#Jeks do a draw

[snotbuggle]

Omega when she gets to jail and realizes that she now has to big sister four other children. One of which is nowhere near her age.

Going to try and condense some more serious thoughts about these episodes down below so I can avoid spoiling someone as much as possible and not post a dozen times. I don’t want to miss tag any one of those.

Jex/Jek?? I can’t completely remember his name, but the mirialan kid is for sure not going to trust her at all. Can’t say much for the pantoran kid since they haven’t shown much of them so far, but Eva is going to love her.

I think the mirialan kid is definitely going to be skeptical of Omega’s prior knowledge of the facility, Emerie, and why they’re there. Although he might overlook these things hanging on her promise that her brothers will get her, and in turn them, out of there. I can’t help but wonder what Omega and the others will think after about a week and there still not being a rescue. (These two are assuming that she will be placed with the other force sensitive children. Although she may be moved since her blood actually works for project Necromancer)

Crosshair is definitely going to hear it from Hunter. ESPECIALLY after he threw Hunter’s past failure to keep her out of Tantiss in his face. What I think will weigh on his conscience more though is the fact he thinks she’ll be alone this time. In a way she definitely will, but I have no doubt that he realizes he was probably the highlight of her day. He was probably the one thing that kept her hopeful even if he tried to talk down on her and get her to leave. Yes, she had hope that Hunter and Wrecker would find her, but she also needed someone there with her. A familiar face and not someone who just revealed they were your sister out of the blue. Her situation has changed, but Crosshair doesn’t know that. The Crosshair guilt is going to be so real in these last episodes.

Switching gears, CX agents are always a cool and interesting topic for me. While the identity of CX-2 isn’t usually as engaging, I have to say that I’ve drifted from the standpoint of “there’s no way that’s Tech” to “it’s a possibility” over the course of the last two episodes. I’ve seen some fun ideas for who it is otherwise. Personally, I think that they’re probably just another copy paste man with no autonomy anymore.

ANYHOW! I haven’t seen anyone talk about it much, but the scene with Hemlock reviewing the CX agent data and the capsule has me thinking a little harder on their creation/conditioning. The way Hemlock talks about the other operatives as well. “The others aren’t ready to join you” (paraphrasing) seems to show that after the mental conditioning through obviously brutal means, it takes a load of time to physically condition the agents. Seeing as CX-1 was most likely initiated around the same time as Crosshair (I choose to believe that they were near each other’s tables which is why they’re familiar), that took around five months to half a year. In that time span there had to be a lot of soldiers who Hemlock saw fit to be “reprogrammed” but we see very few operatives throughout. This means that if they make it out of mental conditioning, physical conditioning is most likely very dangerous and often times fatal. I’d like to draw attention to the capsules as a part of that physical conditioning. There were several capsules that Hemlock was observing, along with the foggy one that is most likely that new Huyang-lookin-ass operative. If these capsules are the final stage of physical conditioning, it adds meaning to CX-2’s first line, “Why have I been activated?” (Once again paraphrasing). Although the capsules could be for something else entirely.

Also a bit of a gripe, why in the world do you need a new secret-secret operative, Hemlock? You have the commandos, and then the first X troopers, now the CX’s, and what? You wanted a new one? I can’t tell if this man is an overachiever or just way too absorbed into the advanced trooper rabbit hole. Also for you Tech theorists, it’s kinda suspicious that he makes a new version of agents isn’t it? Almost like there’s something…deviant about him?

Completely side tracking here, I really like Phee’s awareness in the station. Yeah she didn’t hear the blaring alarm, but she was in a room where it’d be hard to hear anyways. However, when she got back she felt something was off about the ramp. We’ve seen how slick CX-2 is, so her noticing something is up was a nice touch imo. Also was very appreciative of her caution and readiness with her knife. I love when female characters get to be aware of their surroundings and ready to throw hands if things go south.

In conclusion, thank you for listening to my dump-rambling. I’ve been trying to keep my lips shut so I don’t miss tag anything and spoil it for someone (because I know that I’ll forget to tag everything right). I hope Wrecker is okay. And even if I’m not a Tech CX theorist, I have to admit that I’ve been seeing some fairly strong parallels.

#can’t believe there are only 4 more episodes #the bad batch #tbb #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb emerie #tbb phee #tbb tech #tbb cx 2 #the bad batch s3 spoilers #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #tbb season 3 spoilers #tbb s3 spoilers #tbb spoiler #tbb spoilers #tbb s3

[eruden-writes]

Strictly Pleasure - Part 2 (Jek x Heidi)

orc x human paranormal romance

Summary: An awkward fresh-out-of-a-relationship woman and an orc that owns a sex store enter an adult theater together. She, intent on pushing her own boundaries. He, just looking to give her some sense of safety. Well, that and he wouldn’t complain about having a bit of fun himself.

After they inevitably get interrupted, Jek deals with the problem while Heidi flees. Resigned, he believes he’ll never see her again.

Thus begins Jek and Heidi’s sporadic interactions until, eventually, they find themselves fumbling around each other daily at the very place it started: Strictly Pleasure.

💋 💋 💋

Part 1 | Masterlist (coming soon)

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It took Heidi's eyes a moment to adjust within the darkness of the theater. As she waited for sight, her other senses were drenched with sensations. A sweaty and musky scent filled the air and her nostrils, thick enough to taste on the back of her tongue. Moans and groans, the creaking of furniture, and pleased gasps of others were mixed with similar sounds flickering on the screen.

When she could make out the theater, she found it segmented into three areas. Not including the screen currently displaying lascivious acts.

Near the front, closest to the movie, was an open area populated with loveseats and couches. A spattering of people were down there, getting intimately acquainted on the cushions. In the middle, rows of regular theater style seating where other patrons were desperately masturbating or receiving a blowjob or handjob from a companion.

Closest to Heidi, near the back, were a number of three-sided booths with love seats or benches of their own. As expected, there were holes drilled into opposing walls for anonymous fun. After surveying, Heidi realized the booths had an option to pull down a fourth wall, encasing the insiders. Likely the added wall was for not playing participants, people who just wanted to engage in the gloryholes, or exhibition.

As she observed and made sense of what was available, Heidi wasn't surprised to see an array of ancestries among the patrons. Demons, humans, orcs, thropes of varying sorts, minotaurs, and more. There were far more people than she thought would be present on a Tuesday night, too. Coupled with the sights and sounds, it was a little overwhelming.

While Heidi took in the theater, Jek leaned back against a wall and watched the raunchy and explicit scenes play. Tonight's movie was The Gnoll Next Door, wherein a lady gnoll had a variety of fun with the neglected housewife next door and, after a while, a delivery man. It was a newer flick added to the rotation, but Jek had already watched it as part of the vetting process.

Still, it was a porno that got the blood pumping. Not that the movie was the only thing drawing Jek's eye. Sometimes, it was fun to just watch his patrons enjoy themselves in the dark.

It was only when Heidi moved that he pushed off the wall. Unsurprising to Jek, she chose a booth big enough for both of them in a less-populated corner. He couldn't imagine her doing much more than a gloryhole handy jay, so it made sense. She settled onto the loveseat, at the very edge of the cushion with her purse on her knees and her back ramrod straight, as he settled down beside her.

Heidi's heart tripped in her chest as he sunk into the cushion beside her. From the corner of her eye, she watched as Jek leaned back, legs splayed comfortably and his arms resting along the back ledge of the loveseat. If she could bring herself to relax back, she'd feel his arm along her shoulders.

That thought made her stomach clench with feelings she couldn't quite place. Instead, she focused on the entertainment, which everyone else seemed to be highly enjoying. It was a typical porno-verse storyline. Neighbors getting to know each other, plus the ever-present delivery man. Though Heidi had to give props for using a gnoll actress. They hadn't shied from creative uses of gnolls' particularly pronounced clits.

It wasn't really enough for Heidi, though. Interesting concepts, some cute banter, but nothing that really revved her up. The characters were bland and hollow. Plus, without some sort of tension, it was kind of boring.

Turning to Jek, curiosity and perhaps a little exasperation colored her hushed tone, "Do you actually find this arousing?"

Jek angled his head toward her, surprising her by leaning closer. "Sorry, hard of hearing in my left ear. What was that?"

"U-um, do you actually find this arousing?" She mumbled into his pointed ear, noticing how the dangling resin skull earring swayed. She forced herself to not be quieter than before as his body heat grazed over her. This close she could smell him, something smoky and woody, more so than the room at large.

He let out an amused huff, sitting back again before pointedly shifting his hips. The movement drew Heidi's eye, a shock of heat licking down her spine as she noticed the growing erection straining his jeans. Apparently yes, he found the movie arousing.

Excitement jolted through her in ways she hadn't felt for years, but she still tore her gaze away. Turning her face back to the screen, Heidi tried to understand what was alluring on screen. The figures were all attractive, but the dialogue was cringeworthy. Not to mention the whole scenario just felt empty.

As she glanced around, she was still baffled how so many people could be unabashedly turned on by the movie.

It was only knowing the man beside her was getting enticed that really spurred anything in her.

Unprompted, Jek's voice softly interrupted her ponderings. "A lot of people don't need more than the promise of a sexy scene. Doesn't matter how unrealistic the scene is or how bad the dialogue."

"How'd you know what I was thinking?" Heidi shot him a sidelong look, settling back into the sofa in defeat. Was she really so obvious? As expected, the heat of his arm singed along the back of her shoulders.

"Your expression." Jek shrugged, ignoring how Heidi relaxing against his arm sent a throb through his whole body. It must have been too long since his last bout of physicality, he thought. She had too much of an effect on him. For some reason, that unsettled him. Maybe it was her obvious lack of experience or the fact she was pushing herself to stay there. People that didn't know their own limits might regret decisions made and he'd had enough of that for a lifetime. "If this isn't your thing, we can go. I'll refund you."

Heidi heaved a sigh, glancing over the theater as a whole again. Part of her wanted to join in on the erotic fun, let loose. That was the point of coming here. Trying to find some silver lining in breaking off her serious relationship of seven years. Well, she thought it was serious. Travis less so, it turned out. But he let her believe it - kept her tied down - while he messed around behind her back.

The hypocrite even derided her for her more salacious imaginings.

But imagining was certainly different from reality. Reality brought the heavy scent of sweat and body odor; the more awkward sounds of others; and the sloppy sounds of jerking off or the reedy whines of those being serviced. Not to mention the breathy dirty talk being thrown around. She felt like an interloper.

"No, it's fine." She missed the conflicted expression that crimped at Jek's features as she heaved another sigh. "I just wish I was more... capable with this, I guess."

Jek's jaw flexed as a realization sunk in. If she didn't want to leave, he wasn't going to abandon her. She was putting herself into a situation with no support or safety net. He could understand and sympathize. Hell, he even knew what it was like to try and fail in similar situations. Not exactly this, of course. He had libido and sexual attraction aplenty. Leaving her made a guilty pang shoot through him.

"We could start slow. You could play with me or vice versa," he suggested. The force of Heidi's attention snapping back to him nearly made him flinch. Nearly, but not quite. He shrugged under her intense look. "I'm just saying, if you want to do something, you gotta start somewhere and if you don't like it, just say the word."

"Is that why you offered to come back here with me?" Heidi tilted her head, eyes narrowing at Jek. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her purse, still sitting on her knee. For the second time that night, her eyes dipped down his form before bouncing back to his face.

"It was bound to be a possibility, but I wasn't expecting it." Again he shrugged, fidgeting in his seat. Gods, this was awkward. Heat was creeping up his body and into his face. "It's just an offer."

Heidi hummed, eyes narrowed but a slight amusement curved at her lips. "Maybe you've watched too many pornos."

At that, Jek laughed in a stifled way so as not to interrupt the experience for other theater patrons. "There is an expensive, oversized futon in the break room for good reason."

His smile broadened as Heidi's eyes widened. She couldn't hide the slight upturn of her lips or the entertained incredulity in her tone, "Seriously?"

"Not everyone is put off from being propositioned." He chuckled as he eased back into the loveseat. True, the futon had been used for a number of dalliances for both himself or his employees. Although, a few months had passed since his own last encounter there. He couldn't really speak for his employees, but few of them ever got the guts to actually fuck on the job.

His words brought a pout to Heidi's lips and she thumped back into the loveseat a little too dejectedly. "I'm not put off by it, I just like to know the people I'm messing around with. At least a little."

He hummed at her words. Before he could stop himself, he breached into sexuality territory, "Sounds demisexual to me."

Not everyone liked being told they were on the ace spectrum, but Heidi surprised him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm aware. It's my go-to term." Heidi huffed and waved her hand dismissively, before motioning to the theater at large. Obviously she meant to indicate the people sucking and fucking and, hopefully, having a good time. "I just want to be able to do this. In theory."

A thoughtful hum left Jek as he surveyed the dark landscape. There were a lot of reasons why someone couldn't engage in erotic fun. Societal hang-ups, deep trauma, not understanding one's sexuality. Inexperience and lack of education could do it, too. Though many could just throw themselves into sex and learn along the way, but that didn't seem to be something for Heidi.

Although, he didn't have much else to offer for her. "Well, my dick's here if you want it."

Jek grinned as she shot him an annoyed look, her lips pulled into another pout he was starting to enjoy too much. Then there was a minute change in her expression as she let her eyes fall over his form. The look in her eye made his loins pulse excitedly.

💋 💋 💋

Part 1 | Masterlist (coming soon)

💋 💋 💋

If you like my content, please consider supporting me on: 

*:･ﾟ✧ Patreon or  Ko-Fi *:･ﾟ✧

#exophilia #monster lover #monster fucker #orc #exo writing #monster x human #orc x human #exophilia writing #strictly pleasure #jek #heidi #:3c #oh my getting spicy in here

[cervicrazed]

da WHOLE HOG for bambi + whichever of your newer ocs pairs best with her ;]

Hell yeah, let's do it!!

I can already tell this'll be a long one so have a page break to save yourself some dash space

^This is Bambi! ^This is Jak L!

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Bambi -> you actually gave Bambi her name if I remember right!! I think the logic was Wilton Rader (deer motif) + Walt (Disney) = Bambi

It was funny & fit so well that I didn't bother looking for any other names after that

Jak L. -> When I was making her originally all I knew was that I wanted a pitch black head & red eyes - the tall ears were a last minute addition that made her look like Anubis to me so....well, i just couldn't resist the pull of the pun

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

Bambi -> It kinds depends? I jump around her timeline a lot when i draw her so here's a good rule a thumb; if her hair is in pigtails, she's meant to be no older than 10, long ponytail caps at 16, and her shorter, shoulder length cut means she's 17-19

Jak L. -> Around 18 or 19 - a little older than Bambi to up her 'cool factor' in her eyes. They meet during Bambi's first attempt to go to (Human) school

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Bambi -> Crushing hard on Jak but trying to play it cool. She's the poster child for a rebellious teen and Bambi is mesmerized by her confidence and defiance

Jak L. -> Not too keen on relationships after getting cursed by her ex during a messy breakup (she doesn't like to talk about it) Bambi's adoration is not lost on her, but she worries the curse may intervene if she gets too close

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Bambi -> She absolutely loooovees Lake Trout. There's an abundance of them near her childhood home, so her dads cooked it for dinner often. She used to get sick of it but on long trips it's nice to be reminded of home.

