#it only took me five scrapped fanfics and and seven months to think of a good backstory for her

[starlight-strider]

ADELEINE BACKSTORY GO!!!!!!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️

Ok so-

Adeleine had… a life back on Shiver Star. She was dumped at a research facility when she was only two years old because her parents wanted cash. She was raised there by scientists and engineers who were just trying to find a way to get humanity off the planet- mostly via replicating the warp portal technology their ancestors used to get there in the first place. Most of the kids who ended up there were used in such tests, or for experimental rockets that uh… didn’t get too far.

Adeleine was lucky though. She, clutching her big blue paint brush, proved she was wayyy too valuable to be used for stuff like that. She could just… paint things that came to life. Nobody understood why or how, but she definitely was doing that. So instead, they were trying to figure out how she could do that and if it could be a way for them to get off of the planet.

But then it started to get too cold… and Adeleine was one of the few people still left that was contractually signed to be used for experimental technology. So this poor little seven year old was given her art things, stuffed up in a tiny shuttle, and sent off to what was assumed to be her demise.

… But it wasn’t. She woke up, days, possibly even weeks later on planet Pop Star. She was sitting around the rubble of the ship, since it seemed to have had a bad crash. She had a brutal gash on her arm, but she couldn’t feel it. She was too… confused. And it only got more confusing when three very not normal figures showed up.

Drawcia, Paintra, and Vividria had been going around the planet looking for things to do art studies of, when they heard a massive crash and immediately went to go investigate. They ended up finding spilled art supplies and metal that might be good for mixed medium stuff and were like “awesome!” until Drawcia went to pick up a canvas, and had it pulled away by a small, scared little girl in heavy winter clothes.

They put two and two together pretty quickly and realized that the girl had been in whatever crashed and blew up there, and then Vividria pointed out how badly injured she looked. So the three of them managed to coax her into coming with them back to where they lived, in a very reclusive, far away part of the planet. Adeleine had nowhere else to go, so they helped her with her things and brought her there to tend to her wounds and hopefully find out what she was and where she came from.

After getting fixed up, Adeleine explained everything she could. Where she came from, who and what she was, and what she remembered of getting to this new place. She also offhandedly mentioned the painting things and having them become real thing like it was totally normal, but to the sisters it is just normal so they happily accepted both that fact and Adeleine. She basically became their fourth sister, although she was more like a niece to Drawcia and Paintra, who she often just called her aunts, and a cousin to Vividria.

She was raised by them, going out and around, getting better at her art and able to control her paintings and when they should and shouldn’t come to life, and eventually allowed to explore by herself when she was 12. That’s when she ended up in Cloudy Park, and fairly shortly after that, down in Quiet Forest, where she was then assimilated into Kirby’s found family friend group.

So yeah, uh, I actually really like this one finally. Adeleine does remember what Shiver Star was like (and is horribly scared of snow now) and is basically related to the other painters! She still definitely visits them. She also tries to invite them to gatherings, but only Vividria goes since she’s one of the Star Allies anyway. Also Adeleine was absolutely overjoyed to see her there and completely forgot about Ribbon’s existence for a few minutes and totally ignored her.

And Drawcia was okay after the whole Canvas Curse thing. She never told Adeleine about it because she didn’t want her to start hating Kirby.

#renu’s asks #renu’s headcanons #it only took me five scrapped fanfics and and seven months to think of a good backstory for her #kirby #kirby series #kirby headcanons #adeleine kirby #adeleine #kirby adeleine #not gonna tag the other mentioned characters cause that ruins the surprise of reading it

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 18 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 18

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader

Rating: NC-17 for sex and language (soft sex, P in V, unprotected sex *wrap it up, kids*)

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary.  While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter 18

Heisenberg laid on his stomach with his arms pushed underneath his pillow.  He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly, his face turned towards you.  The crackling of the fire sounded from the hearth.  The sheets sat over his body from the waist down.  

He smiled at the feel of your fingertips skating along his back.  You laid on your side, your head resting on your arm.  A heavy blanket covered you from the waist down.  You weren’t as used to the cold as Heisenberg.  Your gaze took in his back, his biceps, his mussed hair falling around his face, and the peaceful expression on his features.

“Your fingers on my skin are so relaxing…” Heisenberg murmured.  You smiled at his words.  The man probably didn’t know much peace in a place like this.  His constant work in the factory, hours and hours working on his army in order to carry out revenge on the woman who took him from his family...you wondered how much sleep he allowed himself before you came along.

