#insert rant about the rear end of the show

[nymph1e]

Okay fuck it, I gotta give in, I gotta watch through Supernatural. AFAIK, it's all on Netflix; at least I saw it on there in passing. Going into this, is there anything I should be aware of? Are there any episodes I should skip, any seasons? Should I start from season 4? I know the basic plot and concept, and I know it's very monster-of-the-week. But aside from me highkey shipping Destiel already, that's all.

Well my first piece of advice would be

but uh, let’s fucking ~GO~

If you’re actually jumping into this hellhole (why why why) don’t start at season 4. It’s tempting, but seasons 1-3 are some of the best shit in the whole show, also having context for Sam and Dean’s characters, and their relationship with the supernatural up to season 4 really highlights how fucking wild the introduction of angels is in the show. it’s basically a complete paradigm shift.

I would recommend you watch seasons 1-5 basically as is, though if you’re in a rush, season three is kinda skippable as long as you read a general synopsis. This is the original arc of the show and it shows. A friend of mine, @sammwinchestersdimples​ has said she’d have been fine if the show had ended there, and I can totally see her point. After season five things start to get... uhhhhh... not as good. THAT BEING SAID some really amazing seasons come later, and you’d get nowhere NEAR the Full Destiel Experience without them. What REALLY sucks is that all the seasons have good moments in them, so even if the seasons are generally bad, they’ll have episodes of GOLD. But fuck it, here’s a season-by-season breakdown.

Season 6 - This is the first... “eh” season. There’s a lot of character choices made in this one that I don’t like. The plot also doesn’t quite seem to know what to do with itself and it has no real main villain... or I guess it has a twist villain? This is also the season where they start chucking in the typical “no homos” you get when a show is queerbaiting, so they can point to the no homo bits and claim the queers are delusional.

Season 7 - The absolute WORST season, imo, is season 7, and it features Cas the least out of all the post season 4 seasons. You can tell the writers genuinely tried to write Cas off here. Not to mention the main plot is completely stupid. HOWEVER this is the season where we get golden things like Cas showing up to Dean’s prayer naked and covered in bees, and the episode where Charlie (best girl) is introduced and Dean subsequently has to flirt with a dude because she, a lesbian, cannot. (Wow so straight, Dean)

Episodes Not To Skip:

6x03 - A good Cas/plot episode (spot the famous destiel quote)

6x04 - A good all-round episode, also Jackles directed it so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

6x09 - This is one of the Batshit Episodes. Definitely watch.

6x10 - On the one hand, Cas episode. On the other, no homo, megstiel episode. Your choice.

6x11 - Good episode.

6x15 - THE ULTIMATE META EPISODE. Sam and Dean are teleported into Jared Padelecki and Jensen Ackles’ lives on the set of Supernatural and it is so batshit.

6x17 - Jolly good episode, and nice destiel content.

6x18 - Time travel episode, which is always fun.

6x19 - “Baby in a trenchcoat.” ‘Nough said.

6x20 - The Man Who Would Be King is the destiel episode. It is infamous in the fandom, and for good reason. It’s not just a good destiel episode, but one of the best episodes in the series. With banging lines like “Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it.” and “For a brief moment, I was me again.”

6x21 & 6x22 - The last two episodes are kind of must-watches after TMWWBK, trust me.

Episodes Not To Skip:

7x01 & 7x02 - follows on from s6 final. You don’t wanna skip.

7x05 - Good general episode

7x06 - Again, good general episode. Sets ups plot for the season.

7x08 - Ugh. So the A plot for this episodes invoves Becky, the insane, stalker, fandom-insert character, roofie Sam into marrying her (and it’s heavily implied they have sex - and it’s treated as a joke despite being LITERAL RAPE). BUT this is the episode where Garth is introduced and Garth is fucking amazing. So. IDEK.

7x10 & 7x11 - Plot important.

7x12 - Time travel episode! See if you can catch the bi!dean moment ;)

7x17 - Cas is back! Or is he???

7x18 - GARTH EPISODE

7x20 - CHARLIE!!!! WATCH THIS EPISODE!!!!

7x21 - Cas episode. It’s... interesting.

7x22 - The tagline for this episode is “Sam and Dean seek out an Alpha” 😭. It’s a Cas episode.

7x23 - If Cas weren’t in this episode I’d say skip it.

Season 8 - A fantastic season. If The Man Who Would Be King is the destiel episode, season 8 is the destiel season. When you watch this, DM me so I can RANT about all the amazing destiel this season. It’s also, again, a great season in general I remember watching it as it was airing it was soooo good. You have the arrival of the Bunker, you have Kevin and Charlie being awesome, some nice sprinkles of batshit episodes, BEST BOY BENNY rocks up in all his glory. Fucking epic season. Only downside it Sam’s character takes a bit of a dive. I’d recommend you watch through all of this season.

Episodes To AVOID:

7x13 - I literally pretend this stupid fucking episode doesn’t exist. Basically Dean impregnates a woman with Super Pregnancy and she has a daughter who becomes an adult within hours and then dies. The end. Everyone hated it. Man fuck this episode. Of course it was written by Buckleming.

Season 9 - Sadly, after how amazing season 8 was, and how spectactularly season 9 was set up, this season is a disappointment. It’s an ok season. It’s not bad, it’s not good, it’s just a bit all over the place.

I was going to give you the normal episode list to not skip, but looking through, most episodes this season should be watched for one reason or another. Either they’re Cas heavy, they do some interesting character building, or they feature one of the awesome side characters like Charlie or Jody.

This season is probably the height of the war in the writers’ room about destiel. Some writers want to no homo the whole thing and back way off, while other writers want to lean into it hard. So in the same season where SPOILER Cas loses his virginity to a random reaper woman and Dean kicks Cas out of the bunker to fend for himself, you also have Cas’ fatal flaw used as propaganda against him by Metatron being that he’s "in love” with humanity Dean. /SPOILER Whatever you do DON’T SKIP THE FINAL FEW EPISODES. TRUST ME.

Season 10 - Haha oh dear. This season is likely the biggest for wasted potential. You saw the end of season 9, right? You go “HOLY SHIT YES LET’S DO THIS” and then they do... season 10. They really became experts at setting up an awesome season only to fuck it up in delivery, right? Again, not a bad season, per se.

Episodes To AVOID:

9x05 - In which Dean wants to fuck a dog. I am not joking. I wish I were. Basically a spell-gone-wrong makes Dean doglike. it’s weird. it’s batshit. Not the good kind.

Season 11 - Season 11 is a pretty good season! They tried to give Dean a female love interest but Jackles said  ✨No✨ and played Dean as brainwashed and uncomfortable the whole time and I love him for it. Of special note this season is the episode Baby (11x04), which is my favourite episode in the series! It’s funny, it’s heartwarming, it’s weirdly shot. I love it! We also get casifer this season which is awesome! Some episodes are skippable, but they’re generally good episodes.

Episodes NOT to Skip (ignore the 10 year special):

10x01 & 10x02 - Great episodes, Dean in this is *chefs kiss*.

10x04 - *sighs* Fan Fiction. A 200th episode that is simultaneously a love letter to fans and laughing in fans’ faces. I’ve never liked this episode for the second-hand embarressment of it all, but you should watch it and see if you like it.

10x06 - Pretty good episode.

10x07 - Jody AND Donna! Fantastic episode!

10x08 - Dadstiel rears his ugly head. I fucking love how Cas adopts two (2) kids over the course of the series and in both cases Dean eventually goes “ah fuck, I guess I gotta co-parent this thing”. Also we get some KILLER destiel this episode. hey go on a DATE and Cas tells Dean he’s a good person ^_^

10x09 - Good episode. Much destiel.

10x10 - Charlie episode!

10x11 - Teen!Dean! Need I say more?

OK so I just had a look, and you really just need to watch every episode from this point in the season on. Enjoy!

Season 12 - Another example of a TERRRIBLE season, is season 12. Season 12 is also one of the most destiel-heavy seasons in the show. You see the issue? Like, it’s got a stupid plot that makes no sense and has no fucking cohesion, but you also FINALLY have the writers going “fuck it” and all in on the destiel. After this point Dean never has another non-Cas love interest and vice versa, they stop giving us whiplash from baiting and no-homoing. IF the conspiracy theory is true, and the end of the show is shit because of executive meddling, this season is the one where the writers decided they were gonna push for destiel endgame.

I gotta tell you the truth, I skipped this season in my rewatch, so all of my memories are from years ago when it first came out. This seson was the last that I watched live (for a reason). Should you skip it? No. But I’m not well informed enough about this season that I can point out what episodes you should or should not watch.

Season 13 - Congratulations! You’ve reached the point where the show’s gotten consistently good again! (just in time for most of the audience to have already left lol). We start off with SPOILERS Dean mourning Cas like he’s lost the will to fucking live. I’m talking complete despondence, praying for Cas to come back, lashing out in anger at everything, one of the darkest points we’ve ever seen him at on the show, then pulling a 180 and being super happy the second Cas comes back. /SPOILERS They also introduce Jack, who is the SECOND child Cas decides to adopt and Dean ends up co-parenting (Sam too). In fact, Jack is explicity Sam, Cas, and Dean’s kid.

Season 14 - Another good one. My only issue is where they decided to take the plot at the end of the season. I’d recommend watching it all, regardless.

Season 15 - And so we’ve come to the end of the line. This season was... well it was actually pretty good. It started off with what we hellers lovingly refer to as the “divorce arc” where Cas and Dean have a big blow up, and Cas leaves, but that ends with Dean praying on his knees for forgiveness and a nice hug. Honestly this season you can cut the tension between the two of them like a knife, and you can tell Misha and Jensen were doing it deliberately.

I’d say watch up until 15x18, then you decide what to do with the last two episodes. If you want you can watch them to understand just why people put their conspiracy theory hats on, or you can send me another ask and I’ll rec you some post 15x18 finale fics! There’s one fic that’s a replacement for 15x20 written in script format that is particularly good.

Anyway that’s it. It’s kind of left me a little sad, to break down the show in this way. Especially coming up to season 15 nd remembering all the wasted potential. Honestly if you do decide to watch the show, good luck. I hope you enjoy it. I’m also glad you never had to be put through the bullshit false hope that came about after 15x18.

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #spn

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 105

The lovely room you’d woken up in didn’t include a side bathroom. Perhaps you were getting a little too comfortable to the five-star lifestyle. SHIELD usually had nicer places than the one you’d ended up in- wherever that was- but considering you seemed to have been pulled out by rogue agents (a bare summation that you’d put together yourself) and shunted to wherever this was, perhaps you should forgive the whole no-shower thing. 

It did, at least, have a sink. So while Tony was busy with a few things that you could only guess what they were, you turned your back on him to let him work and took a very minimal amount of time removing your shirt and gathering up a handful of paper towels to try and wipe the dried blood off your arms and the sides of your neck. It hurt to move around, still. You weren’t sure how long ago you’d been shot, or how bad it had been… it felt pretty bad. So much so, in fact, that even though you were tempted to unwind the bandages from your chest, you thought better of it. 