Jak L. -> It used to be a lemon butter chicken thighs, but Jak's curse won't let her eat 'anything that bleeds.' She's found Chicken of the Woods to be a decent replacement, but it's just not the same.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

Bambi -> Money isn't really used outside of Human settlements, but Bambi will run errands for her uncle Warren in exchange for magical items she can sell or use. Due to the nature of his work, the 'simple errands' have a habit of becoming day long quests instead.

Jak L. -> Works part time as a babysitter for human/monster couples. Part of this job includes helping deliver the child to the other parent's home, as neither is allowed to live in the other's community. The journey can be dangerous, but she knows the trail like the back of her hand - meaning her fare can cost as much as she likes.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

Bambi -> Loves wrestling and will never say no if challenged. The scruffier the struggle the more fun she has ((she also enjoys a bit of whittling due to her dad's influence but will never admit that to him))

Jak L. -> Secretly enjoys climbing up trees to write poetry. She feels her poems are too soft and melancholic for the mysterious punk rebel persona she's trying to sculpt, so no one's ever read em :(

🎯 -What do they do best?

Bambi -> Despite wrestling being her favorite pastime, Bambi is best at parkour! The Jek taught her how to take advantage of her digitigrade legs to give her a better boost in agility

Jak L. -> Jak is convinced she's the best at everything she does, but her true passion lies in lyrical prose.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Bambi -> Other than wrestling, Bambi loves to fish! She doesn't use a rod or bait, preferring to catch them with her own hands and teeth (not always a successful method, but it's endlessly fun for her)

She hates feeling caged in or restricted, something she and Wilton argue about often.

Jak L. -> Despite how she makes it seem, Jak loves teaching and watching over the children she's put in charge of. She likes giving them the time to explore, vent, and whatever else they want but rarely have the freedom to do.

She hates authority in all it's forms, holding a strong belief that anyone in a position of power will abuse it. It's just a matter of when.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Bambi -> She'd been around 12 years old, on a visit with Wilton into a human settlement so they could sell his carvings. She caught one of the older boys trying to set fire to their stand and tackled him. She walked away with a few scratches while he limped away with a broken nose. Her father was displeased sure, but that was nothing compared to the pride she felt at winning her first brawl.

Jak L. -> A month or two after meeting Bambi, she had introduced her to her uncle; a necromancer. Jak had always wanted to learn magic but had never found a teacher patient enough to show her. It took the whole day to master but the Lich Doctor taught her how to heal minor cuts and scrapes. It may have only been a simple spell but it meant the world to her.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

Bambi -> Wilton had gotten sick and stayed worryingly ill for weeks; it didn't seem like he'd get any better. Bambi offered to get the Lich Doctor to help but he was adamantly against it, resulting in a nasty argument and Bambi leaving anyway. By the time she returned, her dad had already passed. Sure, her uncle assured her that he could reincarnate him, but it didn't change the fact that her last words to him had been "I hate you"

Jak L. -> Jak had hidden herself in her favorite tree, happily writing poems no one would ever see. Her ex didn't like the thought of her keeping secrets from them, leading to a shouting match and a frenzied fight over the pages. Once read, he misinterpreted her poems as an admission to cheating; burning her work and cursing her to never be loved again. She's been looking for a way to break it ever since.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

Bambi -> Not at all really. The only thing left over from her first design is her yellow flannel - it's her signature character color! she looks weird without it now!!

Jak L. -> Yeah, I made Jak in January so there hasn't been a lot of (if any) evolution in her design (yet)

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Bambi -> Originally I wanted to make a non-canon fankid for Wilton & Walt / The Jek to explore what they'd be like as parents. I based her personality off a little girl I saw aggressively splashing in rain puddles and laughing evilly. the rest is history

Jak L. -> Design practice! She wasn't going to be an OC at first, just an exercise in character design but when I finished I liked the potential too much for her to just be a one off.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

Bambi -> YA fantasy but preferably one that has more fucked up freaky little creatures ((like the spiderwick chronicles))

Jak L. -> Whatever genre Rebel Without a Cause was ((add in a fantasy or horror element so she can keep her face))

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Bambi -> Demigirl + Lesbian! ❤️🧡🤍🩷💜

Jak L. -> Transfemme + Bisexual! ❤️💜💙

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

Bambi -> she tried really hard to get her dads to grow a new sibling but Wilton wouldn't have it (Bambi suspects Walt planted one anyway, but has no proof)

Jak L. -> She's unsure if she has any siblings. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn't. Jak doesn't know and doesn't care to find out.

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

Bambi -> Loving but a bit strained. Her parents' over-protectiveness kept her from exploring anything beyond the river mill for years and their secrecy prevented her from learning anything about their pasts. She wishes they'd respect her autonomy and not keep so many secrets from her

Jak L. -> Cold and distant. All she knows about them is that they left her behind and disappeared. She doesn't know if they died, but she wouldn't be upset if they did. As far as she's concerned, her father is the sun and her mother the moon

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Bambi -> all the potential pathways I could take her character! Her storyline isn't set in stone like some of my other OCs so I have a lot of fun putting her in Situations™

Jak L. -> her design for sure. She's incredibly fun to draw, especially her locs & baggy t-shirt

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

Bambi -> Getting back in the habit of drawing her again now that I've gotten over my second-hand embarrassed ab sharing my stuff. I've definitely got more notes about her than I do drawings

Jak L. -> Only very recently started fleshing her out via notes/short stories. It's been fun getting to know what her personality is going to be like

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

Bambi -> I don't think I've ever thought ab killing Bambi off, not even in an angsty one-off. She's got too much of a story to tell to cut it short like that

Jak L. -> kinda? But not really dedicated to it just yet. She's too new for me to want to get rid of so quickly.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Bambi -> She'll claim she doesn't, but she's absolutely Claustrophobic

Jak L. -> Not exactly Pyrophobic since she can be around campfires or a fireplace well enough, but she will refuse to interact with it in any way that doesn't involve putting it out

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

Bambi -> The Big Secret her family has been hiding from her ((she hasn't really met Him yet))

Jak L. -> Jak sees every established institution as her arch nemesis

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

Bambi -> oh man it's been a loongg while....I think since 2017 or 2018? That makes her about 7 or 8 years old....wow...

Jak L. -> Jak is about 4 months old ‼️

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

Bambi -> I was probably 16 or 17 when I first sketched her up

Jak L. -> Can confidently confirm that I was 22 when Jak popped onto my canvas

Phew! You made it to the end! Thanks!

#ask game #deadwood #Bambi Rader #Jak L. #this was fun!!

[ahsokathegray]

I Bleed the Same || Fifteen

Pairing: Rexsoka

Summary: Ahsoka and Rex try and make sense of who and what they are after Order 66 occurs. Figuring out what to do with themselves, they remain together for a period of time before parting in their own directions.

Warnings: slow burn, mentions of Order 66, ptsd, injury, death, and future nsfw situations

Word Count: 3,557

A/N: happy new year! this chapter includes prayer to the Force that I literally made up so be warned if that might cause any triggers

read on ao3! / series masterlist

Ahsoka thought that, somehow, if she refrained from acknowledging it or speaking about their deaths out loud, that it would cease to be true. But the truth was that they had died. They were gone, along with everything and most everyone she’d ever known. Rex stood in front of her, continuing to mull over what she’d just told him. He had known about Anakin and Padmé just as she had. 

How he knew exactly was yet to be revealed to her, but then again, any being with eyes could see that there was something between them. Kriff, any being without eyes could probably put two and two together. 

She placed the pain in a bottle and shoved it to the far reaches of her mind. Amongst everything that has happened, that was the most tragic, the most devastating pill to swallow. 

Shaeeah and Jek squealed nearby, drawing enthusiastic noises from her banged-up droid as he continued to wheel over the grass, flattening the green blades as he chased them in circles. She could easily drown in their laughter, put herself in some muddy Lawquane boots and assume a life that wasn’t her own, if all it meant was that she could forget. But the laughter stopped, the sun rose higher, and several voices called out to them, announcing from around the house that breakfast was being served. 

Rex waited for her to make the first step, wanting to make sure she was okay before surrounding themselves with people again. He looked down, watching as her thumb swiped across her arm in a back and forth soothing motion. There was some hesitation in her expression, but Ahsoka drew a shaky breath and did her best to do what Rex had done just earlier. She was a hollow shell, encasing the shards of her former identity within, but appearing as such was not an option. Their hosts were gracious, but she refused to be a burden, refused to weigh them down with such despair. The Lawquanes hadn’t asked them to come here, she and Rex had just happened on their doorstep. 

They made their way around the small home with reluctance, Rex staying close on her heels. He realized that, despite not being in a war zone, he was watching her six anyway. Old habits do die hard. If she broke, he vowed to be there to catch the pieces. He’d made note of several animals making noises around them during their time outside, ears perking at each different one. Most were small, a few more were larger. The Captain paid attention to the changes in tone, if it echoed, or if it stopped short. 

R7 chirped at their return and Suu beamed at them. The kind woman brushed away a spot of dirt from her son’s nose and proceeded to fix beverages. Cut was pouring something into a series of bowls, a colorful apron hanging around him loosely, small painted handprints decorating the hem. 

Suu held a drinking glass in her hand and addressed them, “What would you two like to drink?”

Ahsoka looked over her shoulder at Rex, who had yet again donned his convincing facade, and he asked what they had to offer. Cut served something wrapped to his children and responded before his wife could speak, “Suu makes a mean meiloorun juice, the kids can’t get enough of it. But we also have water, green milk, and Rex, we do have some Tihaar if you’re interested.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” Rex laughed at his brother’s joke, “It’s pretty early. Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer later. Water will do just fine for now, Suu.”

“The same for me as well, please,” Ahsoka responded, to which the woman smiled appreciatively, pouring both of their drinks and setting them at the table. They approached where Suu had placed their beverages, indicating to them which seats were theirs to take. Rex hesitated, wondering if it was considered polite household manners to pull Ahsoka’s chair out for her. 

She beat him to the action before he could decide if he needed to and took his seat next to her. Cut’s kids were fidgeting relentlessly in their chairs, with Jek attempting to steal a bite from, what they learned was, his nexu wrap. Cut gave the boy a glaring eye that only a parent could produce and Jek snatched his hand back into his lap. Two bowls of nine-egg stew were placed in front of them and Ahsoka’s face lit up, making a move for her utensil. Suu and Cut joined them at the table and the children reached for their hands, taking them in their own, smaller ones. Their parents followed the action, then holding their free hands out for Rex and Ahsoka to take. 

Hesitantly, Rex took his brother’s hand and Ahsoka took Suu’s. This hadn’t been a part of the last meal he’d had with the Lawquane family.

“Do either of you participate in prayer?” Suu asked softly. They lightly shook their heads no. The woman smiled despite their answer, looking to her husband and then back to the strays in front of them, “That’s alright. The Ashla considers us all as her children.”

The family then closed their eyes and bowed their heads. Rex glanced to where Ahsoka sat next to him. The corners of her lips twitched and she held her hand out between them, offering it for him to take. He should’ve closed his eyes, followed their adopted customs out of respect, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from Ahsoka. Her eyes swam with precariousness, looking to him for answers. Rex didn’t have any to give her. She then closed her eyes, following the lead of their hosts, and bowed her head. Rex couldn’t help but gaze at her in awe, developing a deep appreciation for how her lashes kissed the tops of her cheeks.

Suu led the prayer, “Almighty Ashla, we thank you for our many blessings. We ask that you bless this meal as you have blessed this family. We are your selfless servants and ask that you help us to embody your peace as we walk and till the dirt. Help our friends to find balance in these uncertain times and direct them back to the calmness of their centers. Thank you for protecting them and allowing them to share this meal with us today.”

Rex couldn’t find it in him to hang onto the words of Suu’s prayer, his undivided attention set solely on the Togruta next to him, gently holding onto his hand, an orange thumb pressing into his knuckles from under the gauntlet. He stole this moment for himself, not interested in giving it to the Ashla. He noted how Ahsoka’s full lips parted slightly, moving with each passing of breath. Her irises moved under her closed lids, unfocused but participating anyway. The two lekku that rested on her chest rose and fell evenly as a calmness washed over her. He imagined that Force users had a connection to this kind of thing that he nor the Lawquanes would ever know.

He should’ve died, but she saved him. He shouldn’t have been alive to continue witnessing her grace, but she deemed him somehow worthy in sharing her breath. 

The Twi’lek continued, “Thank you for keeping this family under your watchful eye. We humbly ask for your knowledge to navigate the uncharted territory of this emerging threat calling itself the Empire. Above all else, we ask you to remind us this: I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.”

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me,” everyone but Rex and Ahsoka repeated in unison. 

Ahsoka gave an obligatory smile to the family when the prayer closed and eyes were reopened. The last part sounded familiar to him. Rex tore his fixed gaze from her and back to his bowl. Ahsoka picked up her utensil once more, realizing that she hadn’t had a warm meal since… She didn’t even know when. Rex’s last warm meal had been even further back, relying mostly on the flavorless ration bars of the Republic. Cut had prepared nine-egg stew for breakfast, a favorite of Ahsoka’s from the time she was just a youngling. It was an ancient Jedi dish, passing through generations and trickling into the homes of regular people just as the religion of the Force had done. 

Perhaps the Ashla was delivering her some blessings after all. Ahsoka paced herself, her hunger returning in full force after nearly a week of absence. Grief and ration bars had a funny way of making one forget the comfort that a warm meal could bring. The Captain ate slowly next to her, but she knew if it was just the two of them that they’d both have been finished by now, pouring seconds into their empty bowls. 

A tinge of hope had gathered within her during the prayer. It hadn’t been for herself, but for the Lawquane family, for other families out there just like them. For the first time in days, she’d felt the light of the Force within her veins again, surging before it dissipated altogether. Ahsoka had distanced herself from it. With Suu praying and her own hand wrapped in the heat of Rex’s, his eyes not leaving her once, she almost welcomed it back. It was freeing, but her doubt and mistrust bit it off before it could fool her again, lure her in with its tempting, but false sense of security. 

Shaeeah and Jek finished first, wanting nothing more than to hurry up and continue playing with their new friend. R7 rocked back and forth on the doorstep, beeping at them as they ran past him and back into the yard. Cut laughed as they took off and turned his attention to Rex, a scrupulous observation in his eyes, “What happened to your pauldron? Another droid take the infamously feared Captain Rex down?”

Rex swallowed and glanced down, “Yeah, infamous to the clankers. But no… Not this time. This one I got from a shiny, believe it or not. Only got me because Ahsoka and I were under such heavy fire.”

It was unrelenting, hate-fueled fire, meant to kill with no remorse or guilt when the job was done. 

“Order 66?” Cut clarified, chewing. 

“Yeah… We were lucky to get away with our lives. The both of us should have died.”

“I’m sorry,” Cut amended, “I won’t ask you to talk about it. That hole there just reminds me of the one that brought you to us the first time — near about the same place too, the same piece just about — it was gonna leave you with one nasty scar if I remember.”

“Yeah, the irony there wasn’t lost on me,” Rex cracked a grin, “My patch job isn’t pretty but it works for now.”

