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so-sures-blog · 8 months

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Pirate Jaya AU

Summary: There are three things Jay Walker knows right now in this point of his life. Number one: He hates pirates. Trapped on Nadakhan’s ship for a year, he has had enough of them for a lifetime. Number two: He is going to escape. Sure, his plans to do so are ducktaped together by adrenaline and hope, but come hell or high water Jay is going home. Number three: Jay has inadvertently caught the attention of another pirate crew with powers, a crazy old man, and the most beautiful and fierce pirate woman in the Endless Sea. He is so hooped right now.

Tags: Mentions of Abuse, Kidnapping, Hints of Trauma, Sexy/Badass Nya, “If-I’m-gonna-die-I’m-gonna-be-cool-doing-it” Jay

Inspired by the-modern-typewriter

***

His ears are ringing and the sunlight is blinding his eye, but he’s still able to make out Monkey Wretch’s screaming, Flintlocke barking out orders, and Dogshank’s heavy footsteps.

Jay sits up, dazed. He’s aware of something wet dripping down from his eyebrow, and his chest is still gasping from the shock of having his breath knocked out. Still, he staggers to his feet and looks around.

Clancee is beside himself, panicking; Monkey Wretch is leaping back and forth from the sails, screeching; Flintlocke is firing shot after shot with his pistols; and Dogshank and Doubloon are busy fighting. The rest of the pirate crew are scrambling to either fight or run from the chaos of the raid.

Well, raid is a more generous term. The word was massacre.

The deck of Misfortune’s Keep was splintered from the blast of cannons and spilled with the blood of pirates. The enemy ship had appeared out of thin air, only giving the crew a mere half hour to put together a proper defense before they were upon them.

Not that it mattered to Jay all that much. He is planning to escape. He does another round on the crew when he realizes: Nadakhan is nowhere to be seen. They were in the middle of a battle, where it is easy to get lost in the chaos. He can escape.

He can escape.

Jay snatches the satchel that holds his stash of food and bandages he’s been meticulously storing away before running. He has to get to the Quarter’s Deck, where the map to navigate the Endless Sea was. Without it, Jay would be lost. He’d die at sea before ever managing to reach land.

Jay leaps over broken bodies, ignoring the pain from his body. Ignores the rest of the crew as they fight for their lives. Monkey Wretch is trying to avoid a man with a metal falcon and Doubloon gets thrown back across the deck by a man with glowing arms.

Jay scrambles up the stairs, snatching the map off the desk and stuffing it in his bag. He glances at Clancee trembling behind Flintlocke and feels an ounce of pity. Clancee was the only one who was nice to Jay when he was on board — giving him extra food and bandages after rounds of Scrap n’ Tap. But still, Clancee would never leave with him. He was loyal to Nadakhan and the crew, and Jay wasn’t.

Jay runs as fast as he can — heart pounding, blood pumping, making his way to the rowboats desperately. He’s close, he’s so close to his freedom. After about a year of being captured by pirates and being their slave; he is over it. Jay yanks a bloodied sword out of a fallen pirate’s chest, nearly making it to the boats when —

He skids to a halt. There, right there between him and his freedom are two women. Dogshank — the most massive and terrifying woman Jay has ever met is throwing punches that would kill a normal man at a petite female.

The first thing Jay notices about this woman is the way she moves. Her steps are swift and steady across the bloodied deck of Misfortune’s Keep, unbothered by the rolling waves or the chaos surrounding them. It is the kind of ease which only came from having spent a significant amount of time at sea, and just as significant an amount of time with a sword in hand.

She cuts through Dogshank viciously, slicing and stabbing and not slowing down for even a second as she leaves her crumpling on the deck. This girl is fire and heat and hate woven in the shape of a human form. He watches as she mercilessly grabs the larger woman’s hair and sends her sword through her heart.

Jay is terrified. Jay is in awe.

The pirate woman whips to face him.

The second thing he notices is that she’s beautiful. Her skin is a rich tan color and her hair is night black, cut in a practical bob. She has a beauty mark under her left eye and a gaze so dark and consuming it feels like he has been swallowed by a black sea.

Jay swallows, takes a step back and tightens his grip on the sword. His heart crashes in his chest and he tells himself that it's the adrenaline that makes him shake, not the thought that this might possibly be the last day of his life.

The woman tilts her head and walks closer, making a quick assessment of him. Her lips are ruby red. But before she can do anything (like kill him) a voice rings through the violence.

“ENOUGH!”

Everyone pauses. There, emerging from the captain's quarters are two people: a blonde teenager with green eyes and an old man with steely eyes and a sharp countenance. The old man holds up a porcelain teapot in the sunlight.

“This is the Teapot of Tyrahn. A cursed artifact infused with the power to contain magical beings. The ancient markings on the side describe it's a powerful relic that can trap mortals. Your captain is now trapped in here, and you are outnumbered. Surrender the battle, or we will sink this ship — with you on it.”

While the old man is going through his speech, Jay takes the opportunity to peer closer at the teapot. It looks like an ordinary teapot, with strange inscriptions written on the side. As the old man raises it higher to the sun, Jay catches a flicker of orange reflecting inside the teapot.

No way. There is no way Nadakhan is in there. The Last Djinn, The Prince of Djinnjago, the Captain of Misfortune’s Keep — was defeated by a tiny teapot? That was all it took? Jay is gonna eat his shirt.

There’s a beat of where Flintlocke, the first mate, considers the proposal before he hesitantly lowers his guns. Every line in his face is etched with hate, but he’s smart enough to know that any more fighting would lead to his and the rest of his crew’s death.

They surrendered.

The old man makes a sharp movement with his head, and the blonde teenager begins yelling out orders to cuff the prisoners and take them to the brig.

Jay starts, panic shooting through him. How could he escape now? Nadakhan’s crew is captured, and technically, he is a part of that crew. He may be a cabin boy, but he still looks like a pirate with all the time spent in the sea and sun. He couldn’t be locked in the brig, he couldn’t.

The thing with pirates is that whenever they lose a battle the winning pirates maroon them on an island — and give them a gun with one bullet to end themselves. Jay didn’t know what fate would lay to Nadakhan’s crew, but he didn’t want to be a part of it.

Before he can take any more time (to panic), Jay feels a sharp point dig into his back. A sword. Jay grits his teeth and slowly turns around, hands raised, to see the pirate girl behind him. He didn’t even hear her coming.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Jay grumbles. The girl’s mouth quirks, ruby lips turning into a captivating half-smile. Her blade drags across his chest before hooking the strap of his satchel. A dead giveaway about what he was planning to do.

“I don’t think so. You’re a bit different from this crew. You’re meeting the captain. I’m sure he has some questions about what a runaway is doing on board.” Jay can detect a slight accent in her words, but before he can ponder about how disturbingly attractive it sounds she spins him around and begins walking him towards the old man by the wheel.

“Captain!” The girl calls, and the old man is pulled out of conversation with a man with black hair and biceps that can crush Jay. His eyes narrow as soon as he notices him, and Jay vaguely thinks that being poked with knives would feel less sharp than the way he was looking at him.

“I found this one by the rowboats. I think he was trying to escape.” The girl shoves him forward and Jay stumbles. Glancing at the old man, Jay notices how his sharp gaze seems more considerate as he strokes his beard.

“I see,” the old man says. “What is your name, boy?”

Jay keeps his head down. “Jay Walker, sir.”

“Jay Walker …” the old man smiles, and Jay feels more unsettled than he’d like. There’s something in that smile, like the old man had just realized something important with his name — like his name was a final piece of a map to some lost treasure.

“I am Wu, captain of the Destiny’s Bounty.” He introduces himself. Jay blinks in surprise when he hears the name of the other pirate’s ship.

The Destiny’s Bounty was the pirate ship of one of Nadakhan’s greatest rivals, Captain Soto. They were bitter enemies, often competing for the most gold and the title of most feared pirate in Ninjago. Lately, there had been a rumor across the seas that Soto had been overthrown and locked in Kryptarium Prison — Jay can take an educated guess and see that the rumor must’ve been true.

“This is my nephew and first mate, Lloyd —” Wu nods to the blonde teenager, “and my quartermaster, Cole.” He gestures to the man with black hair, who crossed his arms. “And the rest of my crew, Kai, Zane, and Nya.” Jay turns to see the two other crew members join them — a man with spiky hair and a man with a metal falcon.

Jay can’t do anything but nod. Why is he introducing his crew to him?

“Why are you on this ship, Jay?” Wu asks. Jay jolts — it's been so long since someone has said his name. Usually he was just called junkyard boy or cabin boy. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?” Jay asks. He wonders if he should lie — he doesn’t want to tell pirates anything about himself — before he decides against it. Perhaps if he told the pirates his sob story and that he wasn’t loyal they would take pity on him and let him go.

“I-I — they kidnapped me,” Jay stammers. “A year ago. I’m from the Sea of Sands, and I was just trying to sell some of my inventions at port when they took me. I’m just trying to get back home.” Jay tries to fight back the blow of aching grief whenever he thinks of his home.

Ma and Pa must be so worried — they probably thought he was dead. They worked so hard to provide for him, and Jay had just gone to port to sell his inventions to merchants. It would’ve scored big money if he managed to. Enough so that they could have meals without worry for months, and so Ma could buy whatever she wanted, and Pa could finally stop working until his hands bled. It was supposed to be for his family.

But then he got taken. Lured in by a promise, stolen because of his trust, desperate from his wish. Jay remembers Nadakhan’s silky voice, a blow from behind, and then waking up in the brig of Misfortune’s Keep miles away from land.

Captain Wu strokes his beard while staring at Jay thoughtfully. “Nadakhan took you … without you using a wish?” He asks.

Jay shifts, uncomfortable with the sudden turn of questioning. “Yes. I used two of my wishes while I was on board to escape, but he would keep twisting it until it was nothing like what I wanted. Eventually, I decided to save my third wish until I really needed it.”

Wu’s gaze sharpens impossibly at what Jay said. “You had a wish left and he still kept you on board? He never tried to get it out of you?”

Jay shakes his head. “He did try to get it out of me by manipulating and goading me.” He swallows at the thought of Nadakhan and his voice, the Scrap n’ Tap, the beatings. “But he never could.”

Wu hums and circles Jay, looking at him like he is a particular trying piece of a puzzle. After a minute he turns to his quartermaster, Cole. “Take off his shirt.”