Whatever momentary peace you’d had was broken when a soft knock came at the door. It made you hurry to put your shirt back on with a small call, “Just a second.” Although Tony’s ire was sharper. “Occupied.” 

A literal second was all the person on the other side waited, you were barely fully clothed again by the time the door opened. “We’re running short on time.” As you looked up you saw Maria Hill, arms crossed. “We’ve gotta start making some moves.” Her smile at you was extremely brief. “Can you move yet?” 

Tony answered for you. “Enough to go home.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” In fact your grunt of pain suggested exactly that. “Where are we, anyway? What happened?” Things were understandably a little fuzzy. You might have asked Tony what he was doing there, or how he’d gotten here, too, but… seeing as you were glad to have him near, you didn’t particularly care. 

As Maria stepped aside, into the room, Steve was not too far behind her. “You jumped in front of a bullet meant for me.” He seemed… uncomfortable to say the least. And very solemn. 

Tony looked up at him. “Usually some gratitude applies. But I’m sure you’ll send her a note on some nice stationary when we’re done.” You couldn’t make out if he was angry with Steve. He’d have no reason to be- probably just misplaced.

And- the last voice you’d have ever expected to hear, brought up the rear of this little circus show, as Nat wheeled Nick-fucking-Fury into the room. She seemed injured, too. At least you weren’t the only one covered in band-aids. “We’re in the last unknown bunker. Off-grid.” 

“Oh.” You said, accidentally a little more loudly than you meant. “I died and went to hell. Is that it?” 

The laugh that left him seemed to hurt him at the same time, sending him into a soft coughing fit that put a stall in the room. “Good to see you, too.” But when he caught his breath and held up his hand, he directed a strange smile your way. “What was it I was supposed to say- you were right- and we’re personally destroying Project Insight?” 

“That supposed to make me feel better?” If you’d had any energy left, you might have growled this at him. 

Shifting back, Tony pulled a USB stick out of a laptop. “Payload’s ready. Shame we have to have three hands on the proverbial wheel. Would’ve been a lot easier to take out from the comfort of this lovely sewer.” 

Nick gave him a look. “If you’re gonna launch or unlaunch a project like this, you have to be very sure.” 

“I get it.” Tony answered pretty dryly. “Like simultaneous turnkeys to  launch a nuke- but hey- seems like you always knew exactly what this was, huh?” Anger successfully redirected. And to a person that deserved it. “That Zero Day on the backend is pretty cute. Also pretty useless considering you expected you’d need a present cocktail to activate it. Also not as hidden as you thought.” 

Fury rolled his eye. “We get it, Stark. You’re smarter than the rest of us. Now, if we could just move on to formulating an actual plan- we have to assume everyone on board those helicarriers is Hydra. The tough part isn’t inserting the keys, it’s getting past them to do it. And if we’re lucky we can salvage what’s left when we’re done.” 

“No.” You were surprised just how many people said this at the same time. But you didn’t wait for the silence to clear. “Let me get this straight- sorry I’m the last horse finishing the race here- so we have to get aboard all three of Project Insight’s helicarriers, insert keys with a payload- all at the right time- to try and take them down- and you want to take them back?” 

“Oh. I must have misunderstood.” Tony dropped the stick on the table so he could cross his arms. “Was that the plan? Sorry. I have a complete destruction order.” 

Steve waved a hand. “We’re not salvaging anything. We're not just taking down the carriers, Nick, we're taking down SHIELD.” 

This shocked you, if only a little. It was nice to have everyone on the same side- but to think Steve and Tony had talked, in your brief lapse of unconsciousness and recovery, about fully dismantling SHIELD? That was… 

Fury was getting pretty upset. “SHIELD had nothing to do with this.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Tony’s smart sass cutting the room. “Seems like SHIELD had everything to do with this. Negligence and ignorance don’t exactly scream innocence to me.” 

Steve shook his head. “You gave us this mission, this is how it ends. SHIELD's been compromised. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.” 

Scoffing, Nick half turned to level an icy glare Steve’s way. “Why do you think we’re down here? I noticed.” 

Squaring up, Steve met him blow for blow, voice lowering. “And how many paid the price before you did?” 

You were grateful when Natasha stepped between them. “We don’t have time for another quarrel of ethics.” Then she looked right at Nick. “...and for the record-” 

Fury turned his head down. “You agree. Yeah. That’s the consensus, huh? We all agree?” Looking around the room then. 

“SHIELD, HYDRA, it all goes.” Steve giving the last order on this matter. 

                                                      ----

There was an very limited window to suit up- almost an impossibility for you, seeing as yours was extremely damaged. Tony had been working on it alongside getting those USBs loaded. He was nothing if not a genius- and a genius multi-tasker, at that. But even so… 

He looked a little beat up himself as he handed your Heart Reactor back to you. “We need a plan.” Not physically damaged- yet- but… for one reason or another pretty emotionally wounded.

Even though he pressed the device into your palm, he was reluctant to let go. From your position on the bed you looked up at him. “Isn’t that something we should do with everyone out there?” The team had left the two of you for some privacy, but it wouldn’t last long. 

And if it was time to start forming groups and figuring out who did what, everyone needed to be present for that. He frowned lightly, letting his fingers slip away from yours. “I did the best I could- given my extremely limited time, tool set, and inhospitable environment-” 

Trying to cut his grumbling off, you shifted off the bed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sure it’s fine.” Pushing the Reactor to your chest after. 

But he wasn’t able to let you go yet, as his hands came to your hips. “You know I’d never speak bad about my own work- but- it’s not enough. You get backed into another corner like that again- you might not make it out.” 

“Well- we have almost the whole team, right? It’s less likely to happen again-” 

“Be serious about this, for a second- and- that’s coming from me.” He was in that twisted mood he always fell into when you got hurt. When he had to come at the very end of a fight or a mishap, and you were in bad shape. It scared him straight to his core. It unnerved him, same as it made him angry. “You know I think you can do anything- and I know you won’t just go home- so can we please just split the difference and have you on civilian escort? These things aren’t going down without a fight, and there’s a lot of people in the giant radius we’re looking at that are gonna get hurt.” 

Innocent people, as always. That had nothing to do with any of this. And no chance to help themselves. No means, either. As fire rained down on them within seconds, without notice, and would trap them. Yes. Someone needed to be on civilian duty. You just… didn’t want it to be you. Not because you were above that sort of thing, you weren’t, that was one of the most important jobs there was. But… 

“I have fought with Nick and with SHIELD and with- probably all of this longer than I realized I was. And that guy, whoever the hell he is-” 

“We’ve got bad news on that front, too.” Interrupting you so suddenly that it cut your little rant short. 

“What now?” Who could it be? Who else could you possibly know that would make this a startling revelation at this point? 

“Haven’t heard the full story. But whisperings around the dingy water cooler out there are that it’s Rogers’ friend.” 

Alright. Not a startling revelation, being that you would have no idea who that was. But kind of… upsetting? Nervewracking? What was the right word here? “How is that possible?”

Tony crossed his arms after shrugging his shoulders. “We’re in a SHIELD sewer after Hydra just exploded out of the woodworks. Anything’s possible at this point, wouldn’t you say? Maybe he got a shot of the same serum. I don’t know. But the point is- this just got personal. So we should let Rogers handle it.” 

But this was just not convincing enough. One of Steve’s old war buddies? Back from the dead- now some crazy super powered killing machine? And going after Steve no less? Hired by the bad guys? There seemed to be a lot of missing pieces here. “You know- there are billions of people on the planet. Especially considering he’s also got a whole lifetime gap. Aren’t we doing the whole- thinking about a zebra when it’s probably a horse thing?” 

“I’m always of the mind to agree with you. But he seems pretty set on this.” “Then I need to talk to him before we leave.” The only way this would start to make any sense. It had to happen, anyway. While you weren’t entirely convinced he was someone Steve knew, you were sure you’d seen something… off about him. Then again. You’d been shot near point blank in the chest and had gone down pretty hard. It was hard to remember what you thought you’d seen. 

There was just a lingering feeling of something not being right. 

“Good luck with that. He could barely look me in the eye. He’s gonna give you the same flight plan. And probably skirt around everything else.” 

This was a fucking mess. And not exactly the right time to be in one. “You? Why? What happened?” 

Tony’s brows knitted before he aimed a dry look your way. “You walked directly in front of a bullet with his name on it- he said it himself. He’s feeling pretty rough about it.” 

There was a whisper here, almost too easy to catch: And he should. You tried to keep your own stare back not… judging or accusing, but… “Did you yell at him?” 

“Yell?” Almost as if he couldn’t believe you’d ask something like that. But as you continued to stare at him, not backing down, he broke, raising his hands in a sign of defense. “Not- I wouldn’t call it yelling- it was a very sternly worded ten minute monologue.” 

“And if he took a shot for me, you’d yell- sorry- ten minute sternly monologue at me, is that right?” 

His answer was quick and biting as he settled his hands on your upper arms in a soft hold, almost begging you to understand with the look he leveled your way. “Much as I like Steve- honey- I’ve known you far longer. And much as we’re all a team- you’re the one I’m worried about, at the end of the day. Because you’re the one that’s important to me. That I get to come home to, when things are settled. That I spend my time with. I didn’t come at him because you put yourself in a situation for him that he couldn’t get out of. Way he told that story- he has every right to feel bad about it. And if you’d died over it-” 

Sooner than either of you had realized, the grip he was holding you in had grown too tight, and you pressed your lips together once, reaching to soothe your hands up his chest. “Tony…” Softly, urging him to calm himself. 

It seemed to break him free of the dark storm cloud he’d been sucked up into. As he took a breath and relaxed his hands, he dropped his head, gathering his thoughts. His eyes were gentle but resolved when he found yours again. “Don’t ask me to explain why it upsets me- the danger you’re constantly in. You know why. I love you. And it’s not about doing the right thing. It’s that you had to make a choice. His life or yours. And he never should have needed you to do that for him.” 

Despite it feeling sort of… wrong to argue with him about this- especially considering how fragile he suddenly was over this, because it was you, you couldn’t bite it all back. This wasn’t Steve’s fault. “He thought it was someone he’d knew-” Right? That was why he’d frozen. 

“If Rhodey pointed a gun at me I wouldn’t just wait for him to shoot me, or for someone to step in front of that bullet for me-”

“You know Rhodey’s alive- if it’s someone that was supposed to be dead-” 

“What- how far you want me to go back- if my dad had dug himself out of his grave- I still wouldn’t-” 

“Alright- alright! Calm down- take it easy!” 

His words had grown sharp and almost terrifying. It was why you knew you shouldn’t have tried to argue with him- he wasn’t going to relent on this. But the darkness that had suddenly manifested was… not an easy thing to deal with. Reaching up, you cupped the sides of his jaw in your palms, easing him away from that edge. 

He took a breath. Stabilizing, almost. And then sinking into your hold on him, shoulders drooping. “Honey… I will sit by your bedside as many times as I need to. Just like you do for me. Because that’s what we’ve put ourselves in. That’s what we decided we were doing. But this was different. Shock or not. He picked a side, when the other side he was on was losing. And he’ll pick it again. I guarantee it.” 