“Let’s say we get you into the barn again when you finish up. I’ve got something in there that will have this lookin’ brand new.”

Ahsoka sat confused, “I didn’t know that, Rex.” He had gotten shot down by a droid? Leaving him with a decent enough scar to show for it? She bit her cheek, moving her spoon around in the empty bowl. He’d been injured when he’d happened upon Cut and his family. She supposed that near scrapes with death caused one to have a heightened sense of clarity. Perhaps that’s why he never turned his brother over as a deserter.

Suu cleared her throat, “Now that the kids are gone… I’m afraid I have to tell the two of you some unfortunate news. There was a body in the market this morning… The kids didn’t see. A squad of clones were escorting the gurney onto a ship.” Cut held his wife’s hand as she spoke the words, having heard the news when she’d first arrived back at the house. She kept on, “The Ashla sent you to us at the exact right time. Everything you’ve told us confirms what I saw. I believe the body was that of a Jedi.”

Rex sighed defeatedly, “There’s a storm headed for us all, and it’s not just gonna stop at Saleucami. It’s coming for the entire galaxy. This whole thing was designed — calculated — by a Sith Lord. There’s not going to be anything slow or merciful about it. You need to get off-world sooner rather than later.”

Ahsoka felt small. They weren’t safe here. Saleucami was supposed to be a haven, even if it was a temporary one. She supposed those undisturbed corners of the universe would now all have their peace interrupted. 

The Jedi that died here had either escaped the initial barrage of blaster bolts, or fell during and the body was only now being recovered. Either way, another Jedi had joined the growing list of the executed. 

“I’m afraid we’ll have no other choice,” Cut responded, pursing his lips before standing, “Let’s give that poor patch job a proper fix, brother.”

Rex stood to join him and pushed his chair in, following the man outside to the barn. 

Suu winked at Ahsoka and picked up her bowl, “Give me a hand?”

“Of course,” Ahsoka replied, gathering her and Rex’s bowls and walking to the sink, watching as the two men crossed the wide yard. The bowls were rinsed, as well as the plates the children ate off of. Ahsoka dried her bowl with a towel, looking out of the viewport at the world around her. A wake of native buzzards flew overhead, signaling that something had recently passed on nearby. Death was all around as it always was, happening everywhere, everyday. Growing up, she used to think that creatures who feasted on the dead were something of a bad omen, but Master Plo had taught her otherwise. 

The observant woman next to her placed a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder, “He’s alright. My husband’s just trying to get his mind off of all that has occurred.”

The Togruta relaxed at the older woman’s touch, “It’s just… We haven’t been apart since everything happened. I was resting the only times he’s gone off and he waited for me while I paid my respects to a friend… but now it just feels…”

“Wrong?” Suu asked. 

