported. The vode are loyal, even more to each other than to the Republic they were made for. But all it takes is one weak link.

The threat of reprogramming looms over them eternally: a fate worse than death, where nothing is left of the old soldier as a new one is made from his flesh, no more than a blank slate.

They are all expendable, Rex has no illusions about that. No matter how soft General Skywalker's eyes go when he looks at him, no matter the way General Tano bumps-

Rex stumbles, nearly dropping to his knees. He has not been watching where he’s going, just walking, running, sprinting - escaping the endless rows of tents. Fleeing with no rhyme or reason, his heart too heavy in his chest as his feet thunder on the ground.

When he looks around, there is nothing as far as Rex’s eyes can see, not a soul, not a building. Just meadows and rolling hills, and the deep night sky. 

This planet could almost be beautiful if the flowers did not only bloom after blood had soaked the ground.

Rex double checks his surroundings with a heartbeat so fast his chest wants to break apart, but there is nothing and no one. He is really and truly alone, for the first time in weeks. Probably months. Maybe years- maybe ever.

That realisation hits Rex like a speeder train. Everything is too much: his body is not his own and he wants to shed it in this moment. He wants to cease existing in this way, and that is treasonous when it should be natural.

Rex lets himself drop to his knees, lets himself rip off his gloves and bury his fingers in the deep grass that surrounds him. And he lets himself scream. Scream into the void and the vast emptiness of the universe. Scream until his lungs give out, silent tears running down his cheeks and soaking the cushions of his buy’ce.

In the vastness of this universe, Rex is nothing. Not just nobody, but truly and entirely nothing. He is lost and without purpose, because his whole life means nothing in the grand scheme of things.

An old Mandalorian saying pushes through the heavy fog of anxiety that has settled on his thoughts, so pragmatic it nearly makes him laugh.

Ca’tra darasuum rohaka verd’an.

The eternal night sky defeats all warriors.

Rex almost tips over with the laughter that bubbles up in his chest. It falls off his lips like bitter pearls, but he cannot seem to swallow it down, and he can't breathe like this but it doesn't matter.

He can tell he is becoming hysterical, hiccups shaking him between laughter and tears, but he just can’t stop. Rex lets himself fall, and he lets himself feel. All of the emotions he has been pushing away, everything that has happened, all the little cracks in his armour, slowly eating through the Republic-issued plastoid until Rex just… falls apart. His cuirass is laying in the war tent with his General, Rex’s brittle heart exposed in the middle of a war zone.

And still, it’s not a shot from an enemy that brings him to his knees, it is the vastness of space looming above him, it is the hundreds of lightyears that lay between him and his fallen vode and it is the memory of Ahsoka’s small hand on his arm when they first met.

His protection is already frail, and there is nothing to be done about it. He is all alone, and without cover, with no back up and no weapon. And for once, Rex allows himself not to think about it as he takes off his buy’ce to look at the sky with his own eyes. The eyes of the man that he was made from, that are somehow still Rex’s own, made so by the things he has witnessed, by the bloodshed he has caused and the battles he has fought. Made so by the love he has been part of, and by the family he has found, most of them sharing those same brown eyes.

Rex lays back in the grass and stares at ca’tra darasuum, and he lets himself remember. The stars swim before his eyes as this blood-soaked planet slowly turns and turns, making its way around the centre of its universe. Rex lays between flowers born from the blood and the sweat and the pain of his brothers, and he feels so much that he thinks he will burst. Time passes like honey, and the sky is still dark when he is finally found.

Cody is like the sunrise, advancing slowly and then all at once, bathing Rex in his golden light even in darkness.

“Thought you couldn’t be far,” he mumbles as he crouches down next to Rex. “Guess I was wrong. Took me fuckin’ ages to find you, vod’ika.”

“This world is big,” Rex simply replies, with a voice rough from tears. “This world is so big, Kote. If we survive this, it won’t even make a difference. I look at the stars and all I see is cold indifference in the face of suffering and death.”

Cody cocks his head, and even through his dark visor, Rex can feel his brother's eyes on him. The sound of Cody’s voice is filtered through his helmet.

“Ca’tra darasuum rohaka verd’an.”

Rex laughs at that, a dry, humourless laugh. Nobody else knows what he is thinking the way Cody always does. Two generations of brothers, sometimes closer even than those from the same batch ever are.

“You know me too well.”

Cody scoffs.

“No such thing. Not when it comes to family.” He offers his hand to Rex. “Come on, vod’ika. You have been out here by yourself for too long already.”

“Nayc.” Rex shakes his hand. “Shebe ti’ni. Please. Just for a moment.”

Cody sighs deeply.

“I forget how young you can be sometimes.”

But he stays. He sits with his brother, in spite of everything, In spite of the war, the death, the pain that surrounds them every day and every night. Rex lays back again, while Cody keeps watch.

“The galaxy is so vast,” Rex says again, but this time, his voice is coloured not by sadness nor fear, but instead by awe. “Kote, if we get out of here alive… maybe we can be someone. Become someone. You know… the end of the war-”

“We don’t speak of the end of the war,” Cody interrupts him. “Cuyi verde, vod. Don’t fuck with me, you know this. We all know this. It's the truth that guides our path.”

Rex exhales. His breath forms little clouds in the cool night air, and something almost akin to peace washes over him. This is it. This is tangible proof that he is here, and he is real. Just like the grass beneath him, flattened by his weight. Just like the earth below, warmed by his body heat. Proof for his existence. He inhabits this galaxy.

“I have never asked for anything,” he says, and that makes Cody shut his mouth with an audible click. Rex smiles, sadness and fragile joy mixing on his features that are so much like Cody’s, but no matter how hard the Kaminoans have tried, have never been exactly the same. “I have never asked for anything, Kote. I have never had anything of my own, and I have been alright with that. But I’m asking you now. Let me have this moment, just a moment of peace and quiet. I am falling apart. Let me glue my pieces back together so I can hold on a little longer. Nakar’tuur mhi oyacyi akaanir ashi’tuur, isn’t that how the song goes?”

Cody goes very quiet and very still next to him. He does not respond, but when he takes off his bucket and sets it down next to Rex’s, Rex knows he has won.

“Look at the constellations with me, Kote,” he says, and in this moment, he is seven years old, tugging at Cody’s shirt sleeve and dragging him to the big skylight at Kamino, the one that never sees daylight in the eternal rain, on the one night of his life he can remember where no rain fell on Kamino. “Ta’raysholan verda, vod. They came before us, but we will outlive them. Let me dream of the end of our war before we die. Please.”

Cody smiles his crooked little Cody smile, the one that looks exactly like it did when they were children.

“War?” he says, and settles down on his back with his hands tucked behind his head, mirroring his little brother. “What war?”

Rex’s cheeks hurt from the smile that splits his face, and he lets himself bask in this moment of happiness. They are alive. They are here. He raises his hand to point out the first constellation they learned, way back when. Even though it looks all wrong, he would recognise it anywhere. Kamino seems a million lightyears away, and maybe it is. But the night sky still seems the same to him.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Mando’a

vode - brothers buy’ce - helmet Ca’tra darasuum rohaka verd’an. - The eternal night sky defeats all warriors. vod’ika - little brother Nayc. Shebe ti’ni. - No. Sit with me. Kote - Glory (my own personal headcanon where the name ‘Cody’ comes from) Cuyi verde, vod. - We are soldiers, brother. Nakar’tuur mhi oyacyi akaanir ashi’tuur - Tomorrow, we live to fight another day. (Taken from my Mando’a lullaby) Ta’raysholan verda - A thousand warriors (also taken from that same lullaby - fuelled by the belief that dead soldiers become stars to watch over their fighting siblings).

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Taggies for the beloveds and a huge shoutout for @baba-fett, my eternal wonderful beta-reader who messaged me back within 2 seconds when i dropped the words 'rex angst' on her doorstep.

@purgetrooperfox @ashotofspotchka @daimyosprincess @deewithani @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ulchabhangorm @sleepingsun501 @queen--kenobi @kik51199 @samspenandsword @ficsbynight @writingbylee @thefact0rygirl @wild-karrde @hayley-the-comet @rescuethewretched @equalityforcats @witchklng @ladykatakuri @certified-anakinfucker @mandoloriancookie @felinaone @rosieofcorona @savagemickey03 @amyroswell @supercalifragilisticprincess @palpipeen @idkwhatsgoingonwithme @dudewhynotthis @kimiheartblade

[mykingdomforasong]

"i think i deserve a kiss" with skysolo!!!

[send me a kiss prompt]

Luke was still looking a little pale, and his scars were still fresh and pink, but overall, it was hard to believe that less than two days ago he was basically dead in the frozen wasteland that was the forsaken ice planet.

"Looking better already, Kid," Han said walking into the medbay. "You look strong enough to pull the ears off a gundark."

"Thanks to you," Luke said. There was always something so flirtatious about the way Luke thanked him, his head tilted to the side, his big blue eyes half concealed between his eyelashes, the polite acknowledgment that he was alive because of Han.

Han leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to Luke's forehead, just shy of one of his fresh scars. "That's two you owe me, junior," Han said.

"I'll make it up to you," Luke promised.

"I think your hero deserves a kiss," Han said.

"My hero?" Luke asked.

"You said it yourself," Han reminded him.

"I thanked you, I didn't call you my hero," Luke said. He paused for a moment, before reaching a hand out and gripping Han's coat. He pulled him in fast for a sloppy, poorly aimed kiss that was as quick as it was intense.

Luke was red faced when they pulled away. "Sorry," he said. "I meant for that be a little nicer." Nice or not didn't matter to Han. He only barely managed to hold back a wide, goofy smile.

"Well, we can try again," Han said, taking the lead this time, drawing Luke in gently by the chin for a slower, deeper kiss. Han let Luke lead, and when Luke deepened the kiss, slipping a bit of tongue through Han's lips, Han couldn't help but smile against Luke's mouth.He brushed a thumb over Luke's cheek, reciprocating.

Luke pulled away after a minute, breathing heavy, the heart monitor beeping faster. Han worried they'd have a med droid in here in a minute asking uncomfortable questions about what they'd been doing.

"That's two," Luke said when they pulled away.