Jay reels, positive he’s heard him wrong. “Wha —” He doesn’t even get a chance to finish his question before a hand grabs his collar and rips the front of his shirt open. At first, Jay is enraged. That was the only shirt he had, he was wearing that, who the heck did they think they were to rip that off him —

Then he hears the girl gasp behind him, sees the others gaping mouths in front of him, feels the burning eyes on his body before being hit by a wave of self-consciousness.

Oh.

His body.

It had been one week since the last Scrap n’ Tap, and his body showed it. Usually, the games went on for hours until Jay passed out and even then, the crew wouldn’t stop beating him until they got bored. Ugly bruises of all colors had bloomed across his body, a beautiful and horrific painting. Old scars littered his body — some from working in the junkyard back home, but the other, newer ones from his life with pirates. There were slash marks from knives he’d dodged, stab wounds from the ones he didn’t, and bullet shots from the few fights he’d been in.

But the worst was his back. Pale, thin lines scored across him, a lesson embedded deep into his skin and bones.

A flogging.

The first month after being on board, Misfortune’s Keep had docked at a small port off the coast of Ninjago City. Jay had ran. He ran as fast and hard as he could before being dragged back to the ship to face the captain’s fury.

Nadakhan had lashed Jay a total of twenty times, the knots from the whip digging into his skin and making the pain stronger. Even then Jay hadn’t shut up. Every smart remark and weak joke would infuriate Nadakhan more, and make him whip harder.

Jay had tried to escape over five times in the last year, and every time Nadakhan had caught him he added 10 more flogging to the additional number. So yeah, Jay’s back is a mess.

Jay feels his ears burn under the sun as the pirates take in his damaged body. He jumps when he feels a touch on his shoulder and turns to see the girl place a hand on the side of his face and stare at him with wide, beautiful dark eyes.

“Your eye,” she whispers. Her fingers slowly reach up and brush the leather of his eyepatch. “Did he do that to your eye?”

(Gleaming hook, on the floor, slashing downwards, blood, black, painpainpain —

“Believe me, aboard my ship you will break. I will make sure of it. And when that time comes I will be there so you can wish it away.”)

Jay flinches, and the girl gets her answer. She swears suddenly, violently, viciously, and the rest of the pirates look more horrified.

“Dude,” the man with the spiky hair breathes, “how are you even still alive?”

Jay ignores him and turns to the captain, who for the first time looks caught off guard. “So you can see,” Jay bites out, “I have no loyalty to this crew. I just want to go home.”

Wu drags his gaze from his bruised body before settling on his hands. Some of the light returns to his eyes and he furrows his brow. “Your hands … are covered with gloves …”

Jay feels his stomach drop out of his body. “I’m a cabin boy. I need gloves to keep my hands from bleeding from all the work.”

“Nadakhan wouldn’t keep anyone who wasn’t loyal to him on his ship if it wasn’t for a reason. Even if it were a cabin boy. And especially if they still have a wish left. He must have wanted you for something.”

Jay tries not to panic. “I told you! He kidnapped me because he wanted my inventions! I’m an inventor! He thought it could benefit his crew if he had them!”

“Show us your hands and we'll let you go,” Wu commands. Jay tightens his hands into fists and backs away, panic bubbling up.

“I-I …” I can’t, is what Jay wants to say, but that sounds too suspicious. His heart thumps in his ears and he’s suddenly aware that he’s hyperventilating. His hands. He can’t show his hands, because it was bad, it was dangerous, it — it …

Quick as an eel, the captain shoots forward and yanks off the gloves before Jay can stop him.

There were scars on his hands. But they weren’t like the ones that decorate his body — no, the pale pink scars that spread across his fingers and palms look branchlike and oddly different.

It looks like electricity had coursed through his hands.

“I knew it,” the old man says. “You are the Master of Lightning. It is your destiny to join this crew and stop the Skulkin Army.”

(Power outage. Electricity. Chaos. Screams. Uncontrollable. Dangerous.

“Jay, sweetie, you have to be careful. Not all of us can handle electricity like you can. We can get hurt. Lightning is a force of nature. It is not meant to be played. Just be careful, honey. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”)

Jay breathes. He feels knocked off kilter, cornered. The old man is staring at him with shiny eyes and looks a hundred years younger while the rest of the pirates have fallen silent.

“No, no. I don't want to be. And I won't be. I need to go back home. My parents are waiting for me.” Jay backs away, fully intending to flee and run away as fast as he can. It doesn’t matter if it’s a ship, he can run, he can escape, he can —

“Jay,” the old man implores. He avoids looking at him, instead noticing how the rest of the pirate crew is slowly circling him. Cutting off his escape. “I can help you. Everyone on this ship is an Elemental Master. I can train you to control your powers. It is dangerous for you to confine them!”

“I said no! I don’t want to be a part of your stupid destiny and join your stupid crew! I don’t want to be a pirate! I just want to go home!”

Surprisingly, the primary emotion Jay feels isn’t fear — it's anger. Jay has been trapped on the ship for a year, and had dealt with Nadakhan’s sly words and goadings and torture, and out of nowhere this strange pirate crew comes in and tell him to join their crew? Fight against the most powerful army in Ninjago? To basically ask him to die for them?

Sparks explode off Jay's fingers and for the first time he doesn’t quell it. Jay reaches down deep within himself to the writhing, electric power locked away and blasts them with lightning.

Screams and shouts are drowned out by wood ripping apart. The blonde teenager had tackled his captain out of the way and the rest of the pirates were on the floor, stunned. Jay is too, but he quickly forces himself to snap out of it and book it. To where, he doesn’t know — he just needs to get out of here. He’s had enough pirates for a lifetime.

A blast of water hits him in the back, knocking him off balance, before it surges around him. Seawater grips his legs shut, and following the line of water he sees the pirate woman holding out her hand. Controlling the water.

She is the Master of Water.

The woman drags him to her as Jay flails uselessly. Like a fish caught in a net. She swings her boot on his chest, pinning him before pulling out her cutlass against his Adam's apple.

Jay freezes. The tip is pointed almost gently against his throat, but for him to even twitch would be his doom. The girl leans down, her breath hot against Jay’s mouth. All Jay can see is her ruby lips and dark eyes. He resists the urge to swallow.

“I guess,” Nya whispers, “that you should have tried to escape earlier. That little stunt you pulled only made me all the more interested in you. And us pirates love to keep the things that are interesting to us.” She grins, mischievous and dark and so many other things at once. “You’re mine now.”

She straightens up as the others approach and lock his hands in chains, but doesn’t take her eyes off him until she is drawn into conversation with the man with spiky hair. Even still, as Jay is walked off to their ship he can still feel her gaze on him.

He feels as if he’s in a whole other realm of trouble than he was with Nadakhan. Somehow, Nya feels just as dangerous as the djinn himself.

Jay tests the lightning playing at his fingers.

Well. It’s a good thing that Jay is an expert of escaping danger as he is getting into it.

#ninjago #ninjago fic #ninjago au #jay walker #nya smith #ninjago wu #cole brookstone #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #zane julien #ninjago nadakhan #ninjago clancee #ninjago flintlocke #ninjago dogshank #ninjago monkey wretch #ninjago doubloon #ninjago jaya #jaya

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averagewriter-inthedark · 5 months

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Eye of The Storm ⛈| Six of Crows Imagine

Takes place during the events of Shadow & Bone S2

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Crows x Squaller/Saint!Reader (platonic), Kaz Brekker x reader (slight/eventual)

Content Warnings: fighting, blood, profanity, cannon divergence | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.9k

Requested 📨: yes/no

Premise: As the Crows make their way back to the Slate following their climatic dethronement of Pekka Rollins, they are ambushed by his supporters with no plan of action to escape. As they slowly accept their fate, what was once a clear night is rained upon with lightning and thunder in its wake. Having beat the odds of meeting one living Saint in their lifetime, the Crows are stunned when their savior, a player in the ever unfolding drama in Ravka, is the legend in stories of restoring life in the world when all hope was lost.

Note: although the Saint name I give is not Y/n, it’s still a reader insert and explains more at the end (it’s not an OC) also I know Zoya is called Sankta Zoya of the Storm but I have yet to get to her arc so for this the reader has powers equivalent to her

————————

The sirens had finally seized, concluding the hysteria in the streets of Ketterdam once it was revealed the Firebox outbreak was a hoax. Constructed by none other than the Bastard of the Barrel and his thieves amongst men, the Crows. After years of heated tension, and guided vengeance, against Pekka Rollins, Kaz Brekker succeeded in his plans of putting down the Lion that had ruined his life. Constant mental torture as he manuevered his players on their chestboard now able to rest.

“Where were you?” His voice was raspy, face still painted with his blood from the beating as he addressed Inej when she appeared from the shadows. They had been making their way back to the Slat. Nina, Wylan, and Jesper were flanked beside him, the dimly lit street light shining down on the group. Inej had been the only one not accounted for, flooding Kaz with anxiety mixed with anger that she strayed from the plan.

“I--.”

A gloved hand came up, stopping her. “Actually, I’d rather not hear what you have to say.” he wanted to shout. Reprimand her for being so foolish. Voice how her actions could’ve gotten her or one of them hurt because they had no idea where she was.

Despite these desires, the pain in Kaz’s body was too much and he was in need of a strong drink. Inej narrowed her eyes, but the man brushed past her leaving the others to send her looks of sympathy. Falling in step, the group followed behind Kaz, making note of how empty the streets were at that time of night. It was eerie. Yeah they may have caused an uproar with their little stunt, but they assumed there’d still be people out and about.

Dance halls and clubs are empty. The markets closed for business. Not a soul in sight. Wylan was the first to speak, “I’ve never seen it this quiet.”

“Very odd if I must say,” Jesper agreed, unconsciously letting his hands fall to where his guns strapped to his belt. His intuition was picking at his brain at the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s plotting now that Pekka is gone,” Inej made note of their surroundings. They were only a block from the Slat. Soon they’d be in the comfort of their home, able to bask in the relief they pulled their task off. A warm cup of tea by the fireplace before it came time for bed. Inej was looking forward to it.

But unfortunately, fate had other plans.

