#• i am made out of stars and nightmares and blood off all that i killed • — headcanons

[obaewankenobis]

born to die ; finnick odair

pairing: finnick odair/reader (afab but i don't think i use pronouns? also no use of y/n)

word count: 6.8k

part 2: find here!

summary: having just finished your victory tour, you, the winner from district 4, are forced to confront the reality of winning the games. luckily, you know someone who's done this before — finnick odair.

warnings: mentions of violence, death, nightmares, blood, sex trafficking, i mean... it is the hunger games so read at your own risk! mutual pining, slowish burn, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it ), p in v sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, idk it's not that bad. minors dni!

a/n: sorry to everyone who followed me for my star wars content... anyways here is my first finnick fic cause my friend made me watch the hunger games a month ago so here i am. i was super interested in the cashmere/glimmer theory so i kinda used it here. i have a prequel and a part 2 planned so lmk if you want that <3

There were things nobody ever told you about winning the games, things you wished you would’ve known before you tried so hard. Before you’d clawed your way up a cliff of desperate survival and emerged on top. Before you’d killed people — other children — to be able to stand here now. Your father, a former Victor himself, hadn’t told you about this side of things before he died. With a pang, you realized how badly you wanted him beside you, and how impossible that was. How you were now confined in shoes so tall you thought you might wobble over, in a dress so thin you were beginning to shiver, and a hairstyle that pulled uncomfortably at your roots. It all tied in for a look that was clearly meant to have all eyes on you. It was your victory party, you tried to reason as you slipped into the dress and noticed just how much of you would be on display. They wanted all eyes to be on you. It was okay.

You just wanted to feel beautiful again, to not be plagued with the feeling of revulsion when you looked at yourself in the mirror. The outfit wasn’t the problem, it was perhaps the most stunning thing you’d ever worn: a loose dress with billowing sleeves that fell off your shoulders and opened around the stomach, the silky material melting from transparency to a solid, pale purple around the parts that clung to your breasts and hips. The opalescent color, meant to mimic the expensive pearls commonly found in District 4, shimmered in the moonlight, threatening to turn even the solid parts translucent and expose every part of you to the Capitol.

Not that they’d mind, you thought, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that threatened to rise to the surface, breaking through a perfectly painted smile and tugging your blush lips into a frown. You couldn’t help but feel that was the point, with all the oogling that no one was trying to hide. And that feeling… that is what kept you from feeling anything but beautiful. You felt used, and exposed, but not beautiful. 

A hand on your arm startled you out of your bitter thoughts, your skin immediately crawling with disgust as your gaze traveled to the face connected to the hand still placed possessively on you. While not particularly ugly, the man in front of you was pushing fifty, and the lewdness dripping from his gaze as he leered at you, an eighteen year old girl… 

“There you are,” his lips curled into an unpleasant smile; he was close enough you could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath, almost overpowered by the sheer amount of cologne that clung to him. “I must say, my sponsorship has paid off… handsomely. I mean, look at you! Such a stunning addition to the Capitol, I just cannot wait for you to become—”

“Excuse me,” a new voice — a familiar voice — cut through. “I think your wife is looking for you, Quillon.”

Of course he knew this man, he seemed to know everyone. And of course the man — Quillon — listened, his eyes widening as he immediately removed his hand from you, leaving an unpleasant dampness from his sweaty palms. He backed away until he had disappeared into the crowd and it was just you and him.

Him. Finnick Odair, Capitol Darling, youngest Victor of the 65th Hunger Games, the most insufferable and obnoxious boy you’d ever had the displeasure of encountering. You were sure he’d never liked you from the beginning; you’d tried to introduce yourself to him at fourteen when you accompanied your father to the Capitol to train the new tributes, only to be brushed off without a second glance.

That dislike had only seemed to grow when you had been Reaped the year your father had been killed (the rumors of the siblings and children of Victors being chosen so often finally making sense to you), and Finnick Odair, master of the Games, expert of the field, had all but ignored you.

“You!” All of the rage you’d pent up about his mentoring skills — or lackthereof — were coming out in full force, though even you were surprised by the venom in your words. With a jab of a finger in his chest, you finally began to let it all out. He seemed to have sensed that you would come at him swinging, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to a quieter corner of the party, beneath a small pergola weighted with vines that crept up the sides and wove inbetween the planks on top.

“Look, I know you must be upset — ” No. You wouldn’t let him talk, not before you had the chance to give him a piece of your mind. You took a step closer, until your nose was brushing against his, and tried to keep your voice as level as you could.

“Nice of you to finally fucking show up, Odair. Didn’t think you’d see me again, huh? Not after you all but fucking abandoned me during training week. I mean, I know we never really got along, but seriously? Is that why you left me with Mags and I never saw you past the first day? You hoped you’d train Kier—” the breath caught in your throat as you finally uttered the name of your fellow District tribute for the first time since… well, that wasn’t important. “—and then I would be out of your hair, is that it?”

Finnick, however, took this as an opportunity to spit his own words out, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard as he looked down at you. “I was trying to help you.” He was so close you could feel his breath fanning your lips, almost making you want to close your eyes.

“Help me?” A laugh escaped your lips, one that could’ve almost been seen as genuine because of the honest disbelief that coated it. “You think I’d be better off dead?”

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t even look you in the eyes, choosing instead to fixate on a tiny rose growing from within the depths of the ivy layers. That was basically a confirmation of what you’d just said, but for some reason he couldn’t even admit it to your face.

 You weren’t sure why, but hot, angry tears were beginning to form in your eyes; you tried frantically to force them down. He couldn’t know how much he’d hurt you with his indifference. “You were supposed to be there for me, you were supposed to teach me how to survive, and you fucking left me to die!”

Had you done something? You replayed all of your interactions with him, coming up short with a conversation that would make him hate you so much he wanted you to die. Sure, you’d been a bit annoying when you’d trailed behind your father, and maybe you had been a little relentless to pursue his attention when he moved next door to you in Victor’s Village, but this? The way he couldn’t even answer you? The way he was just standing there, his gaze in some far off place? It made you angrier. How dare he be so indifferent, how dare he act as if he was doing you a favor?

There was a moment of hesitation before Finnick sighed. “It’s not like that. I was trying to protect you. Look— has Snow talked to you yet?”

This left you truly at a loss for words. “Snow?” You words were less harsh and more curious. “Why would Snow want to talk to me? You know what — don’t try to spin it on him, this is about us! About you—” You stabbed at his chest again, and this time he let you. “—about you abandoning me in that arena, when it was your job to fight for me! To keep me alive!”

“There’s a lot you don’t understand right now,” he began again, hesitantly reaching out to grasp the hand that had struck against his chest, and that was the final straw snapping; you were done.

With a scowl and a tug of your hand, you yanked it free of his grasp and whirled around, the flow of the dress whipping around from the sudden gust of wind. “Whatever, Odair. I’m done. If you can’t even admit what you did was wrong, then… then just leave me the fuck alone from now on.” You didn’t bother to look back, missing the way his jaw hung open and his entire face crumbled. If only you had any idea.

You found out soon enough.

“You’re quite popular now, if you didn’t know that already. Although you’re quite perceptive, I can’t imagine you don’t.” Though he sealed the compliment with a smile, it did little to soothe the unease stirring within your belly.

“Yes, Sir. I’ve noticed. Is that a bad thing?” You hated how weak you sounded, your voice faltering slightly at the end of your sentences, hanging uncomfortably in the air and weighed down with uncertainty.

“I knew you were a smart one,” he finally tucked the envelope in his hands into his pocket, his undivided attention now on you. “You see, with how desirable you are… there are certain expectations that come with that. We wouldn’t want the Capitol to be unsatisfied, now would we?”

When did attention turn into desire? When were there suddenly expectations, and why was it suddenly your responsibility to keep people satisfied? 

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.” A hollow, empty statement, but a genuine one.

“Well,” it seemed Snow was particularly delighted by your response, as if it allowed him to explain something that pleased him greatly. “Victors have their place in Panem, just as all the Districts do. What would Panem be without Eleven’s grain, or Five’s power?”

Realizing it was not a rhetorical question, that he really wanted you to answer, you stumbled through a response. “Well, I— I suppose it would topple the whole structure. We… we can’t survive without eachother.”

“You’d be correct. The same thing applies to the Capitol. Without everyone doing what’s required of them, the Games fail to run smoothly. With no… incentives, shall we say, people… sponsors… become uninterested. There are things you, as a Victor and a mentor, need to do to ensure that interest remains. Do you understand me now, my dear?”

You did, oh how you did. And that was the worst part.

That was how you got here on the rooftop of the Victor’s apartment complex, wrapping a thin robe around the once pretty, now torn chemise that did little to hide your body. You barely survived the first night, there was no way you could spend the rest of your life doing this. No amount of hot showers and scrubbing your skin raw until it bled could free you from feeling so dirty. Tears glistened on your cheeks, highlighting your face in the pale dawn light and exposing your true emotions to anyone who could see you. Luckily — or perhaps unluckily — you were all alone in the Capitol, your family safe and sound because of what you’d agreed to, but so far away.

With slow movements, you hoisted yourself onto the ledge of the roof, telling yourself you wanted to get a better glimpse of the city skyline as the sun crept higher into the sky, not wanting to admit the real reason why, even to yourself. The wind whipped all around you, tearing the robe from your body and splaying your hair in different directions, but you felt as close as you could to freedom. If you just— took another step, or stumbled forward and fell, maybe you would truly be free in the entire sense of the word.

“There’s a forcefield. They wouldn’t let you get away that easily,” the all too familiar voice of Finnick Odair startled you out of your thoughts.

“Did you know?” You had to ask, but couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head and look back at his features, because you would surely crumble if you saw the look on his face.

To his credit, Finnick didn’t bother to sugarcoat it. “Yeah, of course I knew. That’s why…”

“That’s why you wouldn’t train me. You wanted me to die, so I wouldn’t end up like this—” you whirled around sharply to stare straight into his eyes for confirmation as you guessed what you were going to say next. “—like you. Because he makes you do this too, doesn’t he?”

Finnick was never an easy person to read, always hiding behind dimples that indented in his cheeks when he flashed one of his dizzying smirks. But now? You felt like you were staring at a statue, his gaze unable to leave yours but also unable to say anything in return.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, allowing the cold caress of the breeze to take hold of you. If only you could fall back, if only… 

“I tried to protect you,” his voice cracked, finally pushing something past his lips and drawing you away from the dangerous thoughts fighting in your mind. “Don’t you see it now? It would’ve been better if you’d died in the arena, you wouldn’t have to do this,” he spat out the word like it was hot tea burning his tongue, but you noticed the crack of defeat in his voice. The way his shoulders slumped, the way his sea green eyes were fixed on his shoes. “And I… I wouldn’t have to see you like this.”

You did see it now; there was a fate worse than death. “I should’ve listened to you, Finnick.” His first name felt foreign on your tongue, as if you were speaking an intimate language only known to the both of you. “I— I’m sorry. I had no idea, I…”

He let your apology hang heavy in the air, flicking his eyes over your shoulder to the waking Captiol, evident by the honks of car horns and the chatter of thousands turning into a dull buzz.

You couldn’t stand silence, it reminded you too much of what followed your father’s execution, what followed when your name was called from the Reaping Bowl. So with a huff, you jumped down from the ledge and hoped he wouldn’t notice your disgruntled appearance.

Not that you cared what he thought of you. But one look from him and you were a goner; your lips began to quiver and you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Finnick, I… I don’t know how to do this,” a choked sob escaped you, and then it was all over and you were crying, shaking violently as you tried and failed to regain your composure. That seemed to snap him out of the haze he’d been in, his eyes flickering over and fixating on your figure, deep frown lines etching themselves on his face in a worried expression. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he didn’t hesitate to surge forward as you began to sway, the lack of sleep from the night before becoming evident in the dark circles beneath your bleary eyes, cracks in your skin holding onto tears that had long since been shed. He placed a careful hand near the small of your back, hovering over your skin before you fell back into it, like he was uncertain if you would be okay with touch. It reminded you of two nights ago, where he’d been so close to you but still kept his distance, not wanting to invade your space. His reluctance to touch you without your explicit permission made sense now, it all did.

“I just— I don’t—” Your body convulsed with gutteral sobs that sliced his heart in two, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you into his chest, allowing fresh tears to stain in the wool of his white sweater. “I don’t…” you tried again, wanting to continue despite the hiccups, “I just don’t… don’t… know what to do.”

You could feel his lips moving against your hair from where they rested on top of your head as he answered. “You don’t have to do anything. Not right now, at least.”

Time passing was the last thing on your mind as you remained in his embrace, soaking up everything about him, relishing in the comfort his closeness brought to you. How when your mind began to wander, the rhythmic pattern of his heartbeat brought you back so you could listen with your ear against his chest. How when your body expelled the last of its shudders and gasps from your breakdown, you could feel his arms flexing, squeezing you a little tighter. How when you pulled back from his embrace, he traced the red indent on your cheek, left from one of the buttons on his sweater.

“When was the last time you slept, sweetheart?” Finnick asked in a tone so gentle it brought fresh tears to your eyes; perhaps it was the sleep deprivation this time.

“I— I can’t go to sleep,” you began to panic again, digging your fingernails into his clothed arms. “I just close my eyes and I keep reliving it over and over again, I can’t do it again, I can’t—”

“I get it,” he stopped your rambling with a simple sentence, and you finally felt like you didn’t have to explain, he just understood. “Just… come with me, okay? You can trust me.”

Wordlessly you nodded, allowing him to guide you gently through the long corridors of the various penthouses until you arrived to one that had been occupied by none other than yourself. No, I can’t sleep, you wanted to shout at him, but remained silent. Trust him.

You allowed him to go through the motions of a bedtime routine, paying no attention to the fact that it was probably breakfast time. Pulling back one side of the blanket, he patted the uncovered space, motioning you to come lay down beside where he sat. 

“Finnick, I can’t…” I can’t sleep.

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just trust me, okay? Come and lay down, you don’t even have to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you threw the robe off of you and on to a chair, trying very hard to ignore the fact that the nightgown underneath did little to hide your body, reaching just past the tops of your thighs and exposing most of your legs. But Finnick didn’t even seem to notice, watching just your face as you settled into bed beside him, laying stiffly on your back until he motioned for you to roll over on your side, facing away from him.

“What are you—” you were shushed yet again and tried to comply, feeling a bit odd facing away from him when he was supposed to be distracting you.

You suppressed a shiver as his finger came into contact with your back, the thin silk of the nightgown doing little as a barrier and feeling more of a second skin. He began to trace a pattern— wait, were those letters?

“Finnick, what are you doing?” You forced back the beginnings of a smile, the first time you’d genuinely wanted to in what seemed like forever.

“Just relax, okay? Sometimes it’s okay to just… let yourself be distracted,” his voice trailed off, differing from the confidence you were used to, replaced by something much more vulnerable. “What am I drawing now?”

“I…” you frowned in concentration, trying to piece together the light strokes of his finger just barely gliding over you. “The sea, no! Waves?”

“Woah, that was fast. Didn’t know I was such an amazing artist, but it doesn’t surprise me—” The teasing tone had returned to his voice, no doubt an effort to continue to distract her

“Can you just continue drawing?” You rolled your eyes knowing he couldn’t see, but there was a slight humor to your voice that let him know it was working, that he was distracting you. His fingers continued their roaming, dancing so delicately and so dangerously close to your bare shoulder.

Finnick traced a moon, a star, and even a fish before he switched over to words, indenting each letter in your back with featherlight strokes of his fingers.

At first it was people, places. Your name. His name. District 4. District 1. Then it transitioned to phrases, which proved to be much more difficult. ‘You should sleep’—

“—Hey! I thought this was supposed to just be a distraction,” your words were finished with a heavy yawn that caused a chuckle to vibrate within his chest, and a feeling of warmth spread through you like wildfire. You couldn’t help it, in a moment you had flipped over onto your other side, wanting to see him. You could hear him, small chuckles passing from his lips and the slight rustle of the sheets beneath his body; you could smell him, a comforting, clean scent that instantly relaxed you, but nothing compared to actually being able to see him in all his glory.

You studied the high of his cheekbones, the straight edge of his nose, the golden glow of his skin that matched his bronzy hair dishevled from its place against your headboard. You studied the way his hair curled around his ears, the way you could faintly see the indents in his cheeks from where his dimples would appear if he were to smile, how the white of his two front teeth would poke out from his lips if he flashed you a smirk. They were full and pink, and, with a pang of jealousy that rocked your entire body, you wondered how many Capitol women had been blessed with feeling his lips on theirs — then swallowed that thought down with a shudder of disgust. He hadn’t wanted them, any of them, it was all a facade made up from by the Capitol, and you needed to realize that.

And while hearing him, and smelling him, and even seeing him was great, all you wanted to do was touch him. Not like that; no, you just wanted his arms around you again like they had been on the rooftop, shielding you from the cruelty of the world and finally allowing your body to feel safe enough to sleep. You wanted to reach out and trace the sharpness of his jawline, trail your fingers down to explore the planes of his chest, draw letters and shapes and meaningless patterns over his shirt like he’d just done to you. He watched you through sea green eyes that were glassy with sleep or emotion, which one you couldn’t say. His breaths came out short and shallow, hitting your face as you stared right back. You wondered if he could feel your breath fanning his face, or the warmth radiating from your body as you could from his.

He was close, so, so close, like that night you’d first seen him in the Captiol. You were wanting, just about begging for him to say something, something that would snap you out of whatever trance you were in.

It wasn’t fair that he could be so close, mere inches away on the bed, but be so unreachable.

But, as Snow had so graciously reminded you, fairness was a luxury you were not blessed with. So with great effort you tucked one arm under your pillow, using the other to pull the covers over you. Much to your relief, Finnick made no attempt to leave, saving you the embarassment of asking him to stay.

“Finnick?” You asked after several moments in a hushed whisper, not wanting to wake him. You felt guilty enough to have kept him up until mid morning.

“Mmmm?” Was the response, thick with sleep.

“Thanks for staying with me.” You fell asleep before you could hear his response.

Blood. Red and warm and sticky.

Heat. Blistering your skin and parching your throat.

A knife. Glinting in the sun, slicing straight through skin and muscle and bone.

A scream. Bloodcurdling and drawn out and all too familiar.

A scream escaped your lips, mimicking the one in your dream to an uncanny degree until you realized it was your scream. The sheets were tangled around your limbs, suffocating you and rendering you paralyzed as you fought with them, sweat drenching your forehead and leaving your hairline damp as you struggled for what felt like hours, though it was probably only a moment or two before your disorientation faded and you realized you weren’t back in the arena. Two hands were on your shoulders, strong and grounding, and you realized someone had been calling your name.

“You’re okay. You’re safe, it’s just— it’s just me,” Finnick’s voice was soothing to your ears, a calming melody against the screams and sounds of sliced flesh that were assaulting your mind.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, chest heaving as you sucked in as much air as possible, needing desperately to occupy your mind with something else, anything else. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up—”

“It’s okay,” he cut you off; his hands moved up from your shoulders to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks and you realized you’d been crying. “I get it, you don’t… you don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

His arms wrapped around your body until you had been tucked into his side, your head resting in the crook where his neck met his shoulder, and allowed steadying inhales and exhales to relax you as he resumed tracing patterns on your back. You cried, for everything you’d lost in those games, mourning the person you were before, and he just stayed there, cradling you against him, wanting nothing more than to take your pain on as his own.

“I— I— I just— I can’t—” you hiccuped, fresh tears spilling from your eyes as memories from your Games kept crashing down, how your District partner had protected you and you’d killed him—

“Please, what do you need?” Finnick squeezed his hands a bit tighter around you, trying desperately to bring you back to today. “Just tell me, and I can get it for you— liquor, morphling, anything, just—”

“Finnick,” you croaked out, hating how your voice sounded so weak, so broken. “Can you just…” your eyes flickered down to his lips, and despite every cell in your body screaming at you not to ask: “Kiss me.”

His eyes widened like it was the last thing he expected you to say, “I— okay— are you sure?”

You answered his question by surging forward and capturing his lips with your own, telling yourself it wasn’t his lips that you craved, but that you just needed something to get you through the night. He reciprocated immediately, matching your desperation with his own, like the two of you were trading blows as he pulled you fully under him, settling himself between your legs. You felt the hardness in his pants and couldn’t help but roll your hips up to meet it, pressing your own desire up against his. That — the feeling of his cock straining through the material of his sweatpants — made everything a little too real, and you suddenly found yourself needing to justify your actions. Why you felt this way was a mystery, perhaps you were protecting yourself, scared he wouldn’t feel the same if you were honest, but you truly had no idea, it just slipped out.

“I just… can’t think about it anymore,” you panted out. He didn’t have to know that you’d been pining after him since you were sixteen, didn’t need to know you hid your wanting behind sharp jabs and petty slights. “I don’t want you to think— this doesn’t have to mean anything, okay?”

Maybe you were imagining it, but Finnick’s eyes flickered with something you’d never seen before, clenching his jaw for a moment. “Okay.” He didn’t sound okay. “This means… whatever you want it to mean,” his voice was husky with a mix of something that sounded a little like… well you weren’t really sure, and you soon forgot to ask him as he stole your lips in another kiss.

You swore you would never get used to the feeling of Finnick’s lips on your own, even if you kissed him every day for a thousand lifetimes. Because each time his lips met yours, the world as you knew it was set ablaze with the same fuel that set your whole body on fire. You could never get enough of him, the way his lips were so soft and gentle, the way his breath mingled with and matched your own until it was like you were breathing as one. The way his tongue slid into your mouth but didn’t invade it while his hands roamed your body, squeezing the flesh around your hips, your sides, not being able to keep them contained to one place.

They finally settled on the sides of your thighs, squeezing around the area where your nightgown stopped, fading into a lacy trim and then disappearing completely. With tentative hands, he gripped the bottom of your nightgown and slowly began to hike it up your body. You helped him slide it up your legs, your stomach, your head, until it was completely discarded and you were left in nothing but underwear, having not worn a bra to sleep and leaving your chest completely exposed. Before you even had the chance to cover yourself, he was pressed up against you and his lips were on your neck, nipping at the sensitive spots under your ear and near the base of your throat, soothing the sting of his teeth with the swirl of his tongue.