Ahsoka nodded, eyes fixed on her Captain as he disappeared inside the barn. Her eyes caught the image on the datapad lying on the counter, with an article still pulled up. The last thing Cut had been reading showed the Jedi Temple, a large trail of thick black smoke billowing from it. 

~~~

The barn door creaked open. It had, no doubt, seen better days. Cut shooed the eopies out from inside the rickety walls, releasing them from their pens and into the open. Morning light flooded into the old barn and Rex followed his brother inside. He took it all in, finding where the boys laid him down to tend his wounds all those years ago, “It looks just how I remember it.”

“Well, what’d you expect?” Cut laughed, propping the barn door open. 

Rex pressed his lips into a thin line and unclipped his pauldron, shrugging out of the bulky piece of armor. He turned it over in gloved hands, inspecting his work once more in different lighting. Cut outstretched his hand and Rex gave the piece over to him. His brother inspected it as well, feeling around at the patch job. “You just did this,” he observed. 

“I did. Needed something to keep my hands busy,” Rex admitted. 

Cut shot his brother a smirk, humming in response and taking the damaged armor to his work bench. An overhead setla lamp was switched on to shine more light on the area. “Right,” he responded, reaching for the appropriate tools, “And your Jedi, you two go way back… Through the whole war, huh?”

“She’s not exactly a Jedi anymore, though the men didn’t see it that way either. But no, Ahsoka wasn’t there from the start. Though, she was my Commander through the majority of the war,” Rex provided, looking over Cut’s shoulder as he began making repairs. 

“Last I checked…” Cut began, scrubbing the area of blaster burns, “Troopers aren’t supposed to look at their CO’s that way.”

The rigidity in Rex’s already-perfect posture increased, his blood running hot. He stammered defensively, “Now Cut, I—”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her… just as I saw the way you looked at my family on your last visit. Call it a gift. Tell me Rex, did you heed my words and start to consider your life outside of the war? A present where you were free to choose the life you wanted. Perhaps a present where she wasn’t your CO, wasn’t a Jedi, wasn’t something you couldn’t have? Now that the war’s over, you don’t really have a choice but to face the fact that all those little things that were once some intangible fantasy have now all become a very possible reality. Don’t you want something more?”

Rex’s brows pinched together, eyes frantically searching his brother’s knowing expression. He shook his head anyway, denying the accusations, “No. You’re wrong. I would never betray my Commander like that.”

Ahsoka wasn’t something to be had. 

Cut laughed and continued with his handiwork, smoothing where the blaster bolt had exited, “Am I? Looks to me like I got in your head last time around. Think about it, a life like this, you and her calling a real place home, choosing not to fight for once in your life. Come with us when we leave.”

Rex chewed on his brother’s words. In truth, he had thought of it. Both then and now, he’d imagined what his life would be like when the war finally ended — what he would’ve chosen had the opportunity been given to him. The evil he couldn’t well imagine had revealed itself, now completely and inescapably imaginable. A few years ago, he had still believed in fighting for the cause that he was bred for. He had still considered his role one of importance, part of a greater force for good, part of the most pivotal moment in the history of the Republic. After Ahsoka left… that had all ceased to be relevant. There was no longer anything simple about it, his reason for fighting was gone, slipping quietly through his fingers before he knew she was gone.

He thought back to how he had tried to deny any thoughts on assigned numbers and chosen names to Cut, how his brother hadn’t bought a word of it. I’m as close to you as any lifeform can be. Cut saw through him then, and still did now, as he attempted to deny wanting a life with the young woman who used to be his Commander. 

“I can practically hear those gears turning,” Cut teased, turning back to Rex’s pauldron. 

Rex was dumbfounded, flayed, exposed to the emotion he so desperately tried to conceal. If Cut could see it, could she? He exhaled in annoyance, setting his jaw. For a moment longer, he indulged in Cut’s painted picture. He imagined giving in to his basest need for her, confessing the words that he shouldn’t, making himself more vulnerable to her than he had aboard the Tribunal, holding her in his arms when he wanted, taking her lips in his. Rex pictured them in a homestead, making nine-egg stew, tending the crops, caring for eopies, caring for children, sleeping in the same bed… Not fighting the fight. 

He couldn’t do that, couldn’t have that, even if the war had ended. He was still a clone, a deserter now himself. He was a threat to the Empire as much as the Empire was a threat to him. Sitting idly by was never going to be an option, having what Cut had was never in his cards. Ahsoka would always be an ex-Jedi, the target on her back just as big as the one on his. 

It was a nice image, in truth, but it was never a possibility. They would never reach a nirvana of this degree. The Lawquanes, as untouched as they were, would still have to relocate again and again to maintain their safety from the tyranny of the government. He wondered if it had been like this the whole time, civilians fleeing their homes in attempts to escape the  Republic and the Confederacy alike — seeking to sleep in a bed somewhere that didn’t have the sound blasters firing outside their homes. 

The image of Ahsoka sharing his bed was shoved away, bringing him back to reality. 

“Here you go,” Cut finished, handing him back the repaired piece of armor, “Good as new.”

Rex admired his brother’s craftsmanship, “Can’t even tell the rakeweed got me. Thanks. I owe you one, Cut.” He clipped the piece back into place and rolled his arm to make sure it sat properly. 

Cut wiped his hands on the leg of his pants, stored away his tools and switched the light back off. He clapped Rex’s shoulder, “Consider us even… So long as you take my advice. If you’re gonna continue denying it, at least try to make it more convincing. Your eyes are what give you away.”

The Captain scowled and felt his eyes roll, no doubt a bad habit he’d picked up from Ahsoka. 

#rexsoka #rexsoka fic #my fic #i bleed the same #ahsokathegray

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Notes:

Happy holidays, guys. Cheers to the new years!

Chapter 19: Christmas Feast

Chapter Text

{Cielle's POV}

"Young mistress, it is time to wake up."

I didn't come out of my warm covers. It felt safe here, still. Like the quiet after a storm.

"Your tea," said Sebastian, his voice polite and curt.

"Why are you here?" I slunk deeper into the soft, eider-down quilt. "You're not supposed to be serving me as butler here. Don't you have a class or something?"

"Not on a weekend. Patience, and I will take my leave." A clink of china on the night stand. "If you prefer the dining hall's preparations, do help yourself, mistress. I shan't complain if there is one less task on my plate."

I sat upright, forcing myself to meet those inscrutable eyes. I didn't understand it. How effortlessly he could pretend that, that, never happened? Two could play at that.

"Draw me a bath."

"Certainly."

I narrowed my eyes as he strode to the armoire and selected my attire in seconds. Then he prepared the hip bath, scented the water with drops of lavender, and laid the clothing and towel on a stool. His movements were brisk. More precise than ever. After placing the tall oriental screen in the bathing nook, he gestured to the private corner. Oh, back to being the proper butler now, are we?

"Will that be all?" he inquired as I undressed behind the screen.

"No. Stay there."

Under the screen, the black toed heels didn't move, only stood by silently. Waiting.

I sunk into the water, unable to formulate a proper response. I couldn't let him just leave after what had occurred. Not without a punishment or reprimand.

Settling on my revenge, I rose from the bath and wrapped a towel around me. Inflicting pain or corporeal retribution would not work on the beast. No, the worst punishment was making his so called aesthetics crumble before his own eyes.

"Sebastian, come here."

"Young mistress, while it has been customary for Mey-Rin to assist during bathing, I should think it is entirely inappropriate for a lady's butler to resume those responsibilities."

Is that how you're going to play it? Through the dressing screen, I narrowed my eyes at the loathsome creature. "You need not keep up pretences, Sebastian. Especially with me. Come here already."

He did as told, long-lashed eyes not leaving my face.

"Hand me my shift."

The butler reached for the undergarment, gaze on the floor. He couldn't keep his eyes averted forever. The towel dropped where he had been staring. His mouth tightened. I slipped into the shift, making sure my bare ankles remained in his view.

"Stockings, Sebastian." He handed me the pair, but I didn't take them. "They won't put themselves on."

Carnelian eyes sharpened. With professional indifference, he cupped my calf as I rested my leg on his kneeling thigh. His warm fingers slid upwards, inch by inch. My leg tingled, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine and lower. His hands paused.

"What?" I asked.

"You are still menstruating."

My cheeks warmed as a pink drop rolled down my thigh. "I... thought it was over. Must be the damn stress."

"Allow me." His tone was light, but his eyes were dark, flickering. He made a motion to reach for a towel and stopped. Instead, came a gloved finger. Pressed against my trembling thighs. Heat rose to my face. "Don't—"

He traced a finger along my inner thigh, the drop staining the gloved tip pink. "There is another here." His hand wandered upward, under my shift.

"What the hell are you—"

"You know perfectly well, don't you?" His grip on my thigh tightened; sharp talon-like nails pressed against my damp skin.

"Young mistress," he rasped, "you cannot bait me with these games and expect me to not bite." The sinful mouth came between my legs. Stirring, searing. No, not that. He wouldn't dare.

He licked a droplet of blood, and a hungry shudder escaped him. His serpentine tongue lapped at my skin. A sinister sound reverberated from his throat. Primal, raw, obscene. The once prim butler was unraveling before me. Like Jekyll into Hyde. Day into night. Quickly transforming into someone—something else entirely. Fear flared in me along a stirring far from decent. That I could shake his composure... to affect him at his core, I shivered.

"Mm." Sebastian sucked a patch of skin, then harder. "To come for more, fully knowing the consequences... how I could break you like a china doll." The room quaked with the beast's voice. "You are far more twisted than I thought, mistress."

"I... didn't ask for, I didn't want—"

"I'm certain," came the mocking voice.

Fangs broke the skin, singeing every thought to oblivion. I drew in a gasp of pain. He ran his tongue along my inner thigh, licking the wound. Pushing up my shift. Travelling upwards.

"Sebas...ung—" I fisted his hair with both hands. If he did anything now, I wouldn't deny him. If he were to keep going, if he were to pin me underneath him, bare and spread wide—

"No." His voice rumbled like thunder. "This, this, cannot continue." Sebastian released me roughly, eyes burning liquid crimson. His mouth parted to reveal sharp, elongated canines. "To play with hell-fire is a dangerous game. A game you do not wish to be playing. For your own well-being."

I licked my lips, waiting in silence. For what, I didn't know. The air between us crackled with tension.

Sebastian dropped his hands to his sides, making an effort to slow his breathing. "I propose we keep a distance until this anomaly subsides," he said at last. "Any services relating to the carnal variety must cease temporarily." His voice dipped an octave. "Regrettably, until then you must take matters into your hand."

My cheeks burned at his insinuation. "Watch your insolence. Do whatever it takes to regain your control—that's an order."

"An order won't be necessary," the butler replied tersely as he shut the door behind him without my dismissal.

Once the footsteps had faded, I wrapped my arms around myself and shuddered out a breath. My eyes stung, betraying me, and I tasted hot, salty drops on my mouth. This wouldn't do.

I wiped my face, straightened my shoulders, and headed to Jane's.

A warm breath stirred the nape of my neck, lingering.

“Kindly refrain from moving around, Miss Phantomhive. Things will go much smoother that way.”

"I-It's tight," I said breathily.

"Well, what would you expect?" Jane Greyling's voice danced with mischief.

"You're too slow." My muscles clenched under Jane's ministrations. "Why do I feel as though, ah... you're thoroughly enjoying this?"

"It looks like I've been caught," she whispered as her hands moved at an unbearable pace.

"Could you... go faster? Please."

"How polite of you, Cielle." A soft grunt slipped her. "If you would stop squirming, I may entertain your request."

"Fine, but hurry up—" I gasped when a sharp tug came around my waist. Trying my hardest not to flinch, I gripped the four poster's frame with both hands.

"Almost there," Jane murmured behind my shoulder, and a shiver crawled over me. "A bit more, and I'll finish soon."

I squeezed my eyes as her fingers, firm and warm, continued to work over me. My back arched, becoming more rigid by the second.

"There," Jane said at last, with one more forceful tug of the corset. "All done."

“I suppose this is what they mean when they say beauty is pain,” I mumbled as I gazed down at the tight fitting shape-wear over my petticoat.

"Do you need help with your gown or the rest of your toilette?"

"I think I can manage from here." I regarded Jane's ensemble. Her gown was fashioned of satin. A high-waisted chemise in a sea-green watered silk that matched her eyes; a beautiful amethyst necklace resembling Nyx's jewels graced her neck. Soft full lips reddened with—

"And the face?"

I cleared my throat. "Pardon?"

Jane pointed to her face, which as usual, contained an assortment of cosmetics. "You aren't going bare-faced, are you? Not that you need enhancers of course, but... I'd love to bring out the colour of your eyes even more." Her gaze lingered on them.

"Please feel free to add whatever finishing touches you see fit."

"Oh, lovely. Come here, won't you?" I seated myself at the dressing table. Jane reached for a silver brush and combed my tresses. I had to admit she played lady's maid well, artfully arranging locks of hair and pinning a glittering blue crystal into the side of my coiffure. Then she rummaged through a considerably sized bag of cosmetics and retrieved various glass jars. "Lavender lotion first. Then a light dusting of face powder and castor oil to darken the lashes."

"You seem rather versed in this, Jane...though I don't see why you ought to be."

Her lips twitched. "I appreciate the compliment, but the reason you think so is because I use such products daily."

"Agree to disagree." It was true, I had never seen Jane bare-faced, but I had little doubt she looked handsome with or without enhancers.

Jane laughed lightly, a tinkering cadence, and reached for the lotion. I closed my eyes, feeling her gentle, lingering touches on my skin. How long had it been since someone had touched me in that manner? Certainly, not like that beast of a butler. Not with hunger. Not with unbridled intensity. Not like how I wanted.

Or perhaps I spoke too soon. Jane reached for a golden tin with pink rosettes.

"For the lips." She dipped her finger into the rich colour until the tip looked covered in crushed berries. As she rubbed the pigment over my lips, I stared at Jane's own ruby stained ones. I wondered if they felt as soft as they looked. Like rose petals.

Her eyes, now dark and languid pools, latched on my mouth. Slowly, she trailed her finger along my lips. I parted them. An unsteady breath escaped me. Her gaze drifted up, locking with mine, a question burning in them. Perhaps my eyes conveyed the answer she needed because the girl leaned in. Heat simmered inside me. The girl kissed me with her eyes first; our noses touched. Her hot breath met my cupid's bow.

As I closed my eyes, glowing carnelian ones pierced my mind. I jerked, my eyes snapping open. Jane stilled. She regarded me with fervid expression, searching my face. Perhaps she sensed what I could not put into words for she withdrew, quiet.

Hooded eyes still locked on me, she placed her finger on her lips and stroked them with the remaining carmine stain. "Well, the night is still young," she murmured.

Her meaning, so unmistakeable, made my cheeks warm. "Indeed..." was all I could manage.

The corner's of her eyes crinkled. "Once you are changed, come to my quarters. It shall be my utmost pleasure to accompany such a pretty girl to the ball." She bowed exaggeratedly like a gentleman and though the gesture was meant to be playful, it hardly felt like a jest.

"There is no one else I'd rather be escorted by," I said through a tight smile. Those infuriating eyes flickered again. "However, I'm supposed to meet the headmaster briefly before. I am helping sign in names in the guestbook."

Her lips twitched with intrigue. "Are you now? How altruistic of you."

"Shall I meet you inside later, Jane?"

"I should like that very much, Cielle." A slow-blooming smile spread across her lips as she rose from her seat. "I can't wait to see you in your gown. I am sure all the dandies will wish to dance with a pretty thing like you."

"How lucky I must be."

Jane tittered. "Do not worry, I shall make sure they do not bother you. I'll write down my name on all the dance cards if I have to."

I smiled feebly as Jane closed the door behind her. Better a dance with her than—I clenched my fist. The mere thought of him made my stomach roil, yet I couldn't stop replaying the scene. I changed into the gown for the soiree. Scrambled against the headboard; tendrils slithering under my nightgown. I snatched the blue ring from under the rug. The beast licking its lips, eager to devour its prey.

My gaze fixated on the mirror, the same mirror which I had bared myself to him. Bared my inners demons. Bordel de merde, the irony.

I tried to wash the obscene image away. My legs splayed wide under the beast's terrible gaze, those sinful fingers inside—

I concentrated on my reflection instead. A silk gown the colour of peonies with gold embroidery, gossamer ribbons under a small bust, Japanese sea pearls at my neck, jewels pinned into my soft curls. I added the finishing touches. Delicate elbow length champagne gloves and then the star of the show—the Stone of Lethe. Only a few seconds of staring at it, and the familiar dizziness crept upon me. I shook myself.

Glancing at my image, I looked perfectly prim and proper. No one would suspect that the Lady Phantomhive had gasped like a fuckstress, pleasured by her servant. I tore my gaze from the mirror.

I was nearly about to leave my quarters when I stilled. A nagging feeling crept through me as though I had forgotten something important. My gaze swept over my room—ah, there. Kicking the empty bottle of pepper powder on the floor, I reached for the pink parasol under my desk. Now I was ready.

"There you are," said the headmaster.

"Delightful to see you as always, Commissioner."

Delacourt scowled. "The masks are inside, and only the faculty chaperones arrived so far."

"Excellent."

"I presume you'll take over the guest list from here," he said, handing me the guestbook. I glanced at the page, and my nerves caught. Professor Sinclair.