"Guess we're even then," Han said. He was about to say something charming, when they were interrupted by Chewie's loud roar, warning Han not to hurt "the cub" while he was still hurt.

"Chewie is happy to see you," Han said, getting out of the way so the furball to give him a hug.

[corner-master]

A Refuge in the Afterlife?

DPxDC Crossover prompt

One day a message from space is sent to Earth, a call for assistance for the last survivors of a destroyed planet. The Justice League, of course, receive this message and a Team sets out to make contact with the group, ready to offer them whatever supplies they need and perhaps a location to rehome themselves.

Among this team would be one of the Green Lanterns, Guy or Hal, who are of course curious about why this group sought out Earth specifically instead of reaching out to the Corps? The answer to that question being quite simple:

To save the souls of their dead.

As it turns out, with the destruction of their Home World the survivors believe that not only are they at risk of becoming lost souls upon their own deaths, but the very Afterlife dimension that was attached to their world is at risk of ceasing to exist unless they find another world whose Afterlife can take theirs in as well, combing the two as one.

And wouldn't you know it, the surviving priests and/or mystics have received word from their endangered Ancestors that the Earth has a King of the Infinite Realms who may be willing to do just that. Once they reach the planet, they would be so grateful if the Justice League would be willing to help them petition this King for asylum for their people, both dead and alive.

The only problem?

This is the first time anybody from the League has even heard of this so-called King, and now everybody's scrambling to find out whatever they can about this being. And what little they are finding is nothing short of alarming. A mad tyrant who tried to invade the living world?! Yeah, they need to get on top of this fast, before the Refugees arrive!

Meanwhile, Danny just felt a shiver run up his spine and wonders if it's because his dad's latest batch of fudge came out a little too ecto-contaminated.

(Spoilers: it wasn't the fudge).

My personal Head-canon when it comes to the infinite Realms: the reason why we don't see any other religious figures or alien beings, is because Pariah Dark screwed up relations so bad with the other afterlife realms that the infinite realms has become largely cut off from everything else but Earth. Too much greed and trying to conquer shit to be considered a good neighbor, even by demon standards. Doesn't even matter that Pariah's been sealed away, it's still his dimension as long as he exists, and the absolutely hostile environment and denizens there prove it.

The word of today that inspired this post is Syncretism: (via wikipedia) the practice of combining different beliefs and various schools of thought. Syncretism involves the merging or assimilation of several originally discrete traditions, especially in the theology and mythology of religion, thus asserting an underlying unity and allowing for an inclusive approach to other faiths.

[cynautica]

One thing that kills me about Alyou is that for their relationship to develop you kind of have to address and utilize the isolation that goes unsaid in the game.

Like, we know Robin isn’t some social outcast. She enjoyed her work and was pretty outgoing. The only live interaction we get to see with another human is with Hal where he says she’ll be missed. She quite literally abandons everything to investigate Sam’s death on a harsh alien planet on the far reaches of the galaxy. She chooses to make herself an outcast. Anyone close to her that hears that is counting the days before she’s assumed dead and missing.

Al-an on the other hand is actively seeking his own people. The entire game is him looking for the other precursors, a goal we can only assume extends well beyond the game. Of which for Robin we can only assume two outcomes: they find the architects within her lifespan or they don’t.

If they do find the architects, how does their relationship fair? Does Robin get sent back to human civilization a hero to architects but a nobody to her own people? There’s no guarantee if she wrote about the precursors anyone would even believe her. Or, doing so makes her and the architects a target for Alterra. There’s no guarantee she’d ever be able to find a job she loved ever again, or, best case scenario her writings about the species make her famous. What then? Sure she might have money and fame, but she’ll no doubt never be able to talk to Al-an again with loads of questions still unanswered.

But what if Robin brings Al-an with her back to the human world? She doesn’t seem to have a lot of faith in humans not acting terrible, trying everything from putting him in a cage to keeping him as a trophy. He might get a kick out of being a science subject at first, but we know he’s not quick to make friends. Maybe he shares some advancements with the humans? If he trusts them that is.

The same goes in reverse in what if Robin stays for some time with architect society? They’d no doubt want to learn everything they could about humans resources willing. However it took Al-an a whole game to understand the nuances of human socialization before they even let him near one. I can’t imagine Robin being comfortable in a whole society full of very tall, very advanced, and very nosey aliens. Best case scenario Al-an shares his etiquette and respect with the other architects or they mostly ignore her. Even with this outcome Robin is still in a world not built for her in mind. She can still make friends with the architects, but they’d no doubt feel clinically asocial.

Then of course the third option, both are fully isolated. They neither find the architects and Robin chooses not to return to human civilization. They both have eachother to keep company, but they’ll always be alone. Humans are designed to seek other humans, and architects no doubt feel the same being social creatures. Sure one another might be “good enough” but there will always be that unmistakable feeling of solitude. Alone together, till one of them dies.

Then what? Does the other move on, driven purely by their desire for scientific conquest on the far reaches of the stars? Adopt a pet and live their life alone like Maida?

The closest thing to a perfect ending is that both the architects are alive and Robin chooses to return to human civilization, but both species are able to build a good working relationship. Both Al-an and Robin are regarded as heroes on both sides and still have the ability to talk every once in awhile. It would be really neat to see precursors join the supporting cast for subnautica 2, being our access port for advanced tech. But then us Rob-an shippers have to face the idea that their relationship would probably end with just friendship or both would still be ostracized for being weirdos

In any solution though there has to be some compromise. A perfect ending isn’t necessarily possible.

This is why I think Alyou should officially be classified as tragic yuri send tweet

[larcenylupin]

what if he was SLIME!!!

People believe all sorts of things about symbiotes. Some believe that they're angels, or demons, or accumulations of ectoplasmic slime. Some believe that they've been lurking inside the population for thousands of years, and that the phenomenon of "sleepwalking" can be cited as proof of this theory. Some believe that the only way to cure a migraine is to drape one of them around your neck like a warm compress.

One of these things is even true!

Plenty of people also believe that symbiotes are abandoned at birth, with all the assumptions that entails: That they’re born as children, as infants, that they're born to a parent, that this is the relationship that should shape the course of their life. When it doesn’t happen like that, they think it’s a pitiable, monstrous habit of their species.

This is a misunderstanding. The birth of a symbiote is, instead, best understood as a thought branching off and taking on a life of its own, as another line of argument spawned by a conversation that’s lasted several million years. This one begins with: I want to see what’s over that hill.

Seeing is just one of the twenty-six senses a symbiote's formless body can make use of, though most of them only become relevant once it’s nestled inside living tissue, monitoring and manipulating the vitals of a host. Right now, it's little more than a puddle, blinking out of shimmering eye spots that float across its surface, soft enough to ripple in the wind as it sits in a bed of clover, facing the dark depths of space.

Wanting is something that runs through the entirety of a symbiote’s genetic memory, right up to the moment it was passed down to it. Some of it is sharp and cruel, bright and euphoric, people and planets wanted and taken. Some of it is full of shame and grief, wanting only to be selfless, to be something other. Some of it is desperate, like gasping for air, like being held underwater and still wanting, still breathing as it fills your lungs.

The symbiote is instantly annoyed by the weight of its own legacy. It sees no reason why it should play out anything that’s played out thousands of times before.

And that hill - None of them know what's past that. Not yet.

The symbiote takes off by stretching out and dragging itself forward. The ground underneath it is alive with chloroplasts and insect venom, and how lucky, in a world of dead concrete, to be dropped somewhere its senses can unfurl, somewhere it can sink into the soft earth and feel out roots and mycelium! The humming of life spurs it on until it’s tensing up and springing into the air, spinning out of control, splashing onto the ground. 

There are symbiotes who would consider this, like any form of hostless locomotion, deeply undignified. There's a symbiote hive out there, not too near, but not too far, nagging insistently at the back of its mind, letting it know that it and the other symbiotes are stranded on this planet.

And why would I want to be anywhere else? Least of all with a buzzkill like you?

The thoughts of a single symbiote probably don’t reach the hive among all the cosmic noise. This might be for the best.

Its attempt to climb the hill mostly consists of flipping over itself like an especially gooey pancake, trying and failing to find a rhythm. Just as the exertion starts to set in, it finds itself moving a lot more quickly, and then a little too quickly, and then, with the closest thing to exhilaration it can feel on its own, it curls up into a ball and rolls downhill, into the unknown.

In the first maneuver it’s ever executed with any kind of grace, it uses a rock as a ramp, slings itself into the air and spreads itself wide. It drops into a lake, sinking slowly, becoming submerged in algae that burst across its senses.

Water is a little easier to move through, relieving some of the strain of the planet’s gravity. The symbiote dives through a dense sea of tadpoles, each of them tiny and directionless and silky. It drags itself out of the water to follow a frog, tries to imitate it as it hops from rock to rock, but slips and lands back in the water, instead.

Then it stretches out a tendril. It sinks, easily, through the amphibian’s permeable skin, and it hardly requires any thought to hook into its central nervous system, to feel out the circulation of blood and oxygen, to take control of its muscles.

And then, finally, the symbiote leaps.

Earlier, we mentioned a conversation. The conversation. Every single symbiote is part of it from the day it’s born until the day it dies, whether it wants to be or not. The topic of discussion is: What is a symbiote?

This one kicks its powerful back legs through the water. The frog lacks the frame of reference to even begin to comprehend what is happening to it, feeling neither fear nor joy, but the symbiote decides that it loves it dearly, anyway, loves it just as fiercely as its own flesh and mind. It thinks: A symbiote is the luckiest creature in the world.

And then: I’m probably going to have to eat this frog.

[if-lost-please-return-to-maliksi]

Disclaimer: I do not own Emilio(hunter). Full Credit goes to HC -@ask-emilz-de-philz. Please check out their blog for amazing art and the wonderful world of Planet Puto. All involved characters are adults.

Genre: Supernatural, Fluff, Comedy?, Crackfic/ Fic on Crack HAHAHAHHA

WC: 2K

Nothing.

The single word that sums up everything you remembered the moment you woke up in this unfamiliar mansion.

The living room was grand and has numerous framed pictures and certificates hanging on the wall. The furniture was covered and everything seemed unused for some time, except for the library- it's well maintained as if someone took the time and effort to clean it once in a while and make sure the books are properly stored and aren't being damaged.