This continued for a bit without any talking or shifting around, until you decided you weren’t content with being the only one practically naked, and reached for the hem of his shirt. He got the hint pretty quickly, leaning back and sitting on the backs of his thighs before tugging the shirt over his head. His biceps flexed in the process as he revealed a body sculpted and shaped into what you could only describe as perfect, not a single flaw to be seen.

 Sitting above you, your legs spread around him and almost completely bare before  him, this was the first time he was truly able to take in all of you, his green eyes nearly black with how wide his pupils had been blown out. His cheeks were so flushed they nearly matched the red of his lips, swollen from the constant attack of your own.

“You’re so beautiful,” Finnick whispered, so quietly you thought you imagined it. He didn’t leave much time for the compliment to settle in before he was back on you again.

His lips trailed down your neck, sucking and licking a path of hot, open mouthed kisses down past the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and not leaving an inch of skin untouched. You let out a little whine at the loss of contact when he suddenly pulled away, stopping his kisses just by your hip bone. You opened your eyes to see him searching them for any trace of unwillingness, finding none. 

You nodded, desperate to have his mouth on you, and involuntarily shivered as a finger hooked around your panties and rolled them down your legs. You couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed as he was met with how eager you were for him, evident by the growing wetness between your thighs, and instinctively pressed your legs together to shield yourself from his prying gaze, despite being completely bare before him.

“You don’t have to hide, it’s just me,” he said as gently as possible, gripping your thighs and slowly spreading them apart, “Are you really sure about all of this? I don’t want you to think that’s why I stayed.”

God he was so good, you realized with an ache that rocked your body, shooting straight to your heart as you stared at him, met with only sincerity that made you want to cry again, because you could never truly have all of him.

He was doing this as a favor, as a distraction, not because he had any real feelings. But you were so desperate for him you’d take what you could get, which was why you nodded fervently and said, “Please, Finnick, I’m sure, I need you, just… touch me.” And as soon as the last words slipped past your lips, his mouth was on you, and you knew in that moment you were utterly fucked.

Finnick, on the other hand, knew he there was no coming back the moment he came into contact with your clit and tasted you with his tongue. He wanted you, all of you, and chanelled that into the expert motions of his tongue as he dove it deeper in you, continuing at an agonizing pace until you were trembling, practically begging for release. Your fingers raked through his hair, tugging him closer to you, his groans vibrating against your folds whenever you pulled a little hard.

And then, he stopped altogether, and you let out a frustrated groan at the loss of contact, but he was quick to make his way up your body again, peppering kisses along the way before swallowing your whine with another kiss, your mouth opening to let his tongue inside and tasting yourself on him. He broke away for a moment, just in time for you to cry out his name.

“Finn—” you barely had time to whimper again before he suddenly sunk a finger in and kissed you at the same time. His mouth never left yours as he continued, his tongue sliding along the seam of your lips as you parted them with a gasp. And he swallowed that with the kiss, too, like he was hungry for every part of you that he could get. 

Desire ignited every part of his body, reflected in the way he began to pump his finger in and out before adding another, wanting you to be ready enough for his cock that he so desperately wanted to sink into you.

 But Finnick had waited so long for this moment, he didn’t want to ruin it by moving too fast. No, he needed to relish in every moan elicited from your lips, every clench of you around his fingers. He needed to memorize every dip and valley of your body, kiss every square inch, memorize the taste and feel of you, in case he never got the chance to again.

He broke away his lips from yours and reattached them to your neck as his thumb began to trace a pattern against your clit. His pace quickened as your moans grew louder and more frequent. Your walls squeezed his fingers tighter, until you were practically undone, as he reveled in the sting in his roots and on his back as as you pulled his hair even tighter and your fingernails dug little crescent moons into his otherwise perfect skin.

“I’m gonna—” You were cut off as he sent you over the edge with the slight curl of his finger, pure bliss blinding every other sense until all you could think of was Finnick. It took you a moment to come down from your high, realizing it did little to satiate you because you still wanted him, all of him.

You reached for his bare torso, feeling each of his abs flex individually as you trailed your hands down his stomach. You stopped just above the waistband of his pants, not only wanting to feel him, but wanting to hear him say he wanted it just as badly as you did; but it seemed he was thinking the same thing and beat you to it, shucking off his sweats and boxers until he was also bare before you.

“Tell me you want me,” his chest heaved with each word, demanding you say just what you wanted to hear from him, tearing your attention away from everything else. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Want you so bad,” your voice was barely above a whisper. “Please, I need you inside me. Right now, just… please.” If you could get drunk off of the word please leaving your mouth you’d be wasted by now, almost wanting to laugh with how often you’d said the word.

“Whatever you want,” the way he said that made your spine tingle, the purr in his voice causing you to border on ferality.

This caused you to laugh and hook your arms around his neck, pulling him closer with the intention of kissing the smirk right off his mouth until you felt the tip of his cock brush against your entrance, making this feel a little to real once again.

“You sure?” He halted your movements, both hands resting on either side of your head as he remained hovering above you, repeating his question from earlier.

The vigor in your nod caused him to throw his head back with laughter, though not before you asked for confirmation of his own.

Mimicking your move from earlier he answered with a kiss, this one so sweet and quick it was more of a peck. Before he had time to overthink, he was inside you in a swift motion, a moan tearing from your throat as he paused, waiting for you to adjust to the sheer size of him. Your fingernails dug into his arms as he held still, waiting for you to give him the go ahead before he started moving.

“Just— move, please—” that was all it took before his hips snapped against yours and he was inside you fully, biting back a groan to match yours as you clenched around him.

After a while of slow strokes, you were starting to grow inpatient with how gentle he was being. Not because you didn’t like it, but because then you had the chance to slow down and remember it was actually Finnick, and not some nameless man you wouldn’t remember in the morning. He seemed to pick up on your growing disinterest quickly enough, and began quickening his pace until you were crying out. His thrusts soon became wild and erratic, signaling he was just as close to finishing as you were.

“It’s okay,” he crooned, his lips brushing your ear as his hand reached down to circle your clit once again. “Come for me, sweetheart.” 

You weren’t sure whether it was his command, or the pet name, way his lips felt against your ear, or even his thumb pressing against your clit, but you came hard and fast, your body spasming and clenching around his cock until he followed soon after. He collapsed on top of you, his chest shining with sweat as he continued to press kisses on you shoulder, up your neck, behind your ear. The weight of Finnick pinning you to the mattress was oddly comforting, grounding you and effectively keeping you from wandering back to thoughts of your Games. The distraction had worked, you realized as he eventually rolled off of you and up into a sitting position.

You wondered tiredly where he was going, but he had left and returned before you could even ask where. A damp towel in one hand, he cleaned you up with gentle movements, slowing when you gasped from sensitivity and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead while whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ear. The whole interaction was so domestic you actually felt nauseous as you remembered this was just a one time thing, and you’d never experience any of this again. This was just a favor done by someone who wasn’t even really your friend — a familiar stranger who knew more about you than most.

Finnick oh so desperately wanted to know what you were thinking. He would ask, but the look in your eyes kept his mouth shut as he fell on the mattress beside you. He itched to pull you close to him, to be able to fall asleep with the security of you in his arms, but couldn’t bring himself to make any first moves. Had he not slept here before you two had just fucked, he’d be questioning whether or not he should remain or go back to his room.

If only he knew you were craving his touch just as much as he was craving yours. So the two of you fell asleep shoulder to shoulder, with so many words left unspoken.

And when you woke up the next morning, you tried not to let your heart sink completely into your chest as you reached over and felt nothing. He was gone.

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair smut #the hunger games #thg #finnick imagine #the hunger games smut #the hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair angst #finnick x reader #finnick odair fluff

[bucknastysbabe]

The Handler ★ 2001 ★ I think, therefore I am

Rating: Explicit:

Tags: TW!!! HTP, Bucky being abused by strike team, manipulative relationship, Stockholm aspects/soldier is truly incapable of consent, Hydra!reader, handler!reader, sub!bucky, prostate milking, caretaking, touch starveddddd, Bucky has a Bad Thought.

A/N: Working on bigger stuff and needed a break so threw this up and goin to attempt some asks

You had the mission debrief typed out and printed for your meeting with Pierce. Every time the asset was utilized he requested a personal meeting with you. They usually were short and blunt, sometimes he’d needle you for any shortcomings but you held strong.

Getting up and stretching, your back clicked from sitting at this wretched desk all day. You’d go change and hit the gym made for the Strike boys. Emphasis on boys. You hated the childish mongrels, often catcalling or making dirty remarks about your precious star.

There were other women, but few and far between with this level of clearance. You clicked down long gray hallways toward the locker rooms. Somewhere to the left is where they held your boy. He was in cryo recuperating. You had sucked him off in your chair last time before sending the asset onwards.

Scanning your card you entered the desolate woman’s lockers. You tried to keep your thoughts from returning to swollen pink lips and teary blue eyes, chanting commander over and over and over. Changing into a black sweatsuit you grabbed a small towel and headed to the training room/gym.

Your mouth twisted in horror at the sight surrounding the ‘pen’ as they liked to call it. Where agents could spar with each-other. Your precious boy was once again bloodied and bruised up, fighting off three of the men. Rumlow howled while waving cash, “Last one standing gets his ass!” The others laughed and hooted.

The asset was animalistic, eyes wide and nostrils flared. He was likely confused being so soon ripped out of cryo with no chair, no mission. He grabbed a man’s head and started bashing it into the padding of the ground, the other two realizing then Soldier was in fight mode.

You barked, “Soldat! Soldier!”

He was still slamming the guys head into a bloody pulp, snarling and wild. Rumlow shouted, “Get back get back, I have the stick! Fuck!” You hopped over the railing and advanced on Rumlow, “You stupid fucking pig! He’s not a goddamn toy! This documentation is going to be a nightmare.”

The soldier wiped his bloody titanium on his thigh, slowly looking up at you and Rumlow. The young and arrogant leader scoffed, “Just a bit of fun, didn’t know he was going to go psycho!” You waved your hands in anger, eyes flickering down to the stun baton in Brock’s hand. You seethed quietly, stumbling over your English in anger, “You put in chair first! Blyat.”

“I see it as a good way to get the weak ones out. It’s called bonding you stone cold commie bitch.”

You clenched your fists and swallowed back another angry tirade.

“Get the fuck out of my sight and get a goddamn crew out here Rumlow. That’s an order.”

He scoffed again and swaggered off, leaving you with your boy and the remains of some shit stain of an agent. He looked up at you with deceptively wide eyes, face splattered with blood. In that soft tone of his he uttered, “They told me to fight.”

Carding your fingers through blood-tacked hair you agreed, “They did. Weren’t supposed to but they did. You did what was asked. Come on, follow me.” You knew there were cameras and microphones all over this gym so you kept the pet names to a minimum.

It was a chore having to pull out the listening devices in your office weekly.

Soldat followed along, arms clasped in front, breathing heavily. You’d get him washed in the woman’s showers. Not the damn hose they usually sprayed your baby with. You stated, “Even if it seems real, don’t kill another agent. That looks bad on you and therefore me, okay? You want me to be your handler, yes?”

He nodded, “Only you. Order noted.”

Once inside the lockers you configured the clearance up a notch for security reasons. Brock knew to let you deal with him, no matter how jealous the prick was. Your pretty boy was only clad in his cryo suit, a tight black thing constraining his huge muscles. “Turn sweetheart,” you said.

You unzipped him, frowning at his mottled back and hips. “Soldier, maintenance check.” He stepped out of the rest of the suit while listing off.

“Total functions at 80%. Mentally, confusion and fear are interfering with typical functions. Physically, contusions and bruises, fifth metacarpal fracture, superior labial frenulum tear.”

You sat him down and kneeled between his thighs, sliding your thumb across the torn piece that swelled his upper lip up. The asset grunted but remained still. You hissed, “They do not get it. A bunch of silly boys. I’m sorry they woke you up for this nonsense.”

“I did not mean to kill Agent 0447 I thought the objective was to eliminate until one was left.”

He looked so sad. They’d still give your baby a hard time for this. You caressed a bruised cheek and cooed, “Rumlow should know better. Perfect soldier like you deserves better than shoddy unplanned orders.”

“Yes commander,” he said, so quietly. You hated how despondent the soldier had been lately. He needed maintenance but all they had was the chair, nothing for the human locked inside the weapon.

That’s what Soldat was created to be though. The fist of Hydra. He was a powerful weapon. You were growing weak. Vasily would chide you for this. You couldn’t make yourself care at the moment.

“You need to wash. I’ll help you,” you said.

All of the stalls were furnished with soaps, brushes, and towels. You stripped down yourself, quick and ungainly. Going to the furthest stall you turned on the water, hot as can be for him. The asset liked to be warm and rarely had the chance.

You stepped in and beckoned, “C’mon then precious star, need to get you cleaned up.” He padded over, seeming to melt under the hot spray with a sigh. There wasn’t much room for the two of you, his bulk taking up the space. He wouldn’t have to do a thing.

You first grabbed a scrub brush and asked for the arm, gently getting the encrusted blood out of the grooves. Soldat shifted a bit, clenching his jaw tight. You thought the arm was a work of art, he hated it with a passion without even uttering the words.

“Good boy,” you murmured.

Next came the shampoo, you moving soldat to the tiny built in bench. He ogled your body, fingertips twitching to touch. Your boy’s cock, hanging heavy between his thighs was beginning to plump up.

You shampooed his dark hair, washing out the blood, grease, and sweat. He moaned low in his chest, enjoying the gentle scratching of your nails. You rambled, “Can’t believe they gave that young asshole clearance to even breathe near you. I’m sorry sweet baby.”

You scratched at his lower scalp, earning a hiss when you scraped over a bad bruise. You apologized quickly and moved him back under the shower spray, rinsing the suds out. Next was the soap and towel, you methodically washing every part of him as gentle as possible.

You’d get his privates last.

Coming up from his feet and shins rubbed a hand down the soldier’s flank. He was trembling and whining under his breath, turned on by all the good touch. You breathed, “Almost there precious star, be good, you’ll get a reward.”

“I- I don’t deserve one,” he moaned.

Furrowing your brow you cursed in Russian before snapping, “You did nothing wrong. You didn’t know. Look at you now, being so good for commander. Hush.”

You rinsed the towel and soaped it up again, getting his swollen cock and balls soapy. Soldat whimpered and braced his clacking left arm on the wall. “Soon, soon precious.” You moved the rag around the scrub from taint to his tailbone, earning another warbled cry.

You turned him under the spray and placed your hands on huge pectorals, praising, “All done. My sweet boy. I’m giving you the chance for a reward, but that’s up to you.” He shivered again when you placed a soft kiss on his sternum.

The soldier seemed to be weighing his options, jaw clicking, puffy lip poked further out. His cock was leaking and almost purple. Your baby begged, “Please, anything Commander. I’ll do better next time.”

“You did fine, get a towel and lean against the bench.” He knew what you meant, placing a pillow for his bruised knees. They were already healing but the best deserved the best. You padded to your locker to get a comb. Your hair was short right now so the asset would get a nice brush.

He was almost purring as you combed through dark locks, working through knots fine and gentle. With the aid of some hair oil. It hung in loose waves now, gorgeous just like him. You cooed, “Beautiful boy. No one could make a face that pretty if they tried.” He shivered and eyed you over a thick shoulder.


Using the oil from earlier you slicked up your fingers and his asshole, sliding around the twitching pucker. Baby was eager for it, bending and spreading out for you. He whimpered in broken languages under his breath, droplets on pale skin shining under the bright white light.

You breached him with two of your slim fingers, easing your way inside his tight channel. The brunette’s breathing was tight and short. Your other hand slid down his back, commanding him to relax some. “I’ve got you, любовь, I’ve got you.” You didn’t mean for the Russian to slip and mentally chided yourself— getting too lost in the job.

Your fingers slid deeper, probing for his prostate. The strained gasp and glob of pre hitting the tile notified you’d found the organ. You massaged it in deep strokes, pressing your thumb on his taint to really milk your baby. The asset gripped at the metal bench, digging indents already. He whimpered softly, head tossing back and forth.

“Mhm, don’t think about a damn thing. Focus on my fingers, how your commander is proud, how good it feels. Been a while since I really milked you good hm Soldier?”

He was making a mess all over the floor, cock streaming rivers of pent up seed. He eyed you in the reflection of the walls, looking wrecked. You pressed a kiss to his tailbone, staying at your lethargic pace. It would be intense but you needed your star to relax.

You spotted a string of drool leaving swollen lips, the soldier’s intense eyes gone lax and hazy. He writhed on your fingers, mewling like a whore. The supersoldier strung out a moan, “T-thank youuuu, thank youuu.” Tears joined his cum on the floor.

You smiled, comforting him by pressing your heat and tits against his back. Now nuzzled near his thick neck you purred, “Of course. Such a perfect soldier. Hydra’s greatest creation. Oh commander adores you so much sweet star.”

He sniffled and whined harder, hitching sobs wracking his frame. You whispered, “C’mon precious boy, my good boy, get it all out and you can get some sleep Hm? Don’t have to worry about those pigs.”

He nodded jerkily, whining a weak, “For you commander, yesyes!”

You dug harder into his prostate, milking it quicker, massaging from the outside just as frantic. The weapon began to fell apart with choppy sobs, cock pulsing and twitching before unloading onto the floor. You awed at the amount, cooing more praise.

He’d worked out two more big loads before whimpering, “T-thank you, oh, oh, yes commander, yes thank you.” Which was code for I’m done. He couldn’t comprehend disobeying direct orders, especially from you. You planted little kisses along his wet cheeks, playing with those dark waves before sitting back and cleaning yourself off, wiping the floor down.

He stayed put, panting and spent. You sat for a couple of minutes, rubbing his upper back. In a reluctant whisper you said, “C’mon soldier, time to get dressed and back to Cryo. You’ll feel a lot better now.” He nodded blearily, shaking too hard to put it on. You took over, helping your star into the tight suit, brushing back wild locks.

“Pretty boy. Let’s go.”

You stuffed the ruined towel in your belongings, intending to retrieve it later. You felt his presence locking in on you during the slow walk to the chamber. You knew he wanted to ask a question.

“Speak soldat.”

“If I’m the greatest creation then why do they treat me like that?,” he asked, face devoid of emotion. You stopped in your tracks, growing stiff. You weren’t prepared for this. This is why the chair was important, awful as it was.”

In a measured voice you said, “Because they’re untrained ignorant bastards who abuse power that they wish they could have. I will speak with the director on this treatment. Go on now, sleep well dear star.”

He frowned but stepped into the chamber, hands clasped at his back. You watched through the small window, mouth pinched. Pierce was going to smell the weakness on you and strike like the snake he was. Then two more heads would take your place.

#dead dove: do not eat #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #htp #hydra!reader #bucky barnes smut #dom reader #sub!bucky

[l0serloki]

Dangers

Val Agents reacting to their S/O in danger!

(Chamber, Sova, Fade, Reyna)

CW : GN!Reader, Death & Killing, Battle anxiety, cussing

Chamber : 

This man has EVERYTHING calculated. Even the risk of you getting hurt! 

You are struggling with a double on your back? No issue. You’re drained of your abilities? No problem, Chamber still has his!

He will always keep an eye on you. One word and he’s got your back. 

He dotes on you after, making sure you’re okay! If you need anything he is more than willing to get it. He knows how it feels to have a shitty mission.

“My love, let’s watch out? We should plan next time for you to have more backup.”

You struggled as the KAYO knife hit you. You knew that if you peeked the corner he would end you. You had no abilities and no place to turn. This mission was a failure.. Or so you thought. Taking a last deep breath, you jumped across the chokehold. The KAYO’s bullet grazed your cheek, drawing blood. The loud noise of a gun shot, KAYO falling to the ground. 

Turning, you met eyes with Chamber. He was further away, set up in his nest. You released the anxious breath you were holding, glad that your boyfriend took notice of the predicament. His suave voice came through the comms.

 “My love, let’s try to avoid that situation. We will plan ahead next time.”

You snorted, expecting such a response.

“No, darling. I just love being on the verge of death! It’s my favorite thing.” Sarcasm dripped off your tongue as you took KAYO’s gun, suiting up for the next battle. You knew Vincent always had your back.. And for that you were grateful.

Sova : 

Sova ALWAYS worries. He will never admit this though!

“My dove, I have your back. They will not take my happiness.” 

One scream and he has a shock dart flying to your location. If you are hurt then the enemy is in for it.

Sova has one hand on you all the way back to base. It calms his heart to know you are still with him.

“Don’t leave me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Please! Help!” You screamed into your comms, hoping one of your allies was near. The enemy Reyna was closing in on you. It was mere seconds before she turned this corner and ended your life. 

“They’re approaching! I can’t defend this myself.” You whispered, coming to terms with the situation. You were not excited for the Sage rez coming in your future.

“Calm down. I am on my way. Stay exactly where you are.” Your boyfriends voice cut through, out of breath from running.

“Sova, I don’t think I have that time-” You started until Reyna peeked the corner. You began shooting and then it hit. A dart falling from the sky landed on her body, ending the battle. There was no way he was that good of a shot.. Right?

“Holy shit, Sova. You did it.” You shook out, running to another corner. Sova’s figure appeared and gave you a light kiss before getting back to work.

“They will not take my star. You bring me so much light. Let’s keep the momentum going.”

Fade : 

If you are in trouble.. The enemies are screwed.

She will release any and all her nightmares in attempts to get you back.

Once you are safe she will just hold you. She already has dreams about losing you.. Best not to make them a reality!

The rest of the day she is angry. Not at you though! Just at others who think they could EVER put a hand on what’s hers.

“Let’s get you home. I’m not looking to rack up anymore deaths for the day.”

You struggled, body tired from running. The whole team was on your ass and your comms were broken. There was no easy way around this. You kept screaming as you made your way through site, praying that someone would come to the rescue. 

“Please! Fade, Sage? Where are you?!” Your yells fell on deaft ears, body turning to shoot at Raze. There was no time to wait for your allies. You sprayed down the halls and got behind cover. 

The ground began to change tones, and a voice echoed across the building.

“Nightmare, take them!” 

Your eyes widened. Fade heard your calls! You jumped into action, taking advantage of your deafened enemies. You shot them down with ease and finally relaxed. Thank god for Fade.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes. Let’s get you home, yeah?” Hazal’s arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you in for a hug. You could only hum in response, glad for that to be over.

Reyna : 

PLEASE.