"You're certain the cad who abducted my daughter will show up?" said Delacourt.

"The demand for certainty is an intellectual vice. However," I replied quietly, "I have more evidence that he will make an appearance tonight, than not."

"And then what will you do?" Behind his glasses, his sapphire eyes glinted like flickering embers.

"I will handle it."

"Ah, Lord Randall Delacourt, what a charming masquerade," a nauseatingly familiar voice trilled behind us.

I blanched. No, no, no.

Viscount Druitt's gaze fell on me and he beamed. "And Lady Phantomhive, a delight to see you again! Why, I haven't seen you in ages."

Delacourt cleared his throat. "Well, I shall let you two get reacquainted. Don't want to be a bother. If you'll excuse me..."

The man managed his escape well from the viscount. I wished I could say the same.

Eyes heavy-lidded, a hand to his head, Viscount Druitt struck a ridiculous pose. "My little seraphim, how resplendent you look in that gown. A lovely creature without a hint of artifice—an angel fallen from the heavens."

I gave him my most charming smile and curtsied. "Let us not forget Satan fell from heaven."

Druitt blinked, then barked with laughter. "None of the young ladies I dance with tonight shall have an ounce of humour as you. I take it you'll save me a dance?" He looked at me in expectation.

"If I am not already claimed by the dance cards." Not a chance in hell.

"Even if you are," he said, suddenly leaning close, "I don't see why you can't break decorum and have a go with me. As we are both members of the peerage, I think you’ll find me an exceptional asset.” His fingers skittered down my waist.

“Off by two letters,” I said under my breath.

“Pardon?”

“It’s nothing.” Subtly, I freed myself from his grubby fingers.

The rake tried again. He pointed at the mistletoe above us.

I sweetly smiled and inwardly shuddered. “I'm afraid my kisses are not compelled by parasitic plants, my lord. Most mistletoe is spread through bird fecal matter. Hardly romantic I'm sure you will agree. If you’ll excuse me.” This time, the insufferable fool did not prevent me from leaving.

I sighed and positioned myself in front of the entrance to the ball. A small line started to form. It was still early. One by one, I forced a smile at the guests and wrote their names into the guestbook. Under the guise of demure smiles, cordial pleasantries, and small talk, I scrutinized each guest in line. Half an hour lapsed, and I had scribbled down thirty names. No sign of the cipherist. What if the message I'd decoded was all just a ruse?

"Cielle?"

I glanced up from the guestbook. "Edward."

The young man removed his top hat to reveal half-combed hair. Dark circles framed his eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept in ages, but sleep-deprived as he looked, he wore an expression of determination.

"Got your letter." His fingers dug into the top hat. "Wish I was meeting you under different circumstances."

"Likewise."

"She'll turn up, won't she?" Edward's voice cracked.

"I'll find Lizzie. I'll bring her back, I swear it."

Edward inhaled a deep breath. "I believe you... I have to, don't I?" A hollow laugh, and he turned away from me. "Better start patrolling the grounds outside."

"You recall the culprit's appearance from my letter?"

"Tall, green-eyed fellow with flaxen hair." He grimaced. "For a moment, I thought you might be insinuating I had kidnapped my own sister."

"You're not that tall."

Edward looked affronted. "I'll keep my eyes out. Tell me if you see anything." He threw me a resigned smile over his shoulder. "I regret I won't be able to escort my fiancée to the ball. You look lovely tonight, Cielle."

"Edward, perhaps later we can—"

"Doesn't she?" came a voice.

Jane Greyling made her way towards us. The girl looked like an iris in full bloom, her pearlescent skin glowing under the lights.

"Fashionably late, I know." Jane turned from me to Edward. "And you are?"

"This is my, er, fiancé. Lord Edward Midford. Edward, this is Miss Jane Greyling. She's helping with the case."

"A pleasure," Jane said after a moment. "I was not aware you were engaged, Cielle." The corners of her lips crinkled though the shadow of smile did not reach her eyes. "I assure you, your fiancée is in good company. Well, then, shall we go in together, Cielle?"

Side by side, we walked through the entrance of the music hall, and I found myself stepping into another world altogether. My eyes flooded with beauty. The interior was swathed in darkness. Floors and walls draped like the night sky, and lush midnight blue everywhere. Masks of all shapes and ethnic formal wear surrounded me. Intricately embroidered saris, kimonos the colors of koi fish, silken hajibs, and gowns of satin, velvet, moire, poplin and lace rustled all around. Sparkling lights glittered everywhere: on dusky canopies, lush drapes, tapestries.

"It's all rather beautiful," I said.

"Indeed." Jane's gaze settled on me. "It is the perfect setting for you."

"Your praise is too much." Suddenly self-conscious, I gestured to a table with the masks. "I hope the good ones aren't taken."

We joined a small gathering trying on and choosing their masks for the night. Angelica, a nightmare dressed in pretty bows and ribbons, gestured to a small mask with gray feathers. "It's a shame that she's not in attendance. The ugly duckling mask could not find a better wearer."

I sidled up beside her and picked a mask with dark lace, the edges like the wings of a midnight swan. "If Sullivan is the duckling-turned-swan, what storybook character are you? The evil hag from snow white or a hideous stepsister?"

Angelica glared. "Takes one to know one."

I lifted my chin. “You have the maturity of a fourteen-year-old boy.”

“And you have the chest of one.”

This time, I flinched. “At least I am considerate enough that no one has to witness a gelatinous buttocks sway when I dance."

"Why you—"

Joanna, dressed like a moon-like princess, ignored our sparring match. Absent-mindedly, she walked between us and reached for a dainty mask with white gauze matching her gown. Even the mask couldn't conceal her glossy, pink rimmed eyes.

"Please you two." Jane returned, wearing an exotic peacock mask. "I know you could care a fig for what I have to say, Angelica, but the less time you spend arguing, the more time you could spend catching the eye of an Eton chap—or better. Professor Sinclair."

A tinge of pink stained Angelica's cheeks, and she stormed past me. To where Sebastian was chaperoning.

The severe black and white suit stood out starkly against the colors of the ballroom, highlighting his dark hair and eyes. Even without his icy silver mask, I'd know those eyes anywhere.

Sebastian caught my gaze. His long-lashed eyes briefly traveled down the length of my gown before returning to my face.

Jane blocked my view and pointed to the refreshment table behind us. "Are you hungry?"

"Ravenous."

The girl took me by the hand, and I snuck her a side-long glance. "Did you just bribe me with sweets and Angelica with men?"

"It worked, didn't it?" Jane scooped a pastry onto a tiny plate and her eyes rolled into her head. "Petit four, my favorite."

I kept my eyes opened for any sign of the cipherist while making conversation with Jane. A choir of girls sang christmas carols in the background. Their voices, pretty and angelic, lifted high, then dipped low, sending notes flowing about the hall. Ave Maria, Carol of the Bells, and then, ironically, The Twelve Days of Christmas.

We sampled jellies, and Jane pointed out chaps who snuck peeks through young ladies' bodices, and bustles that emphasized certain derrieres in the most awful way. Midway of a laugh, Jane clutched her stomach. "Oh dear, I hope it wasn't the pastry." She forced a smile. "Will you excuse me?"

I nodded, and the girl made a beeline for the powder room. When the door behind her closed, I sighed. Well, that was opportune. At least now I could investigate more freely.

"If I may have everyone's attention," said Delacourt. "It is my great pleasure to host Imperial Academy's first ever Christmas ball. Once you are all watered and fed at our most exquisite banquet, we shall proceed to the masquerade ball. On behalf of the academy, I hope this shall be an unforgettable night."

A round of claps erupted. If only the man knew how unforgettable it might be...

I followed the crowd to the banquet table. It had an assortment of decadent entrees with cards next to them that listed the name of the dish along with the country of origin. The elaborate buffet looked vaguely familiar. White peaches soaked in rose-water syrup, stuffed mushrooms, a nice large Christmas turkey, mushroom wellington, chocolate yule log soaked in rum, Yorkshire pudding, milk punch. And more ethnic dishes I had never heard of before. I read the tags. Colombian natilla, Swedish lussekatter, St. Lucia Buns with saffron, pasteles de hojas, Finnish karelian pasty, German Christstollen, Allahabadi cake, kheer, ratatouille, Christmas pavlova with Chantilly cream... My hunger stirred.

"Well, well," said a woman that looked uncannily to Delacourt. She must've been the sister then—the headmistress of Eton. "I'm surprised you managed all this, Randall."

The headmaster cleared his throat. "I did have a little help from one of our new faculty members." He gestured to Sebastian who looked positively smug. The demon's ego was something else. I gazed at the line of food, and something inside me shrank. Suddenly, the exquisite dishes he prepared on my birthday no longer seemed special.

"Perhaps we can fashion the students into a line." Without waiting for Delacourt's affirmation, the headmistress clapped her hands. "Single file, everyone. Please take your meal and be seated at the dining tables. If you hold up the line, you shall be out of the line."

We did as told. Upon returning, I spied small cards on the table, neatly placed near the cutlery, along with milk punch at each seat. Alice bumped into the table, knocking the name cards. She quickly arranged them back and stole a glance to see if anyone had witnessed her ungainliness. She seemed to think not and took her seat. Sipping her milk punch with her pinky extended.

Rolling my eyes, I looked for my name. And froze. Oh, no.

As though universe had conspired against me, I found my name tag wedged between Alice and Sebastian's. My mood soured.

I caught Sebastian's gaze. He wrinkled his nose, one brow furrowed. I clenched my hand. Did the odious thing have to make a face about it?

"A hundred seats, and I'm seated beside you. This must be a joke." I took my seat and sipped the punch. The subordinate drink was not enough to dull my senses.

"My sentiments as well. Truthfully, this seating arrangement leaves much to be desired. If I didn't have to play by the rules of etiquette, I would likely request another seat."

I flinched at his words. The truth. He could not lie after all. The demon's bluntness sobered and enraged me all at once.

"I hate you," I said, with feeling. "I hate you so much, you thing."

"Oh?" he whispered back. "That wasn't your tune last night, young mistress."

My ears felt hot. I hissed through a smile, "Shut up, shut up, shut up—" A sharp force on my foot.

Sebastian smiled cheerfully. "My apologies. I was trying to reach the milk punch."

Without thinking, I reached for him under the table. A hard grip on his thigh.

His eyes flared at me. Dangerous, glinting.

I couldn't believe I was doing this, here. My fingers pressed harder. Travelling upwards. Finding the soft warmth tucked against his thigh. I cupped it.

Sharply, the demon raised a wine glass to his lips and took a deep sip. Was the gesture meant to conceal a steadying breath? The thought satisfied me.

When Sebastian lowered the glass, his elegant face looked unperturbed. An impressive feat—and absolutely infuriating.

My fingers kneaded the swell. Softly, roughly, alternating pressure. Beneath the woolen trousers, his sleepy protuberance came to life. It pressed against my palm, warm and stiff. I curled my fingernails around it.

"Mistress." One hand grasped my wrist under the table. I drew in a sharp breath. Sebastian's hold on me was strong, angry. He turned to me, and his demonic slitted pupils smoldered. "I would advise you cease these foolish games if you know what is best for you." Drawing in a slow breath, he closed his eyes and opened them. They were back to their warm muted colour again. Seemingly normal, politely indifferent. But his clutch on my wrist was anything but.

"Let go off me, " I hissed.

"Certainly." His hold around my wrist disappeared. And reappeared somewhere else.

"You-you..."

His fingers squeezed between my legs. I stifled a gasp. Layers of fabric did not hinder that wicked hand. He massaged my aching flesh, two fingers sliding to and fro. My breath grew uneven. Someone might notice—yet, that added to the thrill.

"Surely, you must be willing to take what you dish out." Sebastian crooked his fingers up through the fabric and I was practically riding them now. The utter mortification.

Involuntarily, my hips rotated, ever so subtly, and my insides twitched deliciously. I clutched the table, stifling a moan. I was getting close. But I couldn't... not here. Under those malevolent eyes, tormenting fingers, I implored him. The beast did not relent. My fingernails dug into my palms. I squeezed my thighs together, his hand in tow, and pushed into him. Thought failed me.

"S-Sebastian."

"Now, are you quite finished with this production?" Sebastian whispered in my ear. "Perhaps we might encounter the cipherist then—"

"Oh my word!"

Sebastian and I jerked around. His hand retreated. Crimeny, had someone seen us—?

Joanna had slumped face first into her pea soup. The guests around her stood, trying to wake her with camphor.

"There it is again." Sebastian's voice, a bare whisper. "I thought I had smelled something unusual earlier."

"What is it?"

"Laudanum, I believe." He crinkled his nose. "In her milk punch."

"Milk punch," I repeated and frowned. Milk—I froze. Realization snaked itself through me. "Maids-a-milking. The Twelve Days of Christmas song. Sebastian, it was the milk punch—"

"I know." His eyes swept over the hall. "The cipherist is likely here, young mistress."

"Impossible. I signed in every guest who entered, and all the exits are being watched. They couldn't have gotten in without encountering me."

"You may be right." A pensive look settled upon Sebastian's face. "Things have gotten rather interesting..."

"I don't understand why someone would tamper with Joanna's punch. It's not like they could abduct her in front of everyone."

"No. Perhaps they wanted the recipient out of their way." His voice dropped low and he looked at me with a strange expression. "That was not Miss Harcourt's punch, mistress.

"Of course, it was," I said. "I saw it beside her plate."

"What you assumed was her plate."

"What are you talking about?"

"Miss Brighton knocked over the name tags before taking her seat. The milk punch was for someone else."

"Then...who...?"

Sebastian's eyes flashed alarmingly bright, and a shiver crawled over me.

"Young mistress" he whispered, "the drink was meant for you."

Chapter 20: Masquerade Ball

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

I drew in an unsteady breath. "The laudanum was for me?"

Indeed," said Sebastian. "Of course, I would have intercepted if not for Miss Brighton's opportune clumsiness."

"But why target me? To prevent me from investigating further?"

"Perhaps that...or something else." Sebastian paused, a quiet glitter in his eyes.

One of the guests waved camphor aggressively under Joanna's nose. The girl's lashes fluttered. She gripped the sleeve of the nearby girl, trembling.

Delacourt breathed a sigh. "Looks like she's finally coming to. You girls, escort her to her quarters. She's in no state to partake in tonight's festivities."

Hesitantly, two girls flanked Joanna. One wearing a kimono the color of koi fish and the other a red and green sari embroidered with gold thread. The vibrant hues contrasted sharply against Joanna's colorless dress. Pale-faced, the girl put her arms around their shoulders and her jelly legs were practically dragged by the duo.

"With Violet's absence, it's probably best for her," Angelica whispered conspiratorially to Alice. "I wager the girl's prince charming is a princess."

While Angelica was quite stupid about many things, her observation wasn't off the mark. One might consider her almost... keen.

I turned away from her, disgusted.

The headmaster gestured everyone to be seated. "Let us not let one tightly laced corset deter a night of pleasantries."

Beside him, his sister scoffed into her wine glass.

Delacourt pretended not to notice. "Perhaps you'd like to host the next ball at Eton. Valentine’s day or so."

"You know I loathe that frivolous holiday and the days that surround it, Randall."

The man sighed. "You realize my birthday falls two days before Valentine’s day."

"I'm aware."

The headmaster glared through his spectacles.

From the sister's prickly demeanor, it was clear she still harbored a grudge against Delacourt for affecting her school’s enrollments. I fiddled with the ring on my gloved finger. How far would she go to restore that?

Hulda glanced at the siblings and as if to diffuse the tension between them, she rose from her seat. "Shall I make the announcement?" she asked the headmaster. He nodded.

The woman tapped her wine glass with a spoon, the loud clink drawing stares. "If you will all return to the music hall, we shall proceed with our masquerade ball."

The guests began to disperse, and I gestured to Sebastian.

He bent down, and I whispered into his ear, "If the maids-a-milking gag was to simply get me out of the picture, that only confirms the cipherist is planning something tonight."

"Agreed," replied Sebastian. "And I take it you will watch the guests on through a dance? It seems like the most discrete way to do so."

The demon's eyes positively glowed with humour.

"Tch. It's not like there's a better choice."

"Finally, all those dancing lessons with Madame Rodkins put to use."

I sniffed and reached for my parasol leaning against the table. An elegant ivory silk covered with black lace. I played with it, swinging it, then twirled it.

"Pray tell, mistress, are you part of the evening's entertainment?"

"No. I'm merely trying to stand out in this sea of masks. If I'm acting peculiar, the cipherist will locate me easier."

"I hardly see the need to act to have the desired effect."

I glared at him and raised the parasol. "The parasol's purpose is three-fold."

A young lady's deportment in social gatherings was expected to be gracious and respectable. Vocally rejecting a suitor violated etiquette while flirting with one was equally deplorable. Thank whoever devised such a discrete way of communication using gloves, handkerchiefs, fans—and parasols.

I raised the parasol in my right hand. "I desire your acquaintance." Struck it against my hand. "I am very much displeased." Folded up the parasol and caught his stare. "I wish to rid myself of your presence."

It was satisfying to watch the butler's fine mouth twitch.

Smiling, I rested the handle against my parted lips. Kiss me.

The demon's gaze sharpened. Dark as ink, fathomless.

"Three-fold." Sebastian cleared his throat. "May I inquire the parasol's other purpose?"

"That shall be a secret between the cipherist and I."

"Is that so." His eyes travelled across my gown, then settled on my face. "Well, I suppose if standing out is your main concern, I doubt you need to worry. You already do."

My nerves caught, I bite the parasol's handle.

"Have you not just suppered?" Sebastian tsked. "Sucking the head of your parasol. How unbecoming. That pretty mouth can be put to far better use."