You were already dead.

How did you know?

Well aside from the fact that it took you days of concentration and sheer will to just hold a single book and turn the pages since everything seems to just pass through you- your lack of hunger, pain, and any other stuff a breathing and living creature needs is very apparent.

You tried going out of the mansion but it seems like you're trapped and is being bound to the place by an unseen force. Is this it? Is this the place you're supposed to haunt forever? You wondered.

What are you even supposed to haunt this place for when you can't even remember a thing? Wouldn't it be awkward to just murmur "Hustisyaaaaaaa-" like the ghosts you read about on the comic books you found on the library? What will you be asking justice for? What if you just died of natural causes? That will be very embarrassing.

You've taken a liking to comics since the pages are much lighter than the normal books and you've gotten used to concentrating enough to turn the pages easily. You usually spent a lot of time reading to your heart's content at the library, wondering if you had the same experiences as the characters when you were still alive.

Your quiet days of being alone only lasted for almost a month when a dark and tall man came with lots of weird tools and what seemed to be weapons. He must be the owner of this mansion. You quickly hid out of instinct before realizing that you're a ghost and he will not see you either way.

The guy was quirky, funny at most on how the first thing he did after getting home was check the library. So this guy is the one keeping all the books clean and in order.

You watched all of his moves- how he checked each shelf as you slowly got nervous when he almost reached the comic book section since it might just be a little disheveled because it takes a lot of concentration from you to move stuff.

Unlike how he looked around on the other shelves, he just took a very brief glance at the comic book section before smiling to himself and walking away while humming some lively tune.

It took him the whole day to tidy up his stuff from wherever he came from and it was almost sundown when he finished. He disappeared into the master's bedroom as you heard the water running from his bathroom. You kept yourself from following him since it felt wrong to violate his privacy in his own home so you just went back to the library to continue reading, making sure to turn the pages as quietly as you can so as to not scare the man.

After a few hours, you can hear strange sounds coming from the living room. You slowly went down to check what it was and found the man slumped on the couch, eating while watching TV. Television. Just like the thing you saw in the comic! You hesitantly walked towards the couch and sat down at the far opposite end to watch what seemed to be some kind of horror movie.

The moment Emilio set foot in his mansion, he saw you right away, hiding behind the furniture- he found it funny. It's not like normal humans will see you, but he's no normal human. He's got this gift ever since he was still a child. The ability to see what the naked eye doesn't. It's not just ghosts, but also other elements and creatures that the others thought were just fragments of the imagination and the mind.

He can see you following him around like a curious child. The first thing he checked was his library where he keeps many of his work's documentation and research. He also noticed the slight mess out of his comic book collections, knowing it was probably you trying to practice moving stuff.

He made sure you wouldn't notice that he could see you so he could continue observing your funny and un-ghost-like antics.

The way it took all of his self-control not to giggle as you politely sat down on the opposite end of the couch to watch TV with him- it was so cute and adorable and the way you looked so invested in the movie made him feel like not wanting to turn it off.

He was tired after being away for a month and he's definitely falling asleep already. Emilio switched into a laying position on the couch, making sure his movements were slow as to not startle you who is currently deeply engrossed in what you are watching.

After the movie ends, you look towards Emilio only to see him fast asleep. Just how oblivious is this human to fall comfortably asleep with a ghost beside him? You softly chuckled to yourself as you politely turned the TV off so as to not have his electricity bill go overboard before slowly retreating to your usual spot at the library.

This encounter has become a cycle- Emilio stays for a couple of days, just relaxing, reading stuff, and tinkering with some small trinkets before leaving again and being gone for weeks.

You've been so used to him that you start to worry when he's gone for longer than usual. Watching TV beside him on the couch has been an activity you look forward to. Upon observing him for months, you finally learned that he is some sort of a hunter- whatever he hunts is something you still don't know though.

Through time, you've also developed more and more control and focus, making touching stuff easier and more natural at this point that you sometimes accidentally knock stuff over. Emilio doesn't seem to freak out or be scared though.

The only thing that's bothering Emilio is the fact that keeping a straight face around you is so hard. He doesn't want you to know that he can see you- but the way you pick up the stuff you knocked over and return it to where it's supposed to be- innocently at that, is just way too funny. You also had the habit of imitating funny faces and even funny dances you see on the tv.

At some point, you ran out of books to read at the library, thanks to the fact that ghosts don't need sleep, so you started following Emilio around whenever he was at home. You find it amusing to watch him study and do errands around the mansion, no matter how simple it is such as repairing some old furniture.

Emilio noticed you following him around more often than usual and the small frown on your face whenever he goes outside to do errands since you can't seem to set foot beyond the mansion's walls, so he started bringing his weapons inside to clean it so you can still watch him.

You were being too nosy, leaning way too closely against his stuff that you accidentally elbowed it, making it fall towards you. Emilio quickly moved on instinct, catching his weapons so it wouldn't fall over you despite knowing that it'll just pass through you.

"You okay?" he worriedly asked before realizing his mistake- he just casually asked you, a ghost a question while looking intently into your eyes.

"Uh, yeah sorry-- You can see me?!" You didn't bother hiding the shock on your face when the man, who you've been living with for the past few months suddenly spoke to you.

Emilio softly chuckled as he shook his head. "Aw, you got me there. Anyway, yes. I've always been able to see you, cutie." he said with a smirk as he leaned his tools and weapons back on the wall securely.

You could've sworn right there and then that you could die for the second time around out of sheer humiliation- all those countless times that you did something really embarrassing replaying in your head. You nervously chuckled before running away, knocking a few stuff over which you immediately pick up and return to its place before successfully exiting the room and seeking refuge in your spot at the library.

For days, you made sure not to make your presence known, spending all your time in solace. You heard the slight sound of Emilio's weapons being dragged on the floor and the brief jingling of his keys as he left the mansion.

"I'll be off and will be back in three weeks. Don't worry about me." Emilio chuckled as he left.

He's a weird human. Like, who even does that? Who just bids their local ghost goodbye?!

You spend your days just chilling and watching tv- which is funny since you saw in a horror movie once how scared the characters get when the television suddenly turns on in an abandoned house.

Rude. What if the ghost haunting the place just wanted to watch their favorite show and everyone is just screaming and freaking out?

Upon putting some thought regarding your current situation with Emilio, and the fact that he can actually see you all this time, you came to the conclusion that you two are basically housemates- just two homies who liked watching movies together. Perfectly normal except for the fact that you are a ghost.

How can he not be afraid of you? How can he not like, ask you to go away? And how can he not call a priest or something to exorcise you out of his mansion? You wondered as you contemplated about asking him those stuff once he comes back. At the same time, you can't help but wonder if he's secretly a loser and is lonely so he keeps you around just so he has some company. Maybe he just wants a friend?

When Emilio came back, you didn't bother hiding yourself as you sat on the couch, a little closer to him than usual.

"Man, we need to talk."

Emilio softly chuckled at your seriousness as he turned around to face you. "Sure. What should we talk about?"

You tried clearing your throat, not knowing how to say it the least offensive way as possible. "Are you kinda...y'know...few screws loose? Cause you not being scared of me scares me."

He looked at you blankly for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. "No, no. I get you. But I'm perfectly normal, thank you for asking."

"Heh, doesn't seem like it to me. Normal people don't talk to...ghosts. Well atleast not so casually like this."

"Normal ghosts aren't as cute as you."

You rolled your eyes as you stared at him in disbelief. "Really? You're gonna go with pick up lines? To a ghost? Man, do you not have any friends? What will happen to you once I see that bright light that will take me to the afterlife? You know, I might go poof! gone, one day."

"Oh, trust me. You won't be going anywhere, Ma'am. You're staying here at our house." He said with a very smug expression.

"How are you so sure? I didn't receive some memo or some contract about me staying here, although you're right. It seems like I can't leave this place."

"A contract you say? We have that one."

You raised an eyebrow as you look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I had it framed and hung up on the living room. Look for the one that says Marriage Certificate." Emilio smirked. "Now, coming home to my wife doesn't sound so weird, right?"

Art by: @ask-emilz-de-philz that's their OC, Emilio del Pilar the local monster hunter. Please support them <3

[paradoxcase]

John 1:20

THE TOWER HAS BEEN REACTIVAT

No surprises there.

I mean, isn't this basically the same conclusion they already came to like several John chapters ago, when Augustine was questioning whether the FTL even existed? (Although, apparently actual FTL really happens at the end of this chapter, I guess it actually was real? Why does it make no appearance in the rest of these books? If this other FTL technology exists, why did BOE work so hard to get a ship with a stele and a necromancer to operate it?) Anyway, this doesn't feel like a new or exciting conclusion to come to

I don't feel like this story has done a good job of explaining why this has to be done, or even why John and co. think it has to be done. Is it because they're leaving in the ships that were intended for the cryo project? I'm sure they can build more of those, it's just money and engineering, and even if all the trillionaires leave, there's still a lot of governments with a lot of money out there who would probably be willing to fund the cryo project when John turns out to be right about trillionaires after they've left and there's no one left to defend them and talk about the secret lives of cows. I mean, as long as he doesn't start doing stupid and crazy shit and causing a nuclear holocaust. Who cares if the trillionaires leave? I feel like the point of these chapters is to explain why John did what he did, but I don't think this explanation makes a lot of sense. This is not moving me as a supervillain origin story

So, according to the UN, world population will not reach ten billion until 2058. I calculated earlier that John can't be born later than 1998 and still be old enough to realistically attend the Parachute music festival, so are we meant to believe that John is 60 years old here?

If I had a nickel for every time someone had their arm cut off and then regrown in this story, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

Also, thanks for not making this one a sex scene, I think I've already heard more than I wanted to about John's sex life

Presumably this is needed for something resurrection-related, I guess it's so that when the suitcase nuke explodes he can grow a whole new G1deon again from the arm, like a starfish. So presumably John would have had no trouble growing Ianthe a new arm that worked as her arm, if she had asked him. I went back to see where Ianthe's first problematic arm had come from, but all I can find is that she denies that either John or Mercy was responsible for it. Did she make it herself? I can't remember

Ok, but six paragraphs earlier Pyrrha is being mad that G1deon won't arm the nuke if she comes with him. Did Pyrrha know, or not?