“Why? Why do you think you know that?” Almost begging to understand why he was going in so hard on this. He and Steve respected each other. Got along. And even though you knew he loved you- so desperately so- that didn’t mean that this had to put a wedge in between things. 

As he almost slipped away from you, seeming like he didn’t want to say what he seemed to know, you held his face up. Not letting him escape. Leveling his gaze with yours again. Waiting. “I heard them in the hall, while you were out. Old buddy of Rogers- shows up out of the blue- working for Hydra. They’re leaning pretty hard on the assumption something’s not right upstairs- if it even is him. Who do you think they’re waiting to put in the ring again. On the off chance they’re right. Who do you think they’re willing to use as collateral damage?” 

It was quite a different feeling, your heart breaking over the mistrust of people you thought were friends. “Stop.” But it couldn’t be true. He was hurting. And maybe he’d heard some semblance of this plan- but this couldn’t be the whole of it. Nor did you think he would make it up. So the truth was somewhere in the middle. “We can just talk to them. And find out.” Which was your preferred method of doing things. Nobody ever won running whisper campaigns. 

“I’m not trying to start something. I’m just… doing what they are.” 

“And that is?” 

He answered with a startling conviction. “Picking my side.” 

“Tony…” It was as warming as it was unnerving. “It’s one guy. We don’t know anything yet.” 

You found a little relief as he nodded. “Yeah. I’m not trying to pick apart the team. I’m just… trying to make it clear. Where my loyalties lie.” 

At this- at the very least- you couldn’t help the twitch of a smile. “Never a doubt in my mind.” 

His head dipped in a little, voice lowering. “I will always pick you. It’s always you, for me.”

...at this, it was impossible to not let the unnerving part drift away and instead sink into the warmth, only, instead. His devotion for you touched you right at your core. Easing up on your tiptoes, and bringing him closer, you kissed him carefully, winding your arms around his neck, ignoring the quick spark of pain in your chest. His hands came to steady you, palming over your hips. While you wanted it to go on forever, at this point, having missed him terribly in that small time apart- 

There was work to do. And aside that, as you broke, you let him know quietly, “I’ll always pick you, too.” In the important things- the things where lines had to be drawn. That wasn’t now, you were sure. But… if there ever was a time… you and Tony were a team. Inseparable. 

That was the way it was meant to be. 

“I love you.”  A careful and sure murmur against your lips. 

One that was easy to repeat. “I love you, too, Tony.” 

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Five

[kumkaniudaku]

Control

A/N: Third time trying to post this. Anyway, thanks to @texasbama and @soldierandawar for the idea. This has elements of overstimulation for @mixedmelanin and (hopefully) hot smut for @httpjex ‘s birthday. Enjoy.

Warnings: SMUT (18 + content only)

Mouth hung open and eyes wide, you stood in front of the large mirror of your suite’s master bathroom applying the finishing touches for the night’s makeup look. The beautiful view of Central Park provided natural lighting for your dressing routine, but if you asked Chadwick, it couldn’t hold a candle to the woman he was looking at.

Your yellow, silk robe hung from your golden shoulders, almost giving your husband a peek at your bare chest. With his body angled against the bathroom door, he watched you with a smile as you prepared for your first invite to Rihanna’s annual Diamond Ball.

“You look beautiful, T,” he complimented, pushing his body off the door frame to stand behind you. “Finest mother of two I’ve ever seen.”

“Haven’t you seen Beyonce? Don’t be disrespectful,” you laughed. He joined you while using his nose to direct your head upward. Satisfied with the position, he placed lingering kisses along your jawline.

“It could be a thousand Beyonce’s in the room, and I’m still leaving with you.”

“What about a thousand Rihanna’s?”

“Now you’re pushing it!”

You playfully pushed him away to continue the rest of your routine. Turning to him, you held two lipstick components in front of your mouth for him to judge. “Gloss or matte?”

“Whichever one won’t come off when I’m kissing you.”

“Who says I want to kiss you,” you questioned while lining your lips with a chestnut lip liner. Chadwick didn’t speak, instead choosing to smirk at you. Looking at him through the mirror, you mentally began to retract your statement. His shoulders and chest glistened in the setting sun, matching the diamond-like gleam in his fresh haircut and facial hair. His trousers hung low and unzipped on his waist to reveal the briefs underneath, and it took all of your willpower to redirect your thoughts and focus on getting dressed. It didn’t matter what man walked into the event space tonight; you knew yours was the shit. 

“Okay, so I lied. Sue me.”

Chadwick followed you into the bedroom, laughing and joking about the comment Micah made about ‘babysitting’ Noah while at her auntie’s house in Harlem. During the conversation, you turned your back to slide out of your robe and start the process of putting on the evening’s attire. As you stood in only a nude thong, your husband’s mind wandered to the surprises he had for you. If all went well, his plan would lead to the intimacy he craved since Noah’s arrival. He agreed to give you space to heal and recalibrate but, the gentle kisses and naughty touches made him want to return to space between your legs.

“Aaron, can you help me with this,” you asked, motioning toward the zipper on the back of your dress.

He shot up from his relaxed position on the bed, eager to run his fingers down the smooth skin of your back. Holding the front of your dress kept your breast covered while he wiggled the zipper up and clasped the hook at the top. In a moment of truth, you let out the breath you were holding to test the limits of the satin material. You chose the metallic rose pink silk double satin gown from Ralph and Russo’s Fall 15/16 line for two reasons: the corset to hold in the post-baby tummy and the thigh-high slit in the front to get your man’s attention.

Slowly leaking the pent-up breath in your lungs, you dropped your shoulders in relief when you found that there was ample room to function in the dress. Chadwick stared at you with an unreadable expression.

“What,” you panicked. “Is it ugly? Does it look too small? I knew my body wasn’t ready yet. Fuck!”

His few seconds of silence fueled an anxiety charged rant on the current shape of your body. After Micah was born, it only took four months to get back in pre-baby shape. You were lean again, boasting a set of defined abs and the perky ass that drew Chadwick’s hands in like a magnet. Now, with Noah approaching the four-month milestone, your body clung to the extra weight. Your stomach still carried a little pudge and your back had enough rolls to feed a dinner table. Despite your husband’s best efforts to remind you of your beauty, the tiny voice of self-deprecation occasionally reared its ugly head.

Chadwick’s large hands gripped your waist to stop your nervous pacing and steady you in front of him. “What did I tell you?”

“That I am gorgeous inside and out,” you mumbled, your eye roll mirroring Micah’s signature expression and making him smile.

“Exactly. So, stop this shit. I don’t care about your stomach or the extra jiggle in your back and thighs. You had my son, my namesake,” he swiped his finger against your bottom lip before adding a kiss. “Plus, I’m trying to use that pudge for grip when I’m diggin’ you from the back. This dress is gonna get you in trouble.”

“Stop it!” You bashfully hit his chest, turning your face away to hide your smile. His slender fingers cupped your face to bring your eyes to meet his.

“I got some something for you.” The low tone of his voice indicated that whatever was waiting for you not an innocent gift.

You nodded your approval and waiting for him to return from the dresser drawers nearby. In his hands, he held two large ivory boxes tied in gold bows. You squealed in excitement as he removed the bows and began to open the first box.

“Since this is the Diamond Ball, I couldn’t let my lady show up without diamonds.” The Cartier d’Amour earrings and matching d’Amour necklace danced in the sunlight to match the twinkle in his eye.

Your mouth hung open in shock and concern, “Baby, I know these were expensive. You didn’t have to do this.”

“Let me worry about expenses. You focus on holding your hair up so I can put this necklace on.”

Following his directions, you lifted your natural blowout and twist to give him space to clasp the jewelry around your neck before kissing the chain for good measure. He watched you put on your earring with a smile, loving the way you examined yourself in the mirror.

“These are incredible, Aaron. Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem,” he answered, waving you off. “Anything for you.”

A long kiss and utterances of ‘I love you’ passed between your lips in appreciation for his unexpected gift. “There’s still one more box. What’s in that one?”

“How about you open it,” he whispered against your ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth.

You hissed at the sensation as you bit your lip to keep your composure. A trembling hand reached to grab the last box while still wrapped in Chadwick’s arms. When the lid slid off the box, you turned your head in confusion. A matte pink bullet vibrator sat nestled between grey foam beside a rose gold remote. You could sense Chadwick’s cheeky grin before you turned around, flicking on the light bulb in your head.

“You want to use this when we get back tonight,” you flirted. “I think I’m ready to have you back inside.”

He let out a shaky breath as your tongue swiped against a spot on his clavicle, “We’re using this tonight. As in while we’re in public.”

“What? How?”

“Well...you’ll insert this bad boy,” he explained, handing you the bullet vibrator. “And I’ll take control with this little guy.”

You were mortified but intrigued. “You’re telling me you have control of this thing all night while it’s inside of me?”

“Unless you don’t want to. But, if you’re the same woman that begged to suck my dick in Whole Food’s parking lot just because, I think you’ll like it.”

“Let’s do it,” you answered, almost too eagerly. The thought of him having control of your orgasm made your knees weak. You never considered the fact that you were dealing with a notorious prankster. All you saw was this experiment turning into you grabbing his hand and saying goodbye to your friends to end the night early.

He chuckled at your reaction before turning your body and motioning for you to get on all fours on the bed. His hand searched the front of your body for your split, pulling the excess fabric up to bunch around your waist. “Hold that for me, baby.”

You did so with no hesitation as he removed the bullet from your hand. Using the tip, he slid it slowly down the damp spot on your panties, smiling at the way you squirmed in anticipation.

“Do you trust me, baby?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Can I get you ready for tonight?”

“Please!”

He nodded behind you before he hooked two fingers around your panties and pulled them down. The wetness from your core clung to the material, providing a mouth-watering show for your husband. His palm pressed against your back firmly to deepen your arch and expose your sweetest parts in their rawest form. He cursed to himself as he watched your pussy open up like a flower, the sight causing his erection to strain against his briefs. As much as he wanted to re-introduce himself to your body, he reminded himself that tonight was about you.

Chadwick’s knees dropped to the floor so that he could get eye to eye with your prize. He tongue tested and tasted the waters as he licked broad paths against your slit. The wet slurping and sucking turned you on more than words could describe. Being careful not to bury your face in the white pillows and smear your makeup, you bit down on the top of one to contain your embarrassing screams.

He grunted a long ‘mmm’ into your pussy while his nose brushed against your clit. Your grinding and wiggling against his face let him know that he hadn’t lost his skill during the brief hiatus and convinced him to do more. The tip of his tongue spelled his first, middle and last name around your clit in invisible to ink to mark his territory. You shivered involuntarily as he rounded off the ‘o’ in Aaron, realizing that he still had eight letters to go. Your vision was blurring and his moans of approval began to muffle in your ear to form a euphoric ringing in the background.