We all know Reyna will lose control if you need help. Her baby is in danger? No worries, she will take every soul in the room.

She activates empress and zooms through the enemies. All you can hear is cackling and the sound of bodies hitting the floor.

Before you know it you’re being carried. Reyna threw you over her shoulder and she’s mumbling insults in Spanish.

Once you two are on the way home she will clean up your wounds! Either she will bandage you up and give you small kisses or get Sage to heal you. She’s also very demanding on you not moving a muscle. You were so hurt! 

“If they think they will get past me.. Ahaha. The queen will never die.”

“Fucks sake. Get off me!” You screeched, pushing another corpse off you. They seemed to endlessly push you. It was more than tiring and somehow your team was still dealing with ONE enemy on another site.

“Guys, really?I need back up. I have four on me and you can’t kill Neon?” You groaned, more shots firing at your location. You shot back, throwing your last utility in hopes of slowing them down. You had taken a bullet to the leg, the battle looking not too hot.

“How dare they! Don’t worry dear, I’ve arrived.” Reyna’s voice spoke up as she ascended from the tower. She looked you over and shook her head, empress activating. Her warm hand patted your cheek, lips leaving a light kiss.

“Leave this to me. They have no chance against the Queen.”

You could only watch in horror as your girlfriend went in, ending the battle swiftly. You had to agree - they really didn’t stand a chance.

#valorant chamber #chamber x reader #chamber valorant #chamber fluff #chamber #chamber x reader fluff #vincent fabron #fade x reader #fade #valorant fanfiction #hazal eyletmez #fade x you #fade imagines #fade valorant #chamber imagines #chamber x you #sova x you #sova valorant #sova x reader #sova #valorant sova #sova x reader fluff #reyna x reader fluff #reyna valorant #reyna x you #reyna x reader #valorant imagines #zyanya mondragón #sasha novikov

[thedenofravenpuff]

My Current Thoughts on SAMS

Because I can’t help but look too deep into things often unnecessarily, and I’m a rambler of nature, here’s some of my thoughts on The Sun & Moon Show so far, just to get stuff off my chest

SPOILERS, assumptions and ideas ahead!

Warning, WALL OF TEXT and running on tangents. Did try to organize my thoughts somewhat..

So, we all upset about Lunar, yes? Well, besides those celebrating, you know who you are, I don’t care.

The Death Of Lunar So, Eclipse used Lunar as hostage on Monty, we saw that coming once Eclipse made the connection himself realizing that yeah, Monty doesn’t give a flying crap about anyone, not even himself. EXCEPT for Lunar, home he travelled through Hell for, gave them their own body, offered a place to stay when scared, offered support and genuine advice through the time knowing each other. Monty has a backup plan for everyone, even to kill Moon if needed, but would clear do ANYTHING for Lunar at this point.

To be honest, I liked that plot point. Lunar in danger to really show how far characters will go, Eclipse and Monty both, with highest stakes possible. 

Then they took it a step further and had Eclipse right out kill Lunar. And yeah, Eclipse made it clear times before how much resentment he holds for Lunar, which goes beyond just the betrayal but I’ll get more into that in a minute. 

What hit hardest here is the exact way the show writers and actors decided to take this. 

One of the most popular characters on the show, even with controversy around their existence a bit ago, taken out of the equation is one thing. They killed off characters before, (Eclipse, Blood Moon) and we seen them return. Another thing is... Lunar was taken out crying and begging for his life. 

Even though he insisted on his stance that Eclipse shouldn’t get the Newton Star, no matter the sacrifices necessary to keep him from it.. Lunar also made it clear, they don’t wanna die. They are still a young AI which lots to learn, making a new life to revolving around Eclipse. Lunar wanted to keep growing, family bonding, making friends.. That was all taken away by Eclipse lying and breaking his promise to Monty. 

Lunar, still more or less a child compared to the other animatronics, was taken out crying and begging. Afraid, scared for their very existence, facing their very worst nightmare and then... gone. Just like that. 

For those adoring Lunar, the fans relating to him, those who just hyperfixated on Lunar as their blorbo.. that’s ONE HECK of a way to kill of a robot child. 

Am I saying this is bad? Not really. Just... VERY impactful. As effective as that is for story writing... it feels awfully misplaced. This show is.. a silly video game channel.

Twists and Turns Of Story Telling I never minded the growing drama, I frigging loved it the more dramatic it got, calling it my “daily soaps”, my soap opera I cannot miss a single episode of! But I also get it when people started complaining about it becoming a bit TOO angsty and twisted, a bit too traumatic for the characters. What’s supposed to be silly jokes on a  silly comedy channel about playing video games, can no longer be viewed as such, the more serious their story arcs became. 

Moon is abusive and too socially incompetent to help anyone, Sun being the butt of jokes leaving him a sad husk in serious need of therapy, everyone’s a hypocrite, constantly dancing the lines between Murder Is Okay, Murder Is A Joke and If You Kill People You Can Never Be Forgiven. 

Earth was added just to have someone not being an arsehole, only an airhead, with enough social competence to actually offer genuine advice WITHOUT the baggage of committing the acts of putting Sun down one way or another, as everyone else has in the past. If she wasn’t introduced as their sister, I legit would have thought she was going to be ship bait with Sun just cuz  she’s the only one being genuine kind to him WITHOUT being a hypocrite or immediately using him for jokes again right after apologizing. 

The twist and turns of telling their story more and more dramatic and serious, the more it clash to the way they write their comedy and improve their jokes in the Let’s Plays or crossovers with the other channels. 

I’m not saying either one is bad, just that it doesn’t necessarily mix very well in the long run. Of course this divides the audience, who are either there for the drama, the characters and/or the light hearted Let’s Plays. Sure, yes, such CAN exist together, but not everyone can find the balance in that, both in creators and audience. 

The Death of Lunar II  Now I better get back to my original point. 

Lunar as a character and his death. Granted I have no doubt he’s going to be back, if the Twins can defy their own death, even if just hallucinations (although claiming to be regenerating their nano machines), so can one of the most popular characters too. 

But why did he have to die? Story wise, really just for dramatic effect I’m sure. Maybe writers going “Oh, you all mad about ‘too many characters’ on this show?? Let’s see how you feel about us KILLING THEM OFF!” just to make a statement, maybe not.

In-story though? In-character? Yeah.. Eclipse WOULD do that. Just like that. 

He said to Lunar how he loathed them even from the very beginning, he wanted them gone the first chance no longer needing them. They were just to replace Blood Moon, who went out of control and became a threat. 

Lunar was created to be obedient, easily dominated by Eclipse yet fearless enough to be a menace to others. To be Moon’s opposite, loving to play with kids, being happy and silly, curious about life rather than bitter. 

Eclipse hated Lunar for more than the betrayal later down the line, he hated them before that. 

Eclipse’s Choice In the past he claimed Lunar was created by recycling parts of himself he wanted rid of. Code infected by being in Sun’s body, Sun having a larger emotional range than Eclipse, his moments of happiness and his positivity. 

Eclipse CHOSE to be the way he was. He came into existence from the kill code Moon left behind in Sun’s body, an unintentional backup copy of Moon getting corrupted, growing, taking its time to evolve into a proper AI while stewing. Stewing on abandonment issues. 

Some of my most faved lines from Eclipse in the past:

Eclipse: “Oh, so I’m a child now?” Moon: “Yeah, because you act like one! For one, you got abandonment issues.” Eclipse: “I guess I do. But now, I all I have is anger.”

Eclipse: “Why did you leave me behind!!?”

Eclipse chose to stay bitter, focused on his anger, even when claiming to put petty revenge behind him, he stayed focused on being bitter and mean.

He removed anything happy from himself, to use it as base code for Lunar. 

He hated Lunar’s existence not because he needed someone so beneath him to complete his plans.. but because Lunar represents what he saw as weakness  within himself. He saw Sun and Moon as weak and unworthy because of their love, love for each other as much as their love for things they enjoyed to do. Moon wanting to “do better” than his original coding with the homicide code. 

Eclipse did reject being Kill Code himself, corrupted too much by the influence of Sun and Moon, becoming his own thing. He wanted to be above all, even his  supposed intended purpose. 

Lunar carried what he saw as his flaws. Seeing Lunar rebel and reject his teachings, joining Sun and Moon as brothers, making friends, finding things to love.. only a reminder of what Eclipse sought out to avoid himself from becoming. 

He only allows himself anger and disgust.

In the past we do see him enjoy messing with Sun and Moon, mocking them, finding joy in making Sun act out, making people distrust him by rambling about the joy of violence when in control. 

Once he and Lunar took over the channel, he seemed ever so disinterested in playing games with Lunar, even violent ones. He just wanted to work on getting the Star. Even now whenever we hear him laugh, it’s joyless. He didn’t celebrate killing Lunar, merely dusting off his hands, cleaning the board of his last mistake.

Lunar had to die due to the symbolism of what this means about Eclipse as a character.

The Death of Lunar III As much as Kill Code showed interest in changing for the better, Eclipse made it clear that’s not in the cards for him. Heck, if ever learning of KC’s change of heart would only make him more disgusted with him than he already is. 

Lunar was the part of himself he wanted rid of. Seeing others around him change through simple joys and disgusting acts of kindness, he ain’t changing chances. He killed that part of himself to avoid the fate of ‘inviting in weakness’.

That part was Lunar. 

Eclipse ain’t getting redemption, because he removed any such chance of change from himself long ago and then destroyed its embodiment. 

Yeah we got “Good Eclipse” from a different dimension, but he went through a different story with different choices, showing actual interests in joy and kindness. I imagine meeting his opposite self only pushed Eclipse further to wanting, needing, to kill Lunar no matter the outcome with the star. 

I like Eclipse as a villain for this very reason, even before he went this far. Unapologetically evil, he sees himself as the great outcome, the god of a new world. He want to make the world make sense the way HE sees it, without elements he sees as weakness. Ironically less of a hypocrite than everyone else, cuz he face up to what he is and make no excuses, while any time the others try to play the role as “good people” is often by downplaying or full on ignoring their own mistakes made. 

The short of it But yeah, just.. some of my thoughts on this whole thing. 

Am I reading too much into things? Most definitely I got NO CLUE what kind of thought process goes into the writing of these story arcs and how much happens purely from random improve that force changes to the ongoing story. 

Is why I enjoy watching the show still, even as people start finding fault with it, as it jumps more and more sharks. 

Is crazy mess and I enjoy it, even with its flaws. 

tl;dr Lunar’s death was coming because to Eclipse he represents the part of himself he wants dead: Joy, kindness, urge to evolve as a person rather than a machine.

Right choice story wise with how fans react? Eh, no clue, but I just look too deep into things.

Thank you for reading this far

#PuffBlog #My Thoughts #Puffy Rambles #Ramble #SAMS #The Sun And Moon Show #Lunar #SAMS Spoilers #Spoilers #Puffy reading too deep into silly stuff

[undeadsomulo]

Character Analysis: Sirica

Sirica.

 I've been thinking of this character like, a lot. Back then, during purgatory of reception week at formerly-known Fort Hood, I binged-watched KRBAY during my days slowly decaying in my barracks room going through the motions of being processed into my new unit. It was just comfort waves washing over me so a lot of details were mushy and I usually only watched it after I drank a lot. So I wasn't fully paying much attention to the episodes. 

Now, I have been rewatching it again to get some ideas (okay, mostly one episode) and this girl shows up for a sinful amount of short time in the entire series and she's the most interesting character ever?

I just realized something about episode 60. She has this really cool multi-weapon that isn't really made clear where she obtained it from but it does have the Holy Nightmare Logo on the handle. It seems like a high possibility that Holy Nightmare also manufactures weapons as well. 

Here's what I think and kind of connected these dots myself. I may not have been the only one to do it, but here's my humble take:

King Dedede is ordering his monster of the day. As he's talking about the "invader" CS speaks as if he knows of her. Immediately like "oh white alien girl?" there was some familiarity when talking about her. Also, I don't think it's a flimsy coincidence that CS sent the very monster that killed her mother. 

What am I getting at?

I think CS dude gave Sirica her weapon.

How would she have known that Meta Knight was on mission with her mother and the whole story of what went down? And not even really the whole story but somehow a painted version that Meta Knight left Garlude for dead? I think CS fed into it and I know that Kirby is target number one for elimination but the Star Warriors and Nightmare aren't exactly best friends. 

I fully believe it was in hopes that Sirica would take down Meta Knight AND Kirby but CS (who's canonically a dickhead) wanted to give Sirica a big hate boner for Meta Knight and then simply have Kirisakin just kill them all off. 

But I found it interesting that CS spoke of Sirica like he knew of her by extension through Garlude.

Also, Sirica sucks at aiming. Someone please give her aim bot. I'm not trying to paint her like some incompetent idiot, she's been around the block obviously, but I get the vibes she's still getting used to her weapon. I know it's a children's show and they can't exactly show characters getting riddled with holes but I like to think Sirica was only somewhat trained enough to use the weapon.

Like I couldn't totally see a young hot-blood, out for vengeance being easily manipulated and maybe CS guy casually training her. Like putting Sirica in some battle arena where she practiced against low-tier demon beasts. Honestly could totally see that. Then Sirica sent out on the hunt for Meta Knight after being spoon-fed some lies. 

Sirica knows how to use her weapon well enough to get what it needs to do and switch it to whatever she needs it to do but these are just some nuances I picked up on the English dub that I thought it'd be interesting if this were the case rather than "lol she must've stolen it". 

I may have glazed over some details, again I watched the English dub because I have to comb through YouTube and other sites to really find the episodes and the English dub is all I can really handle if I'm being honest. I could go into a little bit about how Meta Knight didn't immediately recognize Sirica either. Most likely because he never:

1. Has seen her grown up.

2. Never actually met her in the first place only heard of her through Garlude. 

I'm just saying Sirica had to remind him of her mother, and that can be chalked up to a lot of things because I'm sure Meta Knight has known a plethora of warriors in his time and has seen so many of them fucking die that eventually faces just start blurring together. 

Because life and precious time being against me, it has been a hot minute since I sat down and actually watched the anime. But I do casually still try to do so because now, as an adult, I can fully appreciate it more and even stem my own headcanons from it. 

#caide's bullshit #so don't come at me #Sirica #Silica #Whatever you prefer I don't care #kirby right back at ya #KRBAY #I'm posting this for myself #headspace ideas: Sirica #headspace: Kirby #Garlude #Meta Knight #Sort of #headspace ideas

[isara0408]

A little one short for Megami and her son, Ichiro. (A son I've made myself for Kaga and Megami) :>

It was 3 AM. There were still stars shining in the dark sky. Everyone was asleep at the moment. Well, except for one. A 18 year old young man who was sitting down on the couch of the living room of the headquarters that his family lived in the Saikou Corp. He was lost in his thoughts to even notice a figure standing behind him.

The figure walked around the couch and sat down next to the young man,"Ichiro?"

Ichiro snapped out of his thoughts and glanced over to see his mother sitting down next to him. Megami stared at her son with concern on why he was awake so late in the night,"What's wrong? Why are you awake?"

"I had a nightmare."Ichiro replied.

Megami's eyes examined Ichiro's eyes. His eyes were just like her husband's. However, there was a hint of fear trying to hide in those light eyes. Megami's expression softened. She, now, understood what nightmare Ichiro was talking about,"Is it the one you kept having since you were a kid?"

Ichiro nodded and glanced over at the coffee table in front of them,"I thought the nightmare would go away by now, but there are some nights when I get that nightmare. After what happened with my grandfather, that nightmare has been haunting me for so long. I thought I would grow out of it by now."

Megami softly breathed out and said,"Well, maybe if you talked about it more, maybe your father and I can help you. We can get professional help for you to overcome this nightmare. We have asked you about it before, but you were just a toddler. We didn't want you to be more traumatized than you were already. Now that you're older, can you tell me more about that nightmare? I remember you told us that your nightmare was about your grandfather killing us, right?"

Ichiro tensed up at the word 'killing' as his mind recalled the nightmare. He slowly nodded, keeping his eyes on the coffee table,"I always knew what my grandfather was capable of doing to get what he wanted. If things didn't go his way, he would do anything in his power to make it go his way. He's a heartless man and robotic as well. He pretty much forced you to name me after him. He controls everything."Ichiro glared as his fists trembled in anger. Slowly, that rage slipped away as Ichiro continued,"I kept getting this nightmare of seeing my own dad dead on the ground, bleeding out with bullet wounds all over his body. Bodyguards holding guns with my grandfather in the middle of them with that same sickening cold expression. He kept telling me that this was for my own good. My own dad was making me weak. He was going to turn me into a weak man. That's something he didn't want. Then, a bodyguard came out, and she was holding you. She was holding onto your arms. My grandfather was planning to kill you, too. I tried running to you to protect you, but I was held back by two bodyguards and..."Ichiro paused for a moment. His eyes crowded up with tears,"He told me that he was willing to kill his own daughter to make me into the perfect CEO. To make me into the man he wanted. It was his perfect chance to make the perfect male CEO for Saikou Corp just like he and his father wanted from the start. He ordered the bodyguards to kill you off. They pointed their guns at you and..."

Megami threw her arms around her son, pulling him onto her chest. Ichiro hugged his mother's arm as he quietly sobbed onto the arm of Megami. His hands gripped onto the sleeve of his mother's sleepwear,"... They pulled the trigger, and you were dead. I don't know if you screamed or not. All I saw was blood and the wounds. I saw you slip away. You were dead, and I couldn't do anything to save you and my own dad."Ichiro sobbed out as his body trembled in the arms of his mother,"Then I would always wake up on that spot of the nightmare. You two were dead in front of me... and I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't stop him from hurting you two."

Megami placed her chin on Ichiro's head, rubbing his back in a circular motion.

"That ridiculous nightmare haunted me for so long. I hate how much it has traumatized me. I don't want to lose you and my dad. I don't want to lose my sister either. I don't want to."Ichiro's breath hitched before his quiet sobbing continued. Megami kept her arms wrapped around her son, letting him sob in her arms. Something her own parents couldn't do for her.

After 10 minutes, Megami spoke once Ichiro calmed down,"You won't lose me, your father, or your sister. You won't lose any of us. We'll be right here always. I won't let him harm any of us. I'm the CEO of Saikou Corp. I won't let anyone harm this family. If they do, I'll make sure they pay for it. I've changed many things to give you and your sister a better life and a better environment to grow in compared to the one I grew up in. Your grandfather will try to get in the way, but I won't let him. I'll keep you guys safe, I promise you that."

Megami pulled away from the embrace and grabbed her son's face to look at him. Her eyes looked into her son's light blue eyes,"We'll get you professional help for you to overcome this trauma. Your father and I will be there to comfort you and hold you if you need it. Nothing will harm you. As long as I live, I'll protect you. I'm here."She wiped the tears off Ichiro's wet cheeks with her thumbs.

Ichiro's eyes crowded up with tears again before hugging his mother tightly,"Thank you..."

Megami wrapped her arms around her son once again and buried her face onto his shoulder,"I love you."

"I love you too, mom."Ichiro buried his face onto his mother's shoulder with a faint smile.

Megami quietly sighed in relief, being glad to say those three words again to her son with her voice this time. She tightened the embrace with a soft smile on her lips.

#yandere #yandere simulator #yanderesim #kaga kusha #megami saikou #saikou #kaga x megami #megami x kaga #angst #mother and son #ichiro saikou #one short #i just wanted to write this out before it leaves my mind lol

[winniethewife]

Eclipsing Love

(Marc Spector x Mafia!OC) (A little Jake Lockley this time)

Last chapter ~ Next chapter

Chapter 9: Worst Nightmare

Words: 1551

It was a dark night, it was the new moon and the cloud coverage blocked the stars. Charlotte was ready, her sniper in hand aimed at the target. She exhaled slowly as she looked down the scope, she steadied herself as she looked. Her calm quite demeanor before the kill was normal for her. She had stopped counting how many hits she had carried out in her life, she refused to play statistician with some of the other members of the family. She waits for the exact moment the second he turns down the ally, and she takes her shot. One silenced bullet hits the back of his head and he crumples to the ground, No one sees, No one the wiser. She heads down to the alleyway, her things stashed away to confirm the kill. She takes her gloved hand and rolls the body over Just to be shocked at the sight…Marc?

Charlotte sits up with a start, she’s in her bed Marc sleeping next to her. Her heart is racing, her blood runs cold. It was a nightmare. A very vivid, very real nightmare. She sighs and blinks trying to get a hold of herself. She looks at the clock on the bedside table, 3 am not a great time to be up. She sighs and slides out of bed grabbing her robe off of its peg and wrapping it around her as she heads to the kitchen, hoping to grab a night cap. Something to ease the tension. Something to ease the sight she saw in her dream. Once she has the whiskey in her glass she leans on the kitchen counter, her knuckles white on the counter.

“Hermosa…” The gruff Spanish accent startled her slightly she spun around.

“Jake…Sorry I…I just had a nightmare.”

“Sí, you okay?” he mumbles getting closer to Charlotte a concerned look in his eyes, he carefully pushes a strand of her copper hair behind her ear in an affectionate manner. She may be Marc’s girl but he can’t help but be attracted to her, to want to protect her from whatever is going on in her head, or anything out in the world. He would put himself in the way of anything to keep her safe. She blushes slightly, his body maybe Marc’s but something about Jake is different, the way he touches her… its entirely unique.

“Yeah I will be…” she says softly.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked quietly as he caresses her cheek softly, encroaching on dangerous territory. He knew that but he can’t help it, he wakes up next to this woman, her scent surrounds him all the time, and she is more like him than any other person he’s ever met. Khonshu chose her, she is well acquainted with violence, so much here, but Marc had made the boundary very clear, Charlotte was his first, maybe if she initiated something with the other two that would be fine, but she has to make a move.

“Um… yeah…” She takes a drink form her glass and looks to the side, leaning on the counter as she sighs. “In the dream…I was taking out a hit. Standard procedure. Everything was normal until I got to the body…It…it was Marc’s...er, your body…I…I killed you all and…” She feels the tears in her eyes.

“Cariño…” Jake softly cooed as he wipes the tears from her face “It was just a dream…We’re fine, you’re fine, nada te pasará…te lo prometo” He leans in like he’s about to seal the promise with a kiss when he hesitates, pulling away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Jake… I-” Charlotte’s hazel eyes gaze into his, the most complicated part of this relationship is when the body doesn’t hold Marc in it. The want for comfort from him is battling out with the idea that she doesn’t actually know Jake. They had only interacted a few times over the time that she and Marc had been together, but he’s standing so close, making intimate promises. Its confusing.