Nina suddenly froze, “Stop,” all movement seized, heads turning to the heartrender. Unease consumed them as they took in the sudden paleness of her appearance. “I hear heartbeats.” There was a subtle gulp, the woman adding in a low tone, “a lot of heartbeats.”

Tensing, they were met with the sounds of footsteps approaching from every angle. Inej pulled out her knives, as did Jesper with his guns. Wylan clutched his satchel to his chest, thinking of what he could use to help them out of this situation, though the odds were not looking good. Meanwhile, Kaz reversed his steps while the others spun around, the Crows forming a circle with their backs to one another, Kaz keeping space between him and Jesper. Allowing them a full view of the square.

They watched the herd of men step into the light. Revealing themselves with menacing eyes filled with vengeance. Kaz tensed, recognizing them as Pekka’s men.

Well the ones still loyal to the King of the Barrel. Several had already pledged their support to Kaz or took the chance to ditch town while they had the opportunity. Yet, here was a group of at least twelve, likely part of Pekka’s inner circle who’ve taken the actions of Kaz more personally. Those who refused to kneel. The young criminal should’ve known better than to expect a sudden shift in power would come easily to him.

“We have no business with you, gentlemen,” Kaz spoke with a level of calm that surprised even him. Deep down he was consumed with nerves seeing he and the Crows were severely outnumbered.

“Oh, but we do,” a gruff voice replied. Kaz’s eyes drifted to the owner, who’s hand mavuevered over his gun. “See, some of us are not too pleased with your little show tonight, Brekker. And we’ll be damned before claiming you as the King of the city.”

Jesper tilts his head slightly, whispering under his breath, “What do we do, boss?” Beside him Wylan was visibly freaking out. Nina raised her hands, ready to counter any attacks while Inej tightened the grip of her knives.

“This is it,” Kaz thought, clutching onto his cane. No ideas surfaced to help them escape. Accepting his time was up. Though he was going to fight for his Crows, the Bastard of the Barrel was ready to come to terms with his fate.

But before anyone could make the first room, a crack of lightning followed by its booming thunder shook the ground. Several flinched, including the crows, some of the Dime Lions stumbling by how close and sudden the element was to them. Rainfall began to pour down the once clear sky. Dark clouds covering the stars and skies.

The rain was thick, drenching everyone from head to toe. Their clothes became heavy. Had it not been for the skewing of their visibility, making them struggle to see where they were, they’d be annoyed by their state. But there were more important things at stake.

The storm made it hard to see. Only getting a glimpse of shapes and figures when flashes of lightning in the near distance hit the earth. Coupled with its thunder. Kaz barely could make out the enemy, bringing his cane up for any sudden attacks.

“What’s happening?” Wylan shouted, gurgling when the water hit mouth. “What do we do?”

“I-I--,” Kaz stuttered, the feeling of nausea swarming him at the cold, wet, rain hitting his face. It brought him back to the worst days of his life. Floating on top of cold, wet, bodies in the harbour, begging the Saints to save him. The man wanted to crawl away and hide. Yet the fear of not knowing what waited for them when the rain stopped kept him from falling to his knees in a panic.

“Hey! You there!” the same man from before shouted, Kaz squinting his eyes to see him raise his gun only to be thrown back by an invisible force of wind. His partner beside him went down next, though what hit him appeared to be a beam of light.

Kinda like a lightning bolt.

“What the hell was that?!” Inej shouted over the thunder.

‘A Squaller?’ Kaz thought to himself, watching another bout of wind sweep his oncoming attacker off their feet. He had not heard of another Grisha roaming the streets of Ketterdam. Surely if a squaller were inhabiting the area he’d know.

Using the butt of his cane Kaz knocked him out unconsious. When he glanced back up, his eyes landed on a cloaked figure standing on the roof of a nearby building. The rain made it impossible to make out their face. But judging by the way they moved their hands, and the fact his enemies were being bombarded by gusts of air, their savior was in fact an Ethereaki.

But what kind exactly?

At first Kaz believed they had to be a Squaller due to the wind. Yet, he then witnessed the rain shift direction, and water from a puddle shoot up to hit a man about to attack Wylan. A Tidemaker would better fit that description, however Kaz wasn’t aware of a Grisha able to control both air and water.

“I don’t know,” Jesper responded, shooting at an assailant he saw racing toward them, “But I’ve never been so happy for a thunderstorm as I am now.” At that moment Kaz realized nobody else noticed the mysterious person on the roof. His attention turned to Jesper beside him, oblivious to the help he was getting from a fellow Grisha. Turning back to the roof, expecting to see the cloaked individual, but they were gone.

As the fight commenced the storm ensued. Thunder overpowering the sound of pelting rain and gunshots. The Crows fought for their lives as the number of Dime Lions against them decreased. Nina managed to incapacitate several as did Jesper and Inej. The fight came to a climatic end with the last one standing was, quite, literally, hit with a lightning bolt causing the Crows to freeze where they stood.

Smoke filled the space, and when it cleared they were met with the mysterious being. Rain pelting down on them, however they seemed to pay no mind. As though it were a natural occurrence. It was still hard to see them. The streetlight candles had been blown out from the rain and wind, and the moon was covered by the clouds. Both those combinations obscured the face of their savior.

Nina raised her hands, ready to defend the group but Kaz motioned for her to stop, causing confusion amongst the rest. Who was this person and what did they want? And why was Kaz not doing anything?

“Well,” their voice, a feminine one at that, breached the once silent square. “That was entertaining if I’m being honest. Been a while since I’ve squabbled with angsty men,” she chucked, “but I was in dire need of practice.” Now hearing the woman speak clearly, they were able to identify her Ravkan accent. For Nina, her heart nearly stopped.

“I know that voice.” she felt the eyes of everyone, including the woman, on her. Hands lowering to her side, Nina's face etched into pure astonishment. Adding more confusion to the group who were at a loss of who this woman was.

“Oh!” The woman chuckled, not commenting on Nina’s words, “Apologies for the storm, let me just--,” they watched in stunned silence as her right hand rose, displaying a motion before the rain slowed and stopped altogether. Then with two fingers, she waved them around causing the clouds above to dissaperate, allowing the moon to shine down.

“Did she just--.” Jesper whispered to Inej, who’s expression resembled that of witnessing a miracle. “Can squallers summon thunderstorms? I thought that was a myth.”

Inej blinked rapidly, voice so low the others barely made out her reply. Tone in absolute awe, “Only one can.”

“One?” Kaz repeated, feeling a wave of unease beneath his skin.

Water from puddles splashed as the woman walked forward, stepping into the ray of light. The Crows, now able to see her fully, were greeted with her (y/h/c) hair and bearing dazzling grey eyes like the storm clouds she’d summoned. She appeared to be slightly older than the group, possibly by a few years. Then again Grisha were known to age slower than regular folk. For all they know she could be in her 50s. Look at the Darkling, who passed as a man in his early 40s to the naked eye but had lived for nearly 400 years.

Adorned in a deep grey kefta, the white and blue embroidery etched on resembled lightning bolts along with tiny drops of rain. It was unlike any kefta the Grisha wore. Those in the Ravka’s Second Army, with the exception of the Darkling, wore certain colored keftas and embroideries to signify their order. But to the knowledge of the Crows, no Grisha wore grey.

“Saints,” Nina gasped, jaw dropping slightly, causing the woman to smirk.

“Now, now,” she playfully tsked, “I’m not above swearing, but considering that applies to me….” her smirk never faltered, “I’m sure you can understand.”

Jesper’s head spun, looking between his comrades to see they were reacting the same way, “I’m sorry, are you saying that you’re--.”

Nina beat him to it, “Sankta Imber of the Drought.” Inej gasped, as did Wylan. The former repeated the name in wonder, falling to her knees in respect, “Sankta Imber….”

Kaz tightened his grip on his cane, mind racing to remember the tale behind the name. Who’s story was passed down from generation to generation for centuries. Who, like the Darkling and the Sun Summoner, was said to be either myth or once lived but suspected of perishing long ago.

Legends say that Sankta Imber of the Drought had been born in the century following the creation of the Fold. A farmer's daughter in the region of East Ravka, her family lived through the period where the country was stricken with a severe drought lasting over a hundred years, beginning not long after the Black Heretic disappeared. With no rain bringing water to the crops came a deadly famine. Hundreds of people and animals were lost, not only due to starvation and dehydration, but also illness. The economy in all of Ravka crumbled. Both States were fighting against each other for resources, as the food supply from East Ravka to West was now scarce. An increase in fires and dust bowls destroyed a lot of ecosystems, further deteriorating the country.

What was left of it that is.

There was little to no hope, with even prayers to the Saints to help them becoming meaningless words. Those still worshiping begged for a savior. The one who would bring the rain and storm. Ending the drought. Releasing them from the famine.

The idea a Squaller could summon a powerful storm was unheard of. Being able to bring forth powerful winds, rain, and possibly lightning and Thunder? Surely a Grisha of sorts would be only known by folklore. Especially given Tidemakers were the ones to control water.

Yet, it all changed one day as the 104th year of the drought approached.

“You’re more powerful than you think, Imber,” Baghra's stern voice echoed in the cave. Sitting opposite of her, with her head down and tear stains painting her cheeks, 15-year-old Imber Egorova made a sound Baghra could only assume was a whimper. “Denying it will do you no good. It will do this country no good.”

“How do you know?” The girl whispered, voice hoarse from crying following another gruesome 12 hour training day. “What makes me different from any other Squaller here?” She referred to the 20 other Squallers residing on the Little Palace grounds. Though some trained with the renowned Gisha teacher, none experienced the level of intensity Imber did.

“No Squaller here has shot someone 80 yards by their power during an exercise,” Baghra rebutted, causing Imber to wince at the memory. The reason why she was suddenly called to Baghra’s cave in the first place. From then on Imber barely got a lick of sleep or time to eat a proper meal.

The older woman gave a pointed look, “nor have they been able to summon electricity.” Ignoring Imbers stunned expression, she continued, “yes, girl, I know what you did when your sister’s heart stopped before you came here. Why your family was so willing to let you go after the testers proved you were Grisha,” Baghra leaned back in her chair, face void of emotion. “Ravka has not seen more than a few inches of rain since this drought began. No storms. And with the famine,” there was a light pause, “It’s claimed more lives than the Fold.”

Imber shuddered at the mention of Ravka’s darkened entity. Not wanting to think about its black abyss swimming with volcra.