“I missed this,” he spoke against your inner thigh. “You’re still as sweet as I remember, Sunshine.” He sucked at your sensitive bundle to create a soft vacuum of undeniable pleasure. Letting go with a smack, he kissed the spot. “You missed Daddy’s mouth?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

He chuckled, “I can tell. You’re so wet for me.” Changing the pace, he easily slid the vibrator inside and turned on the lowest setting to prepare you.

You hips rolled at the sensation, enjoying the vibration inside and the light tapping against your clit. You called out his name, earning another level of pleasure from the remote. The more intense vibrating and his warm tongue kissing circles on your ass cheek made you let out a foreign squeak.

After showing each cheek equal attention, he spread you open, going back to his assault on your clit. His head shook and nodded as he alternated between licking and sucking to get you off the way that he knew was your favorite. His tongue changed shape to target different areas until you were gripping the sheets and pushing back against his face.

“Fuck, Aaron! I’m g-g-g...ooohmy...shit!” Your hands reached for the headboard to steady yourself through your release. Chadwick placed pressure against your ass to add to the orgasm as he used the other hand to rub your back.

“There you go, baby. You’re being so good for me. Thank you,” he praised. The strength of his arm snaking around your waist was the only thing keeping your body from thudding against the mattress and ruining your hair and makeup.

He helped you to the edge of your bed to clean you off and slip into your underwear adding a cute kiss on the nose. His smile was devious whenever he glanced at you as he finished getting dressed. He had a few tricks up his sleeve and intended to use every one of them until you were begging to cum.

By the time you got off the red carpet and into the venue, you had all but forgotten about the device cradled in your love. Chadwick pulled out your chair for before sitting beside you and resting a hand on your knee. Positioned across from Jamie Foxx, Dave Chappelle, and Trevor Noah, you settled into the conversation to pass the time.

“You, my man, have a new baby,” Trevor started, “How’s the second go at fatherhood?”

“Man, it’s great. I forgot how much fun it is to watch a new human learn life.”

“That is until it’s time to get up and change a diaper and then he’s not so happy,” you laughed, gripping his thigh.

Chadwick’s boisterous laugh took the attention away from the fumbling he was doing in his pocket.

“I take it Chadwick isn’t fond of the 3 AM wake up calls.”

“My husband isn’t fond of-ooh,” Your legs clinched at the first tingle of the vibrator moving inside of you. Your grip on Chadwick’s thigh tightened as you looked to him for confirmation.

“Are you okay? Did I step on your foot,” Trevor asked, preparing to peep under the table to examine.

“NO,” you shouted to stop him. “I mean, y-yeah. I’m fine. What was I saying?”

“You were telling him about me not liking to get up in the middle of the night.” Chadwick kissed your temple in feigned innocence while rubbing the vice grip you had on his knee.

“Yeah, he doesn’t-he-he doesn’t always like to get up b-but, he does.” You squirmed around in your seat trying to ignore the building tension in your core. Thankfully, Trevor accepted your answer with a laugh and turned his attention to the other guests at the table. “Chadwick, stop!”

“Stop what,” he questioned with a smug grin. “You don’t wanna finish?”

You pulled your lip into your mouth as your walls clenched around the device. “Please.”

“Nope,” before you could counter, the vibration stopped. “Too bad.”

“Aaron!”

“Nuh uh. Go talk to your girls. I’ll be...around.”

You looked around at the few familiar faces in the room before looking back at your husband. “Are you going to keep doing that?”

“I might.”  His eyebrows quirked as his lips curved into a dark smile. His hand traveled down the small of your back to tap twice and signal you to stand and walk away. With a deep breath, you willed your legs to cooperate and start you on a quest to converse with whoever would get you away from your maniac of a husband.

Chadwick watched you like a hawk the whole night to wait for his opportunities to strike. When you were in conversation with Beyonce and LaLa Anthony, he switched the vibrator to its lowest setting and observed as you put on a pained smile to keep your dirty secret.

A battle of compliments with Janelle Monae suddenly fell quiet on your end when the device started up again. Determined to keep your composure, you gripped the back of a chair with white knuckles for the duration of the interaction.

No one seemed to notice when Chadwick would pull you to his side while he talked with his friends, partially to keep you upright when the second setting of the bullet kicked in. You held on to his tux jacket, resting the side of your head on his shoulder to paint the picture of a doting wife. In actuality, you were fighting to keep tears from running down your cheeks and streaking your foundation.

The time intervals and situations would vary, but the one thing that remained the same was that he never let you cum. Your pussy would throb in waiting for your release and, as soon as the tell-tale sign of your orgasm would show, Chadwick would switch off the vibrator and leave you on edge in a puddle of your juices. Each time the bullet would rev up, your insides stepped closer to explosion and Chadwick’s fantasies unfolded in front of him.

Thirty minutes had passed since your husband’s last “show” and you were thankful to have food in front of you just in case you needed to stifle a moan. You almost let the cat out of the bag during the last go-round, prompting Chadwick to place a slender finger against his lips to warn you to quiet down.

“I know the food is good but, damn, y’all need to get up and dance,” Rihanna exclaimed into the microphone to draw a laugh from the guests. “They told me that I have to play at least one slow song before this shit is over with so, we gon’ get it out the way right now. Maestro, play my shit!”

The strings of the orchestra strummed a beautiful classical rendition of ‘Kiss it Better’ to create a moving version of one of your favorite songs. Rihanna stood in front of them with her back turned to the attendees, elegantly directing the intro to the song.

“My Queen, will you dance with me,” Chadwick asked in his Wakadan accent to raise the hair on the back of your neck.

“Don’t do this, baby. Put the accent away.”

He chuckled and held out his hand for you to latch onto, “C’mon, Co. This is your song.”

You rolled your eyes at him. He was right, and you hated pretending not to want to jump up and sway your hips to the infectious rhythm. You scowled at his crooked grin as both of you watched couple after couple pair up on the dance floor. Even people who didn’t show up together wasted no time pulling each other to the front and moving in sync with the music.

“You know you wanna dance, Mama. Take my hand.”

You huffed and slammed your palm into his, “I hate you.”

“I know.” 

Hand in hand, he led you to the center of the commotion. Your body melted into his when he kissed your forehead and placed your hands around his neck. “There are cameras to your right and a crowd of people your left.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” his head dipped to whisper in your ear and distract you from the movement in his pocket. “When I make you cum in front of all these people, you’ll need to hide your face. You don’t want your mouth all open on the blogs do you?”

“No! Not here, Aaron,” you hissed.

“Too late! Just focus on me, baby. I got you.”

Your knees nearly gave out when he introduced you to the third setting of the vibrator. Your already sensitive clit was engulfed in numbing pleasure as your orgasm worked double time to catch up. You clawed at his back and looked around the room to make sure that no one could see the torture he was putting you through.

“Oh my, God. Aaron,”

“Shhhh, don’t get too loud. Look at me.” You struggled to look up at him as your body twitched in response to the stimulus. Your release was close and you didn’t know if you could suppress your urge to speak in tongues in front of hundreds of people. “You gettin’ close huh, girl?”

“Mhmm.”

“Use your words. Tell me you’re about to let go.” He scolded, pressing his palms flat on your has to push your hips into his.

“Yesss,” you whispered. “I’m about to-” a low moan muffled by the music escaped your lips.

Knowing you were ready to let go excited Chadwick and he lowered his lips onto yours. The music heightened your orgasm, swirling around your already clouded brain in a high that couldn’t be achieved through the use of narcotics.

He did a superb job of acting like a loving husband, keeping the kiss sweet to swallow your moans. Your nails dug into his shoulders in desperation when your orgasm began to stretch longer than you were used to. Chadwick kept the vibrator going to milk you for all you had and then some. Feeling your body weight begin to sag against him, he turned off the device and pulled away from the kiss to look at you.

“You okay? I almost lost you.”

“Shut your black ass mouth,” you croaked, mouth too dry to continue. He watched you look down to examine your attire and ensure that no evidence of your activities could be seen on or around your dress.

“Everything is fine. No one knows.” You looked around to confirm his statement. “I promise. They’re all so wrapped up in their dances that they didn’t even look over here.”

“Chadwick I sw-”

His lips pressed into yours in a firm and dominant kiss. You struggled to catch your breath when he pulled away. “You gon’ let me run this or keep talking over me?” His grip on your waist, the way his fingers pressed into the soft flesh of your sides and his stare between your eyes, lips, and breasts nearly spilling over your corset made you whimper in response. “We’re gonna dance to a few more songs, talk to a couple people, and then, I’m taking you back to the hotel to finish what we started. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he smiled, running his hands up and down your back. “Now, get out of here. I’ll see you in about an hour.”

His hand stealthily collided with your backside before he physically turned you around and pushed you away to mingle. You looked over your shoulder to confirm his instructions, receiving a nod of confirmation.

The hour dragged on, forcing you to look at the time every ten minutes. Chadwick moved through the room with no problems without giving you a second glance. The whiskey in his glass turned into one, two and, then, five cups, dialing his charm up from a five to a ten. You were seething and nearing your tipping point when a quick jolt of energy between your legs nearly made you jump from your seat.

Craning your neck, you found him standing near the exit. With a smile, Chadwick dangled the room key in the air and motioned for you to meet him outside.

“So, I told her, the Devil Wears Prada and guess where this fur came from, bitch.”

You mentally rolled your eyes while standing to excuse yourself from the boring pow-wow.

“Tasha, leaving so soon,” the designer questioned.

“Uh, yes. It was so nice to meet you ladies, but my husband is ready to go...pick up our kids. You know the little ones get fussy at night,” you lied.

“Of course! Give my regards to the Mister. I’d love to work with you all for your next appearance.”

“Got it! Will do. Bye!” Your Valentino heels click-clacked against the marble floor of the venue lobby until you were greeted by the warm air of New York’s late summer night. Thrashing your head from side to side, you frantically searched for the black SUV responsible for carrying you closer to the session you had planned back at the Mandarin.

“Damn, girl, you got a man?” you heard nearby. Looking in the direction of the voice, you found Chadwick leaning against the door of the UberBLACK vehicle.

You nearly galloped to his position, throwing your body into his arms and pulling his bottom lip into your mouth. He moaned at the affection before cutting it short. No words were exchanged as he opened the door and nodded for you to get in.

Like a kid opening gifts on Christmas morning, you squealed and allowed him to help you inside. Looking back, you wiggled your ass a little to get his attention. He groaned in response and pushed your ass into the seat, urging the driver to take the quickest route to the hotel.

Throwing all of the edging and torture he put you through before this moment out of the window, you mentally prepared yourself for a long night. A quick call to the front desk for a set of replacement sheets set your plan in motion. Chadwick didn’t know it but, you were about to show him how dominant you could be when given a chance.

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[corellianangel]

For Luck

For @otterandterrier‘s Scoundress Saturdays prompt - “Lipstick”

A/N: Knowledge of the Empire’s canonical Blackwing project is not necessarily required.  However, do know that zombies are canon in both the old Expanded Universe, and the current canon.  And Han and Chewie have had to deal with them in both. Sadly I don’t own any of this. And there’s really no zombies here.  But I have been a participant in a zombie march. :)

Many big squishy hugs and much thanks to @organanation, who patiently betaed this a year and half before I finally got the darn thing out. 