“Are all of your scars from years of working in the factory?” you asked, trailing your index and middle finger down the thick scar tissue on his bicep.  Heisenberg opened his eyes and looked at you.  You were focused on his skin, your touches light and soft.  

The question brought back memories...memories of a day that felt long ago but also seemed so recent.

“Some of them are,” he replied, “working with metal, tools, jagged scrap metal.  But most of them are from something else…”

You sensed the unease of his answer and how he was careful with how it was worded.  “You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal or too difficult,” you said, your hand moving up to pull the hair away from his face.  

Heisenberg’s gaze looked over your features.  You smiled softly and it was like a rusted knife in his heart.  Your eyes on his made him want to look elsewhere or turn his face away.  He felt happy with you, happy for the first time in years...for the first time since…

“About thirty years ago, I fell in love with a girl who lived in the village.  She and her family had fled from Bosnia before the conflict started in 1992.  They settled here.  Her father was a painter...her mother a schoolteacher.  I was walking through the village and saw her gathering eggs from her family’s chickens...I fell in love with her the moment I saw her…”

You listened intently, intrigued by the way he described the girl.  He looked as if it was the first time he had thought of or spoken of her in a long while.

“...I didn’t speak of her to Miranda or the others, but they started to become suspicious of my absence.  We kept it a secret from her family as well.  She would sneak away, come here to be with me…”  

He didn’t say the words, but the silence spoke volumes.  A sliver of jealousy pricked at your heart knowing that he probably fucked her in this same room as he did with you.  But you pushed your feelings aside.  It was naive to think that he never had a lover in all of the years he had been alive.

“...when Miranda’s experiments began to increase and she took more and more of the villagers, I begged the girl to hide here with me, but she wouldn’t leave her family.  She tried to warn them, but their faith in Miranda was unwavering…”

You knew that this story wouldn’t have a happy ending.  The village was now desolate and empty.  Lycans ran wild.  Aside from Heisenberg, Miranda, and his siblings, there wasn’t anyone left.  Anxiety slowly rose in your stomach as you continued to listen.

“...Miranda took her family one by one...saved her for last.  I ran to her house to bring her back here, but the place was empty.  By the time I got to the ceremony site, Miranda had infected her with the Cadou…”

You released the breath you didn’t know you had been holding.  Your fingers held his bicep, gripping tighter and tighter as the story continued.  “What did it do to her?” you asked.

“She laid there unconscious,” Heisenberg answered, “I thought she was dead.  She was cold to the touch and her skin was pale...but then she opened her eyes.  Those beautiful eyes of hers...there was no trace of her left.  The Cadou...it turned her into a lycan.  She changed so fast.  Her teeth and claws cut through my clothes and into my skin.  I pushed her away, but she jumped on me and continued to attack me.  She swiped at my face, cut across my nose...she almost gouged my eye out.  Miranda and the others simply stood back and watched.  The more I tried to subdue her and press her to the ground, the more violent she became.  She was gone...and I didn’t have a choice…”

Tears threatened your eyes.  “You killed her…”

“Yeah.  I snapped her neck...she went limp instantly.  All I could do was hold her, rock her in my arms...tell her I was sorry.  Miranda looked defeated, not because the girl had died, but because the Cadou failed.  I looked to Miranda and she simply shook her head and walked away…”

Your heart broke for Heisenberg.  “I’m so sorry, Karl,” you whispered.

Heisenberg rolled onto his side and faced you.  “Moreau followed me back here and patched me up.  Sowed the deep cuts and dressed my wounds.  When he was done, all I did was tell him to get the fuck out...I didn’t even thank him…”

You moved closer, pressing your body to his, and softly kissed his cheek.  “So that is the real reason why you didn’t want me to leave...if Miranda finds me, she’ll experiment on me, too…”

“Yes,” he replied gruffly, “I won’t put you through that.  You mean too much to me…”

You looked into Heisenberg’s eyes, your lips parting slightly.  “I mean something to you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lifted his hand and softly caressed your cheek, his gaze fused to yours.  “Yes.  Y/N...I’m falling in love with you…”

Your breath was lodged in your chest.  Time seemed to stop.  The cold wasn’t as intense anymore.  The sentiment you felt towards him had just slipped past his lips.  You smiled softly.