“The point is, child,” Baghra captured her attention once more, “Besides the Sun Summoner, you could be the one to end part of Ravka’s suffering. But that will not happen if you cannot believe it yourself.”

Weeks shy of her 16th birthday, Imber received a letter from her father, which would change not only her world, but the one around. After contracting a bacteria from contaminated pond water, her mother and sister succumbed to a deadly illness after only a week. Her father had buried them on their land by the dead oak tree where they used to have picnics before Imber was taken to the Little Palace.

Distraught and riddled with unbearable pain, Imber collapsed to her knees in the middle of the courtyard, crumbling the letter in her hands. Her peers were silent, staring at her with sympathy. Unsure of what to say to the grieving teen, despite many knowing the exact feeling Imber was feeling.

Sorrow, anguish, regret. Never having the chance to correct wrongs or make memories with the loved onces they longed for. The cries of the Grisha filled the otherwise silent courtyard.

Suddenly, a rumble came from the sky..

Imber didn’t hear it over the sound of her sobs. Her companions, however, drew their attention upward, where they were greeted by a sight unimaginable. What once was a clear blue canvas, barely any clouds to begin with, transformed to that of a dark shadow. Wind, so powerful they thought a Squaller was responsible, nearly sent them off their feet.

“What’s happening?” A girl shouted, though they had difficulty hearing her due to the mix of rumbling overhead and breeze of wind.

“I don’t know!” the boy, a Tidemaker, beside her squinted, “Imber!” He lifted a hand to protect his eyes while focusing his view on the kneeled Grisha. A flash of light where her hands were plaed on the ground had him flinching. ‘What in the---.’ The spark occured once more. Chills filled his entire being as his eyes became saucers, falling to a whisper. “Saints above.”

Witnessing the sparks, an Inferni moved closer, ignoring the warning sent by the Tidemaker. “What is she doing?” His answer came by being blasted back by a gust of wind.

Imber let out a broken scream, head tilting back toward the sky as bolts of lightning released from her hands, igniting bouts of thunder in its wake. Gasps and shouts echoed around the Squaller from fellow Grisha and palace guards. The group behind her ran to find cover as the wind became too much, sending barrels and crates flying. Lightning and thunder, the duo reuniting as lost friends.

A sight to behold.

As the tears rolled down Imber’s cheeks, heavy rain soon replaced them. Drenching the lands of East Ravka for the first time in a hundred years.

For hours the girl remained kneeling on the grounds of the courtyard. Alone as everyone had seeked shelter within the Palace walls, letting the water from above coat her. The kefta she bore grew heavy. She paid no mind to it.

It wasn’t until she began to shiver from the freezing atmosphere that Imber retreated inside. Coming face to face with the reality of what transpired. As two guards escorted her to the throne room, Imber barely took notice of her peers watching the storm draw on from the windowsills. Some glanced at her in a mix of wonder, awe, and fear. Fear at the unknown, but wonder at what will be known.

Entering the throne room Imber was greeted by the King, Queen, Baghra, and the General of Ravka’s Second Army. Whereas the country’s monarchs were visibily bewildered at Imber, Baghra appeared impressed in comparison to the General’s excitement. Nerves consumed her on top of the immense grief Imber was experincing. Rain continued pelting the windows and roof of the Little Palace. Every once in a while, the occupants in the room flinched at the crack of thunder.

Upon making eye contact with the King, Imber bowed her head, curtseying as best she could with the weight of her soaked kefta. From there she underwent an hour of intense interrogation at the hands of the King and General. Baghra was questioned as well. Admitting she suspected the scale of Imber’s power but decided to stay quiet until the time came. The General, while pleased to know the world’s most powerful Squaller was among his ranks, voiced concern at the possibility of their enemies discovering her.

“Ravka has been praying for the day storms finally wash over her,” his tone was calm, almost haunting. Imber couldn’t look away as he moved toward her, tear stains painting her cheeks. “To save them from this wretching drought. Bring an end to this famine that has wiped away countless lives. Rain has touched grounds for the first time in over a century, Miss. Egorova. The people of Ravka are going to celebrate you. Erect statues on your name for being the hope they prayed for all these years.” he halted directly in front of her, keeping hold of her gaze it sent another wave of chills not relating to the cold clothes Imber wore.

“You are now the symbol of this dark period coming to its end. You are Sankta Imber of the Drought.”

“The storm lasted a fortnight, dispersing across Ravka’s lands until every inch had been touched by lightning. Yet the rain continued for months on end after the winds disappeared,” Nina recited the story etched into her brain. The crows silent as they took in her words. “Many say it was the raw grief of Imber losing her family that the storms were so strong. The constant rain marked as a symbol of her time in mourning.” The crows familiar with loss could relate. Kaz, Jesper, and Inej looking elsewhere than the Grisha.

Nina let out a breath, “Now whenever a powerful storm appears in Ravka, locals believe it to be Sankta Imber reminding them they will never experience a drought again. Famine will never touch their lands so long as she remains. Rain will be their protector, and she will be its champion.”

At the end of the Heartrender’s tale, Imber clasped her hands behind her back. “Nice to see my reputation still precedes me after all these years.” Chuckling, she took another step toward the group, “Still odd to hear myself spoken like a myth when I still live and breathe the same air as you.”

Again, no words could describe what the Crows were feeling at that moment. No one however was more shocked than Nina herself. And her reasons were far more than just being in the presence of a living Saint. “But you…”

Imber’s smirk turned to a soft smile, “Been some time since our last acquaintance, Nina Zenik.”

All eyes turned to the brunette, Kaz the first to speak, “What?” Not only was his mind racing, but now it was full of questions and doubts. They knew each other? But judging by Nina’s reaction, it was not all that meets the eye. She was stunned beyond belief like they were. “Care to explain, Zenik?”

Tensing by the tone of his voice, Nina sent him a light glare, “I don’t know her as Sankta Imber,” her eyes returned to the Grisha, this time showcasing betrayal as the memory of the woman in a blue kefta like her fellow Squallers appeared in her mind. “But as Commander Y/n Tempestasov of the Second Army.” Everyone felt the shift in the air at the mention of the Darkling’s army.

Why was one of the Darkling’s soldiers, a Saint at that, coming to them in the middle of the night? Traveling across the sea and saving them from Pekka’s men. There had to be a reason.

Kaz tightened the grip he had on his cane. Thinking back to events of the past several months. He would’ve recognized Imber, or Y/n, whatever she wanted to be called--at the Winter’s Fete. The kefta was unique; it would've captured anyone’s attention. As a powerful Squaller, Kirigan surely wanted her close to his side. Yet the Grisha had not been present on the skiff nor did Alina mention anything of meeting another living Saint.

Then there was the fact that the legends of Sankta Imber of the Drought were from nearly 300 years ago. It was believed she had died or dissapeared roughtly 20 years after she brought the storm to Ravka.

Meaning she’s been hiding in plain sight for centuries. A ghost among the living. Playing the role of a Second Army soldier under a false name to preserve her identity.

Another chuckle brought Kaz out of his thoughts, “Allow me to fill in the blanks, Crows,” Imber smirked at their reaction, “yes I know who you are. Do not doubt Nina’s loyalty--the last time we saw each other I was a different person. Roughly eight years if I’m correct,” bringing a hand to her chin, the Saint acted like she was deep in thought, “You’d only just arrived at the Little Palace before I escaped.”

“Escaped?”

Imber retained her posture, more serious than the initial laid back she had presented, “You’ve witnessed the evil General Kirigan is capabale of first hand.” they stayed silent, but each of their expressions faltered. “I discovered the scale of it a long time ago, after he made me a prisoner of the Little Palace under the guise of a trainer.” Nina bowed her head, the memory of Commander Y/n paroling the grounds where the Etherealki trained. She always appeared detached, but was kind to the young Grisha who had not yet succumbed to the corruption of the Darkling. “He was responsible for everyone believing I had died or dissapeared. After instilling fear in me at the thought of being captured by enemies, he had me locked in the caves of the Little Palace.” Inej let out a gasp, face consorting with sadness.

Imber shrugged, “sooner or later people stopped searching for me. Unaware I was close the entire time despire my storms becoming a blanket over Ravka for years. I was all but the myth you’ve heard.” Turning her head to Nina, Imber offered a soft smile, “It was years before he let me out. When he did I was named Commander under a false name and trained Grisha for centuries. Changing my name each time he did because someone asked too many questions and we had to clean up his mess. Y/n Tempestasov is the recent name of the many I’ve gone by. Frankly it’s my favorite if I’m being honest.”

“Would you prefer it if we called you that?” Wylan raised his hand, resulting in a side eye from Kaz at his formality. The Saint, however, smiled at him, “I’d like that. Imber Egorova…” she trailed off, connecting her gaze with Kaz as though she read him like a book. “She is of the past.”

Ignoring the weight on his chest, knowing damn well what the Saint was refering to, Kaz changed the subject. “Enough sentiment. You still haven’t said why you’re here.” The sound of his cane echoed on the pavement when he moved closer to her. “The Darkling might be dead but how are we to trust you’re not doing his bidding.”

The woman scoffed, obviously offended by the assumption, “Believe me, I hate the man more than anyone. Probably more than you and Alina combined.”

Jesper made a face of shock, voicing what they all thought, “You know Alina?”

“She sent me,” Y/n mused, shocking them more when she added, “And Kirigan is alive.”

“How is that possible?” Inej wondered aloud, unable to grasp the news.

“Turns out his own creation did not kill him after all. Instead he used merzost to create shadow monsters. Monsters that can only be destroyed with a certain blade that, like me, is also a legend.”

“Neshyenyer,” Kaz narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to call bluff. Y/n smirked in response.

“That is where you come in. We have some mutual friends, and they sent me to retrieve you lot to find the sword. Said you were the best of the best.” Hand going into her pocket, she removes a rolled parchment tied with a ribbon. “For your cooperation, the King of Ravka plans to generously compensate you.” She held it out to Kaz, “For you, Dirtyhands.”

He ignored the name, deciding not to question the depth of her knowledge on him and the Crows, and instead took the parchment. Once unfolded, he read the message inked onto its surface, detailing the extent of the mission and amount of kruge to be paid. He stopped at the name signed at the very end, ‘Nikolai Lantsov.’