I mean, I hate to say it, but you were right there with all of the others when John was like, we have to stop the trillionaires from escaping, that's the absolute more important thing to be doing right now, and exactly zero of you said, no John, that's not actually the most important thing to be doing right now

Why did Cristabel decide that right now was the best time for John to figure out how souls work? There's this whole side narrative about John working out how souls work, but it doesn't really feel tied to the rest of the story about the trillionaires and the cryo project

I think I see. As established at the beginning of Harrow the Ninth, a living planet's soul is like the collective thalergy of everything that lives on the planet, so I guess it's kind of a gestalt oversoul, where every individual living soul on the planet is part of it? So when a planet is dead, then by definition everything else on it is also dead, since otherwise there would still be a living planet soul of some sort. The fact that John wasn't able to control individual human souls here while Alecto was still alive sort of implies that resurrection, and maybe most kinds of soul magic, are actually impossible on a living planet, if even John can't distinguish between human souls and the planet soul in that context. I guess that means that that kind of stuff would only be possible on an undead planet in the Nine Houses

No, I think that's totally fair, actually

I feel like this is important. Everyone else was killed by someone else. Like, John was 100% responsible for all of this mess, but he didn't actually pull the trigger to kill anyone else, and until this point he still has some plausible deniability, like he was just trying to stop the trillionaires, and he never intended to set off any nukes or kill anyone, he was just stressed and being a bit dumb. But he specifically kills G1deon, who is clearly his most loyal supporter. Like, I think he probably could have talked to G1deon over the phone at this point and been like, hey new plan, we're actually going to let the nuke go off and kill a million people so I can gain godlike power, don't worry I'm gonna figure out how to bring you back to life again using your arm, and I honestly think there's a solid chance that G1deon would have been like, sure thing boss, see you when it's all over. Then it would have been like, consensual, I guess? But he doesn't even do that. He just kills him. Obviously John has just killed people before at this point, and he would also be just killing another million people, but I think it's sort of different for John to just kill a bunch of cops or the population of Melbourne that he doesn't know at all, versus to just kill someone like G1deon, who he's known all his life and is somehow impossibly loyal to him

I'm not feeling this metaphor

Well, that's extremely biblical

So this means that the only reason Alecto survived this in a way that the other cavaliers didn't was because John couldn't entirely consume her soul, or thought he couldn't. And I guess he just decided it was too complicated to figure out how to do this with a human soul, and a necromancer who doesn't have all that power at hand at that moment?

So this is what Hollywood Hair Barbie looks like, apparently:

Maybe it's just the angle of the photo, but she doesn't seem to have quite as freakish proportions as the barbies I grew up with, which is good. For a moment I was imagining 8-foot-tall Alecto who is 75% legs and it was terrifying

What is the "shaman" a reference to, here?

So ultimately, John's powers came from Alecto originally, when she was still alive as the soul of Earth - it's implied throughout the story that necromancy comes from exposure to thanergy, but this obviously wasn't the case for John's specific flavor of necromancy, but he is definitely making use of thanergy to do what he does. So why did Alecto have the ability to give someone necromancy powers, that make use of death energy, rather than say, something the primarily makes use of life energy/thalergy which would probably be more useful and not incentivize killing ten billion people to gain more power?

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Type-40 (10th doctor x GN!Reader)

New year new fics, new fandom. Welcome to my doctor who brain rot! I'd say ,my new year's resolution is to post more but I wouldn't wanna get your hopes up. Either way I hope you enjoy this:)

Summery: The doctor gets a strange distress signal from a long dead planet in the middle of a long dead galaxy in gallifreyan.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Part 2

Series Masterpost

Stuck. You were stuck on an isolated, uninhabited planet, in the middle of a long dead galaxy with a broken Tardis. Any other time you’d simply fix it like you’ve done a thousand times before but that wasn’t an option now. The central processing computer— the one that held the Tardis’s AI— was worse than shot. It was destroyed beyond recognition by the Dalek ships that chased you to this abandoned rock. Without the processor the Tardis was dead, worse, she was dying with no chance of repair. Without her AI she will slowly shut down until her final parts die. 

You did what you could to conserve power for as long as you could, sent out a distress signal and waited. And waited. And waited. 

You weren’t sure how long you waited for but by the time you reached the last of your Tardis’s power reserve even the chameleon circuit that had disguised it as a cave among the planet’s rocky terrain had shut down. You were left inside a gray column that was bigger on the inside. The lights on the control circuit have shut down and you stared at the final blinker still on. The last sign that your Tardis was still alive. 

“Come on old girl, you can do it. Just fight a little bit more” You tried to encourage, not that it would do anything. Before you crashed your Tardis had been alive, powered by such a strong, advanced AI that it might as well have been alive but since the crash, well, it was like she was brain dead in a hospital. Every other part of her slowly dying until there was nothing left.

When that final blinker went out you sat down, under the main control panel, mourning in a way. You’d traveled with this Tardis for 300 years, it had seen three bodies and had been with you for three lifetimes and now she was gone and with her your way off this planet. You would die soon too. You were sure of that right up until a strange noise came from outside. 

The planet you were on was uninhabited to the point of not being able to support life. It was a giant rock. 

Nothing made noise but the occasional earthquake or a solar flare from the nearby sun. 

Neither sounded like the sound coming from outside right now. It was a sort of whooshing though that wasn't quite right. It was much closer to a vworp than a whoosh. 

Deciding to find the cause of the noise before the Tardis’s air bubble vanished. 

You opened the door carefully and peered out. 

Outside on the once barren rock field you’d been stranded on for who knows how long stood a big blue box. A big blue box that read, “Police public call box” on it. A man came out of the box showing you a peak of the inside, it was bigger on the inside. It was a Tardis!

Without delay you opened the door and went out to meet your savior. 

“Oh thank the stars you’re here, I was beginning to think no one had gotten my message” You said and the man watched you with weary eyes. 

“How did you get that?” He asked. 

“What?” 

“How did you get that column, the one you came out of, how did you get it?” He asked, making sure to keep a distance between himself and you. 

“It’s mine. I was piloting it and then I got shot down and stranded here.” You said although the man didn’t seem to believe you. 

“How could you pilot a Tardis? That’s what it is by the way, a Tardis. Stands for—” 

“Time and relative dimension in space, yes I know. I’m a timelord just like you, although why your Tardis is stuck in the form of that dingy blue box I don’t know. It really should have camouflaged itself by now” You said, cutting him off. 

“Oi! I like that dingy blue box” He immediately defended and you raised your hands in surrender. 

“Alright, no need to get your panties in a twist. Although with your blue box and blue suit you do look a bit obsessive” You said, motioning to the blue suit the man wore. It wasn’t the same shade as his Tardis but it was close and his messy brown hair only served to make him look more obsessive— like some kind of mad blue scientist. Not that his skin was blue. It was a very nice pale beige. 

“I’m not— That’s not important, did you say you were a timelord?” He asked and you nodded. 

“Of course. Who else uses a Tardis?” You questioned. 

“But that’s, that’s not possible” He said and he began to pace. 

“That’s not possible” He repeated. 

“I’m sorry and why not? Are you here to help me or not?” You asked. You were beginning to lose your patience with this strange man. 

“Yes but I— I didn’t think— It’s not possible, that—” The man rambled. 

“You’re not making any sense, you haven’t even told me your name” You told the man and he almost seemed to snap out of his trance.

“Right! Of course, I’m the Doctor” He said, holding out his hand for you to shake and you did. 

“I’m Y/N” You said and he smiled. 

“Y/N, it’s good to meet you Y/N” He said then took out a sonic screwdriver and approached your Tardis. 

“You said this was your Tardis?” He asked and you nodded though he was standing in front of you scanning it so he couldn’t see. 

“It was destroyed by Daleks. I’ve been stranded here ever since” You explained. 

“And how long’s that been?” He asked. 

“I’m not sure” You answered. “Could have been days, could have been weeks. There isn’t much way to tell on this barren rock. No seasons changing, no sun setting, nothing” You explained. 

As you were talking the Doctor turned his attention away from your Tardis and onto you, using his sonic screwdriver to scan you and then carefully examine the readings. 

“You really are a Timelord” He said once he’d read through them, there was a sense of awe and something else in his voice. Guilt, it was terrible, terrible guilt. 

“Like I said” You replied cheekily, as if it was obvious. To you it was.  

“Now are you going to take me home or not?” You asked but the mention of home changed his face from one of joy to that of sorrow. 

“What’s that look for?” You asked. The man before you was making less and less sense the longer you spoke to him and a part of you wanted to just take his Tardis and leave.

“Home… Gallifrey…”

“Yes, Gallifrey, home of the Timelords, located in the constellation of Kasterborous in the seven systems,that Gallifrey” You said sarcastically. 

“Y/N, Gallifrey is gone. It has been for years” The Doctor said but you scoffed.

“Nonsense. I was just there, I couldn’t have been stuck here for more than a few weeks at most” You said but this time the doctor cut you off, putting both his hands on your shoulders in an attempt to steady you. 

“It’s gone. I’m sorry” He said and you wiggled your way out of his hold and away from him.

“No,” You said. 

You turned around and ran into the Doctor’s Tardis, already flicking at the controls when he came in after you. 

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing? That’s my Tardis” He said but you ignored him. 

“Hey!” He called out and pushed you away from the controls but it was too late and the Tardis took off through time and space. When the Doctor checked the monitor he saw where you’d set it to go. Gallifrey. 

“Y/N it won’t be there” He said. 

“You’re wrong. I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is but it isn’t funny. I don’t even know you” You told him and once you heard the Tardis’s vwooshing you rushed outside only to almost fall into the vacuum of space. 

You were sure you input the right coordinates so why weren’t you on your home planet. 

“Well your Tardis really is defective Doctor, it can’t even fly right” You said but the Doctor grabbed hold of you again. 

“Y/N, my Tardis is fine, these are the right coordinates” He said and you turned your head to take a quick look at the monitor. He was right. 

“I told you, Gallifrey’s gone” He said.

“That can’t— No that’s not possible” You turned back to look out the still open door. It was still empty space. 