“Karl...I’m falling in love with you, too…”

The edges of his mouth curled into a sincere smile.  His amber eyes were warm and tender.  This moment must have been the first time in a long time, perhaps the first time in thirty years, that he felt love.  His stubbornness and rigid manner when it came to you and keeping you in the factory were clear.  He wanted to keep you safe.  He wanted to right the wrong he made all those years ago.

Heisenberg’s lips pressed to yours softly.  His arm wrapped around your body, his hand pressing to your back, pulling you against him.  Your arms wrapped around his neck as you rolled to your back, pulling him on top of you.

He moaned as he felt your legs part.  His body molded to yours perfectly.  You released a shaky breath as his lips trailed across your cheek and down your jaw.  

Solitude was something you had become accustomed to over the years.  It had become so common that you forgot just how painful loneliness felt.  That pain had dulled and transformed into something familiar and regular with each passing day, month, and year.  You had long forgotten that it wasn’t normal to feel that way.

Heisenberg knew solitude just as much as you.

“Karl…” you moaned, arching into his body.  His lips trailed down your neck and to your breasts.  His mouth worshipped your soft flesh.  You felt his cock slowly harden between your legs and it made you wet.

“I need you, Y/N,” he growled between your breasts.  You spread your legs wider and rolled your hips.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He reached for his dick and slowly pushed inside of you.

Heisenberg’s mouth went to your ear and he grunted softly with every thrust.  Your arms held him close to your body, his skin pressed to yours.  His body rocked with yours, his touches and kisses soft and intimate.  Your head pushed back into the pillow, feeling his cock pulsing inside of you.  

“Y/N...oh fuck...yes…” he moaned into your neck, his arms holding you tight.  His hips began to thrust faster, the soft and sweet movements becoming hurried and passionate.  You lifted your legs higher and circled them around his waist.  His teeth nibbled at your skin and his tongue licked along the marks they left behind.

“Karl...Karl...please make me cum…” you begged, your fingers digging into his back.  The bed creaked as he thrusted harder.  His right hand moved to your lower back, pulling you closer, making you arch upwards into his body.  Tears slid from the corners of your eyes, his mouth and hands worshipping you in ways you only dreamed of.

“I love you, Y/N…” he whispered gruffly into your ear, “...cum for me...cum for me…”

His words pulled your orgasm to the forefront.  You held onto his bucking body tightly, feeling the skin of his groin rubbing back and forth along your clit.  Tossing your head back, you screamed his name again and again as you came.  Heisenberg was desperately barreling his length into you as you yelled for him.  With a guttural growl, burying his face into your neck, he emptied his cum inside of you.

In a tangle of arms and legs, the both of you continued to slide against one another, your orgasms subsiding.  You smiled as you felt Heisenberg’s full lips kiss along your shoulder and collarbone.  The tickle of his beard and the soft aftershocks made you quiver underneath him.  His tongue licked from your chest, up your neck, and to your waiting mouth.  The kiss was soft, deep, and probing.  He kissed you in a way that could only be described as heavenly.

“I won’t let her take you from me,” Heisenberg whispered against your lips, “I’ll die before that bitch lays one hand on you…”

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #resident evil heisenberg #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #daddy heisenberg #heisenberg #house heisenberg #succession fanfic #succession heisenberg fanfic

[savage-rhi]

Sky of Atoms: Death Stranding Fanfic Ch. 5

GENE 3.0

“C’mon Dawkins, keep it up!” Gene heard one of her coworkers shout towards her as she began loading more scraps into the incinerator. Bits of cargo and packages that couldn’t be recycled had a first class ride to hell itself at Brisk HARPY. Gene was sweating like she had been trapped in a sauna for hours, minus feeling refreshed and restored after the fact. She stopped briefly, wiping off the sweat that creased into her brow before shoveling another large pile into the open flames. Gene hated it when she got recycling duty. Sure, she could do the work no problem but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. Not to mention she was getting fed up with her partner Ned for not picking up the pace and leaving most of his part for Gene to take care of while the bastard was on lunch. Unfortunately for Gene, automation wasn’t accessible for this kind of work at Brisk HARPY. 

Gene recalled the UCA making up some sort of excuse, couldn’t risk putting expensive equipment out in the West yet due to the high amount of colonies and drifters who could potentially steal it all. That’s why it was important to keep getting more groups to join the cause, so people would have access to technology that was very much limited to the East Coast.