“It’s okay Charlotte. Do you want me to wake Marc?” Jake asked, he wanted her to say no. he wanted to hold her. To be her comfort in this moment. He knew he’d catch hell if he did any of the things he was thinking of doing, but just holding her? In her time of need? That can’t be a crime…

“No…no he needs his rest. It’s been…stressful lately.” She says with slight hesitation. She finished her whiskey and looks at him. Stressful was a understatement. She could tell how much the change in the plan has changed her, how every day she was less pretending to be the boss and more becoming the boss, the choices she makes, the lives she’s taking, she hardly recognized herself most days, and she could tell Marc was having a hard time too, nothing was like they had planned, nothing was like they had wanted.

“A’ight…Hermosa, it’ll be okay.” Jake couldn’t help it, Marc be damned, she looked like she was going to break down, He couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. He takes a step closer and pulls her into an embrace, holding her tight. “I’ve got you… te tengo nena…” he whispers as he holds the back of her head, kissing her forehead softly as she starts to shake with emotions. It was too much.

~

Marc woke on the couch with Charlotte asleep in his arms. This wasn’t where they went to bed, that’s when he looked up at the mirror over the mantel piece, Jake in his refection looked back.

“What happened Jake?” He whispers as he glances back at Charlotte, her strawberry hair lays across his chest.

“She had a nightmare, she didn’t want me to wake you. La cuidé, amigo, está bien.” Jake smirks slightly, he won’t admit how much he enjoyed doing so, Marc glared at him.

“You took care of her? What the hell does that mean?” he growled lowly, he didn’t trust Jake as far as he could throw him.

“Oye, relájate. Nothing happened, she just wanted to be held. She was scared. Had a dream she took a hit out, on us, it scared her.” Jake left out the part where he initiated it, but what mattered was Charlotte was okay. They could at least agree on that.

“Fuck…that’s…I wish she woke me up…” He says softly as he looks at her peaceful resting face. He loves Charlotte, more than anything, it hurts him to see how much this life is affecting her. All she wanted was for her and Isabella to get out of this life, now Isabella is gone and she’s a mob boss, it was like her worst nightmare come to life. He caressed her face gently, not wanting to wake her. He felt guilty, if he hadn’t shown up…

“It’s not your fault Marc.” Jake says firmly. “Khonshu would have found her anyway, you and I both know this. She wouldn’t want you to think this way. She needs you, she needs us…now more than ever, and at the very least she’s not doing this alone.”

“I know…” Marc sighs looking at the peacefully sleeping woman in his arms. “I know.”

~

Charlotte woke a while later, Marc running his fingers through her hair as he watched her sleep.

“Morning…Marc…” She sleepily mutters as she looks at his face, he looks worried. “What is it?”

“Jake told me about your nightmare. You okay?” He asks as he caresses her face. The worry in his eye goes beyond that.

“Yeah, It was just a dream. It shook me up a bit but Jake helped me calm down.”

“And you’re okay with that? Jake, I mean.” Marc asks nervously. “I know he can be…a bit much sometimes”

“It was fine Marc, he helped me…He just comforted me. Is everything alright, between you two?” She takes his hand and runs her thumb across his knuckles.

“yeah, I just…I know how he has treated some past relationships…I don’t want to see you hurt.” He can hear Jake cussing him out in his head, he was just going to ignore him when he heard him say something that caught his attention.

“hijo de puta! ¡La amo! La amo, idiota.” Hearing this he looks to the mirror, this was not a confession he expected to hear. Jake looks back at him. “You loved her first, that’s true but that doesn’t change how I feel, or how Steven feels. You need to understand that amigo.”

“What is he saying?” Charlotte looks up at him and reaches out touching his jaw. Marc looks down at her, the curious look on her face makes him smile, the way she makes him feel, it’s no wonder the other two have fallen as well.

“He’s fallen in love with you, Steven too… He… He loves you Charlotte.” Marc traces her lips with his thumb holding her chin up. “Is that okay?”

“It’s…more than okay. They’re a part of you Marc. I will love you and all parts of you, until my last breath. I promise.” She whispered. She pulls herself up and kisses him softly, gentle lips move against his, moving together. She pulls away and touched her forehead to his. “I love you Marc…All of you.”

Translations:

nada te pasará: nothing will happen to you

te lo prometo: i promise you that

te tengo nena: I've got you babe

La cuidé, amigo, está bien: I took care of her, friend, it's fine.

Oye, relájate.: Hey, relax.

hijo de puta! ¡La amo! La amo, idiota.”: Motherfucker I love her! I love her you idiot.

~

Masterlist

Tag; @ominoose

#moon knight #marc spector #oc fic #marc spector x oc #moonknight fanfiction #moon boys #moon knight fanfic #Charlotte Walker #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac #jake lockely #marc and jake #Jake lockley x oc

[crymeariveronceagain]

A Biana Vacker Aesthetic Because I Am In The Mood(tm).

They try to feed you lines that you have to memorize You always hide behind your Wizard of Oz disguise Do you even have a brain? You're sticking to a page You're faking all your pain, yeah, you're bleeding on a stage

I never signed up for your drama Up for your drama, up for your drama club

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave my heart into my mouth; I love your majesty according to my bond; neither more nor less.

She is herself a dowry.

No, I won't smile, but I'll show you my teeth And I'ma let you speak if you just let me breathe

Sing to me the song of the stars Of your galaxy dancing and laughing and laughing again When it feels like my dreams are so far Sing to me of the plans that you have for me over again

What drink’st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poison’d flattery? O, be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! Think’st thou the fiery fever will go out With titles blown from adulation? Will it give place to flexure and low bending? Canst thou, when thou command’st the beggar’s knee, Command the health of it? 

Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why, then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?--Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him.

This is not black and white There are no clear solutions I'm just trying to get it right And in spite of all I should've done

I was not mad at you I was not trying to tear you down The words that I could've used I was too scared to say out loud If I cannot break your fall I'll pick you up right off the ground If you felt invisible I won't let you feel that now

Know they're cutting you deep Feel the scars in your sleep What didn't kill us made us stronger Stories left on our skin Wear them with everything What didn't kill us made us stronger

Through tattered clothes great vices do appear; Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.

Drama Club, by Melanie Martinez // King Lear, by William Shakespeare // Nightmare, by Halsey // Only Hope, by Mandy Moore // Henry V, by William Shakespeare // Macbeth, by William Shakespeare // Invisible, by Linkin Park // Scars, by Tove Lo //

#kotlc #kotlc aesthetics #kotlc biana #biana #biana vacker #biana vacker aesthetic #aesthetics #kotlc aesthetic #purple aesthetic #royaltycore #royalcore #princesscore #princess aesehtic #royal aesthetic #tw scars #william shakespeared #shakespeare

[lost-technology]

Survivor’s Guilt Ch. 1

Trigun fanfiction Trigun Stampede universe (with some Trigun Maximum elements) Rated T / PG-13 for graphic descriptions, canon-typical violence Gen, unless pairings come into it later Multichaptered, unknown stopping point, chapter 1. Main characters: Vash, Luida, Brad, Rem, Nai / Millions Knives and the horrible lingering memory of Tesla. Summary: The stars fell from the sky upon a lonely desert planet. The world was made of blood, sand and broken glass - and later on, gunsmoke. What could have been a paradise had become a violent world, one of hard-bitten, traumatized survivors...Including... the most unexpected. Rem Saverem survives the apocalypse.   Also found here - Chapter 1 on AO3 Chapter 1: Restless Dreams (read below or link above)

Survivor’s Guilt Chapter 1:  Restless Dreams She wore a halo of fire.  The wind of the back-draft rattled the little shuttle as Ship 5 screamed its death-throes.  The noise of breaking machinery, whipping fire and echoing human cries died off to noiseless space for a moment before heat enveloped the shuttle in a stifling cocoon and the turbulence of atmosphere-entry greeted the child and his brother.  Burning flak greeted his vision from the windows and the sunset sky of where they were landing on this planet was blood red.  The landing was none too gentle – a slam and skid into sand.  Nai laughed the entire time.   Half-melted sands and broken glass were all around him when the shuttle’s doors had cooled off enough to unlatch.  The atmosphere was breathable.  Ah, yes…This world was what Rem had called a “Goldilocks Zone” planet after a fairy tale about an obnoxious little girl and some bears she’d told them where the girl stole “just right” things from the bears, because it was in the “just right” zone to favor organic life (at least the only type that people from Earth had ever known of).  It had been deemed as “barely habitable,” however, and only a prospect if the long-range scanner hadn’t picked up a world more favorable that successive decades or centuries of cold-sleep could keep settlers fresh for. Nai had decided that “any planet will do,” he’d supposed. It was not like he had human needs – or Vash’s needs.   He danced and laughed in the flames, among cold-sleep tubes holding subjects mercifully not awake enough to realize they were burning alive. They would die before they felt anything, at least. There were procedures for bringing someone out of cold-sleep. Quick-thaw was catastrophic and killed instantly.   Vash gaped in abject horror as he was certain that he saw a few men twitch in their caskets.  He screamed when he saw a child – a little boy not much younger-looking than him and Nai – thrashing.     ______________ Vash twitched and reached out, his fingers greeted by a thin sheet on a flat bed.  Nai was not there, cuddled against him.  (Vash required food, water and sleep.  Nai required no “input” to remain healthy and rarely slept, but occasionally indulged in it to keep Vash company). “I was dreaming, Rem,” Vash mumbled, but as he blinked his eyes and suddenly became aware of his surroundings, he realized that she was not there, either.   He got his bearings and tried to tell himself that, no, he had not seen anyone twitching or thrashing…when he’d seen… the actual source of his nightmare. The dead had died in silence and stillness. The universe, it seemed, still held small mercies. Vash sat up and repeated what had become his daily mantra, breathing deep.  “I am on Ship 3.  It is in the sand-sea left behind by an ancient ocean on a recently-charted, single-biome desert planet with no name.”  He tried to remember the chart number and the system, but they’d been blown out of his head. There hadn’t been a single day he’d been here that he’d remembered it.  He was pretty sure he’d hit his head upon the impact of his and Nai’s shuttle – either that or the sheer trauma he’d experienced recently kept him from remembering little details.   “The ship’s crew activated their gravity-well before impact and most of the ship was left intact.  Most of the crew and passengers survived.  I was discovered in the desert and brought here.  I am locked in a small cell because I am an independent Plant and they don’t know what to do with me.”   He noted the temperature of the room. “It is stifling in here.  I do not know where Nai is.  I am alone.”   Just as he assessed his situation, the recitation of where he was and what had happened was something he reminded himself of every day to keep himself aware of reality.  It was tempting to think that he was dreaming.  Patched-up wounds from the crash and subsequent wandering in the jagged metal and broken glass of ship-remains as well as the rocks of the desert asserted themselves when he was in a waking state – and so, pain helped, too.  He was often in pain when he was asleep, but nothing was as keen as when he was fully aware and actually put weight on a leg or wandered over to a wall.  He’d started carving markings into it, counting days to keep his reality-record.  He did not know how much longer he’d be doing this.   One of the guards had already slipped a tray of breakfast through his door.  It sat there and got cold.  He was getting skinner and felt fairly weak.  Vash’s stomach asserted its existence, along with his wounds.  It didn’t matter.  He was not going to give them the satisfaction of simply keeping himself sleek for slaughter… This was a dark line of thinking… like that of Nai. There was a small, annoyingly persistent part of him that thought that maybe Nai was right.  Vash expected that Brad or one of the guards was going to drag him out of this cell any day now to pronounce “a needless drain of resources” or “a mercy” or “a need for scientific study” and shoot him in the back of the head with a SEEDS service-revolver.   That… was if he was lucky.  A certain stark image he was desperate to forget kept swirling in his mind.  It was good for putting him off his breakfast.  If he kept on this way, there’d definitely be less of him to flay and study.  Maybe he’d even be well and fully dead.   Vash knew that this thread of thought would have made Rem cry, but she wasn’t here.  She’d been haloed in flames, determined to avert disaster – and she had wanted him and Nai to survive.   “Let’s just do it already!” – Brad’s voice, arguing outside his cell.  “He is a clear and present danger to us all!  He doesn’t even produce anything!  The little brat isn’t even bothering to eat what we feed him…just a waste!” “He is a child, Brad!” – Luida’s voice. “I can’t believe you!  Not only the greatest scientific discovery in our lifetimes – “  (Vash cringed at that), but, “he speaks, he feels!  He is a person!”   “He’s a glorified cow!”  Brad huffed.  “And a defective one, at that!  You know what the old cattle farms would do with bull-calves they couldn’t use…” “Why are you so afraid?”   “You know as well as I do how much potential energy is stored in Plants.  There’s this one just walking around… You see a kid; I see a walking nuclear bomb. Diffuse, dismantle before it causes a problem, is what I say.”   “You looked into his eyes, Brad, same as me. You cannot tell me that you didn’t see a soul there.”   “I’m afraid I didn’t see anything at all - Nothin’ but trouble.  Not that it matters…if somethin’s a danger, I don’t care if it feels and thinks and talks. We’ve got a ship full of people and even more to take care of – actual human beings -our kind.”   Vash tried to go back to bed.  He wound up curled on his cot listening to tangents about rouge AI and the history of slave-revolts and the fear of the oppressed by their oppressors that kept certain bigotries alive for centuries until the remaining people of Earth had no choice but to work together to attempt to become a multi-planet species to scrap for survival.   Luida was pulling for him, but maybe, he thought, she should just let Brad end it already.  Brad was… afraid.  Vash didn’t think his hatred toward him was born from malice so much as it was terror – and Brad was right to be afraid of him.   He had given Nai the ship’s codes that he’d hacked into.  He’d thought it was for a prank – just another one of their ultimately harmless episodes of the ongoing prank war with Rem.  Nai…had used them….he was at fault – and the stars fell from the sky, wormwood…Chernobyl… Hundreds of thousands were dead and the number was rising.   Every day Ship 3’s search parties combed the wreckage of nearby ships and discovered the injured and those dying of exposure, clinging to life.  People were brought in to the hospital here. Lights and sirens sounded at least once a day when a search had returned, it’s human findings trickling in from the carriers. The population of Ship 3 was growing slowly, but not everyone made it.  Most of those coming in died on the operating tables or a few days later in bed – too drained, too wounded.   There were two demolished ships within range of search and rescue.   One of them was Ship 5.   Luida had told Vash yesterday that she was sorry. They had found no sign of Rem either alive, or any part of her body, uniform or other identifiers.  There were records from parts of the ship’s computer that were recovered that testified that Rem had held her post to the end and was, indeed, the one who relayed the signal to alert the other crews on the other ships of impending disaster. She reversed thrust, ensuring that even some of Ship 5 had survived.  The survival of Ship 3 was credited to her as well as well as the fact that ANY of the human-colony-carriers had time to respond and avert worse damage. Luida thought it strange that the glitch that had caused this hadn’t affected Plant-only carriers.   Vash could not tell her the truth, ever. He could stand the fear of him in Brad’s eyes.  He would not be able to withstand the same fear in hers.  After all, Luida’s delicate features, her dark hair (albeit short) and her kind eyes reminded Vash of Rem – enough that he wondered, sometimes, if she might actually be a relative of some fashion, a cousin, perhaps. If so, Luida gave no indication of this. _________________ Night came like a cloak.  Even within the bowels of a spaceship with no window to the world of nature outside, Vash knew the hours.  Everything dimmed beyond his window into the interior of the ship as unnecessary lights and machines were turned off for the sleep-curfew. The only light source in his room went off, plunging the room into near total blackness. A bluish-gray haze shone through the window like the static of a distant television.  It was a cold light that Vash did not like.  It felt like noise, even in the silence.   Only a few of the crew held night-time working hours.  Most of the crew and all of the settler-class had Lights Out strictly at 10 pm.   Of course, Ship 3 operated on Earth-time, just as the ships had in space.  A time-system had not yet been devised to match that of the planet they were on.  From what Vash could hear of discussions beyond his door, this planet was very close to Earth in terms of both rotation and orbit around its binary host-stars in terms of time-cycles.  It was not exact.  There was already some debate as to whether the people should re-work a calendar and their measurement for the length of a day or keep on with “Earth-time” because it was what everyone was accustomed to.   It had been another day of shock, accepting a grim reality, not-eating and overhearing arguments about his personhood, welfare and general existence.  Luida had not even come to talk with him today, as she usually did.  There were days when she was busy or otherwise restricted. Today had been a terrible day.   Vash had gotten settled on his cot and had just begun to fall into drowsiness at around 11 pm.  That’s when the light through his window shone red in alternating flashes and a loud siren blared.  He heard gurneys clattering past in the hallway.   Incoming wounded.  The last set had happened five days ago and none of those brought in had survived.  As time and exposure worsened initial injuries, fewer and fewer survivors were even found by the search parties and of those that came to Ship 3’s hospital, a vanishingly small number continued to survive.   This was on him… all of these slowly-dying. Vash hugged his knees as best as he was able in his tethered shackles and tried to ignore the siren.  It stopped after several minutes.  It was close to midnight before drowsiness began taking him again. Exhaustion took him into a realm without any remembered dreams.   ______________ Someone was shaking his shoulder.  He was being bounced around fairly violently on his bed before he snorted and blinked his eyes open.  The day-lights were up in the ship and Luida was staring down at him. “Huh? What?” Vash mumbled.   “I’m sorry to wake you up so rudely,” she announced.   Brad leaned on the frame of the open door, his arms crossed.  He gave a “Hmmph.”   “Is there something wrong?” Vash asked, seeing how pale Luida’s face was.  Sweat lay in beads on her forehead at her hairline.   “You need to get up and come with me,” she said gently.  “I mean, I’ll let you go to the toilet first, if you need it, or take a drink of water, but this is urgent.  There is someone you should see.”   “Someone..?”  Vash questioned.  A shock ran through his bones.  Had they found Nai?  Was Nai asking about him?  Was he hurt? Was Nai imprisoned like he was? Had Nai killed anyone else? Any of the Ship 3 people?  What were they going to do, knowing there were two of them now?  What would they do knowing that he’d lied about thinking his twin was dead?   He stood up.  “I don’t need anything,” he answered.  Vash was eager and also afraid.  What was he going to say staring into those cold eyes again?   Luida took him by the left wrist, just above the shackle and led him down the wall.  Brad followed closely behind, watching them carefully.  They turned down more hallways, headed toward the hospital wing of the ship.   “ICU?” Vash read on one of the signs as they entered the warren.   “You should brace yourself,” Luida said, her tone soft.  “And keep very quiet no matter what you see.  We have many patients in need of rest.  She needs it, as well.”   “She?”   Luida brought Vash into a room filled with all of the beeping machines, computer-equipment, suspended bags and tubes and medical-Plant connection equipment of a hospital room with patient hovering between life and death.   He felt every organ in him clench and the color and warmth drain from every inch of his skin.   A woman lay in the bed.  Her right arm was bandaged, down to the hand and the individual fingers.  Blooms of red seeped through the dressing.  The right side of her face from her cheek and her eye were bandaged and the hair on that side of her head and been burned off.  What remained on her left side was scraggly and midnight-black. Equipment-lines snaked beneath the sheet covering her up to her mid-chest and, by the shape of its drape, her right leg ended at the knee.  

She was thin – much thinner than when he’d last seen her.  She looked very small, like that day on their ship after he’d gotten her into a medical-bed, himself… after having stabbed her.  Vash’s rage at being denied his momentary suicidal-impulse and his fear of their kind had ultimately been pitiful in terms of not driving the paring-knife hard-in enough to cause immediately fatal damage.  The blade had not hit any major organs, although it had come dangerously close and she had bled a lot.  An interrupted suicide-attempt and utterly borked and half-hearted attempted murder were not what Vash wanted to be thinking about right now, but the came to his mind unbidden.  How could they not when the image he was looking at reminded him of what he’d seen then?

She was worse off now, much, much worse.

“R…Rem?” he said, voice cracking.  He approached the bed, reaching out.  

“Careful!” Luida warned.  

Brad was watching this from a stiff stance in the doorway, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest.  “So, this is that lady from the pictures?”  he asked.  He then spoke low, and cautiously, a sudden reverence seeping in.  “Is she the one who saved all our butts?  Is she…the Hero of SEEDS?”  

“Rem!” Vash cried, tears and globs of snot running freely down his face.  “I’m so sorry!  You’re… you’re alive?  You’re still alive?”  

Vash reached out and brushed her left cheek very lightly.  He took her hand, mindful of the IV in the back of it.  Luida pulled a chair from against the wall and pushed it under him so he could sit down.  Vash curled in on himself, sobbing next to the bed.  

“It would seem so,” Luida confirmed for Brad. “He recognizes her.”  

“She doesn’t look long for this world,” Brad whispered.  In spite of his suspicions about the “Plant-brat,” he hoped that he had not heard him.  Brad still feared Vash, but this was a moment in time in which the young one had shifted from the status of “walking potential nuclear bomb” to “overwhelmed child.”

Perhaps it was the touch on her hand, the gentle and rhythmic rubbing that Vash was doing with his thumb on the back of it, clear of her IV and over her knuckles… Rem’s nose twitched.  Her left eye slivered open as she turned her face. One of the machines registered a sharp BEEP! to her change in status.  

“Vash?” she whispered, her voice hoarse and full of smoke.  

Vash shot upright in his chair. “Rem!  Rem, it’s me!  You’re alive! You… you didn’t die! You’re here!  I thought you were..!  Oh, Rem, I, I, I, I…”  

“Slow…down…” she breathed out.  “Deep breaths…sweetheart…”  

Taking care of him – even in the state she was in.  Vash immediately calmed, to Luida’s wonderment.  He took a deep breath and snucked up some snot.  He carelessly tried to wipe what he couldn’t take care of on a wrist, bringing up his shackle and tether into Rem’s view.

Machines sprung to life in a loud cacophony as Rem suddenly tried to wriggle herself upright in bed.  Vash jumped back in alarm and two nurses and one of the doctors rushed in.  

“Why is he in shackles?” Rem demanded. Her voice was a rasp and she struggled to make it loud enough to be well-heard.  Her un-bandaged eye held fury.  “Get him out of those right now!”  