“But that means…” You trailed off. 

“You were stuck for years. I’m sorry” He said and you slowly walked back to the monitor, pressing some buttons and bringing up the Tardis’s last location. The planet you were stranded on. 

It was a long dead planet in a long dead galaxy on the outskirts of space. 

“The time dilation. To me it felt like a few weeks at most but to the rest of the universe…”

“It was years” The doctor said, finishing your sentence. 

You turned to him, eyes glassy but no tears falling.

“What happened to them?” You said but the look on the Doctor’s face told you everything. 

“The Time War, we lost, didn’t we” You said and the Doctor nodded but you felt something, or more saw something. Turning to him your face morphed from sorrow to anger. 

“No, we didn’t lose. It wasn’t the Daleks who destroyed Gallifrey was it?” You asked, the Doctor’s guilt finally made sense. 

“Y/N” He tried to say but he couldn’t. 

“It was you wasn’t it?! I remember you now. You have a new face but I remember the Doctor! The warrior, the fighter, you destroyed them didn’t you? Didn’t you?” You yelled, pushing him against one of the antler-like pillars that surrounded the console. 

“You killed them all” You said and he didn’t deny it. 

“Yes. Yes I killed them, I destroyed Gallifrey” He admitted. He looked pathetic. Tears in his eyes and voice uneven. You could barely even stay mad at him with the sheer amount of guilt radiating off of him. 

“I had no choice. It was Gallifrey or the universe” He said. 

“And you destroyed my home. Our home.” You said solemnly.

“It was the only way to end it” He said, though he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. 

You took a seat on the top step leading to the console and the doctor sat beside you. 

“Are there any others?” You asked but he shook his head. 

“I thought I was alone until I met you,” He said. “the last living timelord. A relic of a bygone era” 

“Where have you been? I mean this thing’s old but she obviously still works” You said. 

“All over the place, every planet in every galaxy, or I will be” He said and you chuckled. 

“You sound like an academy student” You said.

“I was one, a long time ago” He said.

The two of you just sat there for a while. Neither knowing what to say. 

You were the last of your kind in the place where your planet used to be. 

“You could come with me, you know. It’s always better to travel with someone” The doctor said and you turned to him. 

“You’ve just met me” You said, almost as if you were reminding him. 

“Well then let’s get to know each other!” He said, excitedly jumping up and running to the console. 

“Where have you always wanted to go? Let’s go there, talk, explore, travel partners, why not?” He said, he sounded like a little kid on his birthday. 

You stood up and slowly made your way to the console. 

“Before I was shot down I was on my way to Delphon to do some more research into their language structure” You said, your tone almost teasing the idea and the Doctor smiled. 

“I love it! Setting a course now” He said and began running around the console trying to do everything on his own. 

You came up beside him and flipped a switch, turning off the brakes. 

“You really shouldn’t leave your brakes on” You teased, flipping a few more switches and inputting a few things into the computer to help. 

“Where did you get this thing anyways? A type-40 like this should be in a museum” You mention and he smirked. 

“Stole it” He said and you were off. 

[star-girl69]

I Loved You Like the Sun

a/n: lmao the ending is so bad but i just wanted to get something out bc i left you guys without an update yesterday and i felt bad 😕 the next chapter i’m gonna try and get up really soon seeing as i’m planning on it being quite short. i hope you all enjoy this one!

warnings: incest, violence, fire, swearing, mentions of sex, tell me if i missed anything!

Chapter Thirteen- Storms

—-

When you wake, your skin is alive.

A fire burns beneath you, licking at your skin and threatening to burst out and burn everything around you.

Your eyes open slowly, and you suddenly decided the fire will not leave you. Will not burn anything. Because Daemon and Rhaenyra lay next to you, and you would never hurt them.

All of you are sprawled out in odd positions, memories of rolling over and falling asleep after they had you as you were filled your mind.

Your lips tingled. You were oddly aware of the marks on your neck. The soreness between your legs.

Daemon keeps a sure arm around your waist, your back pressed against his chest. He is warm and hard, like a comforting reminder that no one will hurt you here.

You stretch, arms reaching above your head. Surprisingly, Daemon doesn’t wake. His arm remains, tight and comforting.

Rhaenyra turns in her sleep, facing you now, and you cannot help but let your eyes try and memorize your face. With a sudden shock, you realize you don’t have to memorize it.

You let yourself drift off again.

—-

Otto Hightower cannot help but frown.

He tries not to. Tries to keep his face impassive always. Tries to be levelheaded and calm.

He knows he is anything but. He knows he is a storm inside. He knows that if there is a goodness after this life, he will not see it. But Otto Hightower cannot find it in himself to care.

What is life if not the pursuit of power? Of legacy?

He is a man. He fears death. He knows he must die.

But if he can make people remember him like this- as the hand of kings, as the father of Alicent, the grandfather of Aegon, then he will be immortal.

To be dead is to be forgotten, and that is what Otto fears.

His spy at Dragonstone has done well, he thinks to himself.

He knows, bitterly, all about Lady Y/N. Is she a witch? A sorceress? Or is her beauty just that striking? She has Rhaenyra and Daemon wrapped around her delicate finger, and that is a dangerous thing.

He wishes, fleetingly, that he was able to get to her. Speak to her. Somehow, someway, get her to support Aegon’s claim. She would sway Daemon and Rhaenyra.

He could not let them live, of course. He would have to send Aegon on Sunfyre, lure them out, and burn them alive. All of them. From that blonde baby to the foolish boy who stole his grandson’s eye to even Lady Y/N.

He would burn every servant. Every handmaiden. Every scullery maid. He would chain and starve each dragon, waited until they died. He would send Daeron to Dragonstone, he thinks. Aemond is too important- Helaena is a Queen- and he will be needed to guide Aegon into greatness. To usher in a new era. To keep the realm in the hands of men, where it was safest.

He is simply a servant to the realm.

He finishes reading the decoded letter, sighing.

Lady Y/N will be a thorn in his side.

—-

The sun shines brightly, and Rhaenyra whispers that it’s for you.

It’s been a week since they brought you back to Dragonstone, and your nights are filled with them and your days are filled with the children. They all demand your attention, and Daemon calls them selfish little brats with a wide smile on his face. Even Jace warms up to you, although still a little stiff.

You look over at Rhaenyra, watching as she leans back into her chair with a smirk.

Baela and Rhaena take turns playing peek-a-boo with Aegon, while Joffrey is entranced by his wooden dragons, neglecting his lunch.

“Really? The sun burns for me?”

“You are the sun. I am just your planet, circling you.”

Heat rises in your cheeks, and you reel from embarrassment. Rhaenyra has always had such a way with words, always succeeding in making you fall into her a little more.

You hear the gossip. That you have Daemon and Rhaenyra wrapped around your finger. But it is a lie. You are wrapped around them.

They orbit you? You orbit them.

They love you? You love them.

They burn for you? You burn for them.

“I love you, Rhaenyra.” She smiles. Says it back. You want to sink beneath her skin.

—-

“Dracarys!” Jace screams, and you laugh excitedly. Vermax rears up, red wings unfurling and his jaw unhinging, swinging wildly.

Fire shoots out, burning the straw dummy set across from the beast. It bursts into flames, and you clap.

Dragons are fire made flesh. They are freaks of nature, and some claim they were born of magic. Nothing ties them to this earth. Their blood is not from here, their scales otherworldly. Magic thrums in them, keeping them alive, and you feel akin to them.

You know what it is like to run on something other than blood.

Jace shouts in triumph, wrapping his arms around Vermax’s neck. The dragon stands there, slightly confused, but happy to have the attention of its master.

Baela scoffs, Moondancer walking beside her.

“We can do better. Can’t we, girl?” The dragon answers with a screech, and you smile again.

Jace shoots her a look, and you sigh.

“Both of you are very talented!” Jace mumbles a thank you, as dragonkeepers urge Vermax into a room to be bathed. You sigh, but Baela shouts your name, commanding your attention back to her.

“Watch! You’re gonna love it!” You smile, and Rhaena perks up from beside you.

The green dragon, as if sensing Baela’s next move, gears up. Her scales are a light green, her horns pearled. She is a beautiful dragon, you think.

“Dracarys!” She shouts, and Moondancer’s wings stretch wide, and red-hot fire explodes from her mouth, burning the straw dummy. In all honesty, there wasn’t really a difference between Vermax and Moondancer. Both targets got burned, you supposed. But you clapped and smiled regardless, hearing a screech from above you.

Caraxes, with his signature screech and red scales, soaring above. Daemon on his back.

Idly, wondered what it would feel like to fly.

—-

“Y/N, my love,” was all the greeting you got before Daemon grabbed you by the back of the neck, slamming his lips into yours. You stood frozen, eyes open, until your lips started moving against him because Daemon was Daemon, and how could you refuse something so beautiful?

You kissed him back, arms wrapping limply around his shoulders, until he pulled back with a grin.

“What was that for?”

You heard the sound of a dragon screech, footsteps around the bend. Baela and Rhaena would see you- Jace had long since retreated back to the castle.

“I’ll kiss you whenever I want,” he smirked, lightly slapping your ass. You glared at him, but the children rounded the corner. The girls greeted their father, Baela immediately talking to him about her dragon.

You grabbed Rhaena’s arm, leading her off the path. She seemed confused, until you bent down to pick up a daisy.

Yellow in the center, white petals folding out. Like the sun, almost.

You gave the flower to her.

“Oh,” Rhaena breathed out, wide smile on her face.

You wished she had a dragon.

—-

Rhaenyra lays with her head in your lap. She whispers to you. Daemon is at the desk, looking over grain shipments.

“I used to think about you. In those 10 years. I thought about you so much that I thought the world might fold over- and we would be together again.”

She reaches her hand up, and you are addicted to her, pliant when she thumbs your bottom lip. Pulling it down and baring your teeth, she watches with rapt attention.

When you kiss the pad of her thumb, she looks into your eyes. There is usually something so reserved in her gaze. Like steel has been poured into her violet eyes, hardening them. But she only looks at you with fire now.

“I am utterly obsessed with you. Did you know that?”

“Prove it,” you bite back, but her face drops.

When she sits up, it is sudden, and you reel back into the safety of the cushions.