Heat swiped my face. Just when I thought I had forgotten about it.

The memory of those digits in my warm mouth. Those feral eyes above me. The engorged head between my wet lips. Slipping in as far as I could take. Bitter salt.

"You utter dog—"

"Pray, do compose yourself," he said and took the parasol from me. He placed it back on the table. "I meant sweet-talking your partners for information, of course."

Of course.

The dull buzzing of the crowd faded, now replaced by a lively melody drifting from the orchestra.

"Well, then." Sebastian bowed and raised my knuckles to his lips. He kissed my hand lightly, like silk to skin. A contrast to his searing breath on my ring finger. "May I claim you for a dance?"

His eyes flicked up, and the intensity of his gaze made me tense.

"If you must." My hand rested on his shoulder, easily, as though it belonged there.

Sebastian placed one hand on my waist and threaded my hand with long, elegant fingers. Beneath the soft bristle of wool, I felt the movement of hard muscle.

His gaze swept over the masked faces. "It seems like Halloween, does it not, young mistress?"

"Everyday feels like Halloween with you."

Sebastian took a sudden step back, and I tripped over the hem of my dress. A flash of ankle, and I caught myself on his sturdy shoulder.

"How tragic, young mistress. Your waltzing skills aren't so much lacking as they are nonexistent."

"Be quiet, you. I cannot help that my feet refuse to cooperate because my dancing partner is being a gnawer.”

His hand around my waist tightened though he danced with fluid grace.

Streams of Black Swan Pas de Deux wrapped around us, and we fell into a steady waltz. I tried to concentrate on my feet, but the task grew increasingly difficult the longer we danced. Heat penetrated through his gloved fingers to my bare ones. Pleasant, stirring.

"You're wearing gloves," I said.

"Astute observation, young mistress." He spun me below his arm, then his hand return to my waist.

"I mean you don't need to be. Not here."

"It is improper for a butler to handle their mistress or master without them."

Back to propriety, is it?

I stared at the dancing guests, the glitter of masks, the marbled floor. Anywhere but his face.

"Only three days until the full moon," I said quietly. Our legs brushed against each other.

"I'm aware, young mistress."

"But... what happens after that?"

"After that? I'm afraid I do not follow—"

"If—when we find Lizzie, and thereby the cult's leader."

"Then we shall eliminate them swiftly, of course."

I dared to glance up. "And then...?"

"I trust you haven't forgotten our contract terms."

A soft, bitter laugh escaped me. "So it all ends? You'll take my soul then."

Sebastian's dancing feet stilled for a moment. "Yes, young mistress."

His words stung like a lash. "How will you take it? Does it hurt?"

"Goodness, aren't you full of questions." His thigh grazed mine. "A demon can extract a soul in numerous ways. Some methods are excruciating while others... are the complete opposite." The creature's mouth quirked for a second. As though he was privy to his own private joke.

"And which way do you consume souls, Sebastian?"

"I do not have one specific method. Each method depends on the contractor."

"How do you plan to take my soul?"

"Is my lady familiar with Hieros Gamos?"

I slowly nodded. "Doesn't it mean 'sacred marriage' in Greek?"

"Indeed," said the butler. "A play between a god and a goddess. Of course, it hardly means marriage in the conventional sense of the word, but rather a sacred sexual ritual between human beings and something divine. How the soul becomes whole through another."

"I would hardly think a demon would care for the sanctity of anything, especially that."

"You are quite right, young mistress." A poisonous smile touched the beast's eyes. "One method of soul extraction is the reversal of this. While Hieros Gamos unites two souls to become whole, in the unholy union of between a demon and prey, the demon consumes the soul."

An unholy union. My face burned at the implication. Of course, the creature would have perverse ideas.

I tried to speak evenly. "I presume you've collected many souls with this method before."

"No," he said and then paused, as though judging if he should say more. He didn't.

"How many, Sebastian?"

His lips pinched and eyes dimmed. "You shall be the first, mistress."

And there it was. The naked truth snatched out of the beast.

"Out of the different methods of soul collection...this is your preferred method for mine?"

"Well," said Sebastian, "if you prefer something less pleasant."

"Oh, forget it."

"Do you have any reservations?" he asked.

"Do you?" I countered.

"What a question to ask, young mistress." His tone stirred.

He dipped me suddenly, and I squeaked. My fingers grasped his lapels, clinging them for a few moments. I drew in his scent, the scent that plagued my dreams and lingered throughout the day. I quickly released the fabric.

His lips stretched into an amused smile. "Can you not handle this proximity?"

"Nothing of the sort."

But can you, demon?

Tchaikovsky's soft, tremulous Winter Dreams faded into Vivaldi's breathless Winter. Glissandos filled the air. The enticing sounds seduced my mind, and a strange intoxication crept into my veins. Maybe it was the biting, heady strings. Maybe it was the way the butler's smoldering eyes bore into mine. No longer did I control my restraint.

Like a dam unbarred, my unseemly thoughts flowed with vengeance, a trembling flood, and I purposely channeled them to him.

The beast's eyes sharpened. He held me as far apart as our arms would permit.

"What do you think you're doing?" he whispered dangerously.

"It's like you always say," I said. "The game becomes boring if it lacks thrill."

Sebastian's eyes glinted, a flicker of hell-fire. He promenaded in a circle and held my waist more firmly each time. His hand inched further and further behind my back until it rested on my tailbone. Slowly, he rubbed the erogenous spot. I could feel his sharp nails clawing through his glove. Digging into me.

Everything around us blurred into oblivion. A couple in pretty dresses stealing a kiss behind a statue. The masked faces, the dancing feet, the rustle of silk. The world around us fell apart, save for the music and him. The notes came faster, and we drifted further and further away from the crowd. My feet mirrored his or perhaps it was the other way around. They moved in a strange agitation, matching the whirlwind of notes, heady and turbulent. Despite the layers of crinolines between us, we danced together infused like two halves of a whole.

A swirl of a drape, and we found ourselves on the balcony. Swaying, shoulder to shoulder. Under the moonlight, our frenzied movements were lit by a backdrop of flickering stars. Despite the cold, Sebastian's breath curled around my neck like a summer zephyr. Our fingers entwined convulsively. Our breaths danced together. He held me so closely that we were practically one person. No longer did this feel like a waltz. It had become twisting and twining, a gyration orchestrated by Mephistopheles himself.

The overpowering music muted my shaky breaths and thundered to a crescendo, the notes conveying a desire too obscene to utter. The piece struck its climax, and Sebastian lifted me by the waist, spinning me into the air. A winter draft struck my face and undid my coiffure. I inhaled unevenly. Messy dark strands spilled upon his face, his eyes, his lips. They wrapped around us, flowing like a snare, curtaining us from the world for a fleeting moment. From the contract.

Slowly, Sebastian lowered me, and our lips almost touched.

"Sebastian," I breathed. I knew what I must've looked like. Cheeks flushed, boudoir hair, eyes pleading.

A soft hiss against my mouth. Like a serpent's kiss. "How human."

His hands, still on my waist, crooked and clawed into my sides. "Cease this foolishness and remember why you are here. Why I am here." He dipped me sharply.

Claps applauded inside the ballroom, and the music shifted to a slower tune. The claw-like hands left my sides.

"Mistress." Sebastian bowed slightly and excused himself only to return a minute later. He reappeared with the parasol and tilted my chin with its tip, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Do not forget the game is still in play."

"I-I know that."

"Good." He handed me the parasol and disappeared behind the curtain with a flourish.

Alone now, I gripped the balustrade and pressed my legs together as if that would alleviate the ache between them. The cold air chilled my stinging eyes. I turned around. Beside the curtain stood a Grecian bust. Penetrating eyes, angular nose, a shadow of smile along those sculptured lips. As if the thing had ensnared me in a spell, I trailed a finger along its jawline. Stone-cold, smooth, and sharp. I held its face with both hands and leaned in.

I kissed its lips. Imagining the mocking smile would move against mine. This must've been what the sculptor Pygmalion felt when he pressed his lips against his sculpture for the first time.

Mad. Hungry. Obsessive. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

A drop trailed along the cold ivory face. I wiped my eyes and slapped my cheeks with my fingertips.

When I rejoined the guests in the ballroom, a new song commenced. Dance partners lined up while Sebastian stood at the end of the music hall, far from me.

Ignoring him, I made my way to the refreshments and held a flute of wine by its stem. I swigged it down. A languid warmth filled my chest and teased my muscles to relax. I imagined the beast's eyes gleaming in disapproval. You are suppose to be investigating, not drowning your woes in brandy. I reached for another glass. Emptied it. And joined a circle of Eton bucks.

A demure nod, a soft touch on their arm, subtly pushing out my bustle, and they fawned over me like stupid neglected lap-dogs. I waltzed with them under Sebastian's quiet gaze. Promenading with them, tittering with them, smiling sweetly behind my parasol like a damask-rose. Switching partners every few minutes, I danced in a sea of golden and silver faces. A tigress, a crescent moon, swallowtail butterflies with black tracery. A harlequin one with dancing sea-green eyes—

I froze. The cipherist.

I grasped the parasol and waved it briefly in the boy's direction over my right shoulder. You can speak with me.

His eyes flicked to it. Then me. His lips quirked.

The boy peeled off his glove and smoothed it out gently. I wish I were with you.

I raised the parasol higher in my right hand. You are too willing.

His mouth settled in a crooked smile, and he twirled a glove. Be careful, we are being watched. Then he flicked the glove over his shoulder. Follow me.

He skirted around the dancing guests, blending in like a chameleon, until he stood in front of me. I set the parasol on a nearby table. The boy offered his hand, and I took it.

"If you would allow me to lead," he whispered, warm breath against my temple.

I shivered. My skirts swayed, rustling between us as we stepped into the rhythm of the waltz.

The boy smelled pleasant. Like spiced cedar, winter air, and a hint of sweet. Something floral. A familiar perfume.

From a distance, I caught Sebastian's gaze. His eyes followed my every step, burning behind me. I smiled at the boy and pressed closer, his solid form brushing against my bodice. The warmth of his body provided me a pleasant heat.

"It appears you are being watched too," said the boy.

"And who exactly is watching you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, Miss Detective?"

Of course, he wouldn't say. "I suppose you won't disclose how you snuck into the ball without being checked either."

"Who said I didn't sign in like everyone else?" His grin widened. "I entered precisely the same way you did."

"But how—"

He pressed a finger to my lip. "Let us not bother over trivial details. I came tonight to dance only with you."

"Where's Lizzie?" I demanded. "You said she'd be here."

"She will soon enough." A rakish gleam tinged his eyes. "And I see you have my ring?"

"The Stone of Lethe," I said, staring at my gloved hand. "Isn't it? I read about it in the alchemical book in the library. The book you wanted me to find."

"Indeed."

"But why leave these crumbs?"

"Is it not more fun that way? Well, at least it is for me." He dipped me suddenly. "It's a shame. If we weren't in public, I might indulge you more tonight." Discretely, he fondled with my gloved hand, rubbing the tender space between two fingers. Another sensitive area stirred.

"May I fetch you a drink, Miss Phantomhive?"

"Depends," I said, snatching my hand away. "If it's another milk punch laced with laudanum, I'd rather not."

The boy sighed as he tugged my wrist to the refreshment table. "I had only hoped to spare you from a tiring night, but of course, sometimes even the best of plans get bungled. No matter, I suppose it is better this way. Dancing with you more than makes up for that."

I narrowed my eyes. "Maid's a milking. Lords a leaping—"

"Ladies dancing," he said, humming the tune. "Such a classic christmas song, no?"

"You only chose that song because it revolves around the number twelve. Like all of these other clues."

The boy's eyes glowed through his mask. "Well done."

"Why?"

"As I told you before." He picked up a flute with champagne and swirled it. "It is the key to solving this case."

"That's not what I mean. Why would you want me to solve the case?"

He sipped. "Because perhaps I am not the true villain here."

"And I'm the queen of England. Aren't you the one abducting these girls?"

He paused drinking. "Well, yes, but people are so very rarely black and white. Out of anyone, you would know."

His smile must have balanced out my scowl. "When are you planning your next abduction? I already know you intend to tonight. And where the hell is Lizzie?"

"So many questions." The boy raised the champagne glass above his head, and his eyes signaled to no one in particular. "To answer the first...now."

"What are you—"

The glass slipped from his hand. The shatter pierced the air, and darkness swept over the ballroom. Shouts and gasps sounded in every direction. A girl cried out—Angelica. And then another. Alice. A stampede of footsteps and pandemonium erupted. Someone collided into me, and I found myself sprawled on the cold floor.

"Bloody hell," I whispered.

I managed to pull myself to my feet and withdrew from the chaos. The liquor's effect made it easier. My mind drifted somewhere quiet. Somewhere still. An empty ballroom. Connected to a balcony and powder room. Then tables populated the empty space. Then guests. A concept in mathematics, spatial reasoning could manipulate spatial images in one's mind to create a map. Bit by bit, the layout of the ballroom formed in my head, and suddenly I knew exactly where I was in the darkness. And where I needed to go.

Carefully, I maneuvered through the trample, skirting around the table with the leftover masks. I felt around blindly until my fingers touched delicate lace. Parasol in hand, I felt the wall and edged toward the balcony until the I caught a sliver of moonlight. I pulled aside the drape and snuck a glance outside. My muscles tensed.

The cipherist held Angelica by the small of her back. His breath clouded her face, like vaporous aquamarine in the moonlight. His raised his other hand in front of her. In it, a glimmer of ocean blue.

"Blast," I hissed. The ring on my hand. It was gone. The cad must've swindled it during our waltz.

Like a mesmerist, the boy dangled the ring in front of Angelica. She stared blankly at the Stone of Lethe, face glazed with stupor. Bewitched by an enchanter's strange spell.

"That's it," the boy whispered, inches from her red lips. "Look how beautiful it gleams, just like your eyes."

"My eyes..." said Angelica, mirroring the faces from the alchemical book.

When she fell silent, the boy turned to his side. "Have you got the other one?"

He wasn't alone...?

I raised the drape further and peered at the corner of the balcony. Moonlight illuminated the silhouette of two other girls. Her back facing me, the boy's accomplice held Alice's wrists and nodded. Her twin tails bobbed, the golden tresses dulled in the night's darkling shine. I drew in a sharp breath. I'd recognize that profile anywhere.

Lizzie.

Notes:

Next up, tentacle smut. Yeah I know.

Phantom Night

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

I tensed like a drawn bow, eager to spring. No, I needed to wait. Observe.

Lizzie murmured an affirmative, clutching Alice's wrists. Her expression mirrored Angelica and Alice's. Quiet, unblinking. As if she had drunk from the river of Lethe, the Greek spirit of oblivion. But there was no magic drink here. Only a dubious ring.

"Don't let go," the boy ordered and he lowered the blue stone. "Follow behind me."

He waited for them to line up. Him, Angelica, Lizzie, and Alice, their hands linked together like paperclips. The boy advanced toward the dark ballroom and led the girls like the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

I squeezed the drape. He'd have to pass my hiding spot to gain entry into the hall. Carefully, I timed it and resorted to something clichédly simple. I stuck out my foot.

#black butler fanfiction

[jeks-tgs]

Psychonauts has some fun dialogue in my opinion and that line in the theatre level fucking took me out, so I figured what better way to get back into making TGS art than drawing our resident mental health disaster saying it?

#tgs #the glass scientists #tgs jekyll #tgs jasper #suicidal speech #self-deprecation tw #jeks do a draw

[thejeksburyguy]

Believe it or not, this is actually a Maxwes piece

#don't starve together #maxwes #maxwell x wes #when your firsy victim mocks you for having feelings for a mime and your emotional constipation #smooch him already you grumpy bastard #Mod Jeks #Jeks do a draw

[bansheeoftheforest]

I finally drew the kittens!

And here are the Highlander kittens I based them on!

Rose:

Chrysanthemum:

Hydrangea:

Allium:

Marigold:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

oh my god Allium is so teensy tiny oh my god ohm y y h o l lyord

Ok i'm a bit obsessed. thEY ARE ALL SO CUTE. I'm going to fucking genderswap Henry for this branch just so i can fucking enmhjoy some goddamn kitties oh my y y h h oogodd o h j om sdjsdhfsjdJHSJASDF

#jeks oh my god why do you draw so well THSI IS UNFAIR #AHH #sdfsdfsdf #catshifter au #banshees au #ask #thejeksburyguy

[skybrightpixie]

i’ve been trudging through commissions lately and i needed something just for me to keep me going 💕

#pixie dust #jekyll and hyde #my art #what i would give to give my jek a hug qvq #platonic nuzzle will do for now bc i can't draw hugs well lmao

[clannfearrunt]

i am SQUEEZING the art machine. Like how one squeezes out the last bits of toothpaste out of its tube

#a Victory. i haven't been able to do even this for the past month or so #Con stop yapping #Conarts #''are u going to change how u draw the body of a clannfear yet again'' listen ive been looking at #the 4thunknown clannfear model too much. its bodyplan is infecting Jek #the shoulders.... #Zaan Do Kel #Caennor

[jekahla]

I got yelled at by @vrissy to post this so here we are

This is Jacket, Wasp Queen of her Hive and obsessed with the power it grants her, and she's going to make sure none ever take it from her.

She's not v nice but I love her anyway.

Hella fun to draw but ngl the background killed me.

#op #my art #my oc #Jek Draws? #yes. yes i do. #sometimes. #OC - Jacket

[rowansparrow]

What Blooms in Thunder: Chapter Five

(Banner Courtesy of @hockeyjedi13​) 

Summary: The Trio escapes Saleucami, while Gol’Chek and the Girl arrive, and encounter some interesting characters.

Chapter Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, fighting, some angst

Ships: Captain Rex x Female!Reader,  Lieutenant Rose x Female!Reader, other ships tbd.