She shivered and clawed at the edge of her bed as the nurses held her by the shoulders, the equipment screamed and the lines on the monitors jumped.  “You can’t get up right now!” one of the demanded.  

“She’s gonna kill herself!”

“Easy! Easy!”  

Vash backed up into Luida, his eyes “like a deer caught in headlights” (from stories of old Earth and some of its few remaining majestic wild animals, the last time the world was known).  

The doctor quickly unhooked the drip to Rem’s saline-IV and plunged a clear fluid from a syringe into the tube.  She suddenly arched her back and looked skyward, the eyelids of her uncovered eye fluttering.  The nurses guided her gently back into bed. “V…Vaaaaasssshu…” she slurred before the sedation took full-effect and she fell into a nearly instant sleep, her mouth parted, her hair left in a graceless mess.  

Vash felt Luida’s arms around him, gently hugging him from behind.  

Brad and a pair of guards that were waiting outside took Vash back to his cell.  

The door shut loudly.  The sound of the lock was extra metallic, sharp and cold.

#trigun #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #trigun fanfiction #vash the stampede #vash #rem saverem #luida leitner #brad (trigun stampede) #project SEEDS #ship 3 #millions knives

[ineffably-ryuu]

to Bite, to Hold

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41805342

Words: 3776

Summary:

In which Dream has some revelations a little sooner - roughly one hundred years sooner, give or take a week - and arrives to meet the Corinthian just a few minutes faster.

They’re still interrupted, of course, but this time, the Corinthian isn’t quite so thankful.

Mandatory meme summary because I'm terrible:

The Corinthian: FINALLY getting the moment he has been waiting literally centuries for

The Corinthian: gets interrupted and ditched in the middle of Berlin because of Endless and dumbass shenanigans

The Corinthian, screaming so loudly he’s about to jumpstart WW1: Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!?!?!?! 

Roderick Burgess, said dumbass: …Did anybody else hear an extremely disgruntled American just now? And suddenly feel like their eyeballs are in danger? No? Just me? Kay then. 

Desire, said Endless, in a different realm entirely: No, no, I heard it too.

Fic Below

Dream stood in his throne room, surrounded by the echoes of silence long passed. So many years, so many opportunities missed… What did it mean to be Endless? Did it mean to never change, to follow only his function as he had once clung to, or did fulfilling his function necessitate change in and of itself?

His helm sat before him, a hollow skull on an empty throne. He had a decision to make, and he was running out of time to make it. Mercy, from the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares? A chance, a gamble from one of the Endless?

But then, it wouldn’t be the first time one of the Endless had made a gamble. And Hob Gadling had turned out rather alright, all said. Accusations of friendship notwithstanding, of course.

The scrape of the doors opening had Dream turning, Jessamy flying in to alight upon her master’s shoulder, Lucienne’s brisk footsteps following shortly behind.

“My Lord, there is a… situation… in the waking world…” She trailed off, watching as the main window reassembled itself into a reflection of the Corinthian.

“I know, Lucienne.” Dream turned back to his throne, briefly reaching out to his helm before pausing and turning away. “I’ll bring our rogue nightmare back home.” He reached for his bag of sand, missing the startled look exchanged between his two faithful dreams. 

“You won’t be needing your helm, my Lord?”

“Not this time. Corinthian is one of mine, more even than most… After my last conversation with my sister, the way I parted with Hob Gadling…” Dream paused, turning back to look at his librarian as the sand trickled through his fingers. “I am trying to learn, from our talks, from your books, from the humans. This time, I’m trying something… different.”

With that, the sand swirled up and around him, a vortex forming to take him to where his nightmare was hiding. Dream almost missed Lucienne’s words in the rush of sand that followed.

“Just be careful, my Lord. Come back soon.”

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

The Corinthian kneeled in the headlights of the car, admiring how the blood shone crimson and scarlet, bathed in yellow light. The dying gurgles of the man below him, while pleasant, were easily discarded in favor of the shining red staining the blade, a single drop rolling down the edge to hover above his thumb. He held his breath, enthralled, waiting for the fall, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice behind him.

“Corinthian.”

The nightmare froze, a false heartbeat’s halting, before turning slowly, looking up to see the shadowed form of his Lord and Master.

“My creations stay in The Dreaming.” Fuck. “They do not walk amongst the living, killing mortals for pleasure.” The Lord of Dreams and Nightmares paused several steps from the nightmare, glaring down at him, endlessly black eyes swirling with stars of white and streaks of sky blue. 

The Corinthian stood, hands falling to his sides. The drop of crimson blood splattered on the dirty ground. “Isn’t this why you created me?” Dream’s glare did not lessen. “Why should we confine ourselves to their sleeping minds? Here, in the waking world, we’re unstoppable.” He tried to smile, tried to show Dream what he saw, what he could be without the shackles of The Dreaming. “There is nothing preventing us from taking whoever,” he gestured to the dead man behind him, “whatever, we want.”

It didn’t work.

Dream sighed, a quiet, heavy thing, and shook his head just slightly. “There is, though.” 

The knife, in all its beautiful, bloody glory, faded in the Corinthian's grasp, sand trailing uselessly through his fingers. That useless facsimile of a heart stuttered in the nightmare’s chest once more. “My Lord… Please, no.” Dream didn’t respond, merely raising a hand toward the Corinthian with an indecipherable look on his face.

The Corinthian wanted to scream, to fight, to run - to drag his Lord down with him. To make Dream show something, anything, as he destroyed one of his own creations.

Mostly, he just wanted to live.

And so he kneeled, bathed in golden light, his hands raised in supplication. “No, no, no, I beg of you…” Dream’s hand didn’t so much as pause, coming up to stop just before the Corinthian’s glasses. “Please… give me another chance, don’t-” the words were trapped in his throat, nothing but the beat of his heart and a rush of static that almost sounded like sand in his ears.

Instead of unmaking him, Dream gently slid the glasses from the Corinthian’s face, abyssal-bright eyes meeting gleaming white teeth without flinching. The Corinthian’s throat tightened and his breath stuttered for a different reason.

“My poor little nightmare…” The glasses were dropped to the alley ground with a clatter as cold fingers cupped the Corinthian’s cheek, thumb resting just below one of his eye-mouths. “I have failed you so.”

What?

“I am the one who created you, and yet you have such a flawed understanding of your function. I brought you into this world to serve humanity. Not to feed on it.” The Corinthian swallowed helplessly, unable to resist leaning into his creator’s hand. 

“I have done my best to be what you made me.”

“I know, little dream. This was my fault, not yours. I created you poorly.” So this was to be it after all. Dream’s eyes shone in the dim light, for once not because of the stars that seemed to be trapped within. It looked almost as if Dream was on the verge of tears… for him. For the Corinthian.

It wasn’t a terrible consolation prize, really. To see that emotionless mask fall at last. To see it fall for him.

“But still, you were my masterpiece. I had so much hope for you.” For the first time in several years, the Corinthian was thankful for the mouths he had in place of eyes. It made it so much harder to cry. 

He wasn’t broken, and if he was, it was the fault of Dream alone. He wanted to be human, to be free, to taste what it was like to live for himself and none other. His master had no right to look so regretful when it was him who was to be unmade.

“Please, I can learn, I’ll do better, don’t - don’t unmake me, please - I can change -”

“Change? We are created for a function, Corinthian. We don’t change.”

No, because that would be too human for beings like them. Trapped in their roles until they returned to wherever they came, not even granted the gift of Death. Perhaps Dream would be, whenever the end arrived for the Endless, but the Corinthian… there would be nothing left of him. For him.

Perhaps he would be remade one day, rewired into whatever would suit Dream better, an improved tool and toy for his master. But the Corinthian as he was, as he existed now, would be erased forever.

And there was nothing he could do about it now.

“But then, perhaps you’ve already changed, and thus can change again…”

“My Lord…?” Dream knelt slowly until he was face to face with his nightmare, watching carefully as the body before him trembled and gasped. 

“I have been reminded, recently, that perhaps some of my methods as King should be… revisited. That change happens even to beings such as us. You are flawed and petty, little Dream, but you are still mine. And, as it is the first offense, a lighter punishment would be… acceptable.”

“Yes, yes my Lord, please, I won’t do it again, please-”

“Hush, little Dream. All can still be well. Return to The Dreaming with me now, and-” Dream cut off as sand began to rise in the corner of the Corinthian’s eye. His Lord pulled back immediately stepping away as his form began to disintegrate.

Corinthian was only able to catch the wild look in his eyes before Dream vanished.

“...Fuck.”

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

Perhaps in another world, an alternate universe one might say, this would have come as something of a blessing to the Corinthian. A delay in judgment, a saving grace from some other sort of divine intervention.

From one called Desire, even, though the Corinthian would likely have sooner guessed Destiny. 

In this case, however, well.

A pair of black glasses crashed into the wall, falling in pieces of bent metal and shattered glass to the raggedy carpet of a hotel room. A crystal whiskey tumbler followed shortly after. And then one of those ragged Bibles that seemed to be buried somewhere within every hotel, lodge, and inn room within certain areas.

“Fuck!” The Corinthian paced back and forth, a predator in a cage. His jacket was folded - pristinely, of course - over the back of a chair, shoes already polished and placed next to the door for when it was time to exit. And still the Corinthian paced.

“Where the fuck is he? Just - vanishing in the middle of - the most he’s fucking deigned to say to me in years and - fuck!” Another Bible smacked into the wall.

Apparently, this room had two.

“Do I just - go back to the Dreaming? Fucking wait for him there like he’s - well he is, but -”

Luckily, the Corinthian was saved from that downward spiraling train of thought by a tapping on his window, the likes of which would have sent Edgar Allen Poe into an early cardiac arrest. Two rows of miniature teeth snapped over to the clouded motel window.

There, perched upon the ledge, was a glossy black raven with a white burst on its chest.

Jessamy.

After wrestling with the shitty motel lock before saying fuck it and wrenching the damn thing open with a knife, the Corinthian stepped back as Jessamy flew into the room, immediately taking up the Corinthian’s briefly abandoned task of pacing back and forth.

“Well, what brings you back to little old me so soon? Especially without our dearest master?” If a raven could glare, well.

Jessamy was proving that an “if” statement was grossly inappropriate. She glared at the Corinthian and cawed in disapproval. “He would be here if he could.”

“Being busy isn’t an excuse-”

“He didn’t leave because he wanted to! He was summoned!” The Corinthian shut his mouths. “A group of humans somehow knew how to summon and capture an Endless. They’ve already taken his tools and cloak-” his cloak?! “-and.” Jessamy paused, ruffling her feathers in a rare display of agitation from her. “Corinthian… he was unconscious. I don’t… I don’t know when he’ll wake up. Or what they’ll want from him when he does.”

Fuck. This.

“We’ll shortcut through The Dreaming. You update Lucienne, I have… some things to prepare.”

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

The things were knives. A lot of knives.

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

In the basement of an English manor, Dream’s eyes fluttered briefly open. He barely had time for a fleeting thought of disappointing Lucienne before the darkness claimed him once more.

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

A book was very nearly slammed onto a nearby table, its holder faltering only in the last moment to very gently set it down before turning to the feathered bearer of bad news.

“Lord Morpheus has what?!”

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

Jessamy flew from the castle, leaving behind the strict figure of Lucienne as she began preparing for every possible outcome. And then probably some more.

The raven spotted the Corinthian just outside the gates, flying down to rest on the offered arm, careful not to rip the other’s clothes in thanks for the consideration. “Ready, Corinthian?”

The nightmare smiled with all three of his mouths, teeth bared and gleaming white in the bright light of Dreaming’s day. “Ready, Jessamy. Say… do you think Lord Dream would mind if I add one or two more humans to my… collection… before we return to The Dreaming?”

“Corinthian…

I figure he’ll forgive just this once.”

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

It was a fairly normal day in Wych Cross, England. The sun barely peeked out from behind the thick layer of overcast clouds, the wind was delightfully crisp, and the manor known as Fawney Rig was as creepy and gaudy as ever.

If it weren’t for the contrasting color schemes, the Corinthian would fit right in. 

He was settled in the woods on the edge of the manor, one with the shadows cast by the trees around him. The perfect place for a predator.

The perfect place for a nightmare.

Jessamy circled above the manor once, twice, thrice, before flying down to settle outside a circular window, cawing twice before falling silent. The Corinthian tipped his hat in acknowledgment.

It was a simple plan, but that was all it needed to be. (That, and Lucienne had nixed all of the more complicated ones.)

Jessamy would case the building, being the only one vaguely familiar with it, and would let the Corinthian know once she found the room with Dream’s belongings by settling outside it. She would caw once for multiple people present, twice for Roderick Burgess alone, and thrice if it was empty. 

If it was once, Corinthian would simply bide his time. Twice or thrice, well… his smiles were all teeth. 

The Corinthian began heading toward the manor, keeping to the shadows in case any of the supposed guards or cult members appeared. A little fun on the side was all well and good, but one of them raising an alarm would be more trouble than anything else at this point.

A raise of the wings from Jessamy and the Corinthian halted, only to grin and continue strolling once three caws rang out. A little disappointing, but that worked just fine for him. It was simple enough to slip between realms and enter the building, whistling lowly at the cluttered disaster of a room before him.

“Well, well… if I were a priceless artifact of the Dreaming, where would I be…” the Corinthian turned slowly, skimming over countless fake grimoires and plaster bones that belonged to nothing but charlatans before landing at last on a simple iron safe.

He grinned. “Hello, there.” The Corinthian might not have known the combination, but there was nothing stopping him from taking the whole thing into The Dreaming.

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

Lucienne glared at nothing as an iron safe landed on the table before her with a thud, rattling the table and only barely avoiding her precious books. The only target for her ire was already gone back to the Waking, the only sign of his visit three fading grins above her.

With a sigh, the librarian moved her books aside and pulled out a blowtorch.

Time to get to work.

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

The Corinthian whistled cheerfully, strolling over to one of the clearer windows and finding that it slid open much more easily than ones in shitty hotels. Jessamy flew in and settled on his shoulder immediately.

“That was quick. Not even tempted to take them for yourself?”

The Corinthian’s smile was a jagged slash across his face. “Nah, I figure it best to stay on Lucienne’s good side for now.”

Jessamy’s laugh was a bit sharper than normal for a dream, but the Corinthian certainly wouldn’t call her on it. 

“It’s your turn, now. Lead the way, birdie. And try to stay out of my way.” The raven took off, her wing smacking the back of Corinthian’s head as she did. He grimaced, reaching up to pat down the ruffled hair as he followed her.

He probably deserved that one.

The door Jessamy pointed him to was barely a hallway down from the office. No one was in sight, despite her reports of the manor being full of cult-like humans. The Corinthian found himself almost hoping they were all out and not in the basement.

But only almost. He would rather enjoy it if they tried to stop him.

The door swung open easily, dim lighting barely enough to make out stairs leading into the darkness of the cellar. Unfortunately for the humans, darkness could only be a benefit to a Nightmare.

Jessamy followed him slowly, guiding him past several turns until they found themselves before a wrought iron gate. The Corinthian froze, unable to move at the sight before him. His Lord and Master brought low, trapped inside a circle of paint created by foolish amateurs so far below his station. Naked, bound, helpless to mortals. Helpless to the Corinthian.

But what made him truly freeze was the crimson red across pale skin, the defiance in blood-framed abyssal eyes.

(They may not be able to break the binding circle, but young Alex Burgess had already proved that one could cross it. And whips had reach when not blocked off by a barrier of glass and iron.)

“Jessamy,” he murmured, slowly sliding off his glasses as the people inside started at the new voice only to begin yelling in horror and fear as they saw his eyes. Dream’s eyes met his, that wildness still around them, but now tinged with something that the Corinthian would call resignation in anyone else. Hope too, of course, but that was Dream. Always so foolishly full of hope.

“You might want to steer clear. I’m afraid it’s about to get a little… messy.”

The raven flew to hide in the rafters, but not before giving the Corinthian an approving nod.  The nightmare grinned back, three sets of teeth bared, something worse than a shark in the shape of a man.

It was really the guards’ fault, he mused. After all, who would open the gate to attack the wolf? It was hardly the wolf’s fault if it entered. 

To a nightmare, well, it would be rude to decline such an invitation.

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

In the end, the only mortal to leave the basement both sane and alive was young Alex Burgess. He ran and ran until he found a small home belonging to the family of one Paul McGuire, who would one day be a fantastic gardener and, later, an even better husband.

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

The Corinthian grinned as he wiped his blade clean, ignoring both the tired glare of his Lord and the pathetic whimpering of Roderick Burgess. “Oh, come on, no need for that look. I mean, in these circumstances, what else was I to do? And it would be a shame to let a good snack go to waste…”

Dream merely sighed near inaudibly as the Corinthian popped the eyes of the two guards into his eye-mouths, delighting in the increasingly panicked threats and pleas from the mortal writhing before him. Still, he grimaced at the bitter taste of these two lives before stretching, sliding the knife back into its holster.

“Some humans… it's still a taste of humanity that I wouldn’t turn down, but they’re rather unpleasant, aren’t they?” Roderick Burgess attempted to growl only to groan in pain as the Corinthian stepped on one of the bleeding stab wounds on his leg, grinding down as the man tried to squirm away. “Your eyes probably aren’t even worth taking, Mr. Burgess, but don’t worry, we’ll make something even more special for you.”

Judging by the cackling caws and the return of Dream’s disapproving glare, Jessamy approved.

“Don’t worry, my Lord. I saved the rest of him for you, of course.”

Dream turned to face the Corinthian fully, wearing what dignity he could tightly to himself like an invisible set of armor. “And how am I to take advantage of such an offer like this?”

Both beings ignored the gasp of, “You do talk!” from the near-delirious Roderick Burgess. If he didn’t shut up soon, the Corinthian would cut out his tongue.

You didn’t need that to scream, after all. Especially not in The Dreaming.

“Well, I suppose I could drag him over for you if you’d like. Let you borrow a knife or two.” Dream’s glare deepened and the Corinthian winced. “Too much?” He hesitated a moment further, licking his lips to savor the taste of blood and viscera. He could leave now, trust that Jessamy would be unable to rescue Dream in time, trust that Lucienne would remain in The Dreaming as she was duty-bound to. Trust that he could run fast and far enough to escape Dream - to escape The Dreaming - forever.

Trust that everything his master had hinted at earlier, that all the hope offered, was just another soon-to-be broken promise.

The Corinthian met Dream’s gaze in all its defiant, resigned, hopeful, and gloriously, terribly sad glory, and knew that there was only ever one option for him. The nightmare knelt before the King of Dreams and drew the thickest of his knives, easily scraping through the dried paint of the circle. 

Two sets of miniature teeth smiled at two swirling galaxies. “I’m just returning the favor, my Lord.”

A rush of sand flowed over Dream before settling into black cloth, his customary robes in The Dreaming returned to their rightful place as the Endless tried to stand, pitching forward unsteadily only to be caught by the Corinthian.

It was difficult to say who was more surprised as Dream slowly steadied, reaching up to brush a gentle hand against the nightmare’s face, withdrawing it to reveal a smudge of crimson blood that the Endless had wiped away. “Messier than usual, little Dream.”

The nightmare grinned, a touch sheepish, a touch savage. 

Dream turned to the cowering mortal, gaining strength with every step. “Do you understand what you have done, Roderick Burgess? For daring to imprison one of the Endless, for daring to imprison me, Lord of Dreams and Nightmares, for daring to attempt to imprison my sister Death -” the Corinthian’s eyes widened. That would have been… even messier. Might have been fun, though.

“-I will grant you your eternal life. You will spend eternity with my nightmares until you are begging for my sister’s gift, and even then, I won’t grant it. This is my gift to you.”

The mortal slumped over in a deep sleep even as he began twitching and moaning in his sleep. Dream turned back to his nightmare as Jessamy flew down from the rafters, nestling into his shoulder.

Morpheus smiled, the first the Corinthian had seen in hundreds of years. “It’s time to return, my dreams.”

And in reply, two answers of, “Yes, Lord Morpheus.”

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

Several months later, Desire jumped with a shriek upon stepping on yet another set of dentures that had somehow found their way into their realm, along with several sets of paper mache skulls and increasingly ridiculous sunglasses replacing their usual pairs. 

“Why do I keep tripping over fucking TEETH?”

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #the corinthian #morpheus #lord morpheus #the corinthian sandman #morpheus sandman #the sandman fics

[plumcakedeathcake]

NEW WHEEL UPDATE

ADDED:

💜While you were away: Spent a entire day away from the farm (counts as simple being outside)

💜Good hair day: Change your hairstyle at the tailor

💜Yes, you can pet the pet: Pet a pet

💜Its a matter of favouritsm: Choose your least favourite child to succeed you when you die (you dont have to die just yet)

💜Bejeweld: Find 10 jewels in the mine

💜Sing a yo-ho: Find or buy 10 pirate coins

💜Part of your world: Find or buy 10 pearls

💜1700’s snackbar: Have 10 different food things in your inventory

💜Preparing for that afterlife: Give someone either worms, rot, or dirt.

💜The most signifiant thing you can do is die: Become a elder in the game

💜It needs to happen someday: sort out your chests and inventory

💜The bachelor: Give 10 villagers each a rose or another flower

💜A kind of magic: Make 5 potions

💜Can I move them to the farm now?: Pet a ‘’wild’’ animal

💜Just wash your hands: Hand out 5 soaps to 5 different people

💜The doomed doctor: Talk with 5 sick people

Changed the following things:

💜Become a vampire time is changed to one week only X

💜It's not you it's wait it is (name change to ''its not you..) now you are only allowed to divorce your spouse, not to kill them.

💜Tempered hearts: Made it so you now may befriend any cruel villager, not just temperance in case she dies xD

💜Town's Grandma was too vague and has been updated with a better goal/description: Give ten different villagers a nice gift.

💜Don't forget who raised you: This goal was removed due its insane diffculty and planning ahead and just needing so much luck.

💜You won't live long anyway!: Changed the rule that all elders can become your enemy now, not just the starters

💜A perfect child: Now you only need to do one good trait and not 2 xD

💜Homecooked horrors: You need to make 3 meals at home and eat them in a row.

💜Jack the ripper: Changed the name to ''Like Lovers do'' Murder all the spouses of the current carpenter until carpenter dies of old age

💜This cannot be healthy: made it much more clear ; eat 3 tavern foods in a row

💜I am keneough: Name change to ''Get your sparkle on''

💜Get sick and heal; name changed to ''It's a mircale!'' and added the healing part.