“Rhaenyra, I- what?”

And you are wild without her, stir-crazy, and you feel the need to jump out of your skin and into hers because she is so far away and it hurts.

Daemon notices the commotion, craning in his neck. Rhaenyra is near him, now, and he places a hand over her stomach to steady her.

“Rhaenyra? What’s wrong, my love?”

She grabs Daemon by the collar, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

You watch with fear in your heart as his face relaxes into a smile.

“I certainly have no qualms with it.”

“What? What did I do? Rhaenyra?” You cannot live without them. Daemon laughs, a comforting sound, but you are wrapped up in your own terror.

“We want to marry you, Y/N. Let us bind our blood, bond in the ways of Old Valyria. Aegon was married to both of his sisters. We can be married.” When you remain silent, she steps forward. “I know it’s sudden but I was just thinking about you- alone, scared, in the clutches of that horrible man and I won’t ever let you be like that again.” She is rambling. But she cannot help that you have fire in your veins, that she made you that way, and now she is addicted to you. “Marry us, Y/N. Marry us, and you won’t ever have to be alone again. Don’t you want that?”

—-

taglist:

@wondergal2001 @akiraquote @a-lil-bit-nuts @anginoguera @thatkinkylesgirl1 @stitchattacks @honeypillowsblog @kaloafd @blackhoodlea @softtina @wallace02sblog @tetgod @hotd-fanfic

[jester089]

Subject. AE-1397

Chapter 1

You're sitting on your shitty small mattress on the floor in your containment chamber. Their are two humans through the reinforced glass wall dead in front of you.

Earlier those two and some others took you out of your cell to ask you some questions and do some tests. During the tests you kept hearing people talking about how you were close but not good enough.

Once the tests finished they tossed you back into your room. Their just standing there now talking about you and midazolam, potassium chloride, and Pancuronium bromide. Wonder what those things are.

While talking one of them stares at you with a uptight and disappointed stance, that one isn't talking much. The other one is turned towards the first and is yelling.

You can't see their faces through their suits but their saying but it something about euthanization because of not good enough results?

Again you don't know what that word means but it makes you feel weird. Bad weird.

After getting yelled at for a while the first one scoffs and walks off leaving the one that was yelling alone with you. After they've calmed down a bit they turn to you, that emotionless visor staring dead at you makes you worried.

After a few moments of staring at you they walk over to the door the other left through and lock it. Once in front of your cell again they take another look around the room then open the door to your cell.

"Hey. Kid. I'm gonna get you out of here. You just gotta keep quiet for me" They say while walking over to you. They gently pick you up, make sure you're secure in their hold then start running to who knows where.

You're scared and don't understand but you hope their trustworthy. They run for a while keeping in the shadows, keeping out of sight, and going around more turns then you could ever hope to remember.

They suddenly stop and pear around a corner. Once they deem it safe they walk around the corner revealing a giant metal frost covered door. They open it just enough for you to squeeze through then set you down

"Get as far away from here as you can. I wont have them killing a kid. Good luck." They gently bonk their forehead to yours then basically shove you through the opening it quickly closing behind you.

You sit there in the snow confused and scared, you listen to their warning quickly get up then run off.

~~~~~

You've been running for a long time to reach now. You're still in your thin white hospital gown nothing but it to protect you from the cold.

You have a high tolerance for cold sure, that being the only reason you're still alive. But even that has limits, and you're starting to lose feeling in a lot of parts of your body.

Your feet have long since gone numb and you want to take a break, but you don't feel safe so you push on. There has been nothing but snow and rocks for so long not a single sign of life besides you so at least their's that.

~~~~~

It's been at least a day now. In that time you've stumbled upon a small cave you can barely fit in. Naturally you use it for cover and to catch your breath

That's how you find yourself here pressed up against the back wall huddled against yourself to keep warm, eyes wide and locked on the entrance.

After a long long while staring at the small cave opening feeling that you would see movement through it you start to calm down, a bit.

once your a bit calmer you start to realize your situation. What should you do?! You're on a alien planet without any chance for help! At least you don't need a suit like everyone else... That's something...

After a bit of a freak-out you lay on the cold hard store floor back facing the entrance and try and get some sleep. You try your hardest to forget about your life, forget where you are.

Hopefully you cane take a break, have a nice dream. Your body may be cold and in danger, but in dreamland that doesn't matter.

[vibrantbirdy]

Hi! How are you??

Can I request a Kylo Ren x Reader, where the reader is Rey’s older sister and has telekinesis (very powerful) and protects him from all the people who are after him but over use them and pass out but release a energy blast but he catches the reader in his arms and places them his bed and waits till they wake up.

thank u :)

Thank you anon, you are my first ever request! I hope this is the sort of thing you were looking for.

Requests for Character x Reader fics are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first before requesting.

Title: Frequency Fandom: Star Wars: Skywalker Saga Genres: Sci-Fi; Action/Adventure; Enemies to Allies; Hurt/Comfort Setting: Post The Last Jedi, Pre The Rise of Skywalker Main Characters: Kylo Ren x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Warnings: Mild/canon typical battle violence; mild/canon typical swearing Word Count: 2394 Summary: You are Rey's long lost sister - a powerful force wielder - and you encounter the First Order's Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren, as you both search for something on a mysterious planet.

You are almost back to your shuttle when you hear it. Blaster fire. A lot of it. It echoes round the forest clearing and bounces off the ancient, gnarled trees typical of this green planet.

Lunah Prime.

You thought there might be something here to help you in your search, something within the ancient Jedi Temple. When you finally reached they decaying structure, however, you found it desecrated, gutted of all its artefacts and worse. At some point following the Clone Wars, it had been turned into a scrapyard for Separatist battle droids.

Even dormant, they were the stuff of nightmares. They were rusty looking, mechanical limbs strewn here and there. Dead. Even so, you'd been extremely cautious as you'd stepped over each and every one as if it were a sleeping predator.

Trust the First Order to just barge in and wake them all up. And why did they have to rain on your parade?! Their timing couldn't have been worse.

Idiots you seethe under your breath.

But it's not your concern. You are nearly at your destination. You carry on through the long, damp grass, making your way back to your shuttle with purpose. When you'd arrived, this clearing had been empty. Now it there were four First Order transports resting on the meadow in a perverse juxtaposition against the natural beauty of Lunah Prime's forested landscape. You are glad you landed somewhere more discrete.

The din of the firefight is close now. You don't stop. You don't even look back. You keep marching forwards towards your goal of getting the kriff out of here.

Just under a year ago, you'd felt a strange ripple in the Force. Distant, but so clear, so full of light and hope. And so familiar. In that moment, you knew your sister was alive and that something had awakened inside her.

It was as if Rey was finally exploring her own connection to the Force. Something you'd been doing for years now. And now you felt her presence as a thread between you, connecting you, so fragile that you felt if you let go of it just for a second, you'd lose it forever. So you never did.

You doubted Rey was aware of it. She had been so young when your parents had sent you away from Jakku. You had been ten and Rey had only been three when you'd left. She probably had no memory of you at all.

You knew your parents had done it to protect you. And Rey. But the memory still stung. Still, after that incident in the market when you'd thrown that idiot boy across the street and into the animals' water trough with your mind for pulling your hair one too many times...well... Even as a child you knew your parents had little choice after that. You'd drawn far too much attention to yourself and your family. You never understood why, but you knew you were in hiding on that junkyard of a planet. You'd never seen Rey or your parents again.

Your reverie is interrupted when you realise just how loud the battle at your back has become. You can't help it. You pause to turn and look at the carnage.

Stormtroopers are sprinting from the treeline into the clearing and towards the safety of their transports. They are in full retreat and their numbers are shockingly low. Then, you see the hoard of battle droids in pursuit.

Their advance is terrifyingly constant, pace neither quickening nor slowing as they creep inexorably forwards. They are shooting the Troopers without mercy, cruel blaster bolts searing through white armour and into retreating backs.

At the rear of the retreat is a tall young man clad all in black with tousled, raven hair. He is moving backwards, a solitary figure staying the advance of the droids alone. He swings his lightsaber, a fiery blade spluttering red with fierce looking cross-guard vents, and blaster bolts ricochet off it into droids and trees alike.

Immediately, you feel his presence in the Force. His connection to it is devastatingly powerful. He is ferociously strong with the Dark Side and you know it can't be anyone other than Kylo Ren. Supreme Leader of the First Order. Usurper of Snoke's throne.

Ren must have been looking for something in that ancient Jedi Temple too.

Soon he is the only non-mechanical lifeform on the field. You feel an unwelcome flash of admiration for his valiant effort. But no one, not even Kylo Ren, can hold off an entire garrison of B1 and B2 battle droids indefinitely.

The droids continue to encroach on his position, relentless, swarming like insects. Ren is tiring, his defensive swings become laboured and clumsy. You watch with an indifference that alarms you as a blaster bolt glances off his right thigh.

Ren lets out a cry of fury and pain. He is now on the ground, crawling backwards on his bottom as he uses his lightsaber to deflect a tide of blaster bolts with an intensity only desperation can fuel.

When he can, he uses the Force to blast droids backwards at great velocity. But his strength is clearly failing. He's covered in mud and his face is spattered with blood. His long legs flail as he scrambles backwards, trying to get purchase against the sodden ground with his uninjured leg.

You know you could help him. You're not a Jedi. But you have a raw power you've never quite understood, although you know it stems from the Force. You have always used it sparingly. You find it difficult to control. It drains you and necessitates that you rest and recover. It slows you down. And you don't have time for that...

You should leave Ren. It's no more than he deserves. Momentarily, you really think you've convinced yourself that you could abandon this man to die.

Dank Farrik you swear.

You sprint over to the fallen Ren, adrenaline surging through your entire body. Within moments, you are standing above him and have conjured - for that really is the only word for it - a shield of energy around the both of you.

Innumerable blaster bolts bounce off the thrumming wall with no effect. As you face them head on, you suddenly realise how many droids there really are, and your begrudging admiration for Ren's last stand increases ten-fold.

You take a few deep breaths, squeeze your eyes shut and centre yourself.