Gene was beginning to have a groove going on regardless of how much she hated this part of the job. The trap like beat playing above the speakers in the incinerator chambers kept her moving. This genre of music was old, but her ears could stomach it compared to most crud her coworkers insisted on playing. Occasionally she whistled to the song as the lyrics would come soon joined by a small chorus of her coworkers doing the same thing as they piled more heaps of metal into the pits. It wasn’t all that bad when people actually did their job and didn’t throw it onto another.

“Dawkins!” Gene’s head rose up as she adjusted the straps of her tank top, making sure to keep the protective pads secure so the flames wouldn’t melt her clothes off. She looked up at her boss--Stark, and let out a puff.

“Yeah? I’m kind of busy here!” She said as a matter of fact before Stark gestured her for her to get a move on and meet with him in person. Gene took off her gloves, tossing them near the locker units for someone else to deal with before letting an older coworker know she wouldn’t be able to finish the job. Usually when Stark showed up, one of two things would happen: he either had a job for you, or he was about to chew your ass out. In Gene’s case, she wouldn’t be surprised if she got both handed to her.

Brisk HARPY paid good, but management could’ve been better in Gene’s eyes. Sometimes she couldn’t blame Stark for being pissed off most days. The UCA had some unrealistic expectations and deadlines for Brisk HARPY compared to the likes of Bridges and their co-partners Fragile Express. It was enough to turn anyone into an asshole twenty four seven regardless of professionalism.

“Good news Dawkins, your numbers are looking good.” Stark started off as he lead Gene into his office space, taking a seat and gesturing for her to do the same across from his desk.

“What’s the bad news then?” Gene asked, bracing herself as Stark raised a brow at her like she was a petulant idiot.

“Wow, you’re really pessimistic you know that? I don’t always bitch you out.”

“So I’ve been told many times, and yeah, you kinda do.” Gene said matter of fact.

“I didn’t call you to rip your asshole a new one. Not this time at least. I got another delivery job for you, its UCA top priority.” Stark said as he began messing around with his cuff link, going through some paperwork before he sent it over to Gene and then gestured for her to check it out. Gene went through the motions, fingers tapping away as she looked over the details. Occasionally, her eyes widened seeing how much red tape was in this delivery.

“What do you say, you up for it?” Stark asked, snapping Genes attention back to her boss.

“Yeah, it’s damn good pay. Long trip though. I’m gonna need to pack and need any porters heading back west to restock the safe houses to the best of their ability.”

“You know that’s not always a guarantee, but I’ll put the word out.” Stark said which Gene appreciated. Despite him being a callous jerk most times, he did have his moments where he could be understanding. Stark had been part of the porter industry ever since it first got started. Once upon a time, he was running around much like Gene was, trying to make people’s lives easier delivering goods and getting paid handsomely. The years of endurance could visibly be seen on him along with the hardships he endured. Despite being in his late fifties, he was in good shape save for the many scars and old bullet holes that littered his arms and face that told many stories. He had his share with death on the job lord knows how many times. Lost count, if Gene recalled correctly when Stark was pressed to answer one day by another associate. Stark was under the belief that most porters were getting too ‘cozy’ now in terms of their work, being too trusting of folks after the UCA was fully established along with the chiral network. Gene agreed with him to an extent, but he was older and a bit out with the times. Things were getting better in the world since the BTs left. He seemed stuck in the past.

“Not for nothing, but do you know what exactly I’m going to be delivering?” Gene asked curiously as Stark grunted, giving a shrug of his shoulders.

“I have no fucking clue kid,” he said and took out a cigarette, lighting it up with one of his mechanical fingers on his cybernetic right hand, giving a few puffs before continuing. “UCA sends their shit down the grape vine, you poor souls end up with what I got. Make sure you’re well prepped and don’t be getting your foot nearly hacked this time. You saw the paperwork, can’t afford the likes of MULE’s or god knows who to snatch this off of you. It’s literally my ass, whether you make it back alive or not and I’m not in the mood for the UCA to potentially charge me in the courts cause you fucked up.”

“If you don’t have that much faith in me, then why assign me the job?” Gene asked, her tone somewhat defensive as Stark once again grunted after taking a drag from his cigarette. The bitter smoke flew into Gene’s nostrils as she adjusted in the seat to avoid getting hit with the brunt of the smell.