Timeline: Star Wars rebellion era, pre-Empire Strikes Back - existing within both canons.

______________________

“Stop complaining and waving yer arms. Chewie, your fur keeps getting caught in the cuff seal.” Han Solo’s heavy drawl echoed down the vessel’s starboard hall, as a petite brown-haired woman clad in a white jumpsuit strode towards the source of the noise. There was a muffled howl, and Han answered.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get my fishbowl sealed up, just hang on.” A whoosh of expressed air and just the shuffling of bodies sounded through the confines of the corridor.

The Rebel Commander, Princess Leia Organa, rounded the vessel’s starboard access corridor, which had become a temporary staging area for Han and Chewbacca’s EVA outing. Around the pair, were strewn a myriad assortment of a half-dozen mismatched lockers and cases.

The princess paused at the bulkhead, watching the pair of smugglers-turned-Rebel mercenaries. Leia acknowledged the Corellian and Wookiee with a nod. Settling against the alloy-steel support, she ran her eyes up and down the chaos of equipment and boxes scattered everywhere.

Both beings were now fully sealed in their Immediac model-10 extravehicular activity spacesuits. Han’s back was turned to her, the broad expanse of the pilot’s shoulders encased in numerous layers: of suit, the padded straps of his flak vest, harness webbing, life-support and Force-knows what else. He was preoccupied with inspecting the integrity of the locking ring on the neck of his two-and-a-half meter tall Wookiee partner’s custom-sized spacesuit as Leia stepped up a few steps behind him. Chewbacca barked at Han, the noise muffled and bowled. Han shifted and pivoted slightly to catch the Princess’s eye on the edge of his helmet’s field of view. She could just barely glimpse a corner of the upturned corner of his mouth as he quirked a grin in greeting. Then he winked.

Leia blushed, as surge of heat travelled through her body in response to the Corellian’s flirtations. She hated him for doing that to her.

Every time.

She bit back something hostile, and gave him a forced neutral look, eyebrows raised. Han shrugged and returned to his work. Leia, relieved that Solo turned and their eye-contact broken, settled for staring at his back.

And rear.

Oh, wow.

That, then, became an exercise in distraction, too.

In that moment, Leia decided that an EVA suit, despite its overall bulk, had never looked quite so… good, until it had been stretched over the rangy form of the attractive Corellian pilot working in front of her. The rather sleek black military-grade unit was agreeably filled out in all the proper dimensions by Han’s lean athletic frame. A signal-red, decimeter-wide stripe ran down the outsides of the torso, enhancing the suit’s lines. Damnit Solo, only a ridiculous flyboy like you could make one of those bulky things look sexy. She bit the inside of her cheek, stifling an admiring smirk. She had to admonish herself mentally to be serious.

Eyes front, Princess.

“Hey there, Princess.” Han’s gruff baritone echoed her title, the greeting rendered tinny and indistinct by the EVA suit’s sealed confines. He tugged experimentally on the wrist seal’s locking ring of Chewie’s glove. Chewbacca watched her, amused, from inside his helmet with kind, patient blue eyes.

She placed the three spare blaster-pistol charges Han had requested on the lid of a nearby case. Curious, Leia cracked open the lid of a larger aluminum case next to her leg, peeking inside, and sucked in a harsh breath upon viewing the contents. A well-worn SX-21 Merr-Sonn pump-action scatter blaster lay atop an array of more anti-personnel munitions; cluster grenades, wide-area frag launchers, and most worrisome -  high volume incendiary throwers. Each item designed to dole out maximum destruction over a concentrated radius in enclosed areas - such as inside the halls of a ship.

“Gods, Solo.” Leia whistled it out. “Are you looking to start another war?”

When there was no response, she looked up to see the boys fully absorbed in their final preparations. Sealed in their suits as they were, there was little chance they could have overheard her casual exclamation.

Chewbacca’s acute hearing seemed to have picked up Leia’s voice, however. He grinned, fangs glinting in the shadowed confines of the helmet. He punched a control on his glove and she saw the lights on the heads-up display inside of the Wookiee’s helmet reflect inside the bowl’s glass, detailing his furry face. Chewbacca barked amiably at Leia again and pulled on the buckle assembly of a thick harness he had strapped to his torso. Han’s attention went to the harness and tested the various straps and buckles by firmly tugging on them. He moved around to the Wookiee’s back and quintuple-checked the several monitors and gauges amidst the life-support array and various equipment packed on.

“All good there, buddy.” Han reached up and slapped the silver Millennium Falcon-shaped insignia patch on the side of Chewbacca’s shoulder, one of the few areas on his body not completely enclosed by harnesses and equipment. The Wookiee bent at the waist to pick up the beaten and worn end of the shoulder stock of a personal-sized heavy repeater cannon, attaching it to the cylindrical power supply on his back. He latched the housing of the weapon’s business end to a quick release clamp on the canister.

Satisfied with his preparations, Han stepped over to Leia, retrieving the spare blaster cells she had brought. He inserted them into the loops of his characteristic DL-44 pistol’s low-slung blaster rig, the leather belting refitted to accommodate the added volume of his spacesuit. He gave her a rakish look that put a small smile on her lips and lit a fire in her core.

“Thanks Princess.” Han’s voice was still distant and he said something else she couldn’t quite make out. Sensing her confusion, the Corellian rolled his eyes at himself, and made a sharp jutting motion with his chin, nudging the toggle inside the helmet.

“We’re pressured up and pretty much ready to go.” Han repeated, the sound emitting from a speaker in the control module near the center of his suit’s chest. He slung the strap of an Imperial-issue heavy blaster rifle over his shoulder, securing the strap with a hasp clip to a fixed D-ring on the webbing near his shoulder.

Leia shook her head at them. She reiterated what she had said a moment ago.

It would have been highly unusual for Han or Chewie to be unarmed. Han often carrying what would be considered a near-arsenal of weapons on a regular “safe” day - nearly all of it illegal in most civilized systems. The two smugglers had a lifetime of living on the fringes of society and legality. Never safe,always sleeping with one eye open. However, she noted that the Wookiee had abandoned his traditional bowcaster for the repeater cannon, something she didn’t even realize the two smugglers owned (owned being a purely euphemistic term with regard to the two widely-hunted Rebel criminals).

“Aah. No,” Han looked to Chewie, who was studiously ignoring the two humans. Han’s face was sheepish inside the helm. “We’re just not taking any chances, ya see,” he explained - rather lamely, Leia thought.

“—you wouldn’t tell command what this is about,” Leia reminded the two smugglers. “And yet, again, at the last minute you jump in and play hero.”

Han made a show of adjusting suit’s his wrist mirror, then threw his arms wide in frustration and pointed a black gloved finger at the Princess’s pert nose.

“Your skinny Festian buddy, Fulcrum–or whatever his name–got the info from me four years ago. That kriffin spook drugged me up and even got me to take him in front of Jab—“

Han shut up suddenly, and she could see his lips screw up in mid-rant.

Chewbacca turned his audio on and woofed at her and Han.

“What? In front of what?” Leia pressed, intrigued. “Who?”

Han shot a baleful eye at the Wookiee, who returned it unabashedly, glaring down at his captain, his dark lips curling up to reveal long fangs in challenge.

“He got you too, that night, buddy.” Han scowled, reminding his co-pilot of some past dereliction of duty.

Chewbacca snarled something in return. Leia could see Han stiffen in response, twisting his torso slowly and threateningly to stare up at the Wookiee that towered over the Corellian by two heads.

“Not another word about that,” Solo warned his partner. Chewbacca barked further and Han turned pink with embarrassment.

“He caught me at a weak moment.” The smuggler explained to his copilot.

Chewie’s next reply was mocking.

“Jenny was just being inhospitable that night, is all!” Han retorted angrily. Then his eyes flicked back to Leia and the Corellian went crimson. “Chewie…”

So, the Wookiee just laughed long and hard at his human friend. Leia rolled her eyes.

“If it helps your wounded ego,” Leia elucidated, then resumed in a wry tone, “or libido, “ she calculated, correctly, by the way Han nearly turned purple. “Captain Cassian Andor was one of our best spies. Actually, the best. Without him, “ Leia swallowed, pausing. Han’s gloved hand reached out to comfort her, recognizing her mood shift. Leia twisted to the right, side-stepping him, swiping at her cheek. “Without him, we would have never gotten the plans for the Death Star.”

Emotions such as regret, loss, anger and guilt swirled around Leia. So many “What ifs” lingered around the operation to uncover and destroy the Death Star. Entire cities were laid to waste before it turned its planet-killing laser onto her homeworld of Alderaan, killing billions. If, if, if…. Always with the ifs.

And now they were dealing with an Imperial superweapon that had been put aside around the same time. The rebel operative Andor had reported it then, as a low priority, though the entire sector associated with the project was declared “Absolutely Off Limits” in rare decree that spanned all levels of the Imperial Command structure.

Any ship that went in, did not come out. Period.

And somehow, by some act of Force-invoked coincidence, Han Solo and his co-pilot had gotten themselves entangled with whatever lurked there three years earlier, and were of only four people that emerged from the region in that time, pairing up to watch over each other and lose themselves in the wider galaxy. Four unlikely beings; a smuggler, a wookiee, an Imperial doctor, and an orphan boy - survivors who reportedly faced a ravening cannibalistic mass of recently deceased plague victims. A terrifying, all-consuming horror, apparently spawned by a bioweapon that exterminated all but one in a thousand humanoids.

The Rebel operative Andor was following various leads on Imperial superweapon projects, when he tracked down a rumor and discovered a traumatized and drunken Solo on Tatooine not long after.

Another, “If”, Leia counted on a finger. If the Rebel Intelligence service had put forward their files on this region of space to Command, before numerous scouting missions were dispatched to disappear amongst the floating wrecks, lives could have been saved. If they had first gone over the holos Andor had taken while interviewing Solo, they would have seen the fear in the battle-hardened Corellian smuggler’s eyes describing in drunken, disjointed speech, how would they have reacted?

“They were all… dead. Just piles of ‘em. Torn up. Then, then they woke up.”

“—Gray and flowing, following, looking for a way into you.”

“Just swarms of ‘em. Running, screaming….eating.”

“I could feel it coming in my lungs. The…The things it makes you think; all this red, hungry, gnawing.”

“I-, It almost got Chewie, he-, uh...uhm... the Doc intervened.”

“This, could take out entire sectors.”

Leia bit down the queasiness she felt recalling the hours viewing the holo-video, the blacked out lines of Imperial data files, and the Rebel scientists’ findings from Han and Chewie’s DNA tissue - samples Cassian Andor had stolen from the pair when he’d ambushed them in Mos Eisley. The conclusion sounded utterly insane, preposterous, a horror story for old-timers to tell younglings.

“Zombies…” Solo’s hissed warning, haunting Leia from Andor’s holos of him.

Simple adult logic told her it could not be true.