‘Mutual friends,’ he remembered she said. Intuition telling him it was not only Alina and Mal the Saint referred to. Only person Kaz recalled that could likely be said aquaintance was a certain privateer.

Footsteps wandering away had the man look up, finding Y/n to take her leave. Kaz and Jesper flanked to his sides, the whole group watching her depart. “Come along, Crows,” she called out, the playfulness returning. “A storm is approaching.” light rain began to fall once more, followed by the sound of thunder in the distance. Kaz pictured the smile on her face by the tone of her voice. “And we’ve got work to do.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x fem!reader #inej ghafa #inej ghafa x reader #inej ghafa imagine #jesper fahey #jesper fahey imagine #nina zenik #nina zenik imagine #six of crows #SOC #six of crows imagine #grishaverse #grisha!reader #Saint!reader #grishaverse fanfic

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peculiaritybending · 9 days

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HE’S PLAYING WITH HIS TOYS :’)

#satchel cannon my little boy #I love him sm #satchel cannon #fargo

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peiskos-and-apricity · 2 months

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Fated to Fall ~ Sindri x Reader [PT7]

TW: Cannon typical violence

A/n: I think I'm gonna start a tag list for this book because chapters are so inconsistent (sorry about that). So if you want to be tagged for this story just let me know! [Or you can bookmark it on Ao3 here]

|Chapter selection|

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"Sindri!" Atreus yelled in greeting, his smile wide on his face. You were too distracted to turn to the boy as you watched Kratos' eyes try to melt you where you stand.

"I'd return your surprise but I did know you'd be here!" Sindri returned the greeting with a tone more cheerful than a few moments ago. And, once the two had gotten closer, he continued.

"I've got something for you!" Those words seemed to peak Kratos' interest. At least enough for him to slowly turn his eyes away from you and to the dwarf.

"What is it dwarf?" He asked, his voice monotone in a way that you knew meant he was irritated. Looking back towards Sindri you see his hands fidgeting and nervous in his movements, especially as he began to walk away from the table and what you knew he was gifting them with.

"You know I'm glad I came back here at least once before Ragnarok" he spoke, turned away from all of you as he did. As if talking to no one.

"Oh, if these cobblestones could talk" he reminisced as he looked around longingly. It was clear he really did miss this place.

"Then they'd have mouths...filthy disgusting mouths" he glances turned much more stiff, almost like he was imagining what it would be like and being quietly horrified with the thought. Then suddenly he turned back over, pointing towards Atreus.

"Do you mind if I fiddle with your bow?" He asked and without hesitation the boy handed it over.

It was then that Kratos turned to you before motioning you away. You knew better than to fight the simple request, as bad as you wished not to speak with him, so you followed him.

"You should not be here" he started the conversation off on the worst note possible, though you knew him as a man of very little subtly.

"Given the way the entire city cowers away it seems neither should the two of you" you answered with the same energy as him. With a sudden movement he was looming over you again, this time his anger not so hidden as it was before.

"This childishness needs to end. This is reckless" he spoke in a poor attempt at a whisper through gritted teeth. You felt every inch of your body boil at him having put himself so close to you, his figure mere inches away. So much so that your glare turned snarl like with the sudden wave of rage that overtook you. You were sure, had you not gotten your cloak, that your eyes would be gleaming at him.

"I am aware you think so little of me that you believe I'm so unable to control myself. So I have taken precautions" you display the metal rings that you had placed in your satchel and gesture down at the white bear skin you had placed on your body lined in a magic hidden from plain view.

"I will have you know, though, that even without these my leave would have been anything but reckless, given that you left me behind with no clue as to what was happening. So my apologies for being so childish as to want to know the reason I was nearly killed the other night and why we must so suddenly search for a dead god" you spoke through your own set of gritted teeth and anger. You two remained standing for a long paused moment in utter silence as you stared at one another, as if waiting to see who folded first.

"Hrm..." he finally answered. Despite your growing anger his seemed to simmer and, thankfully, he took a step back from you.

"Uh, if I may cut in here a moment-" Mimir tried to interject.

"No" the both of you answered in unison. After that it seemed Kratos had finished whatever business he had with you as he went to return to Sindri and Atreus. You followed not so far behind.

"Skjálfa!" Atreus released an arrow into a nearby wagon, the medal there compressing the same way the gate did. The boy's smile widened at the sight.

"Cool-"

"Atreus, this way" Kratos called and the boy was about to follow, though not without a curious look at you.

"Are you coming?" He asked to which you gave a nod. To your surprise he looked quite excited.

"Awesome! Come on, I'll catch you up on the way" he waved you forward. You went to follow, though upon looking where the two intended on going you grew a little weary.

"It's a bit dark in there" you commented mostly to yourself. Right before you could take another step you heard Sindri speak up again.

"Oh! That reminds me! Hold on just a moment" Sindri stopped the two of you as he went digging around in his bag. He pulled out a few random things before he seemed to find what he was looking for.

"Since you all are currently lacking a light source, sorry, I went ahead and made these for you! I only made two, though. I didn't expect that you would need one. But I'll get right to it! It'll be done by the time you all make it back" he outstretched the glowing lights which you and Atreus gratefully took from him.

"I'll make due until then. Thank you" Sindri nodded and turned back to do whatever else he had come here to do.

"Atreus!" Kratos called again. You and the boy glanced at one another before quickly catching up.

Once the three were gone Sindri went about cleaning up shop, knowing that they most likely wouldn't return here for a long while. Frankly he didn't want to stay long either, not after what Odin had done to the place he once called home.

It only took a moment later he was off again, back through the Yggdrasil and to the home he now knew. However, whatever comfort he had been looking for evaporated the moment he opened the doors. He was hit with disgust, his eyes catching each tiny stain and out of place chair. He wrinkled his nose at the sight before quickly setting off to tidy the place up.

He zoned out while he was cleaning, for the most part. His mind was mostly on what his new project might be and how he would be able to keep up with the mess all the others seemed so keen on making. And soon enough the inside looked spotless and he was off to clean up the mess outside. That being the branch peices that had been shattered all over the ground earlier. So he swept and swept and swept. As he did, his mind wandered from projects and future messes and instead became caught on the stranger he had only recently met. He had to admit it stung a little, not knowing this person who seemed so caught in the lives of those he cared for. He knew it probably shouldn't, yet it did all the same.

He hardly had time to ruminate on the topic when he heard a set of feet he knew all too well, a glance behind showing his brother arriving back home.

"Brok!" He called, the blue dwarf turning his head almost immediately at the sound.

"The fuck you want!" He called back. Sindri took his opportunity to swipe away the last of the splintered branches before quickly making his way to his brothers side.

"I thought you should know the bow string worked! It was actually more effective than I had originally anticipated!" Sindri began his boasting, the project something he had largely worked on by himself. He got an eye roll in response.

"Well whoopty fuckin' do. Least I know yer done blowin' up all my shit" Sindri immediately regretted having said anything.

"It was one time! At least I don't nearly burn the house down every time I make something to eat!" He rebutted but Brok seemed hardly effected.

"If ya don't like my methods then you can cook yer own damn food!" Brok took a turn into the workshop to which Sindri didn't follow. Instead he stood annoyed on the other side of the workbench. Something Brok didn't seem to notice or care about either as he went to work on whatever he had planned.

For a while longer there was silence between the two. That was until Sindri found himself thinking about the stranger again. He found that his curiosity only grew the more he allowed himself to think about it.

"How long have you known them?" Sindri asked out of the blue. Brok's face twisted a moment, his eyes glancing towards his brother before back down to his work.

"Who're ya talkin' about?" he asked, striking his hammer once more.

"Y/n- you know who I'm talking about! You two seemed close" he asked again, this time Brok considered his words.

"What's got ya so curious?" Sindri took a moment to ponder exactly that. Surely it was just because of your shared company. But perhaps too it could be his intrigue in your work and his astonishment at your lack of care for it. Or even just the simple fact that he was curious for curiosity's sake.

Maybe it was that you just seemed so strangely familiar. Like the itch of a memory he couldn't quite grab hold of. A stranger he's somehow met before.

"Nothing in particular. I just find it strange that I didn't know about them until now" Sindri settles on the obvious answer but his tone was sharper than he had meant it. He wasn't sure if Brok noticed.

"I's told ya about 'em before. Just not in no detail" Brok explained which only brought more questions to Sindri.

"Why not?" Was the one he decided it best to ask first.

"'Cause it weren't nothin' your nose needed stickin' in" he answered flatly.

"Well it seems to be plenty of my business now" Sindri countered and Brok huffed.

"Ain't nothin' important to tell you" Sindri was growing unsatisfied with his answers.

"But why not just tell me anyway?" Brok was growing visibly frustrated.

"S'this some sorta interrogation?" He was openly indignant by this point but Sindri most definitely wasn't backing down. So, before Sindri could try to push him again and further delay his work, he answered.

"I mets 'em when they's was half dead fightin' off some Draugr at the start'a Fimbulwinter. Didn't know they's was involved with the other two until a whiles after. Now if yer done sniffin' my ass like a dung beetle on date night, I would like to get back to work!" Brok's frustration became more visible the more he spoke until he was eventually fully turned to Sindri, his annoyance more than obvious.

"Well if you would have just answered my questions I wouldn't have to ask so many!" Sindri defended against the clear wishes of his brother, causing him to turn back to his work in a huff.

"If ya don't get yerself somethin' better ta do I swear ta whatever god'll listen that I'll jump over this table and lick ya-"

"Leaving!" Sindri didn't hesitate to immediately vacate the area, knowing damn well that Brok's threat was anything but empty. Yet now he felt his curiosity nearly burn him, Brok's words having only left him with more to question. But he tried to brush it off as best he could.

He had work to do after all.

The journey was longer than you had originally thought, but finally, after having met Durlin and walking yourselves through precarious machines, old maze like mine shafts and fighting frankly less creatures than you would have thought while looking for a maybe not so dead god, the four of you had made it to a final set of large wooden doors. Well, technically not so much the final door as it was the last one you all would be looking through, considering you could all spend weeks in here if you really wanted to search the place.

It looked pretty sealed, more than any other the four of you had gone through anyway. But it wasn't anything difficult for you all to figure out. A few shots from Atreus' new bow string took out the metal on the sides well enough and a good pull from Kratos' blades should-

"Hvat er at gerast!?" A voice yelled behind, your head immediately whipping to the sound and in so meeting the eyes of strangers. And oh boy, they didn't seem to friendly.