Tags: #What Blooms in Thunder #WBIT

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Gol’Chek stop hiding from your past or die challenge

Thank you @djarrex​ for beta-reading!

Tag List Form. Series Master List

Reblogs are SO appreciated!

“You sure you won’t come with us?”

Cut shook his head, a hand on Rex’s shoulder. “It’s too dangerous. The three of you are fugitives, I can’t endanger my family like that.”

Rex nodded. “I understand. Just get yourselves out of here as soon as you can.”

“We will.” Cut promised. “We’ll be alright.”

You watched the exchange, glancing over at Fives, who was hugging Jek and Shaeeah goodbye.

“Behave yourselves.” He told them affectionately, rubbing both their heads as he stood up. “Don’t give your mama and papa too much grief.”

“We won’t.” Shaeeah laughed. Suu smiled softly, watching the children interact with Fives before turning instead to you.

“Will you be alright?” She asked.

You smiled, nodding. “As long as we stick together, we’ll manage.” You said as Rex rejoined you at your side. “We’ll figure things out.”

“We need to get moving. It’ll be light out soon and we need to be out of this airspace before dawn.” Fives warned, finally parting from the children.

Rex nodded, turning one last time to the Lawquanes before the three of you parted ways from the little family.

“I hope they’re able to escape.” You worried, holding tightly to Rex’s hand as you moved past the fence line.

“If I know Cut, he has a plan.” Rex reassured you. “They’ll be alright. For now, it’s time for the three of us to figure out how we’re getting off this rock.”

“We won’t all fit in the Y-wing.” Fives called over his shoulder. “Which is why I’ve come up with a plan.”

“A pretty brainless plan.” Rex muttered under his breath.

“It worked on Umbara.” Fives retorted. “You thought it was a good idea then.”

“That was different.” Rex hissed. “Breaking into an impound lot to steal a bigger ship is going to be far more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Then you’d rather split up?” Fives asked, pausing to face him.

Rex hesitated, then shook his head. Fives huffed.

“Exactly.” The ARC Trooper replied. “This is the best plan we’ve got. Did you stow anything on your old ship you want to remove before we do this?”

“No, all my gear is with me.”

“Excellent, then this shouldn’t be bad at all.” Fives grinned. “Alright, hoods up everyone. We’re almost to town.”

And, to his credit, things really weren’t that bad. At least, not until they’d boarded their new ship and were attempting to take off.

You strapped yourself into the seat just behind the co-pilot's chair, holding on for dear life as Fives scrabbled at the controls with Rex at his side.

“You told me you could fly this thing!” Rex snapped, frantically powering up the ship.

“Well this is a helluva lot bigger than Umbaran starcrafts, Captain.” Fives drawled back.

The shuttle they’d selected was a small passenger shuttle, not much bigger than the Y-Wing Rex had arrived in, but big enough to at least fit more than just two people. If you weren’t distracted by all the troopers shooting at you, you might have wondered who it once belonged to.

“They’re shooting at us!” You shouted, peering around Fives’ seat to look out the viewport.

“We’re going, we’re going!” Fives replied, pulling his hood tighter around his face to try and conceal himself a bit better. “Kriff, Rex -.”

“We’re up!” Rex announced, drawing back on the controls as the ship slowly lifted off the ground. “Fives -.”

“On it.” Fives maneuvered the controls on his side, flipping a switch and jerking his controls sharply to the left as he open-fired on another vacant ship nearby, the explosion enough to send the troopers on the ground scurrying away from the blast and buying the trio enough time to flee.

“Breaching the atmosphere now.” Rex said quietly, watching as the city behind them grew distant and both men fell silent.

You studied the backs of their heads as they worked in tandem, your heart aching for them. You had sensed the tension in the two men ever since you’d set foot into the city. The sight of clone troopers – their brothers – so willingly bending to the orders of the Empire had struck both men. You could see it in the way Fives hunched his shoulders even now, and in the way Rex’s jaw was tightened.

You couldn’t imagine what they were going through.

“Preparing to jump to hyperspace.” Fives broke the silence. “Where to, Captain?”

Rex was quiet for a few minutes, staring out the viewport.

Fives prompted him again. “Captain?”

“We need to find somewhere safe to lay low.” He said quietly. “Somewhere we have allies but won’t be high on the Empire’s priority list of Republic territories to reclaim. Somewhere quiet.”

Fives frowned for a moment and understanding suddenly swept over his features. “No.” He shook his head. “Not back there.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Rex said softly. “We’ll be able to hide there, and they told us we would always be welcome back -.”

“We can’t bring her there.” Fives hissed. He’d been trying to keep his voice low, but you heard him, nevertheless.

“Bring me where?”

Rex glanced over his shoulder at you and then looked back to Fives. The two men exchanged a long, heavy look, a whole argument playing out in their expressions, before Fives finally sighed and turned to you.

“Rex thinks we should go to Gyatta.”

You frowned. “What’s on Gyatta?”

Rex plugged in the hyperspace coordinates, his mind made up. “It’s the homeworld of the Garbaks.” He said quietly. “We’ll be safe with them.”

“The Garbaks?” You repeated. The word was familiar to you, but it took you a moment to place it, and once you did, your stomach sank. “Oh.”

Fives nodded grimly, turning away from you and looking back out into space as he spoke.

“We’re going back to where Rose died.”

~

He watched her disappear into the trees beyond the village.

He knew it wasn’t his place to follow her, knew what might happen to him should he be caught, but she was young, and the jungle was wild. He followed her.

Gol’Chek kept his feet light as he trailed behind the child. Her tracks were not hard to follow, though even if they were, his newfound ability to track and trace would have guided him to her well enough anyway. Another inherited gift from Ak’Shah, he supposed.

He paused just before stepping into the clearing. The child sat on a large stone, legs folded beneath her, hands on her knees. Her eyes were closed, and around her, several small stones lifted from the ground, suspended in midair around her, slowly circling her in some strange dance.

He had seen these acts performed before. A distant memory, one that didn’t quite feel like it belonged to him, informed him that these were acts of a Jedi, and the child was wielding the Force. A different memory, this one most certainly borrowed from the remnants of Ak’Shah that still lived within him, told him this was called the Attunement, a rare gift bestowed upon the Garbaks by the Ancients. Bel’Rune, Ak’Shah, and now the child Ju’Lah were all gifted with Attunement.

When she came of age, Ju’Lah would be the one to lead her people, like her father before her, and his mother before him.

“You don’t need to hide.”

He jumped, a slight flush creeping into his cheeks. Embarrassed, he stepped from the safety of the trees, coming into the clearing.

“Forgive me.” He said quietly. “I didn’t intend to intrude.”

“I know.” She replied. “You wanted to protect me. You were worried.” She smiled but didn’t open her eyes. “You’re a good man, Outlander. That’s why my father liked you.”

He flinched slightly at the term, but otherwise didn’t react. “It seems to me you don’t need much protecting.” He waved his hand at the rising rocks. “How can you do that?”

“I’ve been able to since I was a baby.” She explained. “All of us, our kind, we are sensitive to the Attunement. Some can wield it better than others. And some are extra-gifted.” Her voice sounded almost smug, and Gol’Chek had to resist the urge to chuckle.

She must have sensed it regardless, because she finally cracked one eye open, letting the rocks fall as she descended gracefully from the stone. “My grandmother – Bel’Rune – she’s Attuned as well. So was my father. They were teaching me how to understand it better.”

“What do you use it for?”

“Grandmother Bel’Rune says it helps us understand the world around us.” Ju’Lah explained. “We can hear the flow of the river, the song of the trees. We can understand the wildlife around us, and, of course, we use it to heal.”

She picked up one of the stones. “Those Attuned are natural healers. But I still have a long way to go, and a lot more to learn.” She said, letting the stone fall from her grip. “It took me decades just to be able to do that much.”

“Decades?” Gol’Chek echoed, his eyebrow raising in amusement. “How old are you?”

“Eighty-seven.” She replied with a wry smile. “Though you humans age much differently than we do.”

“Apparently so. I had you down for nine, maybe ten at most.” Gol’Chek hummed. “You’re just a kid.”

“A Garbak lifespan will last several hundred of your human ones.” Ju’Lah replied matter-of-factly.

“Then you will long outlive me, little one.”

She studied him thoughtfully for a moment, as though she wanted to say more, but a loud horn resounded in the distance. Gol’Chek turned towards the sound, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

“What is that?”

Ju’Lah tensed, shaking her head. “Nothing good.”

She took his hand, leading him back towards the village. The Garbaks had gathered in the center of the settlement, the gathering tables moved aside to make room for what looked to be some sort of fighting ground. In the center, Bel’Rune was arguing loudly with Rhak’Swe.

“It’s tradition! If you truly believe he is one of us, then let him prove it!” Rhak’Swe shouted.

“That is not your place to decide.” Bel’Rune hissed back. “What would your father think of this – this spectacle, dishonoring his memory in such a way?”

“I can’t ask him, can I?” Rhak’Swe snarled back. His eyes lifted when he saw the pair exiting the jungle, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Why was the Outlander alone in the jungle with the Chief’s Daughter?” He called.

Gol’Chek stiffened, glancing down at Ju’Lah for just a moment. “She is a child.” He answered quietly. “I was concerned for her well-being.”

“I can take care of myself.” Ju’Lah replied to her brother, crossing her arms firmly over her chest.

“You know nothing of our kind.” Rhak’Swe said to Gol’Chek, ignoring his sister. “You may speak our language, you may reap the benefits of our Clan-Father, but you are not one of us.”

“Enough.” Bel’Rune snapped. “I will not allow this.”

“If you were really chosen by my father, then prove it.” Rhak’Swe spoke over her. “If my father’s blood truly runs in your veins, then you are the rightful leader of this clan.” He spread his arms wide. “I challenge you, Outlander. A fight to the death. For the honor and legacy of this clan.”

Gol’Chek looked around at the gathered clan. Ju’Lah stood slightly behind him, looking up at him nervously.

“No.” He said simply. “No, I will not fight you.” He turned, heading back to the privacy of his own hut.

“Then you yield?” Rhak’Swe called. “Because if you do, then you forfeit all rights to our people. You will be exiled as an enemy of the clan.”

“Fine.” Gol’Chek replied. “Do what you must. I didn’t want this.” He looked at Bel’Rune. “I didn’t want any of this.”

Bel’Rune’s eyes held such a vast disappointment in them that Gol’Chek had to look away.

“Very well.” Rhak’Swe smiled, pleased with himself. “I, Rhak’Swe, son of Ak’Shah, take my rightful place as Clan-Father. The Outlander will be brought before the Ancient’s Pass at sunrise, to atone for his crimes against this village.”

He pointed to Bel’Rune. “Bel’Rune and Ju’Lah will be cast from the village, for their role in aiding the murder of Ak’Shah.”

“What?” Gol’Chek’s head snapped up. “They didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You forget your place, Rhak’Swe.” Bel’Rune tapped her staff against the dirt. “I am your Elder, and Ju’Lah is rightful heir to the mantle, not you.”

“Then my little sister can challenge when she comes of age.” Rhak’Swe simpered. “And as for you? The old ways are long gone, Grandmother. We are the last of our kind. If we are to survive, we must change. Adapt. No longer do we hide from the galaxy. If outsiders like this one choose to come back to our village,” He pointed at Gol’Chek. “Then we will show them how we dealt with this one.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Restrain them. All of them.”

“Stop.” Gol’Chek snapped, stepping back into the circle. “It’s me you’re angry at.”

Rhak’Swe grinned, lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth. “I knew you’d come around, Outlander.” He put a hand on his hip. “What are your terms?”

“Bel’Rune and Ju’Lah remain in the village.” Gol’Chek’s response was immediate. “They are not to be harmed. Not now. Not ever.”

“Very well.” Rhak’Swe nodded. “And what of the Clan-Father mantle?”

“What of it?” Gol’Chek asked. “It means nothing to me.”

“It should mean something, Outlander.” Rhak’Swe replied. “It means something to us. If I win, the mantle goes to me.” Rhak’Swe said. “If you win -.”

“It goes to Bel’Rune.” Gol’Chek interrupted. “To be held until Ju’Lah comes of age.”

A small smirk quirked up the edge of Rhak’Swe’s lip. “Very well.”

“A final condition.” Gol’Chek added. “If I win, nobody calls me Outlander. Not anymore.”

“If you win.” Rhak’Swe chuckled. “Very well. I agree to your terms.” He smiled, and drew a large, pointed staff from his back. “I will take great pleasure in killing you… Outlander.”

Gol’Chek scowled, and felt a tap against his shoulder. Bel’Rune held her staff out to him. He took it slowly, letting the weight settle comfortably in his grip.

The Garbak stood across from the human, the two warriors facing off in the clearing.

And then they charged.

The gathered crowd roared to life as the two men met in the middle, their staffs clashing. Rhak’Swe attacked Gol’Chek with a roar, his staff slashing downward as Gol’Chek brought his up to block. The Garbak had an unfair height advantage over the human, though onlookers might have wondered if the unfair advantage was actually that the human was smaller than the Garbak.

Gol’Chek parried with incredible speed, keeping low to avoid Rhak’Swe’s attacks and wove between his long legs to dodge incoming strikes. He was light-footed and fleet, moving with an elegance that did not fit him. His familiarity with the staff was foreign to his fingers, and yet, in his heart, in his head, Gol’Chek knew how to wield it.

They fought, the cracks of their staffs echoing through the valley like a thunderclap with each strike. Rhak’Swe should have been stronger, faster, deadlier than Gol’Chek, but the human held his own, his shadow dancing across the grass below him with every stroke of the staff.

Gol’Chek swung at Rhak’Swe, hitting him in the back of the leg with the curved, clubbed end of the staff, making the Garbak cry out and drop slightly.

“Yield.” Gol’Chek said, swinging the staff again and this time cracking Rhak’Swe in the side of his face, knocking him fully to the ground. “Yield, Rhak’Swe.”

“There is no yield.” He hissed back, a small gash on his cheek where Gol’Chek had struck him. “This is to the death. Finish the job, Outlander.”

Gol’Chek grit his teeth, looking over his shoulder towards the other Garbaks. Their shouts had quieted, the clearing eerily silent now, aside from Gol’Chek and Rhak’Swe’s panting breaths.

“They will never see you as one of them.” Rhak’Swe chuckled. “You will always be an Outlander.”

Gol’Chek snarled and lifted his staff, the sharp end pointed towards the Garbak. Rhak’Swe closed his eyes as Gol’Chek brought it down.

The staff buried itself in the dirt just to the left of the warrior’s head. Rhak’Swe reopened his eyes slowly, and Gol’Chek bared his teeth, pulling the staff back with a soft grunt.

“I am not a killer.” He hissed. “I am not what you say I am.”

He pointed the staff at Rhak’Swe’s throat. “I will not kill you, but my terms stand. Bel’Rune is Clan-Mother. You will cede to her.”

Rhak’Swe shifted, slowly rising to his feet again. “I cede.”

Gol’Chek nodded, lowering the staff and turning his back.

Behind him, Rhak’Swe snarled and lunged.

“Gol’Chek!”

Ju’Lah’s warning came a moment too late. Rhak’Swe landed on Gol’Chek right as he turned, the Garbak striking with one long arm, his claws sinking into the meat of Gol’Chek’s face and swiping through his flesh.

The pain was instantaneous, blood gushing from between Gol’Chek’s fingers as he screamed and fell backwards, holding his flayed face in his hand. Rhak’Swe’s claws had narrowly missed his eye, but he felt how deeply his face had been lacerated, saw the alarming amounts of blood coating his palm and dripping down his face.

Rhak’Swe held him pinned underneath him, teeth bared as he lifted his hand once more.

“Goodbye, Outlander.”

Before he could strike a killing blow, Bel’Rune had picked up her staff once again, driving the pointed end straight through Rhak’Swe’s palm, her grandson unleashing a primal scream of pain.

“You ceded already.” She told him, her voice firm and yet quiet, a storm brewing behind her dark eyes. “Attacking a man when his back is turned after a false surrender… that’s cause enough for banishment, boy. You are lucky one of us still knows mercy.”

She drew her staff back, and the skin healed over as the Garbak gripped his wrist close to his chest, snarling at his Elder.

“You shame all of us.” Bel’Rune said, her staff resting easily at her side. “Go.”

With one final hiss, Rhak’Swe stood, slinking off to his own hut at last.

Ju’Lah crouched beside Gol’Chek, reaching for his face.

“Leave it.” He snapped.

“But you -.”

“I said leave it!” He pushed her away, causing the child to fall slightly backwards into the dirt. He rose shakily to his feet, clutching his wounded flesh in one hand. Already, his body worked to heal him, the skin knitting together slow and steady. He glared at Bel’Rune through the slit of his bloodied fingers.

He snarled. “Why won’t you let me die?”

The old woman did not answer him, and he stumbled away, back towards the jungle, towards the darkness and shelter of the trees.

~

He studies his scarred face in the mirror, letting his fingers graze slightly over the raised flesh. It felt like a lifetime ago, now. He could still remember pulling Rhak’Swe’s body from the ashes of the village mere months after the Garbak had given him his scars. Remembered burying him alongside the others.

His fist thuds against the sonic sink. His other hand grips the basin tightly, the cool of the metal seeping through the leather of his glove.

He had been right. By the time they’d arrived on Saleucami, his target was long gone.

They’d landed on the outskirts of the town. The plan initially was to look around at the heart of the city center, take stock of the situation on the planet before deciding their next move, but what they’d walked into was a firefight.

It had began when a small girl ran into him, colliding with his stomach and falling backwards, landing in the dirt. She had blond hair and was clutching something to her chest. He thought the mask he wore might’ve frightened her, because she gasped and jumped up quickly, taking off towards the impound lot. Moments later, blaster fire echoed through the city. White troopers were engaged in a fight with four troopers clad in black and red, and Gol’Chek did not know or care who they were. His only priority was protecting the Girl.

So, they fled the city, ignoring the shouts of the insurgents behind them.

They stand now in the empty homestead, Gol’Chek standing in the refresher and staring at his reflection while the Girl busied herself outside.