Leia ruminated about this mission. Just outside the adjacent hatch and airlock, floated the flickering derelict of an Alliance corvette starship. Han had cursed up and down in a dozen languages, grousing that this was too close already. Kept at a distant kilometer by a proximity lock from their vessel’s tractor beam, Han and Chewie adamantly refused linking the two vessels. Hence, was the necessity of an EVA outing for the two pilots to investigate the remains of the corvette.

For safety, they said.

For boarding a ship with just one lifeform aboard?

Han and Chewbacca were paranoid creatures of habit, but Leia had to admit she had never witnessed it this degree of extreme.

Upon an extensive and detailed sensor scan, – carefully monitored by Han and Chewie - they discovered that the three hundred beings recorded aboard the stricken Alliance craft beyond, had been reduced to the stubborn life-signature of one sole unknown humanoid, situated somewhere near the rear of the craft. Yet, the mass and density-signature scans showed the ship filled with clustered volumes of what could only be the remains of the crew and soldiers within.

Not only that... Han and Chewbacca had grudgingly acquiesced to Luke and Leia’s accompanying the mission, on the grounds - demands, Leia amended, - that the two smuggler’s preparations and procedures were not interfered with. Their word was law here. And that it was only the pair of them, out there.

Their orders too, hardly filled Leia with confidence, “If we come back, and we are not ourselves; sick, delirious, coughing, whatever... If there are no proper signal flares, or voice communications… If something is off, something is terribly, terribly wrong, - GO - cut the tethers and get the hell out of there. Do not, under ANY circumstances, attempt to rescue us.”

She had to promise, swearing upon the honor of the Royal House Organa, and repeatedly assure them that she and Luke would do as they requested if the circumstance arose.

And what was up with Luke? Leia fretted. Since arriving within system, Luke was a mess. Curled up in the cockpit; physically sickened by the Force’s signature in the area, the young rebel was in no condition to be enclosed in a spacesuit.

Luke said he’d recover shortly. He would just meditate through it. Saying, he’d be able to block it off in no time. He seemed to improve, until something had a softly thudded against the cockpit’s transparisteel glass outside, leaving a viscous red and grey smear. He’d yelped, distracting Han and Leia from their duties, rushing to fore to assist Luke. Han glared in horror at the smudge, clearly recognizing it. But the wide-eyed Jedi had waved them off, dismissing it, whispering something about space debris.

Han gave the kid a sympathetic look and resumed his preparations aft for the EVA, his mood grim for the next few hours.

Leia chose to avoid the surly Corellian for the afternoon, and spent a few timeparts sitting in the chair next to Luke, watching the shadows of dozens of derelict vessels beyond, as they drifted in front the glittering panorama of the brilliant field of stars beyond. They said little, communicating comfort through some unseen conduit.

Chewbacca’s lingering words from the intelligence briefing, roared at ear-splitting volume to the elite members of high council – shortly before Chewie and Han were temporarily locked up in the brig for (even louder) insubordination, and refusal to supply information on past experience with the area’s “Known unknowns,” as per General Cracken’s intelligence parlance – was translated and quoted, oh-so ominously and literally by the prim voice of Leia’s protocol droid C-3PO.

*Some things were not meant to be disturbed. *

The two-century-old Clone War veteran Wookiee’s grim warning looped over and over in the background of the Princess’s mind as she observed the present-Han secure the ship’s airlock’s safety tethers to their suits.

Pushing away from her lean against the bulkhead, Leia had to admit, she had a very bad feeling about this.

She watched Han gather up a satchel containing slicer kits, fusion cutters, clawed durasteel spreaders and truly archaic implements such as pry bars, and hammers. It was enough salvage and illegal ships’ hull-breaking tools to get the Wookiee and Corellian thrown in an Imperial penitentiary for at least a decade. Han passed a set to Chewbacca, who, after shouldering the bag, make a point of intently reviewing the energy level gauges on his weapon.

“See what you can bring back. “ Leia requested Han in sotto voce, she crossed her arms, not entirely sure what she actually expected. At the very least, she wanted them - needed him – back. Hopefully, they would locate what had to be that sole crew member on the life-scan, some logs, nav-data, or any evidence of why the months-overdue craft spun listlessly, here, near the feathered outskirts of Dathomir’s primary star’s Oort cloud.

“For you, your Worship; I would drag a star out of the sky.” Han bowed dramatically, paraphrasing an infamously corny Chandrilan poet for the Princess.

Grim atmosphere, or not; Han Solo could still extract a snigger from the implacable Princess Leia. Oooh, she hated him for that unique ability.

Han’s head popped up from the genuflection, his helmet’s heads-up displays illuminated the lower half of Solo’s ruggedly handsome features in a subtle shifting blue and green glow. And he winked…Again.

A warm surge spread across her cheeks, and Leia momentarily despised him for it…Again.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Nerfherder.” Leia cautioned, when she recovered her composure.

Han gave her his best comical Who, me?  expression, pointing two fingers at himself. But the humor didn’t seem to quite reach his eyes.

Impulsively Leia reached up, wrapping her slim fingers around Han’s EVA suit’s torso webbing. She hauled on it, dragging Han’s faceplate nearly level with her petite stature. She mused at his startled discomfit at her action. Craning her neck, she moved her face nose-to-glass with him. Han smirked ruefully at her, at the obvious literal and metaphorical barriers that seemed to always come up between them.

“Sweetheart, “ Han began, his voice gravelly, “I gotta tell y-“

Leia shook her head at him, the message obvious. We’ll figure us out later.

Leia clutched the sides of Solo’s helm, each studying the other,warring with the need to say what had to be said. To tip over into that beautiful abyss now, would shatter them both if something unfortunate happened here today.

Leia noticed the dull grey corona that had settled in the ordinarily glittering green and gold flecked irises of Solo’s deep-set hazel eyes. There was precious little of Han’s usual crazy bravado there now. And that, above all, frightened her.

She wanted to make him brave again, and by extension, herself.

Leia pursed and gently pressed her lips to the left edge of Han’s helmet’s glass, low down, near the neck seal, yet high enough for him to glimpse if he wished. When she withdrew, there remained the slightly smudged opaque print of her lipstick on the otherwise pristine exterior surface of the glass. Leia felt a blush rise to her cheeks, absently wondering how that had looked from inside. 

However, Han’s jaw dropped in pleasant surprise.

The Princess had extended a token of her favor to her champion.

Chewbacca woofed his approval as an aside, grinning toothily at the not-quite-a-couple.

Leia gave Han her most brilliant smile and he returned it, a crooked flash of gleaming white that made her breath catch, and heart pound. Han straightened, puffing his chest out, squaring broad shoulders in a determined set, the light finally reaching his eyes.

“For luck,” Leia added huskily.

“I know, “ Han murmured.

#scoundressaturdays #han x leia #blackwing #hanleia #pre-esb #zombies #star wars #fanfiction #hanxleia #SW Fanfic #Han Solo #Princess Leia #sw #sw fanfiction #for luck #iknow #is so cliche #and overused #but its so goood

[fairytail-whathesays]

So uh, I don’t know how coherent this will be (forgive me, it’s almost midnight here) but I’ll try anyway.

I’ve been rereading FT after not touching it for years (I am in the middle of the Galuna arc, btw, so anything after that is not as fresh to me) and I was struck both by how much better than the latter canon the early parts were (if only for the lessened fanservice, and the still believable situations) and by how a lot of what I hate about FT is already rearing its ugly head.

That they are. The real problems behind Fairy Tail start with Phantom Lord, and I honestly enjoy Galuna Island a lot more than other arcs.

Case in point: what is basically the first friendship-nakama-etc speech, courtesy of Makarov himself. (I am not 100% sure it is the actual first, but it is probably the first to be that overt and long.) And honestly, this, coupled with what Makarov said to Romeo way back in the Balkan/Vulcan arc, already makes me hate him.

Rebelling against authority is cool if that authority is corrupt. Saying “fuck you” against authority that really wants you to quit destroying property and punching people is not cool at all. Especially if your longtime friend is a member of that authority and catches shit for all of your wrongdoing.

And, having read your post about the reasons you hate Makarov, I noticed that - chronologically - it starts with Gajeel. So, uh, I wanted to add something about him that you had not written about yet, as far as I know? (and, I mean, I might have missed it if you had since I only discovered this blog today! Though i have been binge-reading it for some hours…)

It is often said -and shown- that Makarov believes FT mages to be his “children”, and tbh this shows the kind of father he is…

What I consider his “first offense” comes with his reaction to Romeo’s plea (that someone PLEASE look for his dad, since he took on a job he said would take 3 days and it’s been a week) : he literally brushes him off with the worst words he could have said. “No way! Your dad is a mage! We have no mage here who can’t take care of himself! Go home!”, and later on, to himself: “if he goes to help Macao, it will only hurt his pride. No one can decide what he should do, just leave him alone.”

Fuck, I never remember that until people bring it up–but now that you mention it, I remember thinking that was really shitty, too. 1) A man’s pride is not worth less than his safety and life or the damage it causes his child to see that life in danger, and 2) that just fucking stupid. “Mages can take care of themselves”? He was up in the mountains and it was below freezing. Makarov acts like mages are immortal and infallible and that not returning from a three-day mission after a week is cause for no concern.

Then of course, when Macao is rescued by Natsu & Lucy (and he was very much in need of rescuing), he is grateful, and his pride is not damaged at all, as he tells Romeo of how he managed to defeat 19 monsters by himself.

Thanks, Makarov. Now we know who to trust.

Mirajane, in her exposition mode, says he is actually quite worried - I can believe that, but his reaction is not good at all. And I can understand where he comes from - his words clearly come from some bad experience - but still: he is the guild’s master. Is “everyone here can take care of themselves, and thus nobody should help them, and they should be left alone” the right attitude to take with this kind of things? …Nope, no it isn’t, especially when he is dealing with literal children (whom we know have been part of FT and will soon be again. Since they were FT mages, I expect they, too, would have been considered capable of taking care of themselves?).

Right you are.

The best thing about this? Laxus later on fucking calls him on it, when he refuses to go looking for Natsu and Lucy and drag them back from their stolen S-ranked job: “Don’t be ridiculous… I have another job to take care of. ‘There isn’t a single mage that can’t take care of his own stuff’, right?”

(This, btw, is the exact moment this character became my favorite)

Translation: Double standard? Not on my watch.

Which makes me wonder, how many times has Makarov said that?

Still, I suppose that -as Hiro Mashima does show some self-reflection for once- he did not actually think what Makarov said to do was the best course of action. Although it does not really excuse him pretty much using it for years before Natsu stole that S-ranked quest…

Imagine if that had been the guild’s reaction when considering whether to rescue Makarov from the Alvarez Empire. “Eh, Makarov can take care of himself. He can handle it”. And Makarov, of all people, should’ve been able to. 

Anyway, going back to the whole maybe-first friendship speech (or at least the first one I noticed) : that speech was particularly appalling, at least to me, for being awful both in-canon and out of it.

Let’s start with the out of canon (uh, Doylist point of view I think?):

Yep!