“Because you’re the only competent porter I can think of at Brisk HARPY. Even though you’re late on delivery more so than most dumbshits here, your records a clean slate. I know you wouldn’t meddle with whatever the hell the UCA needs sent to that particular colony. You’re good at long stretches too. I estimate you being out in the field for three weeks at most unless you bump into trouble. I don’t normally say this, but take your damn time and make sure no one or anything gets near the package.” Stark gestured his cigarette at Gene almost as if it were a stick and he’d hit her upside the head if she said anything otherwise. Gene merely nodded and got up from the seat, ready to go back to the grind at the incinerator chambers.

“There anything else I need to know, Stark?” She asked.

“Yeah, on the way to the UCA client you got a couple deliveries. I’ll patch them to you on your cuff link. You should get cleaned up, get some rest and be ready to head out on the double. No lollygagging. Move your ass Dawkins.”

Gene snorted, letting out a small laugh at Stark’s jerk off streak then left the office. The first matter Gene took care of was getting some grub after working recycling for most of the day. Brisk HARPY was connected to a colony-state via underground networks and such. The facility housed up to two thousand people. A quarter working for Brisk HARPY while the others worked with the UCA or general labor. Gene liked how large the communal cafeteria was.

There were over four hundred people currently occupying the space. Some enjoying coffee and fruits grown by the nearby city, and others bullshitting about their jobs and family life. Most people came to Brisk HARPY for work, so it was interesting for Gene to see families actually living here. Many were displaced because of the terrorist acts Homo Demens carried out within the last two years. Brisk HARPY’s facility was one of the safest in the Western part of the UCA in terms of keeping terrible folks out. The place was fortified to the point where launching a bomb wouldn’t do shit to the structure or stability of the establishment. It was no wonder families were beginning to seek residence here, but that meant trying to find some way to incorporate them into the culture. Most folks in the Brisk HARPY sector had no family and had no intentions of creating one. Hell, some of her coworkers purposefully chose to work for Brisk HARPY because they wouldn’t have to be in the presence of kids in particular. Gene lost count how many folks called the children around the place crotch goblins among other unique nicknames. She was indifferent to children, not exactly maternal but understood it wasn’t the kids fault they had to live here and so Gene treated them like any normal person unlike some of her own coworkers.

Gene went through the cafeteria line, settling for some slices of bacon and a huge portion of potatoes. It had been a month since she had either. Slowly as people began to reclaim land and such, growing things like potatoes and having tech to produce genuine bacon was gaining traction. Foods that were thought to be long lost due to the Death Stranding were coming back.

A couple of the older kids living in the facility came by, high fiving Gene and greeting her as she took her tray over to a small table nearby a screen overhead that went off about the weather and the latest sightings of Homo Demen’s and MULEs. Occasionally, there would be some product placement and commercials from other carriers trying to get Brisk HARPY employees to seek greener pastures, but most folks were in it for the long haul. Good luck trying to get a lot of the geezers to quit. Gene thought to herself as she started gorging herself on the mashed potatoes. The aroma made her stomach ache as she consumed the meal. Gene hadn’t eaten in two days, so this was much needed. Sometimes working the incinerator chambers didn’t leave much time to take a break as there was a lot to melt down due to parts not being recyclable.

As another infomercial about Homo Demens came up, Gene’s mind began to wander while she ate. She thought about Higgs. He hadn’t sent word or anything for over three weeks. She was beginning to think maybe he made up the pizza request just to get her to shut up and take off. It seemed in character enough for him, though like she had told Higgs earlier, Gene was beginning to feel guilty for not returning the favor. He saved her twice. She didn’t like needing to be rescued by anyone, but the few times it happened on the job, she always made sure to pay it forward and then some. Gene felt like she cheated Higgs out of something.

“Seriously I shouldn’t give two shits.” Gene said to herself as she began scarfing down the bacon on her tray. Her mind drifting further to what happened weeks ago. Gene’s foot was healed, but her upper left eyebrow was still healing from the various punches David had given her. It still stung from time to time if she moved her eyebrows a lot. Gene was worried she had resting bitch face often due to it.