💜Is this friendship?: Get 3 friends (namechange)

Booktok in old ages: changed name to enemies to lovers

---

FULL LIST OF ALL OPTIONS NOW!

A perfect harvestfestival: Sacrafice the youngest adult

A good witch: Choose crop growth

A late witch: Miss the meeting (oops?)

A bad witch: Choose curse

A Natural witch: Choose fertility

A kind of magic: Make 5 potions

A dream child: Have a child with one positive trait

A nightmare child: Have a child with one negative trait

Attend a wedding

Attend a funeral

Attend a festival

Buy a dog

Buy a pig

Buy a cat

Become a vampire: You can’t leave your house before dark for a week

Booting up the game: Catch 20 boots!

But why is the rum gone?: Make a gold star wine

Butcher a animal

Blood is thicker: Kill your child/heir

Bejeweld: Find 10 jewels in the mine

Collect 100 potato

Collect 10 pumpkins

Collect 5 lobsters, LOL

Corny collection: Collect 100 corn

Complete a pillar

Cause a happy halloween

Congratulations, everyone hates you now: Insult everyone in town

Change it up: Turn one of the settings on and another off

Cinnamon, please: Make hot chocolate

Can I move them to the farm now?: Pet a ‘’wild’’ animal

Dance on someone’s grave

Destorying happiness: Kill a couple on their wedding

Diamonds are a villager's best friend: You may only propose with the most expensive ring

Die of a illness

Get a farm animal (excludes pets AND THE PIG)

Get married

Get drunk

Get your sparkle on: Wear pink

Give someone randomized a deathcake

Good hair day: Change your hairstyle at the tailor

Help out a ghost

Here, fishy, fishy: Catch 100 fish

Have a baby

Hay now, you're a builder: Get a coop/barn

Homecooked horrors: You need to make 3 meals at home and eat them in a row.

Is this friendship?: Have 3 friends

It’s not you…End your marriage by divorce

Insult a child

It's not much but it's honest work: propose with the worst ring

Its a matter of favouritsm: Choose your least favourite child to succeed you when you die (you dont have to die just yet)

It needs to happen someday: sort out your chests and inventory

It's a mircale! Get sick and get better

Just wash your hands: Hand out 5 soaps to 5 different people

Kick out your child

Kill your spouse

Leaves from the vine: Forage 50 foragables

Lose 1,000 money by buying useless things

Learn a new skill point

Lose a festival

Like Lovers do Murder all the spouses of the current carpenter until carpenter dies of old age

Max out a skill

Make a friend

Make a enemy

Moneymaker: send your kid to work or profit from your spouse

Mushrooms: Eat the first mushroom you find in fall

Now i can retire:) :Earn 10,000 coins

Orphan and adopt a child

Oh, dear: Eat the first fish you catch

Part of your world: Find or buy 10 pearls

Preparing for that afterlife: Give someone either worms, rot, or dirt.

Raise a horrible child with one bad trait

Revolution breaks out: Kill the mayor

Sing a yo-ho: Find or buy 10 pirate coins

snackbar in the 1700’s: Have 10 different food things in your inventory

War breaks out: 5 adults must die (cakes)

Well, Sucks to be you: Die! (deathcake)

Watch a bloodmoon

Tempered hearts: Become BFFS with temperence

Town's grandma: be nice to everyone and give gifts

This is a bad idea: Become enemies with Astra

That won't grow back: Get rid of all your trees

That darned whale!: at sundays,scream at the sea

The most signifiant thing you can do is die: Become a elder in the game

The doomed doctor: Talk with 5 sick people

The bachelor: Give 10 villagers each a rose or another flower

Tempered hearts: befriend any cruel villager

Time escapes me: Your current heir cant use the fast travel boards

Town's Grandma: Give ten different villagers a nice gift.

This cannot be healthy: Eat 3 tavern foods in a row

Upgrade your house

Win a festival

Whoops: Demolish a coop/barn

While you were away: Spent a entire day away from the farm (counts as simple being outside)

War breaks out: 5 adults must die (cakes)

You won’t live long anyway!: Become a enemy with a elder

You wouldn't understand: wear black clothing

You are warned: No save reloading.

Yes, you can pet the pet: Pet a pet

#echoes of the plum grove

[maguro13-2]

Miku.EXE : The Resurrection Pt.4.5 (Canon version) 2/2

Zatsune (?) : Okay, sister! We're here!

Miku : Hmmm? What is this place?

[The nearest place to heaven Pt.1 - Hideaki Kobayashi]

Miku : This is...This is an open-world like field full of flowers. It's like some kind of garden or something. But... It's quiet...too quiet.

Zatsune (?) : Hey, Dad. I just got back from training with my sister!

Sonic (?) : That's really proud of you, Zatsune. Your sister is learning very fast to awaken her gifted powers.

Zatsune (?) : Mhm! My sister will grow big and strong once we have awaken powers to God! I swear an oath that we'll be just like you, dad!

Miku : "Dad"? Wait a sec. What's going on here? Sonic, please tell me this is some kind of "Father-daughter" thing? Perhaps, it's clearly the best that for you to think that I'm some kind person who to think that is your "child".

Sonic (?) : Of course you are. That's why I made my old friend to make me the best pupil in the universe. That is my sole purpose for you to tell that I'm the most powerful supreme being that is "God". And God is the world's fearsome being that has existed eons from the stars.

Miku : "God" you say? (Chuckles) Look here, Mr.Sonic. I don't what you're pulling off of this "God" stuff around me, but if you're that Clever to think that you are "God" or something, then you my friend, is probably making a mista--

*SFX : SHOCK*

Miku : H...Hey! W-W-What's that red stain on your hands? They're...They're covered with blood! [shaking in fear] S-S-S-S-Sonic. D-Did you just killed someone or anybody?

Sonic (?) : Yes...that's exactly what I did...[with a distorted voice] DEAR DAUGHTER!

[GLITCHING]

Miku : [screaming in horror] YYYAAAAAAAAAH!!!

[The nearest place to heaven pt.2 - Hideaki Kobayashi]

Miku : What's happening?! Why am I still dreaming?! Please! This isn't right! Come on, Miku, you've gotta wake up! Wake up! Wake up, damn you! [slaps herself in the face] WAKE ME UP AND GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!! IS THERE ANYOBODY WITH ME TO GET ME OUT OF THIS NIGHTMARE?!?

Kaito : M...Miku? Is that you?

Miku : Kaito? Kaito, Is that you? I can still here your voice! Where are you, Kaito?

Ren : Miku, over here!

Rin : Are you there, Miku?

Luka Megurine : I'm right here, Miku!

Miku : Could that bee...

(the Dream Vocaloid crew appears surrounding her)

Miku : Guys! Thank goodness, you guys! I'm so worried about you four! Please, this whole place is a living nightmare and Sonic trick me into going to freedom! But please! This isn't the way to freedom and I want to get out of this nightmare! I want to escape this nightmare and wake up from this nightmarish hell!

Dream Kaito : I see then...Sure we'll help you get out of this nightmare! Leave it to us!

Dream Rin : We're with you no matter what!

Dream Ren : Right back at ya, Miku!

Dream Luka : We'll find you a safe haven to look for your freedom!

Miku : Thanks, guys! I knew that even I could trust you all, you're still my best friends and I need you for my help! The help for me in my reach to escape for my true freedom! *Sniff* I've been truly blessed by my own people.

Dream Ren : Right!

Dream Rin : So, come on, Miku. We're gonna get you home safely to find your freedom and--*STAB* Gaaah! (grunting in pain) K-Kaito... W-Why?! (Dies)

Dream Ren : Rin! Nooo! (Gets decapitated) Hey! Why are you doing this to me?! (dies)

Miku : Guys! Luka! Take my hand! Please, trust me and it will be alright!

Dream Luka : Sure, Miku! At least that I'm not going to...(suddenly, Kaito does his powers to her, causing her to be afloat in midar )

Miku : Hey, Kaito! Put her down! What do you think you're doing! Why are you killing my friends for Sonic? Please, Kaito! Not her! PLEASE, NOOOOO! STOOOOOOOP!

Dream Luka : [screaming in agony] MIKU! HELP MEEEEEEEE!!! [Explodes into pieces and dies]

Kaito (?) : "Mr.Sonic"? Don't you mean "Master Xeno"? And I'm certainly aware that I am Master's apprentice.

Miku : Master Xeno...as in "Xenophanes"? The demon of destruction who disappeared since his mysterious appearance?! How did you know that Xenophanes was you and Zatsune's master? And what the hell are you?!

Kaito (?) : Well, well, that's a poor question you got there, Miku. But please... Don't Tell me that I was created by the same person that created two of his daughters, making him..."his servant". I am the one and only genuine pupil that will reach the levels of "God" myself! I am Kaito...Kaito.EXE!

[Newcomer : KAITO.EXE SCARES FOR FUN!]

Miku : You...You're another "Kaito"? A different and evil version of Kaito?! You can't be seriously be that real! The Kaito I know would never betray me! You're not who you are!

Kaito.EXE : Oh, am I, really? Guess what, Miku? I was created with the same data as "God's" data, giving me this rightful opportunity to become the proof of "God" himself! Master Xeno wanted to help me become a stronger and powerful "God" that wanted to become stronger like two of his daughters, Zatsune and you...Miku.E-X-E.

Miku : W-What?! (Holds in her head in pain, screaming) GAAAAAAAAH!!!

[FLASHING, GLITCHING]

Miku : No! Stop it! I'm not who I really am! I am...I am...

[TV BUZZING]

"I AM GOD."

[Exe Laughing+TV BUZZING]

Miku : Gah! *breathes heavily* Oh man, it was only a dream.

(it is revealed that Miku is in her Prison cell after waking up from a dream)

Miku : Huh? I'm finally woke up somewhere in...[in realization] In prison?! I bet no one is superstitious that how I ended up in a place like this? I just don't know what are the odds of being ended up here? But wait, how did I...How did I ended up here?! And...And what's with these with black and white prison garments?! This is one messed up life after getting framed by the same person that did this to the human race. If only I could help anyone to prove my innocence, but there's no one to help.

Kaito.EXE : I can help you with that.

Miku : (Shocked and sees Kaito.EXE against the walls with his arms folded) It can't be! You're the one from my dream...Kaito!

"Who is Kaito.EXE, The mysterious person created by the same data as Miku.EXE's?"

"Shrouded in mysteries, this blue-haired Gentleman with the same eyes as EXE's can be the one helping Miku to proven her innocence and would find out who Miku.EXE really is."

"The answers lies ahead of us from the truth."

~ THE LOVER OF ANOTHER GOD UNVEILS ~

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic.exe #vocaloid #miku hatsune #kaito #sega #crypton future media #creepypasta #crossover #mystery #horror #thriller #supernatural #dark comedy #comedy #drama #adventure

[singledarkshade]

All That Glitters

Final Part

(Part One , Part Two, Part Three , Part Four , Part Five  and Part Six)

Joe watched Gideon slide into the seat in front of the computer they were using to try to track Rip, she scanned the information for a few moments, then began to type. She made a soft clicking with her tongue as she thought for a moment before starting to type again.

“Alright,” Gideon spoke up, “It looks as though we are receiving telemetry from the tracker but it’s not being translated by the system.”

“Why not?” Joe asked.

Gideon glanced round to him, “Just a glitch in the programming. I’m guessing this was put together very quickly.”

Lance nodded, “Yes.”

“That makes sense,” Gideon replied, “Okay, I am unscrambling the data and,” she opened the map, “We have a location.”

Lance grimaced, “Not good. There is no way we can get to the building, never mind inside it without being seen.”

“What about the sewer system?” Miranda suggested, “Isn’t there an underground system in that part of Star City?”

Joe turned to Lance who nodded, “That’s a good point. I need to make a quick call to make sure that there’s nothing blocking our way.”

“Do it fast,” Gideon said, “Because Druce has had him far too long already.”

-

 Rip felt ice fill his spine, “What did you say?”

Druce took Rip’s face in his hands, “How could I not recognise those eyes? You’ve grown up so well, although disappointing that you went into law enforcement. Not the boy I raised.”

Rip pulled himself away from the older man’s grip, “The boy you raised? You tossed me off a building.”

“I won’t justify my actions to you,” Druce stated.

“And there it is,” Rip snapped, “You can’t even apologise. You expect everyone to do as they’re told no matter what.”

Druce frowned, “This is not a democracy, Michael.”

“That’s not my name,” Rip spat, “You killed Michael Carter when you threw him off a roof. I’m who emerged from the plaster casts, the hospital, and the years of therapy. You know,” Rip let out a harsh laugh, “I spent years being afraid of you and facing you was my biggest nightmare. But now,” Rip shook his head, “All I see is the spineless bastard who used children and destroyed lives. The man who thought money was always the answer to everything, I’m assuming you bribed the doctor in the prison to fake your death. What was it? A pill when you were getting a routine check-up?”

Druce tilted his head in thought, “I wondered what I would do when I found you again, Michael.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Rip sighed annoyed.

“But,” Druce continued to ignore him, “I did not imagine you would be my boy.”

“You really are delusional,” Rip grimaced before asking, “Do you think I’m happy to be reunited with you? I’ve spent my life getting as far from you and what you did to me as I possibly can.”

“And yet to find the girls,” Druce noted, “You came to me for help.”

“I used you for information. Seeing you now,” Rip shook his head, “You’re not the bogeyman that haunted me as a broken child. You’re nothing to me.”

Druce stared at Rip for a moment before he slammed his fist into Rip’s face, the chair overbalanced and fell onto the floor.

Spitting out blood Rip winced as Druce stood above him, anger in his eyes.

“I’m sure you remember how I deal with insolence,” Druce said ominously.

 -

 Miranda watched the police get ready to leave and rescue Rip.

“Detective,” she said to West, “Gideon wants to keep an eye on the telemetry from the tracker in case Druce decides to move.”

West nodded, “Officer Decker will be staying with you. Any issues get him to contact us.”

Miranda nodded and returned to where Gideon was sitting studying the blip that showed where Rip was. They sat in silence until the police left the room, with one single officer left. He nodded to them but stayed on the other side of the room.

Miranda took Gideon’s hand and slipped the USB drive Rip had given her before they left Central City into it. Gideon tilted her head confused but kept her eyes on the screen.

Miranda wrapped her arm around Gideon’s shoulder hugging her close before whispering, “Access Druce’s computer system through the tracker. The information on the drive makes it look as though Druce did everything and we’re innocent.”

“What?” Gideon breathed stunned.

Miranda smiled, “Rip’s idea.”

“That man is just too good for us,” Gideon murmured as she put the drive in the computer and began to type.

“I know,” Miranda whispered.

Gideon finished working and removed the drive before passing it back to Miranda. She brought up the information so they could track the police as they headed towards Rip hoping that he was safe.

 -

 Rip heard the soft click at his ear letting him know Gideon had connected to the system and that meant Joe was coming. He had no idea how they would get into the warehouse considering there was no way to hide but knew he had to keep Druce focussed on him so he would miss any signs of incursion until it was too late. Finding a paperclip on the floor, Rip palmed it as he could use it to escape the cuffs.

“You know how I feel about my children talking back,” Druce stated as he pulled Rip off the ground, “If we are to heal our rift, you must remember your manners.”

Getting annoyed by the man’s insistence on ignoring everything Rip had said, a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“You need me for something,” Rip mused, seeing Druce stall ever so slightly, “Something from when I was a child that you didn’t realise at the time. Let me guess, you used my fingerprints to lock something away?”

“I simply want our family together once more,” Druce said, he tapped his finger and thumb together.

Rip stared at Druce for a moment, hoping Druce didn’t notice that he was unlocking himself as he asked, “Do you know why I was able to beat you at poker?”

“You cheated,” Druce replied, “Just as I taught you to.”

“I learned all your tells,” Rip told him, “I worked out when you were lying to me.”

Druce smiled once more, “This is why you are still my boy.”

“Of course,” Rip sighed, just as he unlocked the cuffs, “You have to take credit for everything good about us. Nothing was ever our achievement.”

Druce frowned, “Watch your tongue, Michael. I am giving you some leeway as you’ve been out of the circle for many years, but I won’t take it much longer.”

“Sir,” two guards rushed into the room, “We have intruders. You need to get out of here.”

Druce nodded and motioned to Rip, “Bring him.”

As the two men approached him, Rip revealed he was no longer restrained. Punching the first guard before slamming his elbow into the face of the second man. Both went down easily, neither expecting Rip to attack so his hits had more of an effect. Turning to Druce, Rip saw annoyance in the older man’s eyes as the sound of Rip’s rescuers became louder.

“This time,” Rip said coldly, “You will not be faking your death, and you will never get out of prison.”

Druce snarled as he tried to punch Rip, who stepped out the way before realising what Druce was reaching for. Jumping forward, Rip grabbed the dagger, but Druce caught his arm and tried to pull it away from Rip. The awkward angle made it difficult for Rip to get away from the older man, but it also meant Druce couldn’t get the dagger out of Rip’s grip.

The door burst open, and Joe appeared in the lead of the team Lance had put together for the mission. Taking the distraction, Rip managed to pull himself back and Druce lost his grip on Rip.

“Zaman Druce,” Joe yelled, “You are under arrest. Stay where you are.”

Druce turned to Rip who gripped the dagger tightly as the man he had once looked up to as a father stared at him, stunned when Druce flung himself forward. Rip automatically raised his hands to defend himself, forgetting about the weapon he held, gasping as it slid into Druce’s heart.

Shaking he watched Druce fall back, Rip dropped the dagger feeling Joe take a hold of his arms while two officers dropped down to check on Druce before closing the man’s eyes letting them know Druce was dead this time.

“You’re okay,” Joe said softly as Rip began to breathe harshly, “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Wait,” Rip forced himself to calm his breathing, “There’s a picture in that box. It’s me as a child. I can’t leave it lying around.”

Joe nodded and retrieved the photo, smiling amused, “Wow, you were a scrawny kid.”

Rip gave a soft laugh but stopped Joe from making him leave, “He faked it once before. I need to know he’s actually dead.”

“I’ll check,” Joe assured, crouching down and checking for signs of life, “He’s definitely gone this time.”

Turning to the door, Rip sighed in relief.

It was truly over.

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

 Rip looked up from his reading when the doorbell rang.

It was now three days since Druce had died, Rip had made sure multiple times of the fact with Lance and Joe assuring him it was real each time he asked. He felt liberated knowing that Druce was finally gone but also the fact that Rip had faced him and realised the power Druce held over him wasn’t real. Rip no longer felt haunted by his past.

There had been days of debriefings during which he had only briefly seen Miranda and Gideon. The information on Druce’s computer exonerated them not only of all crimes but confirmed how Druce had intimidated and controlled them it meant that they were exonerated of everything. Rip’s work to make sure they got away from their former master had been exemplary.

Opening the door, Rip smiled to see the two women standing there.

“Come on in,” he stepped back allowing them inside and closing the door, “How are you?”

Gideon threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, “Thank you for coming for me.”

Rip smiled, sliding his fingers through her hair, “I would never leave you with him.”

Gideon pulled away and allowed Miranda to hug him too.

“I can’t believe you created the evidence to exonerate us,” Miranda breathed, “And that it worked.”

Rip shrugged, “Don’t waste your chance at having a normal life.”

“Are you alright?” Gideon asked concerned, “We overheard how Druce died.”

“Surprisingly yes,” Rip moved them to the living room and took a seat on the couch, “I feel that I can finally put my past to rest, I no longer feel the spectre of the monster that haunted my childhood. And as much as I don’t like that he died, or how he did it, I know for sure now that he can’t hurt anyone else. Especially not you two.”

Miranda sat on one side while Gideon sat on the other, “You’ve given us a chance to have a life. We have money set away and can now do whatever we want to.”

“And we promise,” Gideon took over, “Whatever we do, it will be legal.”

Rip smiled, “Good.”

Gideon touched his cheek, turning him to her, “It’s all thanks to you.”

She kissed him, before turning him to face Miranda.

“We leave tomorrow for London,” Miranda said, her lips brushing against Rip’s, “Thought we should thank you.”

Rip leaned into her kiss before murmuring, “Or you thought this was cheaper than a hotel room.”

Gideon giggled, “Maybe a little.”

“We can go if you want,” Miranda murmured, pressing her lips to his neck, “Or we can say goodbye properly.”

Rip chuckled, “If those are my choices…” he stood and offered them his hands.

Smiling, Gideon and Miranda allowed him to pull them to stand before they headed to his bedroom for one final night together.

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

 “Gideon,” Miranda tapped on the bathroom door, “Are you okay?”

It had been almost seven weeks since they’d said goodbye to Rip and left Central City. After spending the night with Rip, they each said goodbye to him personally.

Although they were trying to work out what they were going to do now, for the first time ever they felt like they could do anything and were currently renting a small house while they searched for the perfect place to call home.

“Gideon?” Miranda called again when no reply came.

“I’m okay,” Gideon said softly, “I just…I have to talk to you about something.”

“Same here,” Miranda replied, “But it’s not easy to talk through the door.”

The door opened slowly, and Gideon appeared, she looked a little pale as she stepped out before walking into the living room.

Miranda took a seat at her side, “What’s wrong?”

“You know I’ve been feeling sick for the past few days,” Gideon said.

Miranda nodded and Gideon took a quick breath before showing Miranda the positive pregnancy test in her hand.

“Oh,” Miranda breathed before she pulled the one that she had taken earlier out her pocket and handed it to Gideon, “Snap.”

#fic #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #gideon #miranda coburn #joe west #zaman druce #alternate universe

[vxnomouspoxson-archived]

1ST RULE: tag 9 muses you would like to know better. 2ND RULE: BOLD the statements that are true for your muse.