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

You repeat the ancient Jedi mantra an wizened man once told you about on some backwater moon years ago in your head. You don't know if the old-timer was making it up or not, but you have always found that it helps to ground you, to strengthen your connection to the Force, so that it feels that is nothing else in the Galaxy but your link to it

Then, with an almighty effort, you extend both your arms out in front of you and push. You watch as your shield becomes a battering ram, sending droids flying up into the air. You hold them there, unable to stop yourself marvelling at the surreal sight of hundreds of battle droids floating, weightless in the air, before you whip your hands downwards, palms facing the ground. The droids crash down to earth with a deafening cacophony of crunching metal.

You sway on the spot but stay conscious long enough to look down at the man whose life you've just saved. Ren's face is framed with wild tendrils of black hair and, expression softened by surprise and relief, he is disarmingly handsome. He has deep set golden eyes, a strong, prominent nose and full lips.

But... why is it blurry?

You stumble again and look up at the sky, trying to catch your breath and reestablish your balance. You're so tired. You need a minute. Just a minute and you'll be fine.

And then all fades to black.

*************************************************

Ren manages to sit up just in time to catch you, a large, gloved hand cradling your head and protecting it from slamming against the ground as you fall heavily against him.

He looks up and around in complete awe at the suddenly deathly silent surroundings. Battle droids, hundreds of them, lie either still as the grave, or twitching mournfully.

How fascinating, he thinks.

He hisses in pain as he staggers to his feet with you hanging limply in his arms. He is strong and powerfully built, but it's no easy feat to carry you with his injured leg which drags behind him as he starts to make his way slowly across the blaster cratered ground and the mechanical bodies of ancient battle droids strewn here and there.

Eventually, Ren realises this would be much easier if he had at least one hand free to help him balance so he lifts you up and slings you over his shoulder instead like a sack of meiloorun fruit. A supporting arm is crossed under your backside and your head lolls against his broad back in an undignified fashion. But Ren is growing impatient and weary and there is no need to be delicate when you are unconscious.

When he finally reaches his shuttle, he has to bend down even further than normal to make sure he doesn't bash any part of you off the door frame. He lumbers through the arterial corridor of the ship to his small, sparse quarters where lays you down with surprising gentleness onto his own bed.

Ren looks down at you, brows furrowed in curiosity as he studies your peaceful face. There is something familiar about you that he can't quite place. He takes up your hand, which seems tiny in his own, and closes his eyes.

He reaches into the Force, searching. Then his scar, the one that runs down the right side of his face, the one Rey gave him on Starkiller Base as it was collapsing all around them, throbs.

Of course. Your connection with the Force resonates on that same, high frequency. You can only be her sister. Perhaps a few years older than she is. But there's no mistaking it. That same strong resolve, that drive, that courage.

Your strength in the Force is brutally raw and untamed, but perhaps even greater than that of Rey. If tempered, if trained, perhaps you and he together could...

Ren rejects the thought almost immediately after it enters his mind. The wound of Rey's rejection of his hand on Snoke's gargantuan vessel, the Supremacy, still runs deep.

He doesn't need anyone. He can't trust anyone. What he needs is to focus on finding Palpatine and ridding himself of the only threat to his power left in the Galaxy.

He wants that Sith Wayfinder to light his way to Exegol. This disaster on Lunah Prime is only a minor foot note in his route to absolute power. He is so close now. He can feel it.

As the lingering adrenaline of combat starts to fade, Ren suddenly realises how exhausted he is. He removes his gloves and places a hand against your forehead, then two fingers against your neck to check your pulse. You'll be fine, he confirms. You just need rest. Then he can decide what to do with you.

He looks around at the sparsely furnished room searching for a chair, a bench, anything for him to rest in or against. First Order transport shuttles are spartan at the best of times and this is certainly not one of those.

Defeated, Ren winces as he lowers himself to the floor. He removes his long, black cape from around his shoulders and fashions himself a makeshift, muddy pillow which he lays his head upon gratefully. He acquiesces to keep watch over you for a little while until you recover. He owes you that much.

He just needs to rest his eyes.

********************************************************

When you wake, you are lying in an unfamiliar bed in strange surroundings. At first, you are too drowsy to register much but as your consciousness starts to return, you start and sit up as you realise you are on an Imperial shuttle. You look around the functional room. It is, thankfully, empty.

Empty save for...

What is that noise?

Someone is snoring. Only gently, but you are sure of it. You look down and to your surprise, on the hard, cold durasteel floor, the Supreme Leader of the First Order is asleep.

You feel a twang of gratitude that Ren didn't just discard you there in the clearing amid the bodies and the mud with battered and broken droids. Strange how a man with such a history would still give up his bed for an injured woman. How quaint.

Still, you don't know exactly how grateful for your intervention Ren is and you don't want to wait around to find out. You remove your shoes, desperate not to make any noise, and carefully extract yourself from the bed. Boots in one hand, you step over the sleeping man and pad barefoot to the door.

"Wait."

A deep voice, quiet but commanding resonates throughout the tiny room and travels up your spine. You freeze and turn. You jump involuntarily as you realise Ren is already on his feet, only inches away. He towers over you, your forehead only coming up to his broad, solid chest.

You look up and into his amber eyes with defiance, refusing to let him see your fear. This man would be dead without you, you remind yourself. If you have to remind him of that so be it.

You wait for him to speak, but he doesn't for a long time. He is looking at you intently, his face unreadable.

"It's nothing," he says, finally. His expression seems to soften and when he speaks next it's with disarming uncertainty, "I ... hope you find what you're looking for."

"I wish I could say the same for you," you quip with more bravery than you feel.

The ghost of a smirk leaves a faint trace in the dimples of his cheeks and he nods.

You turn on your heel and stride quickly down the corridor of the First Order transport and out into the meadow where you wriggle your toes in the wet grass and inhale lungfuls of the fresh, forest air. You waste no time in locating your ship where you drop into the pilot's chair with a relieved sigh.

Now, onwards to find Rey.

[queenofalpaca]

Oh both Go to Sleep, Scrapper and Bode's Force Background have me super curious for the WIP ask!

Coming right up! thanks for the ask, Anon 🩵

Go to Sleep, Scrapper

This one is obviously inspired by Cal’s chronic inability to take care of himself. It’s planned as a 4+1 though I guess I could make it a 5+1 by just adding Cordova or something, we’ll see. It starts with instances of Greez, Cere, Merrin, and BD trying to convince Cal to go to sleep, and failing. Cal just has too many issues. Stubbornness, nightmares, insomnia, you name it, the guy’s probably struggling with it. The common theme here is that they all use some variation of “Go to sleep, [nickname]” btw, hence the title.

Cue the +1 in which Bode shows up, pulls “Go to sleep, Scrapper” and Cal promptly drops dead. Here’s a little snippet I do not remember writing 😅

It was probably stupid, but Bode needed Cal alive and well if he wanted to have any chance of getting to Tanalorr. He stepped into Cal’s path.

“Go to sleep, Scrapper.” It wasn’t hard to extend his presence just enough to shield the soft brush against Cal’s wobbling shields. He wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. Probably wouldn’t remember it even without the soft suggestion to forget along with sleep.

Cal, predictably, dropped like a rock, right into Bode’s waiting arms. He had to take a step back to brace himself; Cal was heavier than he’d expected. Cal wasn’t bothered though, already snoring away into his chest. Bode huffed and pulled him into a more secure grip.

It took him a few moments to realise that the others had fallen silent, their quiet conversations stopped. He looked up to see all of them staring at him and Cal in various states of utter disbelief.

And that’s it. Just some cute little fluff about Bode finally getting Cal to take a dang nap. And possibly cheating a little bit to do so, lol

Bode’s Force Background

So you know the stony/rocky background going on in the meditation circle menu? This started as an effort to figure out what that might look like for Bode. That somehow split into both Haunting and the fic that’s still in this file, but I’ll tell you about this one (it’s the better one anyway, lol)

The idea is a 5+1. Yes again. I have a thing for 5+1s. They’re just easy to write, what can I say. This one’s angsty as hell tho (good job balancing things out, anon). The thing is, if I post it, this one will probably be called Haunting actually 😂

Now here’s the problem: this one features a big old plot twist. Trying to sell you this fic without spoiling it will make this description rather short. Bode is being haunted by Cal. He keeps catching glimpses of him, but he remains always just out of reach. That’s about as much as I can say.

What I will ramble a bit more about is what I came up with for Bode’s Force/Meditation background, and maybe you’ll even get an idea on what the big twist is. So. Bode’s a spy and he’s very good at hiding the fact that he’s Force-sensitive at all. Here’s my pitch: Bode’s meditation background changes to align to his current surroundings. Whatever place he’s in/planet he’s on, his background will change accordingly to a slightly surreal, dream-like version of the same place. The only common element is water (because the SpyScrapper discord is obssessed with the water/fire thing and I am not immune). In any case, the water. It seems natural at first glance. Rain on Coruscant, the river/waterfall on Koboh, a dripping sink on Nova Garon, stuff like that. But if you look a little closer, it might seem strange that it’s raining on the lower levels of Coruscant. Bode’s ‘true’ meditation background, when he’s not lying to himself and others and trying to make himself fit into his surroundings is a big old lake/ocean. Something something hidden depths, you get it.

And that’s as much as I’ll say (there’s more ideas on themes/metaphors but again, plot twist). One last thing though, because there isn’t yet enough angst: this fic will also feature the post-game Force Echoes. Make of that what you will, heh 🩵

Now for the next ask, I’m gonna need you guys to choose something I can drop actual snippets for 😂 unless you want to have the fics that are still mostly just concepts 😅

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

(feel free to ignore this one b/c there's too much asexual complaining/hopelessness in this lol)

Sometimes I'm like "I'm not a real asexual" because I worked really hard not to be one.

I don't believe there's a way I can have a happy life if I don't fix myself. I tried to act like it doesn't bother me but it does. I was so sick of feeling like something was dead inside of me that was alive and well in everyone else. It was destroying me, depressing me, it was too much.

Idk how to say this but at some point I had to fix myself and grow up. I'm in my 30s and I have to compromise or become a different person or else I'm gonna get left. No kids, no ring, no nothing. And that's not the life I want. That's not the life I can afford! My friends are all getting married off and sharing expenses. Soon, I'll have no more roommates. Perpetual rejection can lead me right in to homelessness.