“How did he know David?” Gene said aloud to herself, recalling the strange interaction Higgs had with the Homo Demens member. Had Higgs been a terrorist before? No, the man was a bit of an ass but Gene didn’t think he had it in him. Higgs seemed to have knowledge of the porter life, so maybe he had done jobs for them. Many porters were well known for dealing under the table, especially if their main employers were not supplying a sufficient income. Some didn’t care who they worked for, so long as they got their money at the end of the day. Gene herself had done similar side gigs when it got difficult to take care of herself, but there were certain lines a porter doesn’t cross. Terrorism being a huge one.

“Hm?” Gene quirked up, seeing her cuff link was buzzing and she quickly opened up the screen. There was a new message in her inbox. She shifted through most of her junk mail, going to the new email.

Chikadee--

That foot of yours fell off yet? Time to pay your savior. Coordinates to my terminal are 30-25-351-201. Bring me nothing but the best. Extra cheesy for old time's sake. 👍🏻

“Speak of the devil,” Gene said as she shook her head, letting out a tired laugh. She wondered how Higgs managed to track her IP on the cuff link. The cuff links could work long distances, but at Brisk HARPY due to MULE’s hacking to track package routes, it was nearly impossible to break the code. Regardless of the uneasiness she felt towards Higgs, a deal was a deal. She was looking forward to getting her debt to him paid off so she could move on. Gene began to input the coordinates, noticing that the way they were encrypted guaranteed that Brisk HARPY couldn’t track it. She furrowed her brows, feeling a slight sting on the cut above her eyebrows. She rubbed it as the healing wound began to itch while trying to make out how far he was. Fortunately enough, Higgs was close enough to her UCA route. Gene could easily make her small deliveries and then pay him a visit before moving on with the top priority package. Piece of cake. Gene felt confident she had this in a bag. Now came the hard part as she shut off her inbox: what in the hell did a guy like Higgs love to drink alcohol wise? Her eyes widened slightly, feeling a bit nervous at this task. He requested alcohol, but never specified the type or brand. Same with the pizza minus the extra cheesy bit he left in the message. Gene searched her memory, recalling he said something along the lines of he would have whatever she was into. She wasn’t sure if it was some sort of power trip thing or if he was legitimately curious as to what she liked. Not to mention ordering pizza through a porter when he could have had something more expensive in exchange for saving her butt caught Gene off guard. Higgs was an odd one.

The days came and went, and Gene got done with her small deliveries save for the UCA package and Higgs’s odd request. The parcels of medicine that needed to be distributed to a nearby settlement was easy enough. Only thing that bugged Gene about that experience was the guy that worked for another small porter company trying to recruit her. The guy was like a pop up add in human form, wouldn’t shut up.

Gene had to scale a tall mountain pass to get to Higg’s base. She cursed him for it a few times, nearly falling more than she could count. Gene pat herself on the back for bringing extra security for the packages. At this point, if she hadn’t done it, the pizza Higgs wanted would be as good as gone, tumbling down some cliff and into a crevice by now with how much she lost her grip. Upon reaching the summit, Gene found herself having to climb down a ways, getting back to flat earth and about one hundred and twenty yards away, she could see the signature terminal and entry point into a facility up ahead.

When Gene arrived, she paused to get a good look at the place. It looked abandoned. There were scraps of metal and other mechanical bits scattered around. Some weird looking eyes and scarabs made from various broken parts of machinery decorated the outer part of the building, giving the ruined facility a persona of its own.

“Didn’t take the asshole for being an artist.” Gene said aloud, finding some of the weird sculptures Higgs seemingly made to be cool in their own right. He had a lot of time on his hands given how intricate and detailed some of the pieces were. She even bent down to check out one small sculpture that looked like an ankh. Gene wasn’t familiar with Egyptology, but knew enough to know what it was. She was beginning to wonder if maybe Higgs was a cultist. The few she met seemed to latch onto ancient cultures, Chinese, Egyptian, or what have you and latched onto their beliefs like it was a holy scripture.

“God I hope he’s not really like that.” Gene muttered under her breath, recalling the last time she made a delivery run for a cultist that it ended poorly. She was given a low score to Brisk HARPY because she didn’t want to hear for three hours why some spaghetti monster was going to descend from the heavens and save everybody. Stark chewed her out for it. Apparently spaghetti monster man, as Gene liked to call him, was a top paying client and he threatened to cut ties with Brisk HARPY and move to Fragile Express.  Humans were fruitcakes, the lot of them in Gene’s opinion, but said fruitcakes paid the bills.