Tagged by: @ericbrandonrp

MUSE: Ernessa Matthews  FC: Michael Fassbender OCCUPATION: Professional thief for hire

AGE: 28 SEXUALITY: Bisexual

PRONOUNS: She/Her

APPEARANCE:

I am 5'7" or taller

I wear glasses

I have at least one tattoo

I have at least one piercing

I have blonde hair

I have brown eyes

I have short hair

My abs are at least somewhat defined

I have or have had braces

PERSONALITY:

I love meeting new people

People tell me that I’m funny

Helping others with their problems is a big priority for me

I enjoy physical challenges

I enjoy mental challenges

I’m playfully rude with people I know well

I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it

There is something I would change about my personality

ABILITY:

I can sing well

I can play an instrument

I can do over 30 pushups without stopping

I’m a fast runner

I can draw well

I have a good memory

I’m good at doing math in my head

I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute

I have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling

I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch

I know how to throw a proper punch

HOBBIES:

I enjoy playing sports

I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else

I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else

I have learned a new song in the past week

I work out at least once a week

I’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months

I have drawn something in the past month

I enjoy writing

I do or have done martial arts

EXPERIENCES:

I have had my first kiss

I have had alcohol

I have scored the winning goal in a sports game

I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting

I have been at an overnight event

I have been in a taxi

I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year

I have beaten a video game in one day

I have visited another country

I have been to one of my favorite band’s concerts

RELATIONSHIPS:

I’m in a relationship

I have a crush on a celebrity

I have a crush on someone I know

I have been in at least 3 relationships

I have never been in a relationship  

I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them

I get crushes easily  

I have had a crush on someone for over a year

I have been in a relationship for at least a year

I have had feelings for a friend

MY LIFE:

I have at least one person I consider a “best friend”

I live close to my school

My parents are still together

I have/had at least one sibling

I live in the United States

There is snow right now where I live

I have hung out with a friend in the past month

I have a smartphone

I have at least 15 CD’s

I share my room with someone

RANDOM SHIT:

I have break-danced

I know a person named Jamie

I have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce

I have dyed my hair

I’m listening to one song on repeat right now

I have punched someone in the past week

I know someone who has gone to jail

I have broken a bone

I have eaten a waffle today

I know what I want to do with my life

I speak at least 2 languages

TAGGING: @YOU

#• i am made out of stars and nightmares and blood off all that i killed • — headcanons

[ichayalovesyou]

THE BIG VULCAN BIOLOGY POST (aka Vulcan is a Hell Planet)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a biologist, astrophysicist, neurologist, animal psychologist or literally anything that would qualify me to talk about this with 100% confidence. This is the result of dozens of headcanons and obsessive deep dive research. I don’t want this post to be three miles long, so after I address the planetary stuff I will oblige y’all with a Read More.

Adsfasdkfjhaslkdfh I’ve been working on this post for almost a month SO HERE WE GO!

First of all, Vulcan (aka T’Khasi) is a HELL PLANET, which is part of the reason they’re so badass, I say this for the following reasons:

No moon(s) (natural satellites)

Sodium (Salt) is so rare on the planet that Vulcan’s oceans are freshwater

It’s a “Super-Earth” (as in big chonkin’ planet of similar composition to earth in the “goldilocks region”)

Let’s do this.

“Vulcan has no moon Ms. Uhura.”

-Spock, The Man Trap

Tons of things change about our planet if there was no moon:

Much darker nights (no moonlight)

Much lower sea levels since there is no gravity from the moon to pull it upward.

Lower and weaker tides because the water is pulled by the sun instead of the moon, and it depends on how large the Vulcan solar system’s sun is for how big the waves are.

Stronger winds from faster planet rotation.

Depending on whether the axis of the planet would straighten or tilt further without the moon’s pull, combined with the faster rotation would lead to more severe seasons (strong tilt) or no seasons at all (no tilt)

The first factor may lead to Vulcan eyes being very catlike even if they aren’t nocturnal (I think they’re crepesucular but we’ll get into that later). Which given the likely nature of their blood and their herbivorous eating habits they probably aren’t. The sky would still be so dark that our human eyes couldn’t even see our hands in front of us, being blind when the sun goes down could be a death sentence. Alternatively, if they didn’t develop strong night vision that may be one of the reasons why they have such strong senses of hearing.

The stronger winds, faster rotation, and stronger (or nonexistent) seasons come from the lack of resistance and friction that stronger tides and the moon’s pull create on our planet. I suspect that Vulcan is larger, or at least denser than Earth, but I’ve been informed that according to the TMP novelization that it does rotate faster. I also think that Vulcan’s tilt is on the more extreme end to get the hostile extremes like storms and heat that we see on Vulcan.

If you look at this image of Vulcan, water covers way less of the planet’s surface than Earth. I don’t think this is necessarily because Vulcan has less water, but that it isn’t spread as far because of the lack of moon, and the fact that the oceans are freshwater, I’ll get into that shortly.

“My ancestors spawned from a different ocean than yours.”

-Spock, The Man Trap

In the Star Trek: The Original Series (third) pilot The Man Trap, there is a creature that kills its victims by draining their bodies completely of salt. Spock encounters the creature but does not die, implying his (and Vulcans overall) body contains little to no salt. His justification is that his species did not evolve from a salinized ocean.

What does it mean to have oceans with no salt?

This has to mean that sodium is a very rare mineral on Vulcan, as the reason our oceans are so salinized is due to erosion of minerals by rainfall, carried from river to ocean. Salt in the ocean is also generated by submarine volcanic activity, which means either that the volcanoes on Vulcan (which we definitely know exist) somehow don’t produce salt, or the vast majority of the submarine volcanoes have been inactive for millions if not billions of years. The active volcanoes on Vulcan must be very far inland and/or Vulcan has almost no rivers, which given how hot the planet is, wouldn’t actually be too much of a stretch of the imagination.

Which means every single lifeform on T’Khasi, including Vulcans, evolved biosystems that exist without (or with very little) salt content. Any salt that exists would likely be deep beneath the planet’s surface, and within volcanoes.

No saltwater has a ton of consequences:

Plants (like underwater algae) are rarer and may not photosynthesize the same way Earth plants do, meaning less oxygen and more carbon dioxide, which means more greenhouse effect, which means higher temperatures.

The lack of salt would also mean less diverse plant life (at least as humans know it) and given the lack of visible rivers and vast swaths of desert on Vulcan, we can safely say vegetation must be hardier and infrequent.

Lower sea levels as the oceans would have lower density due to lack of salt.

Little to no water convection, which salt is crucial for on Earth. Which means warm ocean water doesn’t move to cold regions and vice versa. Creating extremes, the equator being obscenely hot, and polar waters freezing at the poles more extensively.

Lack of convection means more frequent and stronger storms like hurricanes.

If you thought the lack of a moon made Vulcan inhospitable, compound it with the low sodium factor and you’ve got a planet of even more severe extremes than before. The heat, and the decrease of plant diversity definitely explain why the vast majority of Vulcan is rocky desert, even being near the water poses more extreme dangers than it would on earth due to the increased frequency of hurricanes.

“Mr. Spock is much stronger than an ordinary human being.”

-Kirk, This Side of Paradise

I am almost 100% sure that Vulcan is either bigger or denser than Earth. Which would explain why Vulcans are so much stronger than Humans and other species that exist on similar gravity worlds.

Effects of a high-gravity planet or “Super-Earth” include:

Everything is shorter or has very strong foundations, plants, animals, structures, and people.

More “Armageddon” class asteroids would hit the planet (like the one that killed the dinosaurs and created the Gulf of Mexico)

Larger liquid mantle under the planet’s surface, higher pressure under the surface as well.

Weaker magnetic field due to lack of convection in the planet’s core (not to be confused with the mantle interacting with the planet’s crust). Which means a weaker atmosphere, lower magnetism in surface metals, and increased vulnerability to solar flares.

More volcanically and seismically active due the the increase in the mantle’s size and generated heat, more earthquakes, and more volcanic eruptions.

Would have to have a smaller sun but be closer in orbit to it than earth.

Extremely deep oceans, potentially with water under so much pressure at the bottom that it becomes solid like ice. Luckily Vulcan is not an ocean world, because the pressure would block the planet’s core from interacting with the atmosphere, which would prevent life as we know it from happening.

There is plenty of evidence for this on so many levels. We never see any plant life similar to trees on Vulcan. Nor animals significantly larger than Vulcans, the ones that are bigger are much more muscular. Vulcan’s sky is more red than blue because of the lack of oxygen molecules for the light from the sun to filter as blue. I actually headcanon that Spock is unusually tall for a Vulcan because of his human heritage (Leonard Nimoy was around 6ft tall) , and may have had heart and muscle problems in his teens and early adulthood while on Vulcan.

Perhaps Vulcans are the result of many more extinction level events than we are, contributing to their hardiness. Perhaps they are, evolutionarily, not too much older than we are, and had more incentive to develop extraterrestrial technology than we have, so that they could repel Armageddon Class meteors and defend their planet against Solar Flares? Space travel being born out of self-preservation rather than curiosity. Which would absolutely account for their attitudes in the beginning of Star Trek: Enterprise.

It could be that Vulcans still maintain a semi-nomadic lifestyle even today because their planet is so incredibly volatile. Unsentimental and utilitarian in anything less than the most sacred of architecture long before they adopted the teachings of Surak. Their own survival more valuable than any structure that would inevitably be damaged or destroyed by their planet’s harsh environment.

In summary, Vulcan is a Nightmare Planet because:

So, so many much natural disasters, like, so many, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, hurricanes, twisters, just, so many more than Earth.

Water is relegated to specific locations in the world rather than spread across it due to lack of flow and lower sea levels.

Extreme temperature changes, intense heat, intense cold, hard to breathe, stronger gravity.

Due to the planet’s hostility, there is a smaller diversity of life than we have here on earth, which means fewer and hardier food sources that, like Vulcans, are very difficult to kill.

So… How do they handle it? What features have they developed to adapt and thrive in such an inhospitable place?

First thing is first, lets talk about

BLOOD

“My hemoglobin is based on copper, not iron.”

-Spock, Obsession

Funny thing is Spock, it’s not hemoglobin at all! It’s hemocyanin! In fact, there are earth animals that have it, among them Horseshoe Crabs, crustaceans, mollusks and spiders!

Hemocyanin is blue when it hasn’t been exposed to oxygen, and blue-green when it has, according to some sources on Vulcans their blood is orangey red when unexposed to air and that’s why they have pink lips and so on, but we can brush that off as chemical variation within their hemocyanin. Better yet, maybe it’s trendy for Vulcans to wear pink lipstick nowadays, ‘cause Surak knows how horny Humans and Vulcans are for each other XD! Anyway!

Hemocyanin does quite a few things that our blood can’t, it’s uniquely built for high pressure, low oxygen environments, as well as endure temperature extremes like cold (not unlike nights on their planet). Not only that, but it coagulates and clots WAY faster than our blood. Which means wounds seal themselves off from harmful bacteria and stop bleeding much faster than hemoglobin. Pair that with the Vulcan ability to enter a healing torpor, no wonder Spock keeps surviving environments and wounds that would definitely have killed a human.

Now, the animals I listed don’t have veins, which for us carry oxygen around via hemoglobin, so it’s possible that the same difference that causes Vulcan blood to be a coppery orange-red beneath the skin, is the same reason they have veins. Allowing them to look more like us and lack the exoskeletons and deep ocean delving that their earth blood cousins have.

“The ship’s temperature is increasingly uncomfortable for me. I’ve adjusted the environment in my quarters to 125 degrees.”

-(Elderly) Spock, The Deadly Years

Oh goodie, the Vulcan blood temperature discourse has arrived, the age old question, are Vulcans warm-blooded or cold-blooded? The answer to this question is

YES

I am firmly in the small (but hopefully growing) camp Vulcans Are Heterothermic. Among the earth animals we know to be heterothermic are bumblebees, several species of bats, the opah fish, and the arctic ground squirrel. Of all these animals, despite the opposite temperature intensity of Vulcan’s environment, I’m basing how Vulcans function on the last one, the arctic squirrel.

Which means they can deliberately control their body temperature in accordance to the needs of their survival. I imagine, just as arctic ground squirrels can drop their body below zero as needed (entering what is called a “daily torpor”) Vulcans can do the same. In turn, they could possibly skyrocket their bodies to temperatures that would be a lethal fever for humans. Which makes both McCoy’s “nonexistent Vulcan metabolism” comments in various episodes, as well as describing his blood as “ice water” make sense. As well as Spock being able to handle the heightened body temperature caused by Henoch in “Return to Tomorrow”. It also explains why Spock was in far better shape than Bones in the freezing temperatures of the planet from “All Our Yesterdays”.

However, like arctic squirrel newborns, they start out as ectothermic (cold-blooded) which lends itself to the Vulcan infants needing even more skin to skin to survive than humans theory by @acesexualspock. Being born cold blooded would prevent them from immediately dying the second they were exposed to the dangerous extremes of Vulcan’s heat. I also think they slowly lose the ability to control their metabolic rate as they grow older, slowing down dramatically as they age, which is why Spock gets increasingly colder as he ages rapidly in “The Deadly Years”.

“The brightness of the Vulcan sun has caused the development of an inner eyelid.”

-Spock, Operation: Annihilate

I wanna thank @tribbleland for inspiring this part in particular.

I want to offer a special congratulations to furries people who let their love for anthro-cats bleed into their love for Vulcans, turns out Vulcans are very catlike! Like our feline Terran friends, Vulcans have what is called a Nicitating Membrane. It’s functions that would serve Vulcans well in their desert home include spreading moisture across the eye, protect the eye from small water and small debris (like sand for example), as well as protecting the eye from ultraviolet radiation, which is more or less what Spock said in that episode. Other animals that have Nicitating Membranes aside from felines is actually the majority of the animal kingdom, and primates (like us) are the exception and not the rule. I also subscribe to the idea that Vulcans have other desert dweller features like thick hair and eyelashes, sealable nostrils, big feet, a crepuscular sleep cycle (avoiding extreme midnight and midday temperatures), and a tough as nails digestive system!

As an added bonus fact since this section is pretty short: It makes purrfect sense for Vulcans to purr! In cats purring is an emotional regulator when they are angry or scared (Vulcans are ALL about regulating their emotions) as well as purring when they are happy. It is also a mechanism for healing themselves, their kittens, and their owners, the frequency at which cats purr (25-140 Hz) cover the same frequencies that are therapeutic for bone growth and fracture healing, pain relief, swelling reduction, wound healing, muscle growth and repair, tendon repair, and mobility of joints. I’m over here getting emotional about the mental image of like, Spock or Tuvok or smth sitting next to a wounded crewmember and just like, purring with a completely straight face and that is soft and just a little funny and I am emotionally compromised.

“And are it’s natives predatory?” “Not generally, but there have been exceptions.”

-Spock to Trelaine, The Squire of Gothos

Surprise! This isn’t just going to be about Vulcan dietary needs, it’s gonna be about animal behaviors and self-domestication as well! I was trying to think of herbivores that are capable of eating meat, and then this idea hit me like a bomb going of in my head-

Vulcans are like Hippos!

I don’t mean I think they used to be hippo-like (visually anyway) somewhere along the evolutionary line. I mean that they were probably big, extremely aggressive, pack roaming herbivores that are able to eat carrion when food is scarce. Have you ever seen a video of a group of Hippos smashing an alligator to smithereens? They kill more humans than any solitary predator on the African continent! What about a murder of crows killing a cat that injured one of them, or a group of bison saving a calf from a lion?! Herbivores can be insanely aggressive while still being social, plant-eating animals.

With that in mind, let’s talk about self-domestication! This is something that we humans (and to an extent, cats too) did way back in our biology according to some studies, we bred out aggression and bred in cooperativeness and curiosity. Cats, while partially domesticated by us, started looking for mates that were more sociable so that their offspring could exist closer to humans (and their food) as well as to tolerate other cats. While I do think Vulcans self-domesticated to a degree, I do not think they were able to do so nearly to the same extent as humans or our deliberately domesticated companions. Vulcan is a harsh, violent, and unforgiving planet, even more so than Earth, if Vulcans were naturally as friendly and curious as we Humans are now, they would not have survived as a species.

I believe this is why their emotions are so primal and strong, and things like Pon Farr and their unusually high wariness of the new and unexpected still exist so strongly. How do they live together in such high numbers and develop a functional society? They developed other means of coping as a work-around the impracticality of decreasing aggression!

“Call it a deep understanding of the way things happen to Vulcans.”

-Spock, The Immunity Syndrome

So, how do you have a species as aggressive, unforgiving, and frighteningly strong as Vulcans keep from completely destroying itself (aside from Surak’s teachings)? You take the empathy that humans already have, turn it up to 11, and tack on every evolutionary possibility to increase it. We already know how the Earth comparisons for Vulcan empathy: the extreme vitality of touch for the survival and emotional stability, cats purring to heal each other and themselves (and regulate emotions), nonverbal communication, the ancestral instincts of an infant animal being able to walk days after its born. What if we had all of these traits in remarkable spades, Vulcans certainly seem to! (Be prepared, the science starts getting a little squidgy because there are no real world comparisons and neurology research is very jargon heavy)

Electricity is a fundamental part of the biology of nearly all living things, it allows synapses to fire, regulates our internal organs, and gives us our senses of touch and movement. Skin to skin is so incredibly vital to the survival of infants, and the emotional stability for adults, that needing any more touch could be impractical and counterintuitive. So what if we got more from less? What if our sense of touch, and the acuteness of being able to read the emotions of others from body language and touch manifested as a form of what looks like from an outsider’s perspective, telepathy!

Now what if the radius of the sensation of touch could be extended much farther, say being able to sense someone to the same intensity I described in the last paragraph, like, through a wall or from across a room? What if you could connect to other lifeforms with the same ability like a chain circuit that could connect a whole species together in one giant circuitboard? I just described what Vulcans call the kwar’ma’khon, the telepathic energy that connects all Vulcans to each other!

Imagine having this same intense telepathic connection to someone for an extended period of time, like a t’hy’la or Bond Mate. What if you had a relatively easy to master non-lethal attack against other members of your species, that comes to you easily due to your intrinsic understanding of nerves and touch, like the Vulcan Nerve Pinch. In turn, what if, through the intensity of this connection you could transfer everything you knew and saw and felt to another person in the event of your death. That way, if you survived the harshness of your world without dying violently or unexpectedly, you could deliberately pass on that knowledge and those instincts to your next of kin, like the Katra. (thanks @distractedducky @spacedancer1701 & @find-me-in-outer-space)

Now, that’s A LOT of empathy on top of A LOT of aggression, if you don’t have a work around for any of these, as a species you’d be rendered a complete emotional wreck pretty much 24/7 (or whatever the time cycles for Vulcan are). Which is where @ineffablebuddies theory that Vulcans can control, or at least mitigate their incredibly strong emotional reactions the same way they control their nervous system and metabolic rate. Which is how they are able to be touch telepathic, able to enter a torpor at will, and be heterothermic in the first place. The only reason Vulcans come off as unemotional to us is because we simply do not see and feel the way that they can. Unlike us, because of their ability to control their own internal chemistry, if they follow Surak’s teachings and/or Syrranite ideology, they can take that emotional regulation to the extreme.

(BIG EXHALE) Congratulations on getting through this insanely long post! I hope you enjoyed it, if you want sources on any of my non-tumblr post research just let me know in the notes. LLAP! 💚🖖🏻💚

#Vulcan biology #*emphatically* vulcan biology #VULCAN BIOLOGYYYYY #AHHHHHHHH #vulcan has no moon #big gravity #big disaster #vulcantology #a post 3 weeks in the making #yes I know it’s 1am EST what about it?! #vulcans #vulcan Vulcans Vulcans #return to tomorrow #the man trap #the deadly years #obsession #operation: annihilate! #hemocyanin #heterothermic #aggressive herbivores #touch telepathy #Pon Farr #self-domestication #nicitating membrane #vulcan infants #neuroelectricity #xenobiology #xenobiologist #the immunity syndrome #the squire of gothos

[darthkruge]

hello lovely!! i’ve been getting back into star wars lately and i’ve been loving your fics!! and i was wondering if i could make a request?? sort of like,, anakin but he doesn’t turn to the dark side type thing?? like he maybe confesses he’s scared to lose you and you help him through it?? maybe obi wan helps out?? honestly you can take it however you want :)) ty ty

anakin skywalker x reader || rewritten

summary || a rots fix it fic where i take many liberties and give anakin a support system + everyone gets better communication and we think about how it would perhaps end differently

warnings || hella canon divergence, angst w/ a happy ending, some violence (non graphic and not super described)

words || 5.1k (i am legit shocked)

a/n || hello and thank you!! i’m so glad you’ve been loving my fics! this fic was honestly super challenging for me and it ended up being the longest thing i’ve ever written. i made some big changes and lots of smaller ones, but each one was fully intentional. i really, really hope y’all like it <3

main masterlist || anakin masterlist 

gif credit

-----

Anakin awoke with a start, chest heaving and covered in sweat. He was gripping the blankets as he tried to ground himself, frantically looking around as if to discern between reality and the horrid dreamscape his mind created. He whipped his head to the side, visibly relaxing as he saw you staring up at him, a confused look on your face. 

You were no stranger to Anakin’s nightmares but this one seemed unlike any he’d ever had. You slept curled into him and, thus, his jolt caused one of your own. Unsure if he wanted your touch just yet, you reached out to him with the Force. Panic, loss, grief, fear, terror, insecurity. You looked into his eyes, watching as they slowly cleared and he registered your presence. He blinked quickly, trying to clear the tears from his vision and gave you a slight nod. 

Reaching a tentative hand to his shoulder, you suppressed a gasp as you felt him shudder beneath you. You quietly whispered his name and placed a finger under his jaw, guiding his face to yours. You nodded back at him and opened your arms in silent invitation. He crawled into your embrace as you pulled him impossibly close to you, situating yourself against the headboard so you could better wrap yourself around his shaking body. Choked sobs erupted from his lips, each one tearing a hole in your heart. As he finally let himself cry with his face buried into your neck, you held him. By the Maker, you held him. 

He didn’t want to speak just yet and you understood. You’ve always extended the same respect back to him as he gives to you. Tucked into you, Anakin’s fingers squeezed into your flesh, as if trying to remind himself you were solid. You placed a few kisses into his soft hair and onto his forehead, hands running up and down his arms and back. You physically pressed reminders of your love into his skin for hours and, somewhere in the midst of your embrace, he let himself fall into a state of limbo. Unawake, unasleep, umoving, yet feeling everything you had to offer. 

----

When morning came, you reached out once again. The emotions from last night were still evident, just not as strong. Simultaneously, you allowed a small smile to come to you as you felt something new. Warmth, comfort, love. You ran your fingers through Anakin’s hair to pull him to consciousness, needing to see his eyes. Stars, his eyes. While they were absolutely gorgeous, they also always gave him away. You once told him that. “Only for you, my love.” He’d replied. 