The occupants had clearly left in a hurry – things were hastily packed, numerous possessions left behind. If nothing else, they could gather food and supplies from this place, though he didn’t know how they’d pick up the trail of their target again.

I found tracks.

He turns, spotting her in the doorway. There are several of them coming down the pathway just beyond the fence. She continues, her voice echoing in his head. Looked like five different people. One set was significantly smaller than the others. Another was quite a bit larger. The other three were hard to discern, I almost couldn’t tell a difference between them aside from tread patterns.

He frowns, thinking back to the insurgents in the city. Had they been here first?

Any indicators of where they lead?

Looks like a ship was stationed a bit further out in the field, but it’s not there anymore. She reports. But it hasn’t been gone long. I’d guess maybe a few hours at most.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face once again before slowly putting the mask back on.

“Did you find anything in here?” She asks aloud, stepping into the home.

“They left a lot behind.” He says, stepping further down the hallway. “There are children’s bedrooms upstairs. A boy and a girl if I had to guess. Drawings of Twi’Leks and a human.”

He grunts softly, a hand going to his head as a memory wormed its way to the forefront. He remembers this place. He’s been here before.

“You knew to come here.” The Girl says quietly, watching him. “You led us straight here. Did you remember something?”

He exhales, the memory subsiding. “I was here, once.” He said quietly.

“When?”

“I was a soldier, before.” He explains, looking around the room again. Nothing feels familiar to him, so he moves towards the doorway instead, stepping out onto the porch. The Girl follows. “I fought on this planet, a long time ago. Someone I was with – he was injured.” He pauses, seeing the barn adjacent to the house. “And we brought him there.”

The Girl follows his gaze, and trots behind him as he approaches the barn doors, pushing it open carefully. Almost immediately, another memory slams into him, bringing him nearly to his knees. He sees a man with his face, lying on a table. He’s been shot. Three more men surround him, one tending to his injuries. Gol’Chek is keeping watch, near the door. Gol’Chek is not your name.

He growls, shaking his head again, and the Girl touches his arm. Steadies him. He is grateful.

“The woman in my dreams… the one I keep seeing in my head, she – she’s traveling with a man. Another clone, like me.” The words feel bitter on his tongue. He does not know his people any longer, and identifying as one of them feels strange.

“The man she is with, he’s the one who tried to kill you?” The Girl confirms, nodding to where the scar on his abdomen hides beneath his armor. “The one you have nightmares about?”

He hesitates. “I can’t remember.” He admits after a moment. “Everything’s so messy, I – I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not real.”

“But he was there, when you died?”

Gol’Chek nods. That he knows for certain.

“Yes.” He studies the table again, where the man had once lain. “Yes, he was there.”

“And now he has the woman from your memories.”

Again, Gol’Chek nods in confirmation.

“Do you think he’ll hurt her? Like the skeletons hurt that woman on Felucia?” She does not add her unspoken fear, but Gol’Chek feels how it bleeds between the pair, nevertheless.

Do you think he’d try to kill me like the other clones did?

“I don’t know.” He looks down at her, one hand going to her head, settling against her dark hair. “But he’s gotta get through me first.”

She smiles, but it’s muted. She leans into him slightly, and he jerks his head back towards the house. “The kids’ rooms are upstairs. Take a look, see if there’s anything you want to take with you.”

The Girl nods and scurries back toward the house. He smiles, watching her go before turning once again towards the barn.

He hadn’t told the Girl, but a name has attached itself to the man in his memory. Captain Rex.

He sees the man’s face. Blurry, tinted red around the edges, leaning over him in the darkness. Sometimes, when he wakes up, he can still see his face leaning over him, blood on his face, lips pulled back in a too-wide grin.

He shakes the thought away, trying to stifle the shudder before it ripples out of him.

He isn’t sure how long he stands there in the barn, tracing his fingertips over the knotted wood of the support beams. He pictures the man, Captain Rex, tries to recall what little he remembers about him.

Where would he go?

What would he do next?

He came here first, why?

He looks back towards the house, narrowing his eyes.

The family. He came to warn the family.

He walks back out of the barn, studies the footprints along the path that the Girl had found.

There were others here. The family didn’t leave with Rex. Who’d they leave with?

He kneels by the tracks, brushing his fingers lightly over the indentations in the dirt.

She was here. He came back for her. Left with her. These people came later. Who were they?

He groans softly, his hand rising to his temple once again, trying to steady himself. Everything was so loud, the wind in the trees, the buzzing of insects near his head, the sounds of the Girl shouting somewhere behind him.

Shouting…

He opens his eyes and he isn’t on Saleucami anymore. He is kneeling in the ash again, looking out at the bodies of his people, the fires sweeping through the village. The fire reverses itself, swallowed by the ash as grass shoots up again from the carnage, the bodies sinking into the dirt as trees shoot up again in the meadow, and he’s in the jungle now. He is alone. There is a gun in his hand, and he is dressed in white and blue.

“Our orders are to take the Capitol. The Garbaks told us, in no uncertain terms, they did not want our help. We will not become the oppressors. Isn’t that what you told me?”

He turns, but there’s no one there. The voice echoes in his head, and he hears himself reply.

“There are children there, Rex. Women and children. Families. All of them, they’re all innocent… and they’re all going to die. We can save them.”

“No, Rose. We can’t go back.”

“You’re sentencing them to death!”

He grips his head tighter, curling in on himself and trying to push the voices away.

“You have done us an incredible service, Sky-Dwellers.”

He gasps, and he sees her standing before him. She is smiling at him, her eyes wise and calm. He’s on his feet again, the man he knows as Rex standing at his side as Bel’Rune addresses them both. “You, and your people of the same face, you will always be welcome among us.”

He gasps, stumbling backwards and landing flat on his ass in the dirt, Saleucami taking shape before him once again.

“Gol’Chek?”

He jerks, looking over his shoulder as the Girl kneels beside him, her eyes soft and laced with concern. “What is it? What did you remember?”

He swallows, sighing and letting his head thump back against the ground, staring up at the sky.

“Gyatta.” He says. “They’re going back to Gyatta.”

~

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#WBIT #What blooms in thunder #Ro writes #OC Rose #OC Ju'Lah #Ro's OCs #Lieutenant Rose #Rex x Reader #Captain Rex x Reader #Fives #ARC Trooper Fives #The Bad Batch #OC Bel'Rune

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Hunter x Reader: On the Way to Saleucami

 (Author’s Note:  I wanted to write something more relevant to the Bad Batch show timeline since I mostly wrote stuff set in the Clone Wars.  Sooo here we are!  There’s some angst, guys, so beware, but know that there’s a noice Hunter to comfort reader.

Warnings: mentions of Order 66 and anxiety from a nightmare.

Spoilers for Bad Batch ep 2 ahead)

  You gasped, jolted out of sleep by the nightmare.  The first thing you registered was the darkness.  What had once been inviting became something that fueled your panic after such a dream.  Instinctively, you reached out to switch the light on, but your hand found nothing even after a few swipes.

   “Help!” the cry left your lips.  “Help, it’s dark!”  You tried again for the lamp desperately, and in the meantime, the door slid open with a quiet hiss to reveal a familiar figure silhouetted in the dim light spilling in from the hall.

   “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured as he approached, kneeling down at your bunk to take your hand.  His other hand flipped the lamp switch, the light causing you to blink as your eyes adjusted.  “_________,” what’s wrong?”

   “My dream,” you replied, squeezing his hand.  “I saw it all happening.  The jedi…”  His face fell as you buried your face in the shoulder of his blacks.   Your breathing was labored as your voice came out muffled through his shirt.  “Then I woke up, and it was so dark, and I was alone.”

   “You’re not alone,” Hunter said gently, patting your shoulder.  “It’s over now, you’re safe.”

   “But it’s not over.  The jedi are still gone.  The Grand Army of the Republic is still brainwashed and hunting down anyone who goes against this new Empire.  Even Crosshair was affected.”

   “That’s why we got out when we could,” he told you.  “That’s why the first thing we did was come find you to make sure you were alright.”

   “And I’m so glad you did.”  You released a sigh.  After escaping Kamino, The Bad Batch and their newcomer had contacted you, and upon finding out your situation hiding out from troops, they came to pick you up on the nearby planet.  “I’m glad that you guys are all okay.  I...I missed you.”

   Hunter offered a gentle smile.  “We missed you too.  Wrecker wouldn’t shut up when he found out you were coming with us.”

   This got a smile out of you, and Hunter was glad to see you were cheering up a little.  That’s all he wanted to see- that smile- from the moment he laid eyes on you as you boarded the ship.  “When we get to Saleucami, we can rest for a bit and draw up a plan.”

   “Yeah, Saleucami,” you yawned, slowly sinking back into the bunk again as the tiredness returned.  “You think Cut will mind the company?”

   Hunter chuckled, wiping a drying tear streak from your face.  “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see us.  We need to be well-rested because you know Jek and Shaeeah.”

   “Oh yes, I remember those two well.  They’ve got endless energy.  I don’t know how Cut and Suu do it.”  You glanced past Hunter’s shoulder when you saw a flash of blonde out of the corner of your eye.  You gave him a nudge and nodded toward the doorway.

   “Omega?” he called.

   She stepped into the room, fiddling with her hands nervously as she looked at you.  “Is everything okay?  I heard you yelling for help before.”

   You nodded, holding out an arm to beckon her over.  She approached, and you gave her hand a gentle squeeze to help stop her nervous fidgeting.  “Sorry about that.  I just had a bad dream.  Hunter came to help.”

   “Oh, okay,” she said.  

   “Thanks for checking on me, though,” you told her.  She glanced between you and Hunter, offering a smile, before giving your shoulder a pat and heading back for the door.

   “She’s a good kid.”

   “Yeah,” Hunter agreed.  He pulled the blanket over your form.  “Why don’t you try and get a little more rest before we reach Saleucami?”

   You yawned.  “Would...would you stay with me a bit?”

   Hunter hesitated, his eyes flickering to the door.  He made his decision and got up to shut the door and returned to the side of your bunk.  “Make some room,” he said with a nudge.  You scooted in toward the wall, giving him space to lay down next to you.

   “Sorry if this is weird,” you murmured.  “I just don’t want to be alone.”

   He sighed in understanding, reaching over to pull the blanket up further up to make sure you were comfortable.  “It’s not weird.”

   You made a daring move and curled up closer to his side.  “Still not weird?”

   He paused, chuckling, before draping an arm over you.  “Nope.”

   “Alright,” you smiled, whispering.  “Thank you.”

   “Anytime,” he whispered back.

#the bad batch x reader #bad batch hunter #bad batch hunter reader insert #bad batch reader insert #hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter #star wars the bad batch #bad batch fanfiction #bad batch x reader #bad batch x you

[eyayah-oya]

At First Sight

It’s been a while since I’ve posted one of these blurbs, and I really liked this one. It’s got some OCs of mine that I created to be Wooley’s batchmates. More information on them can be found below the cut

Wooley groaned as the Corrie tugged his arms behind him and pulled out a set of binders. He wasn't even drunk or involved this time. He just happened to be nearby when Crys set off a bunch of glitter bombs (Wooley was pretty sure he got them from Torrent) and of course the Corrie assumed he was a part of it. Or just wanted the bragging rights among their batchmates that he got to throw Wooley into the drunk tank.

"Corin, you are a slimy bastard," he groaned. "I didn't do anything."

"Hmm, that's what you say. But you see, you Ghosts rarely do stuff by yourself. Therefore, that kid Jek is arresting had an accomplice. The closest Ghost was you," Corin said smugly.

Wooley sighed.

"I actually hate you right now."

"Don't stay things you don't mean, Wooley dearest," Corin sang.

"Ratio is my favorite now."

"Blasphemy! I have always been your favorite batchmate," Corin protested.

"Ratio isn’t currently arresting me for something I didn't do and didn't know anything about."

"If you want to lie, you need to get better at hiding your tells."

"I've been working on that," another vod's voice called. Wooley sighed. He knew that voice very well. And of course Lovely just had to happen by.

Corin closed the binders on his wrists and turned Wooley towards the Guard speeder where Lovely was leaning against the side.

And then they stopped.

Wooley glanced behind and couldn't help but grin. Oh. Oh that was delightful blackmail material.

Corin stood there, his bucket clipped to his belt so his curly blue hair went in every direction as it attempted to escape its ponytail. And he stood, absolutely dumbstruck, and stared at Lovely. His brother, the most flirtatious of the lot of them, was stunned silent by a pretty face.

Discreetly, Wooley swiped the keys off of Corin's belt and walked towards the speeder, Corin's hand sliding off of his back. He fiddled with the binders for a moment and then slipped them off and tossed them into the Guard speeder. He put his bucket back on and immediately took several holos of Corin's face.

"Is there a problem?" Lovely asked, walking towards Corin as he waved Wooley away behind his back.

"Puh uh problem? No, there's no problem," Corin stammered. "I'm Corin."

"Nice to meet you, Corin," Lovely answered. "I'm Lovely."

"You definitely are."

Wooley almost gave his escape away with a snort as he listened to his normally suave brother blunder through an introduction. He couldn't wait to show this to Mal and Ama. They would absolutely never let Corin live this down. Cyan would get a kick out of it, too.

As Wooley hopped into a speeder heading to the GAR barracks, specifically for the clones, he sent the holo to the Crimson groupchat.

<Wooley: Look at him. He saw one of my squaddies and made this face!>

<Ama: NO WAY!!! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!!!!>

<Ratio: Ha! Thank you Wooley. I am definitely saving that to get back at him for the prank he pulled last week.>

<Mal: That was Ama. But it's about time Corin got a taste of his own medicine.>

<Cyan: Lovely is really nice. Corin at least has good taste. If Lovely falls for him, though, I'm gonna have to question his taste.>

<Corin: WOOLEY YOU SON OF A BANTHA WHORE!!!>

Wooley just cackled.

Wooley’s Batch (AKA Crimson Batch)

Mal: The Oldest TM. He is gentle and kind and gives the absolute best hugs. He’s the kind of person you go to for a nice long cuddle with ice cream, blanket forts, and a movie to feel better after a bad day. He’s also got great advice. He was one of the five members of Crimson Batch that were sent to Coruscant as part of the Coruscant Guard.

Kye: He can be a bit of a grump. He is also the easiest to get with a prank, which the others do quite frequently. Kye also has the most infectious laugh, if you can get him to let loose. He’s also a Coruscant Guard.

Ratio: Ratio is happiest if he has a fully-charged datapad, a hot cup of caf, and a vod’ika curled up against him (usually Ama). Force save anyone who brings him a problem to solve before he’s had his morning caf, though. He likes to tease and joke around and holds trivia nights, which can range from fun little quizzes, to him info-dumping with his batchmates. He is also a Coruscant Guard.

Corin: Corin is a notorious flirt. He will flirt with anyone that he can get away with. Charming to the extreme and with a fun sense of humor to boot, he is very popular both within the Guard and with any Battalions on leave. He is also a massive troll. Wooley and Corin were really close before they were deployed and Wooley learned how to flirt from Corin. He fell head over heels for Lovely the very first time he saw him, and spent the rest of the war trying to come up with ways to woo Lovely. (Lovely is demi, so it took a bit of time and a lot of patience, but he was wooed.) Corin is a member of the Coruscant Guard.

Talla: He is very protective. He was one of the batchmates that was assigned to Commander Rill’s Company (also an oc of mine) along with Wooley, Cyan, Kita, and Maie. When they were captured by Separatists, Talla was sold to Trandoshans along with Kita and Maie. He protected them and they managed to survive until they were later rescued (this is soft! I couldn’t kill them. I just couldn’t). He’s fairly paranoid and warms up to strangers very slowly and rarely goes anywhere without his armor and several weapons.

Cyan: Cyan was rescued by the 212th along with Wooley (and Lovely and a few others, but I’m not focusing on them now). He’s really reserved and quiet, but will absolutely swear like a sailor with the people he’s closest to. He becomes really close with Miggs (a fellow trooper in the 212th) and they eventually say the riduurok after Miggs lost his leg on Umbara. They will eventually adopt a squad of cadets and raise them together.

Kita: Kita is pretty friendly and adapts well to being around other people. At least better than Talla. He was also rescued with Talla and Maie. He likes making friends and is definitely nowhere near as paranoid as Talla.

Maie: Maie is considered “Babey TM”. He’s got the Sad Tooka Eyes (which Wooley learned from him and used to great effect on the 212th). He is a little quiet and tends to stick close with the people he knows the best but is also interested in making new friends. He really wants to open a ranch or farm and just spend time out in nature when he doesn’t have to worry about being hunted.

And finally . . . 

Ama: Ama is the Youngest TM. Always. He loves practical jokes and making people laugh. He has probably perfected several comedy routines at this point and performs them every time he’s at 79′s with a new Company on leave. Loves sitting with Ratio and they like planning pranks together. Kye is their usual victim, but they also target the others as well. He was also sent to Coruscant as a Coruscant Guard.

Let me know if you want to learn any more about these guys! (I have done piccrew with them because I can’t draw) I love them a lot. If you made it all the way this far! Congratulations and thank you so much!! Crimson Batch will appear in my Long Fic (whenever I have time to actually write it).

ALSO!! FYI, Wooley falls between Kita and Maie, age-wise. He’s not the Youngest, but he is one of the youngest.

#clone/clone #cloneshipping #oc clone/oc clone #oc clone troopers #wooley's batch #corin/lovely #cyan/miggs #wooley #clone trooper wooley #crimson batch