Finally going to the terminal to deliver the goods, Gene was a little perplexed at the machinery. The tech was a little outdated, but once she figured out how to insert her key card into the system, it began to boot up. She put the pizza and the canister carrying the alcohol on a conveyor belt watching as the machinery took it behind the walls of the bunker. Gene waited patiently for Higgs to pop up and say something through the hologram projector. Nothing came of it. She raised a brow, scanning where Higgs should have been up and down. Suddenly a ringing pierced her ears, causing Gene to nearly screech as she covered them and a weird chipper voice began to speak.

“H-hey this is Peter Englert. Who is this speaking?”

What the actual fuck? Gene thought to herself as she put her hands down and looked around. Wondering if this was some kind of joke.

“You still there?” The nervous light heart voice asked once more.

“Higgs? It’s me, Gene. Your pizza and the alcohol you wanted is here. Nothing damaged.”

There was no response. No response for three minutes straight. Gene was beginning to feel odd and slowly began to walk backwards, intending on making a beeline out of the terminal area and back up the mountain and over the pass. She stopped when suddenly the door behind the terminal opened and Higgs stepped out. He was dressed casually, looking like he just stepped out of a shower given how his hair was slicked back and the scruffy beard he once had was trimmed down to almost nothing save for some little bits here and there.

Maybe I was too rough with the neanderthal comments. Gene thought then raised a brow as Higgs smiled at her. There was no malice in it, for once.

“Took a little longer than I expected. Figures with rookies.” Higgs said with a laugh as Gene tried to restrain herself from rushing up and slam dunking his face into the ground for the comment.

“You have any idea what I had to do to make sure this delivery was off the books?” Gene spat, earning an amused chuckle from Higgs.

“I’m sure it cost you an arm and a leg maybe even a foot,” he said, tone teetering on the edge of teasing as Gene realized it was an offhand comment about her foot injury from before given the sarcasm that dripped from his tongue.

“Har, har. Look I gotta run. We’re square now, so will you leave me a review, and pay my employer so I can get this show on the road?”

“Gee let me think,” Higgs rubbed his chin, looking as if he were trying to solve some great puzzle before his gaze fell back onto Gene, lips curving into a signature smirk. “No.” He said playfully.

This was going to be a hell of a night. Gene thought to herself, wondering exactly what Higgs had in store.

Tagging:  @kusooi​

#death stranding #its got higgs in it you thirsty bitches! #higgs monaghan #higgs x oc #fanfiction #fanfic #if you want me to tag you when i do a chapter update just hit me up #also on ao3

[prepare4trouble]

Star Wars Rebels fanfic - No Worse Than Before (But Now You Know) (2)

Little By Little AU

part 1

Hera hesitated at the door to the medical room.

It had been several months since she had been here last, but the memories were still fresh.  It was there, by the examination table, that she had stood, Kanan’s fingers squeezing her hand that little bit too tightly, when she had brought him here after his return from Malachor.  Over there, sitting on a hard chair near to the console interface, she had heard the droid inform Kanan that his sight would not return.

This room was full of bad memories, and for Kanan it had to be even worse.

She glanced at him, but he gave no outward sign of apprehension.  Sensing her hesitation, he placed a hand on her arm and they stepped over the threshold into the room together.

The droid, a relatively new N01-model medical droid, looked up at them as they entered.  It maneuvered itself around the computer terminal it had been positioned behind and approached them.  “Welcome,” it said.  “How can I be of assistance?”

Hera felt herself wince at the standard response to an approach from a patient.  It would have said that to Ezra, just as it had to Kanan.

“It has been only five days, fifteen hours and seven minutes since your previous visit,” it continued, obviously speaking to Kanan rather than to her.  “Such frequency is not required at this stage in your recovery. Have you been experiencing unusual symptoms?”

Kanan shook his head.  “No, I…” He lifted the bag containing the medical book and datapad, and offered it in the droid’s direction.  It made no move to accept it, and Kanan allowed the bag to drop back to his side.  “We came to talk about Ezra.”

The droid emitted a barely perceptible humming sound as it searched its databanks, and then backed off the approximate distance of a step.  “Ezra Bridger has not set up any alternative contacts for the discussion of medical issues,” it said.

Kanan grimaced.  “No, I bet he didn’t.  Wouldn’t have wanted anybody finding this in his history if they went to check.”

“For that reason, I am unable to discuss the matter further and must terminate this conversation,” the droid continued.  “Please obtain the necessary authorization, or attend with the patient.”