It was bad writing. Pure and simple. The situation is: Kageyama, our resident Eisenwald Shikamaru-expy, has been saved by Team Natsu but has subsequently betrayed them, escaping with Lullaby. He manages to get to the regular meeting of guild masters, and attempts to play the cursed flute in front of Makarov. At that point, though, flashbacks start to happen: at first to the reasons his guild is doing it, then to things Team Natsu said to him - that what they are trying to do won’t accomplish what they truly want, some positive stuff from Gray - anyway, sorta standard stuff, but still effective. He’s sweating and hesitating - and at that point, the dreaded Speech commences: it is, tbh, a mess that boils down to “Alone, we are weak. Together, we are strong” ™ - which ends with Makarov revealing he Knew All Along, and Kage admitting his defeat.

From a purely storytelling point of view, I was - devastated, honestly. I had really gotten into that character (Shikamaru-expy and all), and was legit tearing up a bit at how Team Natsu’s words had had such an effect on him even when they weren’t even trying to Make Him Good or anything. It would have been very powerful, imo, if what had actually happened was that he simply gave up after having those flashbacks, realizing that he never really wanted to kill the guild masters and that he was just lashing out at what he believed to be an unjust world and system etc etc. You know, character development and all - all the more powerful since he never received a Friendship Speech, but simply was impacted by a few comments.

Instead…well, Friendship Speech™, which didn’t even fit into the whole thing (I mean, what has “having nakamas” got to do with what he was doing? Eisenwald’s whole problem is that they were kicked out of the League and made illegal & dark, and that they consider it to be unjust and want to get back at those who did it. That’s… that’s his guild’s issue. His nakama’s issue. The problem with him and his guild wasn’t that they were, Idk, loners without friends or whatever: it was that they were going to kill innocents and people barely connected to those who made them a dark guild, and also that they never quite examined why they were kicked out, and why they were not blameless at all, and did deserve it*), and lessened SO MUCH the impact of a villain deciding that he was on the wrong path mostly on his own, with just a bit of help and without that help being so over the top and condescending.

Way to hit the nail on the head. There is an external problem and an internal problem. The external is their perceived unjust treatment; the internal problem is their extreme reaction to it, nor merely a lack of unity or family attitude. 

Then we have the in-canon problems and- I might repeat myself, you’re warned (it’s almost 0100 uuugh). Okay, so: I can accept Makarov knowing what that flute is and what it does (since even Lucy did), and being confident enough that he could stop that kid if he truly seemed to be ready to play it (he can be fast, and he simply had to extend his arm and take it). But- that speech. Man, that speech.

He is going off an infuriatingly vague and cliched speech, basing it off- what? What does he even know about Kageyama? Does he even know about Eisenwald? Probably not, since he was simply leaving because he got worried about Team Natsu being, well, a thing. Why, then, is he lecturing this person - who, for all he knows, might belong in a guild as nakama-y as FT? (oh, wait, my bad: only the good guys are allowed to have True Nakamas ™. Bad guys get the False Nakamas, if any, who would gladly kill you for power. Always. At all times. For any reason.) He just sounds arrogant, full of himself, and very much trying to do the all-knowing wise mentor routine. With an added bonus of straight up manipulation - telling him that he should not rely on tools but on friends (insert sparkly), and thus should not use that flute (what, not because he would kill innocent people in it? Because using it would be weak? Wow, thanks Makarov, so deep). There is no way in hell this could work if Mashima hadn’t really, really wanted it to. If I was Kageyama, I’d play that flute just because of that speech. That’s how much I hated it.

So if he had followed through with Makarov’s advice, he’d have returned with allies and then slaughtered the guildmasters? Nice advice. It’s doubly stupid because Kageyama is an example of relying on friends–Erigor fell down on the job and cannot complete it, so Kageyama is picking up the slack and completing it for him. Yeah, their end goal might be murder, but the principle is the same: relying on one’s friends.

*Ok this is going to be a really weird rant, but hear me out: the plight of Dark Guilds, and mages from them. For Eisenwald, it wasn’t really explored whether or not all of them were taking up assassination requests or it was just Erigor (or idk, Erigor and a few others). There must have been at least some members of the guild who never killed anyone - and at least some who were unaware of it happening in their guild. Then the guild was ordered to disband and declared dark. …We don’t really see this in canon, but IMO mages from dark guilds probably find it at least somewhat hard to find a good guild to join. And anyway, it does mean giving up your guildmates, and the guild (which, if it happened to FT, would never be supported by the narrative). Honestly, I am not condoning the things dark guilds do - but declaring a guild dark like that is not only harsh but also actively encourages the members of that guild to do Fucked Up Shit, even if they weren’t doing it before. Couldn’t there have been some inquiries, those truly responsible be arrested and the guild, without the worst members, allowed to go on? Only arresting the guild master and declaring the guild dark and ordering it to disband is the worst course of action the council could have undertaken.

That is a weird rant. I didn’t ask this question because the feeling I got while watching the Erigor arc was that most of the members overall didn’t have a problem with murder, but perhaps I’m wrong for assuming that. But generally, I wouldn’t consider that an ill response, since once lives are taken you have to take measures. Dark guilds can be forcibly disbanded when the Magic Council hire light guilds to do so, so it would make sense that they aren’t worried about backlash. 

I… probably have more to say, and what I did say I wanted to say better, but I’m tired as heck and I’ve ranted long enough now. I hope you can glean something halfway coherent from this, and also wanted to let you know your analyses are brilliant and I love them <3 Thanks for reading all this, and please maybe let me know what you think?

I think you made a lot of good points. I’m now stewing in my hatred both for Makarov and for Mashima’s tired, exhausted narrative choices. Thanks for sending!

#long post #Makarov Dreyar #crimsonnotscarlet #replies #submission #writing criticism #THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP™

[pixelonline]

GW2 Story Week - Tor: The First Meeting

Tor never liked sailing much, or flying, or dolyak carts, or really anything that jostled him about while he was trying to read or write. Was it really so hard to just stay still so he could finish this new design? Really? Though this particular complaint had him barred from many an owner’s mode of transportation it never stopped him from voicing it.

“Asura gates exist for a damn reason,” he muttered for what felt like the millionth time. His journal open on his lap, with a sketch of what looked like a hawk coming to realization. Why his father had forced him into this barbaric traveling was still beyond his realm of understanding. He was supposed to replace his father at a trial in Divinity’s Reach, not go on some scenic tour. What good did it do commoners to see a noble traveling? To have one temporarily insert himself into their lives for the sake of appearing like he cared? They worked and lived and loved just fine without his presence, and he worked and dreamed and lived just as well without being directly involved with them. A pompous attitude, sure, but was it really different from what reality had decided was true? He cared no more for the person in the third house of the second village than they did for some Human noble’s bookah son gallivanting around. His father was an ambassador, in any case, so it’s not like anything he did even mattered to people. So long as the waypoint taxes were low and some useful Asura tech made their way to the farms there was no reason to even bother remembering the Human ambassador and his family living in Rata Sum.

The harsh ring of Fort Salma’s watchtower bell forced him out of his pity party. Next stop, this place. Check on some Human/Asura relations at the first human fort between the two capitals, chat with a trader or two, pet a cat, maybe even have dinner with some Seraph commanders or whatever. Then, his trip continues on, stopping at small settlements and trading posts, meeting those who wouldn’t know or bother to remember his face. End up at Dvinity’s Reach and spend the next few months flittering about like some self important toadstool. What a lovely trip, really. With a sigh, his journal carefully closed and fit into the small pouch at his hip, he glanced out the cart’s window to the farmland around him. Inspiration struck whenever it might, and he preferred to be able to jot them down immediately. Propriety be damned.  

His cart rolled to a harsh stop, the dolyak doing their obnoxious dolyak yell as stable hands begin the process of cooling them down. He stepped out of the covered cart, dust rising as his boots hit the ground harshly. With Tor’s face an immediate mask of noble dignity and grace, he greeted the people nearby as if he’d known them all his life. He shook hands with a Sergeant Yarbrough who didn’t seem all that pleased to meet him, and was led from the front gates through the small marketplace and into the fort’s more fortified walls. He stopped abruptly in what appeared to be the dining hall.

“My time is precious, my lord, so forgive me if I don’t spend quality time showing you about. We have centaurs invading all around here and I’m needed to protect the villagers. Your quarters are to the left, down the hall. Last room, can’t miss it.” the Sergeant was curt in his statement, already turned from the room and walking out. “The Captain will meet with you tonight, though. She’s dealing with some issues around the fort. We have a higher rank visiting as well, but she’ll be leaving soon. On some mission for the Queen.” Tor nodded, uninterested in responding. He was already planning his report of the place. The farms were a distance from the market and dolyaks were slow. They’d definitely benefit from the efficiency and speed of a hovering...well...anything.

Tor began to wander about the building. Clearly the center of the Seraph’s settlement, the rooms were all packed with either beds, weapons, or supplies. Still considering what tech would make the Fort and its residents safer, maybe a laser turret system for the centaur issue wouldn’t be the best after all, he wandered through a large door to an open plaza in the center of the keep. Obviously redesigned to be a training area, worn out straw dummies hung off wooden poles sadly and blunt weapons littered the ground. A small well in the center drew his attention. More accurately, the sound coming from the well. A woman, clad in red and gold armor sat with her back against it, humming softly as she sharpened arrows. Her long red hair kept away from her neck and face by a single hair pin, her expression serious and focused on her task.

Girenadayle.

He hadn’t seen her since he was a child. A noble as well, he recalled the times he’d seen her play in the central plaza of Divinity’s Reach. Unafraid of adventure even as a kid, she would throw herself fearlessly into whatever game they were playing. He’d watched from the royal library’s window as she bothered her Seraph sister each day to teach her how to hold a sword, what stances would bring the most to her attacks. Tor had been young when his father was chosen to move to the Asura capital, but he never forgot how this one girl stood out to him. He’d heard about her from time to time. Her sister, murdered on patrol. She joining the ranks after her father was claimed by them as well. She rose to lieutenant quickly, rumors claimed it to be because of her nobility, though he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it couldn’t be true.

“Are you going to stare much longer? It’s getting annoying.” She glared in his direction and a thousand daggers pierced his body. No, there was no way she used her noble rank to gain her military one. Her eyes had been sharpened by many, many battles, that much was obvious.

“Er...I-I, yes. I mean, no! I mean...it’s nice to see you. Again. Once more.” Shut up, shut up, shut up! Mashed onions for brains, Tordacien. He stepped towards her and offered a polite bow. Perfectly noble. Not at all weird. It was completely normal to bow to a soldier. Yep. Everyone did it. All the time. She...she was still staring at him. Slowly from boot tip to skull. He felt like a show moa. Had he been assessing her like this? Surely not. ...Right?

“Book kid. You went to Rata Sum. Not much of a dancer, if my feet remember. What are you doing here?” She set down her arrows and stood. “There isn’t much in the way of Asura here, and if you’re heading to Divinity’s Reach I’m fairly certain the gates are much faster.”