"We've got company!" You yelled, making sure the other two managed to pull themselves away from the task at hand. Thankfully, whether due to your words or the strangers yelling, they did.

Your movements were natural, planned. Kratos was quick to take his pick of the group and Atreus happily went to help, given that the two always did work so much better together. So you were left with the other. You didn't feel any need to complain though. As far as you were concerned you got the easy work. They had to deal with the bigger guy and you were pretty sure there were others heading their way.

"Alright, let's get this over with" you taunted your enemy, though you were pretty sure they couldn't understand you. Either way they didn't hesitate to charge.

The battle was as controlled as chaos got, as battles like this usually were. Every blow could have left you mauled, but such was the life you all lived. And, if you were being honest, they weren't really much of a challenge. A minor inconvenience at most.

Bodies dropped and it seemed that you all would get through this quickly. It lessened your hope that there was anything in the locked room if these were the people guarding it. Either way their numbers dwindled and soon only two remained. Given that you currently had your axe handle thoroughly wrapped around the throat of one of them, that would soon be only one.

You had thought to go through the effort of breaking his neck before a quick glance showed Atreus in front of you, his arrow waiting for a mark.

"Atreus! Over here!" You called. A second later the stranger fell limp, an arrow embedded in his skull.

"Behind you!" Atreus yelled as you dropped the body in your arms. You dodged at the last moment, the strangers weapon hitting nothing but dirt and rock. He hardly had a chance to look up before Kratos' axe met the back of his head. And so he dropped limp atop the other, the bodies piling up.

Then, finally, it seemed that it was over.

"Clearly they don't want us in there. This has to be it" Atreus proclaimed with all the confidence and hope that you couldn't have imagined clinging to by his age.

"Back to it then" Mimir encouraged, though you couldn't help but feel a little bad for the soon to be dashed hopes of the boy.

"I don't know. I feel like if Odin was going to hide away a war god, it would be with far more than a few Einherjar..." you tried to caution them. This all felt far too easy.

"Agreed" Kratos spoke, but his blades dug into the wood anyway and soon he was pulling the door from its hinges.

You had to give credit where was was due, if there was one thing Kratos did well, it was tear things apart. So it wasn't a surprise when he did so easily. The door collapsed in a way similar to a tree; its movement slow at first before quickly colliding with the ground.

Dust covered your vision, your hands trying to swipe the cloud away and coughing as it still made it to your lungs. But soon it settled, bits of light traveling through the remnants of it searching for a source other than the thin clouds to reflect off of. Your eyes squinted through the strange haze when finally you saw someone. Before a moment more could pass as the three of you approached, you heard Atreus call out.

"Tyr!" The name sent your stomach to your throat as you realized that you did in fact now stand at the feet of a once dead god. You couldn't find words. You hardly believed what you were seeing. By every sane metric it shouldn't be, yet here you stood, steps away from who you had long known as legend told in stories of great acts of kindness and mercy. A betrayer of Aesir, a god of war who fought for his mission towards peace.

"What trickery is this, Odin? What game do you play with me now?" His head hardly moved and didn't dare raise to meet the eyes of any of you. He only sat, unmoving, uncaring.

"We're not with Odin. We're the good guys!" Atreus, ever the optimist, tried to convince Tyr that this wasn't some sort of trick. An attempt you knew was in vain just from a glance at the fallen god. It was then you noticed he was far from what he once was. A broken man with the fading visage of a legend among many.

You placed a hand on Atreus' shoulder to hold him back. The boy glanced up at you as you shook your head slightly, warning him to keep his distance.

Kratos wasted no time in getting behind Tyr and grabbing the rope that clung to his neck. With a pull the rope grew taught and a swift swing his blades cut threw it easily.

Far too easily.

"This...Is the god of war?" Kratos asked the question, though by his tone you knew he was far from impressed. You gave him a sharp look. That was surely no way to address someone who had spent hundreds of years hidden away at the mercy of God's as cruel as the Aesir.

"Those blades..." Tyr spoke, his eyes transfixed on the red glow that had cut him free. But then the eyes fell again, acceptance covering him.

"I know you..." his tone was full of subtle disdain.

"God-killer" his disdain no longer subtle. His eyes finally met Kratos

"Have you come for me now?" He asks, his resentment clear. His words weren't empty; he knew of the ghost.

"Only to free you-" your father tried reaching a hand.

"Stay away!" Tyr quickly coward from him as he moved himself away, his tone a beg for mercy in its own. Atreus tried to step in but your hand held him back once more. His look to you was full of confusion that you cooled with a patient stare.

"Brother, let me try" Mimir spoke up and Kratos didn't hesitate to give the man a chance.

"Tyr- Tyr! Look...You know me, don't you?" Mimir's voice was jovial, friendly even. Like he was meeting with an old pal under far less dire circumstances.

"You...You killed Mimir!" Well that certainly wasn't the reaction you had hoped for.

"No, no! No, no no no!" Mimir frantically tried to convince.

"Yeah we- we brought him right back!" Atreus, in his own set of frantics now, tried to calm the situation in the worst way possible. You pulled the boy away from Tyr as you saw things quickly going south.

"You...stay away from me, you monsters!" Tyr cried out, whatever previous confidence he held staring down the god-killer now utterly evaporated as he stumbles his way to his feet, bumping the door frame on his way out.

"Stop!" Atreus pulled from your grip and began to run after him, taking only a glance back to the three of you as he went to catch up.

"We need him!" He justified before booking it after him.

"Wait!" Kratos called as he took a spot beside you. The both of you barely set to a run before more of the Einherjar came down from above and out of crevices. You hardly had the time to see one attempt a push and pull match with Kratos when you have two on you. You struggle against them a moment, shifting your weight around until one falls to your heel, a quick stomp knocking them out before you were able to throw the other to the ground beside them, your axe splitting their skull just in time for you to look up and see Kratos shoved through some unstable wood and out of sight completely. And worse yet, he left three more up here for you to deal with.

Great. Looks like you've got to figure this out on your own.

#gow #god of war #gow ragnarok #gowr #gow sindri #god of war sindri #god of war x reader #gow x reader #gow sindri x reader #fated to fall #gow kratos & reader #gow atreus #gow kratos #gow atreus & reader #gow ragnarok sindri #gow ragnarok x reader #gow ragnorak #gow reader insert #gender neutral reader

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abbacoded · 5 months

Text

You Suit Me . . . ~Chapter One

// Rabbi Milligan (Patrick Milligan) x *OC

*AU second daughter of Donatello Fadda

Summary: After the ‘double cross’ that ended the Yiddles family, Rabbi Milligan is taken in by Donatello Fadda and grows up with the Fadda family. While living in the Fadda household, Rabbi is befriended by Donatello Fadda’s youngest daughter, Noemi Fadda (AU OC). A romantic relationship develops.

Warnings: Some mentions of blood and gore

Note: Somewhat follows the progression of the show (Fargo, Season Four) but will take a hard AU turn eventually. Essentially, a ‘secretly dating’ troupe!

A quick visit with Loy Cannon, that’s what Rabbi had said and yet, Noemi Fadda waited with an apron tied around her waist in the Fadda family dinning room long after her father and the others were meant to return.

It was Sunday dinner and all guests—save for her mother and herself—were running late.

Her mother, Chianna Fadda, had resigned from waiting and took to her bedroom with a glass of wine. From Noemi’s speculation, Chianna Fadda did that a lot these days. Noemi suspected it had something to do with her youngest brother, Zirominu—or “Zero”—being sent to live with the Cannon family. Noemi considered her mother to be handling the separation from her son a lot better than she could have handled it. Noemi imagined carrying a baby for nine months, many sleepless nights and early mornings, raising a child, feeding it, watching it grow into a precious little boy and then, her father simply plucking that child from existence in your family home. Where does the love go? Noemi felt a sinking feeling in her chest whenever she thought about her baby brother and his current predicament—being forced to live with strangers all these months.

A pleasant distraction arrives in the form of someone entering through the back door near the kitchen. Rising from her seat, Noemi leaves the dinning room to go towards the clatter of the screen door. She finds Rabbi Milligan and “Satchel”—Loy Cannon’s youngest son—arriving home.

“Where were you?” Noemi exclaims. “Dinner is cold, mama’s upset!” Noemi looks towards the ceiling with her hands spread out. Though she gripes, no one hears. Rabbi Milligan is midway through instructing Satchel to go to his room and wait for him while he talks with Noemi alone.

The situation looked very serious. Any qualms Noemi possessed for being stood-up on a dinner she spent the majority of the day preparing flee when she watches Satchel leave and Rabbi look to her very gravely.

“What?” Noemi asks.

Though Rabbi feels the need for it, he refrains from touching her.

Instead, Rabbi gestures Noemi to come near him with a slow flit of his hand.

“We have ta’ talk,” gravelly voice to match that look he gave her.

Noemi approaches Rabbi as he pulls out a chair for her at a small two seater-table in the Fadda family kitchen. Taking the seat across from her, Rabbi rests his arms on the table as he begins, “there’s been’a accident.”

“What happened?” A hitch of concern in Noemi’s voice as she sits with Rabbi. The fear—the anxiety she felt made her feel like doing anything but sit. Her father traveled with quite the entourage of men and yet, only Satchel and Rabbi returned home. She squirms in her chair as Rabbi slowly licks his lips and prepares to tell her more.

“Your brother is fine, as is everyone else, but your father’s been admitted to the public hospital; he’s lost a’lot of blood, but ee’s stable. The doctor is keepin’ him a few days for observation.”

Noemi looks neither relieved or nor alarmed to hear all of this from Rabbi Milligan. Perplexity is her sole expression in the Irishman’s eyes.

“What kind of accident was dad in?” Noemi presses him. Hearing a statement like, ‘your father had lost a lot of blood,’ is no news to easily digest.

“Ah, yea.” Taking a breath to gather his words, “the car was at ‘n intersection near the school, some boys were playin’ with toy guns, one of them must’ve been a pellet gun.” Rabbi’s eyes shift from Noemi to his hands on the table, uneasy with the task of notifying the family of his boss and keeper. “The gun went off, hit your father in the backseat, ‘ee has a neck wound but ee’is being treated for it, like I said.”