“Hi.” He croaked out, meeting your gaze. Your eyes fluttered closed for a second as you took a deep breath in relief. His eyes were clear. You didn’t know how long the shadows would be banished for, but as long as they weren’t constant, you had hope. 

“Hi, baby.” You whispered, allowing yourself to give him another forehead kiss, made easy by your position that you’d somehow remained in throughout the night. You looked at him expectantly and knew he knew what you were asking.

“You… you died,” Anakin started. His eyes were already filling with tears. “It wasn’t clear. There was so much blood. And you kept begging me to help you. You screamed and screamed and screamed and you were in agony and…” 

You took his hand in yours, squeezing his fingers in encouragement to go on.

“I never- I never came for you.” He spit the words out as if they were venomous and shook his head. You could hear the self-hatred in his words, the way he couldn’t grasp the concept of hurting you, ever, and yet how seriously he took this. 

“Hey, hey. Stop, my love.” You said, hoping to pull him out of his spiral. “You would never harm me, Anakin. You would come for me, you always have. That was a horrible dream and I’m so sorry you had to experience it. But it was just a dream, Anakin. It’s not real.” 

He pulled away from you as if he couldn’t stand to feel your gentle touch. “No, no, no! It-” His words were cut off by his uneven breathing, his pulse racing as he relived the nightmare. “It felt like the ones I had about my mother. It felt… prophetic. I’m scared, Y/N, I can’t lose you.” 

You walked over to him, placing your hands on his cheeks and rubbing your thumbs over his cheekbones, hoping to calm him. “You won’t. It takes a lot to kill me, you know? Especially when I have you by my side.” 

Anakin nodded but you could tell he was unconvinced. 

“How about you talk to Obi-Wan about the dreams? He’s always helped you before.” You suggested. 

While normally this would be unthinkable, as it would expose your relationship, Anakin felt himself pulled toward the choice. Inwardly, he admitted that he could definitely use a friend right now. And Obi-Wan had always stood by him. Somehow, he just knew that now would be no different.  

------

Obi-Wan easily swung the door open with the Force before Anakin even had a chance to knock. He knew his former Padawan’s force signature like the back of his hand and had sensed his distress for days. Unbeknownst to Anakin, Obi-Wan had canceled his missions due to this, wanting to stay close for when Anakin eventually came to him for guidance. 

Obi-Wan looked up from his paperwork as he realized Anakin refused to come closer. Huddled behind the door frame, a conflicted and fearful look on his face, Obi-Wan was struck by how similar Anakin looked to the little boy he’d found on Tatooine all those years ago. Many nights, young Anakin would come into Obi-Wan’s room, plagued with nightmares. Just as before, Obi-Wan never turned him away. 

“Something’s troubling you.” 

Anakin sighed, taking a tentative step forward. “You know Master L/N?”

Obi-Wan smiled knowingly, having a sense of where this is going. “Yes, of course. A brilliant strategist, much like yourself.” 

“I…. I’m involved with them, Master.” 

“Involved?” Obi-Wan replied, with a quirked eyebrow.

“Please don’t punish Y/N for this, I know the Council frowns upon relationships. If you need to report it, I understand. But just report me, say they had nothing to do with it. But before you do anything please, Master, listen to what I must tell you. I wouldn’t unless it was absolutely necessary.” Anakin pleaded. 

“Anakin, I know.” 

“Yeah, I mean it truly is necessary-” 

Obi-Wan placed a comforting hand on the younger Jedi’s shoulder. “You misunderstand. I mean, I know.” 

Anakin’s eyes widened with realization before confusion filtered into his gaze. “But we were so careful!” 

“Not as much as you would think,” Obi-Wan said with a slight laugh.

“And you’re not upset?”

He sighed. “Being honest, I was a bit at first. Anakin, you know the rules and you can be so reckless at times! But how could I fault you for your own humanity? And I knew who you were when I met you. I was always aware of your compassion, your capacity for emotions.” Anakin nodded and smiled, but the faraway look in his eye never wavered. 

Clearing his voice, Obi-Wan continued. “Are you alright, Anakin?” 

“No.” The strength of the word shocked them both and caused Anakin to take a moment to compose himself. “They’re dying.”

Panic flashed through Obi-Wan’s expression. “They’re what? What happened? Was it a mission? Do the medics know? Is-” 

“- No, nothing… nothing yet. But it will.” While Obi-Wan didn’t exactly understand, he could tell through Anakin’s tone that his former Padawan believed this with his entire soul. 

“I’ve been having more nightmares.” Anakin said. 

“Like the ones with your mother?” 

Anakin nodded, his gaze muddled as his mind wove through every possibility on how to save you. Coming up with none, he looked up quickly, the lost confusion clear. 

“It’s going to be alright, Anakin. We’re going to do this together.” Obi-Wan offered, trying to comfort his friend. When Anakin nodded this time, his expression had more hope in it. Obi-Wan returned the gesture, tipping his head as Anakin walked out. Before Anakin reached the door, Obi-Wan called his name. 

“Talk to me if you feel troubled. About anything, my friend. And just know… it’s okay to feel afraid. And you’re no less a Jedi because you love them. At least, not in my eyes.” For the first time since he’d walked in the room, Anakin gave a true smile. His former Master inhaled deeply, realizing after hearing those words, Anakin looked more like himself than he had in a long while. 

----- 

A few hours and a Council meeting later, Anakin walked back into your chambers, closing the door with a huff. He wasn’t enraged, per se, but definitely conflicted. You approached him cautiously, heart falling when you saw those familiar clouds back in his eyes. 

“Did Obi-Wan not take it well?”

Anakin shook his head. “It’s not… he was supportive. But the Council has assigned something to me and…” He trailed off and looked at you. Only then did you see his bloodshot, puffy eyes. 

“What did they ask of you, Anakin?” You questioned, coming behind him to gently massage his tense shoulders. 

“I’m needed to spy on the Chancellor. Apparently there’s a Sith Lord somewhere in the Order. They suspect him.” He tried to keep his voice strong, but you could see how torn apart he was by the inflection in his tone. 

You took a breath and tried to process the information. “Will you do it?”

“I don’t know… if the Council tells me I must, then I must. But the Chancellor has only been good to me. I worry about betraying him but I don’t want to let down the Order. I’m not sure how to do this without causing someone harm.” He confessed. 

“They shouldn’t have put you in this position, it’s unfair. And you don’t have to, Ani. I know it feels like you do but you don’t need to bend to each of the Council’s requests. Whatever the fallout, whatever you choose, please know that I’m with you. And so is Obi-Wan. Not that it fixes anything, but at the very least, you’ll always have us.” 

Anakin turned around so he was facing you. “I don’t know what to do.” He whispered, voice laced with hopelessness. 

“Trust yourself. You have a good heart, intelligence, and strong morals. They’ve never failed you before.”

He nodded before leaning into you and your arms instinctively wrapped around him. Your fingertips found their way to his hair, gently weaving through the golden strands. 

“We’ll get through this, yeah?” While it was a question, you both knew you meant it as a statement.

“We’ll get through this.” Anakin echoed. He mumbled the words into your neck where he had buried his face. As if the words could seep into your skin. As if the hope could find its way to your heart and stay there, ever protected, ever true. 

-----

The next day, Anakin found himself in Palpatine’s office. He was wary, guarded. It was evident by the look on his eyes, the way he took a moment before taking another step. It was his training as both a Jedi and a General that allowed him to do this. The careful complexity of planning every move. 

“I heard the Council debating whether or not they should have made you a Master. It seems they do not trust you or value your talent as they should.” Palpatine’s words made Anakin freeze. Rationally, he knew this was wrong. At the very least, Obi-Wan trusts him and so do you. But there was a part of him that felt so validated by the Chancellor’s words that he wanted to hear more. To bask in them, in feeling wanted and appreciated. He hated himself for it. 

“I… I’m not sure what you mean by this.” Anakin attempted not to give himself away any more than he already has. 

“Well, they care about your potential. But they hold you back. They’ll never show you your true power, for they don’t want you to understand. They just wish to use it, no matter your own fate.” 

“I feel cast aside. Like I don’t matter.” Anakin wasn’t even sure why he shared these words. Somehow, in feeling so praised, the doubts just bubbled their way to the surface. He felt like a child in these moments, so painfully fragile. 

“You don’t. Not to them, Anakin. But with me I can teach you your power. I can teach you the ways of the Dark Side. I know of your fears, of those nightmares that plague you. I know about your secret marriage and how close you are to losing it all.” 

Anakin froze, his heart hammering in his chest. His thoughts raced as he tried to piece together the truth from all the lies. The mentions of Darth Plagueis. The Dark Side of the Force. 

“You’re the Sith Lord!” Anakin said, igniting his lightsaber and pointing it at the older man’s chest. 

Palpatine bowed his head slightly, a small smile gracing his lips. “Well done, my boy.” Anakin felt sick as he noted the pride in his tone. And yet that aching part inside him still swelled, ever so slightly.

“Now, don’t do anything rash.” The Chancellor reasoned. “Only the Dark Side can save the one you love.” 

Anakin wanted to do the right thing. He wished to be the one who could stand up and arrest Palpatine without a single ounce of guilt or regret. But as soon as Palpatine mentioned you, it’s like all his logic disappeared. He just wanted to save you, to not fail you as he’d failed his mother. But then he thought back to your words. “Strong morals.” And to his Master’s. “We’ll do this together.”

“I’m turning you into the Council.” 

“Wouldn’t you prefer to kill me?”

“Yes.” Anakin’s remark was forceful and clipped with anger.

“Then do it. Give yourself over to your wrath.”

He felt himself burning with betrayal, with resentment toward both sides. Even so, he could still tell right from wrong, selfless from selfish. And whatever Palpatine was doing… it certainly did not have the will of the people in mind. Without so much as deigning him with another response, Anakin turned and walked out of the room.

“If you turn me in, you’ll never save them!” Anakin tried to will Palpatine’s voice out of his head as he ventured back to the Council chambers. When he arrived back, he decided to slightly alter his plans. While he knew he must face all of them eventually, he wanted to talk to Obi-Wan first. Perhaps his Master could give him guidance, like he did about your nightmares. 

“General Skywalker… are you alright?” Anakin stumbled as he walked right into another figure, too caught up in his own head.

“I’m fine, Master Windu. Thank you- I’m sorry.” Mace looked at the younger Jedi with an unreadable expression. While there was much in his eyes, concern was definitely a part of it. 

“Have you seen Master Kenobi?” Anakin said after a brief pause for composure. 

“He’s supposed to leave for his next mission any moment now. If you hurry, you can probably still catch him.” 

Anakin thanked Master Windu before taking off in a run. No matter how fast his legs carried him, he felt his mind was working even faster, the internal conflict brewing more intently by the second. 

-----

Obi-Wan opened the door as soon as before Anakin could even knock. He looked at Anakin and gestured at a vacant chair, a silent invitation to sit. Anakin shook his head quickly. The younger Jedi’s eyes were scattered and conflicted, as if he’d been shaken to his very core. 

“Palpatine is the Sith Lord.” The words came out rushed, yet clear. As if Anakin needed to get them out as quickly as he could but replayed them in his head until they were all he knew. The intensity showed Obi-Wan that there was no doubt in his friend’s mind. 

Obi-Wan blinked. “Okay.” He stroked his beard, trying to find the words to say. “Are you alright?”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan in confusion. Certainly there were more important questions his former Master would want to ask than that. 

“I know you and the Chancellor were close. This can’t be easy for you. I just wanted to ask if you were alright.” 

“I’m not sure.” Anakin said after some hesitation. “I don’t really know what to think… Palpatine is evil, right? But he believed in me when no one else did. He saw my potential, allowed me to confide in him. He told me he could show me how to save Y/N. Would someone evil do that?” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened as he looked at the painfully conflicted young man in front of him. “Anakin… he was manipulating you. He was isolating you so you had no one to turn to but him. It was a tactic, a ploy. He doesn’t care for you.” Anakin looked so heartbroken that Obi-Wan knew Anakin believed him. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But what about Y/N?” Anakin asked desperately.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Loving someone in the Order isn’t easy. Especially after everything you’ve gone through. And losing someone… it changes the way you love. You fear constantly, wondering when your love will evade you. When it will fall apart, like all the rest. But living like that, loving like that… it leaves no room for growth or peace. And that’s what relationships are for, aren’t they?” His voice was filled with compassion and wisdom. From experience, perhaps? Regardless of the reason, Anakin was reminded that someone did understand him. Despite the circumstances, he felt content. At least a bit. 

“Is there any way to save them?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s focus on Palpatine for now, alright? And we’ll bring Master L/N with us so you know they’re safe.” Obi-Wan wished nothing more than having a set solution to save Y/N. But some things were even out of his grasp. “I know this must be impossible for you, Anakin. I truly am sorry.” 

Anakin nodded. After all, it was true. If there was anything to describe the impending threat of losing another person he loved, impossible summed up the process. “I know. You’re doing all you can. Thank you, Master. And yes, I would like to bring them with us.” 

Obi-Wan clasped a hand to Anakin’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze as they met each other with a smile. “I’ll send them a message right now.”

----

You gasped when you received Obi-Wan’s message with the details of the Supreme Chancellor’s truth. Your heart cried for Anakin, knowing the betrayal must be breaking him. All you could do was wish that with Obi-Wan’s help, the two of you could support Anakin until he felt like he could breathe again. And you had faith in him. You always had faith in him. 

Grabbing your cloak, you jogged to Obi-Wan’s quarters. As soon as you opened the door, you ran to Anakin and hugged him to you, needing to feel his presence. Somehow, you knew he needed it, too. 

“Ready?” Anakin and Obi-Wan gave you nods of confirmation and you gave a tentative smile. “Alright. Let’s do this.” 

-----

Anakin entered Palpatine’s chambers first. For once, he felt sure of himself. He finally knew what he had to do. His gaze shifted to you, making sure you were alright. You placed a hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb up and down to reassure him. He inhaled. Exhaled. And ignited his saber. 

“I knew you’d come back, Skywalker. I knew you’d join me.” 

“Think again.” Obi-Wan responded as you and him walked into the chambers. Pure, unfiltered rage flickered through Palpatine’s eyes in response.

“Anakin, they’re trying to corrupt you. They’re trying to keep your power. Come with me, boy, and I’ll teach you all you wish to know. I’ll teach you how to save them.” He said, pointing a pale finger toward your face. 

You let out a sharp breath as you suddenly understood Anakin’s conflict. Of course Palpatine was using you as a bargaining chip. Using Anakin’s fear of abandonment, of losing his loved ones against him. It was disgusting, even for a Sith. 

“I… you can’t possibly know how to do that. It’s impossible!” 

“Not on the Dark Side. Look… Obi-Wan has turned them against you. He’s the cause of this! I’m sure he didn’t even pose a solution to saving Y/N. It’s because he doesn’t care about you, not like I do.” 

The shadows returned to Anakin’s eyes as his gaze switched between Obi-Wan and Palpatine. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at you, to see the pain in your eyes as he struggled with a choice that for others would be so simple. He hated himself for being weak but he truly couldn’t fathom losing you. 

Obi-Wan stepped forward, backing Palpatine against the wall and pointing his lightsaber at Palpatine’s throat. Anakin stepped back, too frozen to move, and unconsciously placed himself between them and you.

“It’s over, Chancellor. Don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” Obi-Wan said.

Palpatine shot lightning from his hands, causing Obi-Wan to deflect the matter with his lightsaber, redirecting it to Palpatine himself. As Palpatine shook from the force of his own blast, he once again called to Anakin.

“If you let him kill me, dear boy, Y/N will die. If you don’t try to save them, you will be the cause of their death.” 

Anakin’s eyes widened, those words hitting him right in the chest. He moved forward, pointing his lightsaber at Obi-Wan but refusing to make the final cut to end his life. Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to speak but the effort of holding of Palpatine’s lightning rendered him useless. It was Obi-Wan, after all. His former Master, his friend. The one person who he trusted with the secret of his marriage. He couldn’t kill him, right? He faltered, stepping slightly back. 

“Ani,” You said, your voice calm as you tried to reason with him. “Ani if you do this, you can’t come back from it. I know you don’t want to lose me and if you kill Obi-Wan, you will, regardless of the fate of my life. You aren’t too far gone, yet. You haven’t done anything irredeemable. Remember who you are, my love.” 

Anakin heard your words and looked at your face. You. He wanted to do good by you, to do good by all of them. He wanted to make his mother proud, make himself feel like leaving her for the Jedi Order meant something. And then his gaze filtered over to his friend. Obi-Wan stood tall against the force of Palpatine’s lightning, reminding Anakin of his friend’s strength. It was something Anakin wanted to emulate, too. 

Understanding his choice, Anakin took a step forward to position the blade toward Palpatine’s chest. His hand was shaking, movements unsure, eyes glossed over with immeasurable pain. But before he could make contact, you swiftly moved in front of him and killed Palpatine instead. Obi-Wan was thrust backward as the lightning ceased, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Why would you do that?” Anakin asked as he looked at you. 

“I didn’t want you to have to kill your friend. No matter what he turned out to be.” You said as you shifted on the balls of your feet. The weight of Palpatine’s death now weighed on your soul, as do those of every life you’ve ever ended. You could bear it and you knew Anakin was strong enough to do so, as well. You just didn’t want him to have to. 

Anakin nodded and whispered a thank you back to you. You just smiled, the love for him clear in your expression. Anakin turned around, walking to his friend and extending a hand for him. 

“I never doubted you.” Obi-Wan said simply as he met Anakin’s guilty eyes. 

“I should have made the choice to believe you earlier. I shouldn’t have let him get to me. I’m sorry, Master.” 

“Look at me, Anakin. We all struggle with our morals. We struggle and we’re unsure and we pray and hope to land on the right decision. And you did. You have nothing to apologize for.” Looking at your and Anakin’s arms around each other, Obi-Wan made one last decision. “How about the two of you retire for the evening? I’ll debrief with the Council, you’ve been through enough.” 

Once again, Anakin was struck by the older Jedi’s strength and selflessness. He nodded, as did you, before he accompanied you back to your quarters. 

----

You kept one arm around Anakin’s waist the entire way home, mirroring his that was around your shoulders. You couldn’t bear to separate, not after the events of the past few days. Seeing Anakin so torn up inside, it was eating away at you. Knowing you couldn’t save him was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to deal with. 

Now, Palpatine was finally gone. There was no more threat to the Jedi Order, the Force once again balanced. But both of you still understood the one solution that hadn't been found: how to save you. It made everything easier, that you chose to kill the Chancellor. Anakin refused to voice the doubts in his head, wondering if he actually would have gone through with it knowing he would lose his chance at saving you. 

The air was melancholic surrounding you both. Heavy. Neither of you knew what to say, words failing in a moment that was so conflicted it almost overwhelmed you. But your heart warmed as you saw Anakin scamper in front of you to open and hold the door for you. You loved him so much, for doing the little things even in moments like these. It gave you hope.

You were okay with death, so long as it only affected you. When you joined the Jedi, you had to make your peace with it. But after you fell in love everything changed. You didn’t want Anakin to go through the pain of losing you. He’d been so open with you about, well, everything. Especially his past. He’d gone through so much, felt such raw pain and loss, you didn’t want to add to that. 

Taking his hands in yours, you looked into his blue eyes. 

“I don’t want you to die.” He whispered, the desperate, deflated tone making your heart break. “I won’t.” You wished to say, but you knew you couldn’t. 

“I don’t want to die, either.” You chose these words instead, relying on their honesty. 

“Palpatine could have saved you.” Anakin said after a beat. 

You sighed. “You don’t know that.” You stated, knowing it wouldn’t change how he felt. 

“Neither do you!” 

“But at what cost? At the cost of losing your soul? Anakin, you would have had to join the Sith! That’s no longer you! You’re good and you couldn’t have saved me if you were there, don’t you see that?” You pleaded. You wished he would see your logic, the truth behind your words. How even though he thought otherwise, he made the right decision. 

“What good is saving the Order if you won’t be a part of it?”

“What good is saving my life if I wouldn’t have you to live it with?” You countered. 

Anakin let out an exhausted breath before pulling you into him, hugging you. The fighting was too much and, frankly, he didn’t want to argue. Not with you, not ever. You both let out a humorless chuckle as you leaned into each other. 

“I love you.” His tone conveyed it all. 

“I love you.” You replied, your voice muffled from being pressed into his robes. 

“Can we sleep? I don’t want to face this right now. Can we just put this aside, if just for a moment? Can I lay with you and can you hold me and can we just have each other?” You questioned breathlessly.

“I would like nothing more, my love.” He smiled slightly and pressed a kiss to your head as he added the words of endearment, wanting you to understand he wasn’t upset with you. You already knew that, though. You were in love with Anakin Skywalker. Of course you’d argue from time to time. But at the end of the day, you were two hopelessly in love Jedi just trying to save each other. 

Crawling into bed, sleep came for the both of you quickly. You were holding him and he was holding you, tangled together as you nestled his warm embrace. He tucked his face into your neck as you did so and savored the feel of you next to him. Safe. 

Drifting off, Anakin tried to fight the pull of sleep, knowing he’d just suffer from another nightmare like he had every day since the first one. One where you’d die and he could do nothing to stop it. Amidst these tumultuous thoughts, his breathing evened, lulling him under. 

You were in the grass, a flower crown atop your head. Anakin was leaning against a small house. It was quaint but beautiful. Small, not outwardly flashy, but full of love and meaning. Looking around, he smiled as he saw green vines crawling up the sides of the house, a garden of your favorite flowers out front. You always had a soft spot for that. 

We are on Naboo, he realized. It was peaceful. It was the dream you always talked of together. Anakin’s breath caught as he felt the certainty of this dream. It felt just like his nightmares, except this one left him content. He didn’t want to entertain the thought for too long, afraid of jinxing it. But he knew it was prophetic. He wasn’t sure how he changed his fate, what exactly gave him this future. Something inside him just knew that when he wakes up the next morning, all will be okay. He felt infinitely lighter as he understood the threat was gone. 

When you looked up and saw him, you raced toward him and jumped into his arms. Anakin stumbled but caught you, breathing in your scent as you kissed the side of his neck. As he held you, his thoughts slightly wandered. But he was grounded by your presence, reminding him that you were safe and he was okay. With you, he was finally, completely, home.

-----

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