He let out a sigh so deep his entire body slacked, the ping of embarrassment at her remembering his two left feet immediately gone. “Thank you. That’s what I said, but no, I’m supposed to see how the settlements between here and Metrica are, get an idea of how the people we govern live, but we get reports every week so how is seeing it myself supposed to change anything? I’m replacing my father at the royal court this year, not taking a nice tour of the territory and have inane talks about things those living it understand much better than I.” She chuckled as he ran out of air for his sarcastic rant. Leaning against the well she seemed entirely at ease now that he’d dropped his own formal posture.

“Well, you can’t do good with laws and whatnot if you don’t see what the needs are, can you? You sound an awful lot like Faren, though you’d think all the books would have made you far more intelligent. You have a responsibility as a noble and representative of Kryta, you should probably act like it. These people, all people, work hard and deserve your full respect.”

He gaped. She just compared him to the most pompous imbecile in all of Tyria. That pinhead couldn’t be a decent Lord if someone covered the goal in women and coin. A constant fountain of ego, even as a child. He’d never liked Faren. None of that having to do with him easily becoming friends with every child, while Tor found himself lacking the skill, of course. Unable to retort, Tor stood there, completely engulfed in old jealousies and new shame. She definitely had a point. Multiple, even. He’d been treating these people as if they didn’t matter, and she saw right through him. Damn fool, even as an adult.

“I’ll be a court in a few days, myself. Captain Thackeray and I have been building a case against someone very dangerous. We may see each other then, Lord Tordacien.” She walked past him, bumping her armored shoulder against his. The shock of her so close, so warm, drove him out of his thoughts.

“Lady...Lieutenant...er...G-Girenadayle. You, uh, you know...I prefer Tor. My name is kind of a mouthful. And overly grandiose.” He hated stuttering. He thought he’d conquered this while attending the College of Statics, but it would seem that the case not so.

She smiled. “I completely agree. Giren, for me. See you in Divinity’s Reach, Tor.”

He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, until she was completely out of sight. She knew his name. She knew his name. They’d only spoken a handful of times at social gatherings. Years, and years ago. He sat down with a thud. She knew his name, wanted to see him again! ....And most likely thought he was a complete ass. Of course, he sounded like one. The commoners, farmers, tradesmen mattered, dammit. How could he have even thought otherwise?! Without them, nothing would function. Every person in Kryta mattered, made their society function and flow. He was no better than them, he’d never had to do hard labor in his life. There’s no way he’d be able to survive the way these people did with what looked like ease. He rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted suddenly. Yep, he’d been a right bear’s rear end. He left the plaza consumed with examining his past behaviors. He’d have to treat his traveling companions when they reached their final destination. He had no doubt that he’d been a pain to be around. As the Sergeant said, his quarters were easy to find, much nicer than any of the other sleeping areas he’d seen. He was grateful that they’d tried to make him feel welcome, though the streak of guilt at the residents going out of their way to make a room nicer just for him still struck. Sitting at the small writing desk in the far corner of the room underneath a window with just enough of the setting sun’s light creeping through, he pulled out his journal. Opening to a new page, he began to write.

Entry 1: Fort Salma

I’ve been quite terrible, recently. Lady Gi Giren reminded me of that. She’s very much the same as I remember her, and so much better. I know now why I’d never seen her around when visiting the capital from time to time, she was out changing, learning, being someone people needed. And what have I done? Wallow in my own thoughts and never once thought of anyone else. That changes, as of now. I’ll take on this duty to meet the people of Kryta seriously and listen to their concerns. What I can’t change myself I’ll take to the ministers. Surely someone has the capability to fix what’s wrong. It’s well past time to get serious. After father’s task is completed, I’ll find something to do that puts some meaning in my life. Continue working on those elixirs I had such an affinity for in my schooling, maybe. We only met for a moment, but still she is an inspiration, isn’t she?

#hail the platypi #gw2 story week #tordacien #gw2 #this is where he finallt decides to apply himself and starts becoming an asset to Tyria #and also i figured out how to fit what i've been working on into his lorem #*lore

[thelandofffanfictrash]

Real Talk: Nicky Parlouzer Meets Wow Wow Wubbzy

Name: Nicky Parlouzer Meets Wow Wow Wubbzy

Fandom(s): Sonic the Hedgehog and Wow Wow Wubbzy!

Chapters: 3

Description: I always loved Wow Wow Wubbzy (I miss that show) and the Sonic Manga so I wanted to make a crossover for them. Hiatus actually concedering continuing this story.

Summary: A scheme by Eggman gets Nicky, Amy, Eggman, and Little John (who gets retconned from the story by chapter 3) transported to the world of Wow Wow Wubbzy, where they meet Wubbzy and his friends.

Oooookay, so I’m pretty sure a good number of you are confused. Is this an OC fic? Where’s Sonic? Why are the only Sonic characters here Amy and Eggman? Who is Nicky Parlouzer?

The answer to the first question is actually a surprising “no”. This is not an OC fic. Even I was surprised. To answer the other three questions, though, we need to talk about the Sonic the Hedgehog manga. It’s an obscure piece of media (so obscure that I, someone that was an absolutely rabid Sonic fan that thought she knew everything there was to know, didn’t even know about it until I found this fic) that ran from 1992 to 1994. You can read this article from the Sonic Wiki if you want the nitty-gritty details, but the basic jist of the story is that it centers around a normal hedgehog boy named, you guessed it, Nicky (”Parlouzer” is likely a surname made up by the author), who lives in a place called Hedgehog Town. Nicky has the ability to transform into Sonic the Hedgehog to fight back evil, primarily Eggman. No one knows that Nicky is Sonic, though..not even Nicky himself knows. Other characters from the manga that appear in this fic are Nicky’s best friend, Little John, and Nicky’s girlfriend, Amy (the manga being notable for being the first appearance of Amy in any media, even before her game debut).

Now that we have that bit of context out of the way, we can actually start talking about this fic...because oh boy is there a lot to talk about.

To start, the spelling and grammar of this fic are really bad and author often abuses their caps lock key, because at least half the dialogue in this fic is written in all caps. The entire fic is also center-formatted, which is NEVER the right choice for a fanfiction. The first thing you see in this fic is a modified version of the Wow Wow Wubbzy theme song (which means I can check the song lyrics box on my bad fanfiction bingo card prematurely). The worst part, though, is that author actually gets some of the lyrics WRONG (as looking up the actual lyrics will immediately tell you). For example, the second line of the song is supposed to read “He's got a bendy tail and he likes it that way”, but this fic’s version says “He's got a baby tail and he likes to play, play, play” It doesn’t even match rhythmically, dang it.

*ahem*

The actual story immediately kicks off with Eggman kidnapping Amy two sentences in. As you can already tell, the pacing in this story is going to be absolutely horrific. In particular, everything in this story goes at...well...Sonic speed, and that’s not at all a good thing. It feels like this entire story was written in a rush without any thought put into it.

After that, Nicky transforms into Sonic right in front of Little John, which is already ANOTHER problem. The manga went to great lengths to keep Nicky’s secret identity, well, a SECRET. In this story, though, that’s kicked to the curb in the very first paragraph. Little John finds out first, then Nicky transforms AGAIN later in front of Wubbzy and friends, then Sonic transforms BACK into Nicky in front of Amy, then Nicky finds out. None of it is treated as a dramatic reveal, though, and nobody really reacts to it like they should. It just makes it really jarring.

Once we get to Eggman’s base, another problem with this fic rears it’s ugly head: AUTHOR NEVER EXPLAINS WHY ANYTHING HAPPENS. It’s never explained why Eggman decided to combat Sonic with a portal, why the portal malfunctions, or why this portal brought everyone to the world of Wow Wow Wubbzy. It all just kind of happens and the reader isn’t supposed to question it even though it makes no sense.

Now we end up in the Wow Wow Wubbzy world. Don’t worry if you don’t know anything about Wubbzy. Author only scrapes the bare minimum as far as needing to know things about Wubbzy goes, which is pretty much nothing. It’s very clear that author was much more focused on Nicky and friends in this fic and kind of throws Wubbzy in here to be here, which is a problem because you could replace Wow Wow Wubbzy with just about any other fandom and pretty much NOTHING about this fic would change. For your benefit, though, here’s what you need to know about Wubbzy for this fic (because my younger siblings were right within this show’s target demographic when it was airing): Wubbzy is your stereotypical cheery child character, Daizy is your stereotypical little girl character, Walden is your stereotypical bookish nerd character, and Widget is your stereotypical clumsy inventor character. I could go on about how the show does little to break away from cliches besides inserting constant non-sequiturs and lolrandom “humor”, but that’s another rant for another day in another place.

Anyway, the fic somehow both meanders and still manages to move way too quickly once Nicky ends up here. Wubbzy and Daizy find him injured, take him to Walden (for some reason), then Nicky wakes up and realizes he’s in another dimension. The four of them go to Widget for help, she agrees to build a portal, the rest of them go to find Nicky’s friends, they find Amy being mugged in an alleyway, Nicky transforms into Sonic to save her, then they talk about going to find Little John only for author to completely retcon him being here in the author’s note for the next chapter...even though author did nothing to try to write out Little John in previous chapters, which is extremely lazy and extremely confusing.

Instead, we’re thrown into a random Halloween party...which is where this story decides it wants to do a Beanus and give us a horribly-thought-out one-shot plotline that didn’t need to be here at all.

Basically, the party goes south when Eggman crashes in, takes Amy hostage, and mind-controls Wubbzy to be evil. Nicky has to transform into Sonic to rescue Amy and fend off Wubbzy while trying to get him back to normal. In the middle of all of this is a musical number, which is 137 LINES LONG AND DOES NOTHING FOR THE PLOT. CAN AUTHORS PLEASE STOP DECIDING THAT THEIR FICS NEED MUSICAL NUMBERS BECAUSE THEY DON’T MAKE SENSE WITHOUT ACTUAL MUSIC AND ONLY SERVE TO BE POINTLESS FILLER, ESPECIALLY WHEN THE CIRCUMSTANCE NEVER CALLED FOR IT.

After this is where the fic ends, with the author dropping it in favor of a rewrite that they also didn’t finish. I actually did read this rewrite...and, while the writing quality and pacing are slightly improved (KEYWORD: SLIGHTLY), everything else about it is somehow WORSE. I won’t be reviewing it, though, since I don’t really feel like I need to. Read it yourself if you want to see what’s wrong with it.

This fic is really, really, REALLY bad. It ranks among some of the worst I’ve ever reviewed, it’s that bad. This fic didn’t do a single thing right and that’s blantantly obvious. Heck, even Wow Wow Wubbzy itself is written better than this and it’s not often that you’ll hear me compliment the show responsible for causing my little brother to incessantly refer to things as [blank]ity-[blank]s for a good while. You can only hear the phrase “kickity-kickball” so many times before you start to crack, believe you me.

#Nicky Parlouzer Meets Wow Wow Wubbzy #real talk #Sonic the Hedgehog #Wow Wow Wubbzy #fanfiction #crossover fanfiction