Filled in at last, Noemi does not know how to respond to the news of her father’s ‘accident’.

While Noemi sits in a stunned silence, Rabbi finally does what he wanted to do before. He reaches across the table and collects Noemi’s hand; a rare move for him, considering his place beneath her in the household. “Would you be needin’ assistance in tellin’ your mother?”

Noemi Fadda had been preparing her family’s meals since she was old enough to turn on the stove all by herself. With cooking, came lots of cleaning and caring for the house, a role expected of her, especially as she was not yet married and out of the house like her sister, Naneeda. Noemi’s hand felt very cold and dry in Rabbi’s warm grasp.

Swallowing quietly to reanimate herself, lost in her thoughts as she was, Noemi straightens up in her seat, a kind of quiet excitement and exhilaration hits her when Rabbi—or ‘Patrick’—had taken her hand and held it.

Shaking her head, Noemi assures, “no, I can tell her.”

As Rabbi lets go of Noemi’s hand, Noemi rises from the table and takes a step past Rabbi when suddenly she stops and turns back to him.

Impulsiveness possesses her like a soft and lonely ghost as the young woman eases down onto Rabbi Milligan’s lap, sitting on him as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do.

Alarmed but resisting futilely, Rabbi wears a look of concern as he gathers Noemi’s slight shoulders in his hands and looks into his secret lover’s eyes, preparing to turn her away. He whispers an urgent reminder of their boundaries, “Nomi—“

Nomi—that was his nickname for her, something that started back when they were kids.

“—no one is here,” the young woman interjects in an urgent whisper and smiles as she wraps her arms around his neck. Tilting her head, Noemi Fadda kisses Rabbi Milligan.

The pair shares a romantic moment that soon melds to one of desperate comfort. They stole them, every chance they could get.

Rarely with a instant where it was just them two, Rabbi buries his face in the crook of Noemi’s neck as they embrace one another and hold each other for what feels like a blessed eternity, though it was only a few cherished seconds.

Patrick Milligan hugs Noemi like he has never been hugged before and maybe he hasn’t—not before her, at least.

Reality brings Noemi Fadda pushing herself back to her feet, straightening her dress and her apron.

Before she can leave the room, Rabbi gently catches her by the wrist. Carefully, he unknots the apron ties at the small of his lover’s back.

“Thank you,” Noemi whispers in elated gratitude, watching him from over her shoulder.

#fargo fanfic #fargo #fargo season four #fargo season 4 #rabbimilligan #rabbi milligan #patrickmilligan #patrick milligan #Fadda family #fargo fic #ben wishaw #benwishaw #fargo s4 #fargo fx #fx fargo

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tabsters · 3 months

Text

SOMEONE LIKE ME (CHAP. 14) - A STARGLASS ZODIAC X ZODIAC EXPERIMENT CROSSOVER

i have a chem test in two days wish me luck—

previous chapter is here

next chapter is here

masterpost is here

tagging @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @hyperfixation-tangentopia @maiawhimsicalt and @sweet-star-cookie

content warning: drinking and a bar fight

Cassie wasn't sure how she got in this situation.

The day had started simply enough: Gemini had told her that she was going to her brother's—Scorpio's—kingdom for a day's excursion, and asked if she would like to tag along. Cassie said, yes, of course.

What neither one of them had accounted for was the fact that Scorpio's kingdom was way more densely packed than Gemini's own kingdom.

"The kingdom consists mainly of islands," Pegasus had said earlier that morning. "There are hundreds of canals and bridges built to connect the many pieces of land—rather like Venice."

Scorpio's kingdom had a definite pirate-esque vibe, as there were huge ships everywhere, and the air smelled distinctly of saltwater.

Gemini and Cassie, despite their best efforts, had gotten separated. Cassie had gotten lost. In a huge kingdom. All by herself.

So that's how she found herself awkwardly standing outside a building (it looked like a restaurant; there was a big sign with the words 'The Baratie'), trying to ask passersby for help.

She thought of potential ideas on how to find her way back to safety. She and Gemini hadn't come to the kingdom through the portal in Scorpio's castle; they had entered Scorpio's kingdom through a different portal on the mainland. Cassie doubted she could find the area where they entered at this point; she was well and truly lost.

Gemini and Scorpio were very close, so maybe if she could get to the palace, Scorpio could contact Gemini and she could wait there for her. It was a better idea than standing in the middle of nowhere and hoping Gemini would find her again.

"U—um, excuse me!" She shouted as people walked by. "Could you—oh, that's fine—I'm looking for directions to the palace!"

A couple people threw her dirty looks, and on more than one occasion, someone yelled at her to get out of the way. The sun was beginning to go down, and Cassie was getting increasingly more and more desperate. It wasn't until thirty minutes later that someone took pity on her and helped her.

"Directions to the palace?" A young woman that was exiting the restaurant asked. She had dark brown skin and curly gray hair tied in a ponytail. "Sorry, I just overheard you. You're that new human girl everyone's been talking about. Um, I could...I might be able to get you directly to the palace, if you wanted?"

"You'd do that for me?" Cassie asked cautiously. After all, this was a random woman in the streets—she couldn't be trusted so easily.

The woman seemed to pick up on this, rummaging through her satchel and pulling out a small plastic card.

"My name's Vela," She said, holding out the card to Cassie. It looked like a driver's license, or some other kind of ID. Big gold font spelled out the words: 'Constellation of the Sails' underneath her picture. "One of the constellations residing in the court of Scorpio. Don't worry, I'm not gonna kidnap you or anything."

"Okay, then." Cassie said, nodding. She wasn't going to let her guard down, though—not even for a second.

Vela stuffed the ID back into her bag and waved Cassie back into the restaurant. "C'mon. I'll introduce you to my crew. I'll see if they can get you to the palace."

"Crew?" Cassie asked as the two of them navigated the restaurant. People were drinking shot glasses filled with vodka, glasses of rum, and tankards full of beer. There were old fashioned cannons and shark skeletons mounted on the walls. Smoke wafted through the air, as some patrons were taking drags on cigarettes or cigars. "Vela, are you a pirate captain?"

The woman scoffed, ducking under a flying wayward glass cup. "Me? No. I'm the cartographer. The captain is that guy over there."

She pointed over all the heads of the restaurant patrons, to a man with a bushy afro, an eyepatch, and a captain's hat. The one eye that was visible was a bright, vivid green. He was downing a foaming cup of beer, slamming the empty glass onto the table when he was done.

"That's Lacerta. My captain." Fondness colored Vela's words. "He seems kinda like an idiot, but he has a heart of gold. I trust him with my life."

Cassie nodded reluctantly. This was the guy responsible for getting her to the palace?

"Eyyy! Vela!" Lacerta shouted, noticing the two of them. "Sit down, sit down! Have a pint or two, we all know you can drink more than us!"

At his words, the rest of the crew let out raucous cheers, shoving at each other good-naturedly.

"Maybe later," Vela said. "We got someone looking for passage to the palace."

"Sure thing," One of the crew members, a man with dreadlocks and what looked like a peg leg, laughed. "Let's just hope they got enough money to cover this here tab!"

Lacerta laughed, slapping the man on the back. "Good one, Puppis! Busboy! Another round!"

Vela shot all of them dirty looks, and they quieted down somewhat. "Focus, drunkards. This is the girl that's staying with Gemini. The human one."

"Oh, shit!" A third man, with dreadlocks piled on top of his head and an eyepatch, gasped. "This is the girl? Casper? Casey? Or something like that?"

"Cassie," Cassie corrected him. "My name is Cassie."

"She's smaller than I imagined..." A woman with dark brown cornrows tilted her head, taking swigs from her flask. "Bit scrawny. Strange eye."

"Now, now, Pyxis, Carina, be nice." Lacerta pushed his beer glass away. "And Vela, dearest, why should we help this poor child make her way back to the palace?"

"Because she's a child?" Vela asked incredulously. "A child who so happens to be under the protection of Gemini herself?"

Carina, the other woman, lifted her head off of her arms. "If she's under the personal protection of the great Gemini, then where is Gemini?"

"We...got separated," Cassie said sheepishly. "I got lost."

Pyxis snorted. "Get a load of this bull—you got lost? Aw, too bad. If you're so important, find your own way back home, don't get the help of a couple miscreants."

"But aren't you part of Scorpio's court?" Cassie asked. "Isn't it your duty to help people associated with the Zodiacs?"

"Hah! No." Puppis rolled his eyes. "Despite what Vela here has told you, we're the exception to that rule. We're loose cannons. Scorpio doesn't call for us unless he really needs us."

"We'll take you to the palace," Lacerta said, shrugging. The rest of his crew stopped mocking Cassie for a second and stared at him. "For the right price, of course."

"...and what exactly is that price?" Cassie raised an eyebrow.

"She's a child," Vela began saying, wringing her hands in frustration. "She doesn't have any form of payment."

"Your eye," Pyxis said.

"Excuse me?!" Cassie shouted, now angry.

Pyxis tsked. "The eye with the blue star in it. It'll fetch a pretty price. And I don't believe you need both your eyes to see." He chuckled, tapping his eyepatch. "I should know."

"I believe that's a bit too far," Lacerta said, now starting to show concern. "The girl doesn't need to gouge out her eye to hitch a ride—"

Pyxis pointed at Cassie. "Look at that, captain. A thing of beauty. Never seen anything like it before." He spread his arms wide, as if delivering an offer. His one eye, dark and cold, leered at Cassie. "Well? Deal or nothing."

Cassie touched the eye containing the Starglass. Pyxis smirked, looking smug. Then Cassie yanked out her sword, the blade glowing with ethereal blue light. She pointed it at Lacerta's face, all of the crew gasping.

"You will take me to the palace," She said, her heart rate starting to speed up. "You will take me aboard your ship, and you will deliver me to your king."

Carina and Pyxis jumped to their feet, both of them reaching for the knives sheathed at their belts. Puppis staggered up, trying to help, before crashing back down to the table and falling asleep. Vela shouted, drawing her own knife from the depths of her bag. Lacerta did nothing, merely squinting at Cassie, mildly impressed.

"This ain't your fight, V," Carina said, her words slurring together. "You're with us, remember?"

"You pledged your allegiance to us," Pyxis snarled. "You know what happens if you turn against us."