Hera stepped forward.  “All we want to know…”

“Please obtain the necessary authorization, or attend with the patient in order to continue this discussion.  I am sorry.”

“Wait,” Kanan said.  “Ezra won’t mind this.  Listen, all we want…”

“Please obtain the necessary authorization…”

Hera scowled, a surge of frustrated anger washing over her.  Her hands bunched unconsciously into fists and she clenched them hard, as though she could beat the droid into compliance.  The emotion was unfamiliar and unpleasant, out of control.  Just like the whole situation – completely out of her hands.  There was nothing that she could do to stop what was happening to Ezra, but she could pry the information she needed out of the droid.  Even if she had to pull out a wrench and take it apart to do so.

“Listen, you pile of scrap metal,��� she said, trying and failing to keep the anger out of her voice.  “Kanan came here with Ezra, you know he has permission.  If Ezra forgot to grant it officially, he’ll do it later, he won’t have a problem with this; we’re practically his parents.”

The droid turned its attention and its body in her direction.  It cocked its head as though looking both herself and Kanan up and down, and then backed off a little further, as though to protect itself.  “That is genetically improbable,” it said.

Kanan’s hand closed around her forearm and squeezed gently.  “Enno-fifteen,” he said.  “We’re not looking for information specific to Ezra, we need general information about his condition.  Specifically, what we can do to help him adjust.”

A metallic whirring sound again as the droid processed that new information.  “I provided Ezra Bridger with ample reading material.  You may find it useful to discuss with him what he has learned from that.  However, if you wish for me to go over the pertinent points, I am more than willing.”

Kanan had tried to teach Hera to meditate once; it hadn’t exactly been successful.  She took a deep breath and called on what she remembered to release some of her frustration as she exhaled.  “The reading material isn’t exactly what I’d call relevant.”

“The information I provided to Ezra Bridger is the foremost literature available on the subject,” the droid told her.  She wasn’t sure, but it actually sounded offended by the implication that it wasn’t useful.

At a loss as to how to proceed, she looked hopefully at Kanan.  Sensing her scrutiny, he smiled in the droid’s direction.  “What she’s saying is, we read the book.  Now we need something else.”

The droid considered this carefully.  “I’m aware that the Jedi are capable of a great many things; however, to my knowledge, reading visually without the use of one’s eyes is not one of them.”

Kanan grimaced.  “Hera read it,” he lied.  “Out loud.  To me.”

The droid made that sound again as he considered this.  It looked from Kanan to Hera and back again, and obviously made the decision not to pursue the argument any further.  “I understand,” it said.  “Could you give me an example of the further reading you would like to pursue?”

Hera folded her arms.  “We need something that tells us about practical things we can do to help,” she said.

The droid dipped its head in an approximation of a nod.  “Many adaptations made for Kanan Jarrus will be suitable to any other visually impaired person,” it said.

“Ezra… the theoretical person… he still has usable vision,” Kanan said.  “He will for some time.”

The droid slid over to a large cabinet at the other side of the room, and reached inside for another datapad.  He handed it to Hera.  “I anticipated this conversation, and had this device pre-loaded with an appropriate text; however, it is short and rather simplistic,” it explained.  “In addition to that, you will find that many of the adaptive technologies mentioned here are unavailable in our present location.  No doubt you will find that frustrating.  For that reason, I did not immediately provide this information.”

Hera turned on the pad and loaded up the ten-page booklet within.  A Guide to Vision Loss - How to Assist a Friend or Loved One.

“The text is also rather outdated,” the droid added.  “I believe it dates back to the time of the Republic.”

Hera switched off the pad.  “It’ll do,” she said.  “Thank you.”   She touched Kanan lightly on the arm, a signal to leave.  He placed the bag containing the medical book on the desk, before turning and following her out of the room.

“What did he give you?” Kanan asked as they walked back to the Ghost.

Hera switched on the device and read the title word for word.

“Sounds interesting.” Kanan said.  “I’ll look forward to you reading it to me.”

Hera laughed and shook her head.  “Actually, that droid might be pedantic and more than a little annoying, but he thinks of everything.  He’s pre-loaded the audio version of the book too.”

Kanan nodded.  “Must have seen us coming,” he said.

(part 3)

#little by little #star wars rebels #fanfic #hera syndulla #kanan jarrus #space mom hera #space dad kanan #the return of N015 #comments are love