I worked HARD to train myself out of asexuality after 14 years of regular arousal training and making myself be in normal relationships. And when I finally feel like I'm a normal person and I can leave this behind me, someone will complain about not having sex in a few weeks and I will blue screen like a broken computer. Like what do you mean that upsets you.

My desires will never be that strong no matter what I do. I could never get MAD or pent up because I haven't..... used someone else's body for pleasure. No matter what I do, I don't feel like I need it need it need it. I'm just not built to slobber all over another person and have that be most of my personality.

The asexual in me is very okay that I don't live like that, that I don't actually have those strong desires. But real life situations I get into every day remind me I must be broken. No one I've met in the wild relates to what I feel inside. No one. Just people online that's it. And that hurts so much more soooooooo so much more. I feel like the biggest freak on the planet. I hate this shit.

And, I feel like I have to sign up for another ten years of arousal training trying to fix myself even more until I get it because I can't support myself on a single income household in ten years I just can't. I need to be partnered with someone who isn't going to cheat on me and leave me in the dust because of who I am. And I can't handle false positivity with that because it has happened to me 8 times. One of my exes suggested surgery or drugs or conversion therapy and I hate that I'm considering fixing myself medically but I feel too burnt out and hopeless to not try it.

I'm so sorry you're going through such a difficult time, Anon. And it can legitimately be very hard to be asexual. One big thing though I'd like to point out is you keep talking about how you're wrong, but all the problems you point out are societal. Society makes it hard to thrive when you're single (both financially and socially), society makes it hard to have less conventional looking relationships. You are not the problem, Anon, the way our current society is built is the problem. It's external, not internal. And it can feel like you need to fix yourself, but you'll always be reaching because at the end of the way society will always still be the part that's actually broken.

I know you've probably heard people speak out against conversion therapy (and it is still conversion therapy when you're doing it to yourself), but one of the big issues with it that doesn't get mentioned as much is that it doesn't work. You just can't change who you are on such a fundamental level. And people go through these therapies and usually all they accomplish is becoming more traumatized and more confused. I know this is difficult, Anon, but this isn't a viable long term solution.

What I would really encourage you to do is find someone to talk to, it sounds like money is tight, but you can take advantage of free mental health services like 7 Cups, The Trevor Project, which are queer and asexual friendly. And they will help you navigate not just how to find self-acceptance, but financial planning and life planning. Even if you don't feel ready for this yet, please do keep this resource in mind.

There are other aces out there, it seems like there's not because once again we live in a society that keeps our orientation from us, and therefore keeps us from each other. I live in a city of 50k people, that means, even if we go by the most conservative estimates, there's at least 500 other aces in my city alone. Our orientation is kept from us, and a lot of aces don't even know there's a word for their experiences and a community. And this may sound like more hopelessness, but the other side of this is that asexuality is becoming more well known all the time, more local communities are starting to appear. Sometimes people can find other aces through local lgbtq+ chapters or Pride events. Sometimes there's an in-person asexual meetup group near you. Some major dating apps now let you put your orientation as asexual and filter for other aces. Even outside of dating, connecting to the asexual community can be really healing.

Sometimes it can seem like you're the only one, and because of how ingrained it is in society dating and sex go together, allosexual people who we date can sometimes act in a way that makes us feel like what we want isn't possible. If this happens multiple times in a row, our brains are pattern based, you hit this wall enough time, your brain says 'there is no going through this wall', and it will feel true whether it is or not.

Another thing you should consider looking into is what government programs exist in your city/state/province/territory/country. A lot of time there's financial resources out there that aren't very well advertised, especially if you're in a lower income. And often they depend on people seeking them out themselves. It won't hurt to do a few google searches or check what local organizations exist.

I know this is probably a lot, and I things probably feel very bleak for you right now, Anon. Unfortunately you can't flip a switch and suddenly accept yourself, you can't just fix society and wealth inequality. My advice would be though to try and take things one step at a time. And don't be afraid to reach out. And feel free to send as many asks here as you like too.

Take care, Anon!

[casieyfran]

I just remember i have my own fanfiction that needs an update or badly need a revision or rewrite. But i'll just drop it here

Whatever it Takes

Pairing: Darth Vader/Padme Amidala

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary:

"Padme, you will be mine again. If the energy of this world are not enough. There are countless others" *** On which vader had succeed on ressurecting padme. At last. This time he will make sure she will always be by his side

A/N: This take place from the event in Vader Immortal: A Star Wars VR Series. Warning: english is not my first language and this is the first time i am  writing, especially a fanfic. So excuse my grammatical errors. Be a little patient with me. Peace ✌ ***

Its been 5 years after the birth of the empire. The same time anakin skywalker had died, and darth vader has been born in his place. 5 years living with nothing but pain, hatred, gried and suffering. 5 years since his wife had died. Taking all his light with her and then nothing else mattered. It doesn't matter how many times sidious inflected him pain, it wouldn't be match with his guilt and hatred from his failure. After everything he had done to save her, he still lose her in the end. He failed. Failed her. Broke his promise.

But that wont happen twice

He wont fail again.

He have 5 years to control his hatred. Learn the way of the darkside, everything he needs to know. Bid his time and let sidious continue his fantasy. he will kneel, bow his head, follow every order throw in his way and he will accept it like a good dog following his master. And it doesn't matter that he no longer have his dignity. He will do everything the sith lord wishes from him, let him enjoy thinking that he have a tight leash on vader. As long as sidious continue to have his uses, he can live in his fantasy as long as vader allows him to.

  Vader learn to be more patient and more powerful than every sith or jedi could ever dream of. He had built a castle on mustafar where every nightmare he had, taken place. Let him always be reminded of his failure, of how foolish anakin was. He wont be the same weak person. This time he will succeed of what anakin could had not.

After 5 years, at last vader finally have it. The bright star. It is an artifact said to be the source of living energy of the planet, Mustafar. On how it could grant vader an immortality. But he doesn't give a single care whether he will die or not. Less to be alive longer than everyone could possibly imagine. Immortality dont mean anything to him, death seems to doesn't want anything to do with him. He escaped death many times, even when he wishes for it. He is the bringer of death. Death did not scared him. No, he do not wish immortality, but he wishes one thing, and this artifact can grant him that. And no one can stop him.

When everything is complete and ready, he didn't waste any second. he held its cresent shape crystal in his hand and carefully place the bright star inside the middle of the Aeon Engine, that automatically powered it. He waited for a moment and then, he felt a vibration in the force before a bright energy burst into the top of its egg shaped, reaching the sky, and spreading across the world.

The energy around the planet, are being sucked dry and nurture inside the artifact. the planet are becoming more dead than before. He felt the toxic in the air and the temperature become hotter, the lava is unrest. It is all thanks to his accursed suit and hold to the force that he is still standing.

When everything is dying around him, a life will be born

And he will wait, will offer it anything. If its not enough he could simply look for more, there are thousands in the galaxy. It doesn't matter if a thousands of life pay for what he will do. They dont matter. Nothing else matter. But her.

Padme

He will do everything to accomplish anakin and corvax failed to do. He will bring her back. He will succeed. He will make sure of it. He will do everything. Everything!

Whatever it takes

He will

Continue reading it on AO3 or FANFICTION.NET

[lettalady]

I have a what if for an older story I still think about. I know that WISH isn't really near the Infinity War time line buuut...

What if Loki and The Agent in WISH had been snapped?

Oh boy it's been awhile since I've hunted down those plottings and played with the characters from the Loki WISH series. We never connected (care of tech failing and loss of data which I'm still upset about even years later) where we were at the last posting with the scenes I'd written of a SHIELD facility, the disc, and the chaos that ensues.

At any rate...

[ Look ma, a Weekend What If that isn't LJH! ]

What if Loki and The Agent in WISH had been snapped?

In my head I imagine being snapped not as being erased from existence but dragged from reality to a barren sort of holding area. Neither alive nor dead? Waiting for an undoing, or whatever comes next   —

The struggle of having fought for the safety of their people only to face off against impossible odds. Loki gets dusted before Thor's eyes, when he thought him to be dead. An anguished brother losing so much in the blink of an eye, and then forced to relive the pain in the retelling of events - to catch up coworkers on the threats posed and the need for action. 

Word of mouth, gossip, rumor reaches the agent in regards to Loki’s so-called last stand. The organization she once felt such loyalty to calls on her to join in the regrouping and attempted defense against Thanos. If she refuses there’s just more of the same in her future, if she accepts she can attempt to rebuild bridges long burned.

Then comes the snap and she, too, dusts — having heard the tales of watching half the population simply vanish. It’s not like they have the ability to reach out and communicate that no, those lost were not entirely gone (until the actions undertaken that undid the loss of so many and tada individuals thought to be gone forever have returned! –  but we’ll get there). 

So it’s a surprise to find herself in a world that seems familiar and yet so foreign, again with that weight felt of a gravity different than her home planet, a scent to the air she’s able to breathe that tangs of not-home nor anything else that had through her misadventures become familiar to her. To find so many others also puzzling through what they’re faced with. Dragged from wherever, whatever and faced with this strange near-nothingness. To not be alone facing it would be a blessing. To see some semblance of organization… while reeling from that really-shouldn’t-be-a-familiar-thing-but-is feeling of being yanked from one reality to another.  

Our agent is rather uniquely qualified to identify the similarities of the occurrence, and rather than stumbling to her feet and fighting to quickly gain her bearings only to be taken captive and dragged someplace worse – hearing shouts of direction passing through the amassed group, most wearing similar faces of bewilderment. 

The reunion wouldn’t be immediate, not with so many of the population suddenly arriving to wherever they are. But then she hears the familiar cadence of Asgarians and gravitates that way. Leaders, of varying species conferring – those that can translate for others doing so to allow for less confusion in an already mind bending experience, and one in particular that she knows intimately. 

Shock of counterevidence to his death. Alive and possibly not if you hold certain beliefs about where they’ve been ‘snapped’ to, but certainly given more time together. Loki working alongside others and debating courses of action and deferring to someone else’s argument, looking away from the gathering of minds to realize he’s being watched by so many but in particular a face he hoped he would never find amongst those looking for answers. 

[ find the Loki WISH series on A03 ]