Vela's eyes widened, and she shook her head, slowly backing away. "I—I'm sorry, but I can't help you, human. I am honor-bound to my crew. I can't hurt them—I literally can't. If I hurt them, the pain I cause them rebounds onto me."

Cassie nodded with determination. Two on one wasn't such a bad fight—both her opponents were slow and their senses were dulled from the alcohol.

"Let's go," She said, through gritted teeth.

check out @sweet-star-cookie's starglass zodiac lore if you liked this!! questions about my lore are greatly appreciated!!

#oc #oc lore #zodiac #zodiacs #zodiac sign #zodiac signs #zodiac lore #zodiac oc #zodiac ocs

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charkyzombicorn · 1 year

Note

Since selkie have to stay close to there skin, I have a head cannon that usopp Carrie’s his around in the enormous satchel of his. Except during alasta when they put a skin, Tennessee Waterfield barrel to keep it safe.

What happens to him? What if he just starts losing his Human Senses the farther he is from his skin because Seal Mode enhances his senses

That would mean when the Franky Fam took Usopp's skin from him they essentially beat him up then left him nearly blind, deaf and unable to feel his legs. Psychological torture shit. They didn't do it on purpose but dam

Usopp gets put on watch with Chopper in Alabasta because he's also a cold-preferring creature

#one piece #Imagine the angst???#Unreal #Selkie Usopp AU

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lamaenthel · 5 months

Text

Tivaevae | Chapter Nine: The Needle

Still struggling to emotionally recover from Master Obi-Wan's deception, Ahsoka discovers in the aftermath that twelve-year-old Boba Fett has been locked up among adults in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center. After convincing Chancellor Palpatine to grant him a pardon, she manages to secure his release on the condition that she serve as his legal guardian. Now, with the help of Master Plo and the Wolfpack, she vows to help him track down what family he has left.

| AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |

Fandom: Star Wars Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Kanan Jarrus, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CC-1119 | Appo, Dexter Jettster, FLO | WA-7 (Star Wars), Shaak Ti, ARC Commander Blitz (Star Wars), CT-6922 | Dogma, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CC-3636 | Wolffe, Clone Trooper Sinker (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Comet (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody, CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-4860 | Boost, Aurra Sing, Tobias Beckett, Null-11 | Ordo Skirata, Kal Skirata, Original Mandalorian Characters (Star Wars), Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Total Word Count: 123,000 Chapter Word Count: 8,690 Chapter Summary: Boba and Ahsoka come home, Rex and Cody have a discussion about what to do regarding Ahsoka, and Ahsoka discovers a traitor in the barracks.

Boba gave the turbolaser cannons one last, wistful look. "Shame we didn't get to actually use them."

Ahsoka helped hoist Boba's rucksack up onto his shoulders. He hoped the twenty kilos of beskar plates didn't yank him backwards once she let go. "Use what?" she asked.

"The cannons. You should have let me shoot the weather matrix." Boba squeaked once Ahsoka let go of her share of the weight. He adjusted the ruck and rolled his shoulders.

Ahsoka snickered. "I'm pretty sure we're in enough trouble as is for threatening to do it."

"I thought Koon smoothed it over with the Council," Boba said, trying not to wheeze. Beskar was fucking heavy.

"He gave his report to Master Windu." Ahsoka made a face. "I received… several messages about it from my Master. We'll see."

"Have we remembered everything?" Plo asked them as they joined him in the airlock.

Ahsoka shrugged. "I couldn't find the robes that I wore on Geonosis anywhere."

"I have them. I will repair the sleeve for you tonight." Plo lowered the docking ramp. "I must report back to the Temple, and I have some business to attend to first, but I will have it done by morning."

"What kind of business?" Boba asked before he could stop himself.

"Jedi business." Plo patted him on the head.

"If you're too busy I can ask Master Kenobi to fix it. His stitchwork is a lot neater than mine or Anakin's." Ahsoka said it casually and picked at her cuticles.

Boba raised an eyebrow and resisted the urge to remind her that she wasn't talking to the old fart.

"That is an excellent idea." Plo's face crinkled up in a smile. He fished out the bundle of her ruined robes from his satchel and handed them over.

She tucked them into her own bag. "See you in the morning, then?" She hugged Master Plo goodbye.

"Bright and early." Plo squeezed her one last time, then winked at Boba. "Remember, young man, no burning the barracks down."

Boba rolled his eyes. "Whatever." Robert's head stuck out from under his arm and the tooka doll was being strangled in the zipped-up top of his rucksack. "Where is everyone?" he asked, looking around after Plo had reboarded The Babasta.

"Well–" Ahsoka checked her chrono. "It's just after 1900. They'll have all headed out to the bars by now. This place is dead when they've got any sort of shore leave, they like to milk it." She guided him towards the interior. "Let's lock up the beskar'gam in Rex's office, then we can head out and grab some food."

"In your jammies?" Boba asked, eyeing the red linen sleeping robe she wore like a tunic over her gray leggings. With long sleeves and a tie enclosure at the waist, it looked more or less like the same Jedi osik she had started the trip wearing, but thinner and a lot shorter.

"Everything's covered up," she replied. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"You got your own ride?" Boba asked stiffly, readjusting the heavy strap.

"My Master messaged a few minutes ago to say that he'll be here as soon as his strategy meeting is over with." She pushed him forward a little when he tilted backwards on the short ramp leading to the interior. "How's Biscuit Baron sound?"

"Sweet," Boba squeaked. He staggered down the hall and did his best impression of a human that didn't need oxygen. Ahsoka patiently guided him towards Tiarek's office, unlocked the door, and flicked on the lights.

"We'll close it up in the locker," Ahsoka said, helping slide the sack from his shoulders. Boba held his composure for a few more seconds before he let out a long, shuddering breath, dropped his shebs on Tiarek's rack, then gave up the fight and started panting from the exertion.

Ahsoka snickered and secured the locker after entering in the twenty-digit passcode and dropping the bag inside. "Do you think someone will steal them?" Boba panted.

She scrunched her nose up in amusement. "Nobody would steal them, but the odds of someone borrowing them to take a few holopics in is pretty high." She pinged something on her commlink. "Oh, good, Rex is still here. Let's go say hi."

Boba's anxiety returned and hit him like a speederbus. He never should have shown her the holopics, he knew that, but it just… it had felt like the right thing to do, and Dad had taught him to never ignore his gut when it spoke that strongly to him.

"What's the matter?" she asked, frowning.

"Are you going to tell him what I said?" Boba asked, nervously fidgeting with Robert's claws.

"I planned on talking about it with him, yes." Her eyes darted around his head for a few seconds, like she was tracking an insect, then she took a seat next to him. "Why does that make you nervous?" she asked gently.

"Every time I try, he argues with me over it. He was so sure that it never happened that he even had me doubting it." Boba sighed. "I don't know. Maybe you should just leave it alone."

"Is that what you want, or are you afraid of what might happen if I do?" she asked softly.

"Fuck, I don't know. I never should have said anything, I just…" Boba trailed off miserably.

"You just want your brother back," Ahsoka finished for him. "That's why you were so upset about the lockbox going missing, right?"

Boba nodded. "Maybe the holopics will be enough." He doubted it. Tiarek would find some way to rationalize it, or just flat out deny that it was him. If he had the art they made, or the journal that Mama had left behind, maybe he would have at least accepted it instead of flat denying everything. "I just wish it never happened. That there was just some Force osik that could undo it."

"Tell me about it." Ahsoka said wryly. "Unfortunately, that's not how the Force works. I wish it did, trust me. I know what it's like to wish that you could just go back to before the bad thing happened, but you can't. You just have to keep going forward and not look back." She went misty eyed and distant for a few moments, then she bumped his shoulder and smiled. "If it eases your mind, I'm not going to bring it up to Rex just yet. He deserves to know, but I need to meditate about it before I can make the decision on how to approach it with him." Her stomach growled loudly. "And maybe eat a nerfburger or six," she added with a snicker, and he huffed a little laugh in return. "It looks like Rex is in the officer's lounge. You remember where that is, right?"

Boba scooted forward off of the mattress with Robert under his arm and scowled, repeating yourememberwherethatis? in a whiny voice under his breath.

Her face went oddly vacant for a second and she clapped a hand over the back of her neck.

"What?" Boba asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just a chill," she assured him, then put him in a headlock.

"Oi!" Boba squawked.

"Come on, Bo'ika, race you to the turbo-lift," Ahsoka teased, dragging him out into the hall. "And no throwing elbows this time."

Boba twisted out of her loose grip. "You need a head start?" he asked innocently, eyeing the hallway for obstacles. If he was going to beat her and her long fucking legs, he was going to need an advantage.

"Do you?" Ahsoka taunted back. She backed up to the end of the hallway and crouched down into a starting squat, planting her heel against the wall. "Ready?"

Boba mimicked her, smirking. "On three?"

"One," she began, tilting her rump towards the ceiling.

"Two." Boba grinned fiercely and vibrated with anticipation.

"Three!" They both shoved off the wall and sprinted towards the turbo-lift. A shiny happened to wander out of the first-floor fresher at the exactly the wrong moment… for Ahsoka, at least. Boba hip-checked her towards the trooper and ran for it, cackling like a po'ackster.

"Boba!" Ahsoka shrieked. He heard a kerfuffle and a frantic apology, then he tripped over his own feet as she scampered past him on all fours like a giant orange tooka. He landed hard and slid a few feet, wheezing with laughter.

Ahsoka reached the elevator first and spun on her heels, spread her legs out like a spider, then started skittering back towards Boba.

"Oh, fuck off!" he shrieked, laughing hysterically. He tried to push up to his feet and run but didn't make it before Ahsoka reached him and started tickling him, laughing devilishly.

"N-n-n-n-" Boba gasped, still laughing but not because it was funny. He hated being tickled. Ordo used to pin him down and do it until he would struggle for air or wet himself, whatever happened first. Ahsoka immediately stopped and backed away so he could breathe.

"You good, vod'ika?" she asked, tilting her head.

Boba nodded after a few seconds and caught his breath.

"Come on." Ahsoka grabbed his hands and dragged him on his back to the turbo-lift. She spared a glance for the shiny still at the end of the hall, frozen at their antics. "Welcome to the 501st!" she called to him with a wave, then summoned Robert to her hand and closed the doors with a mad giggle.

Rex leaned back and looked at the black line he'd just poked into Cody's skin with a critical eye.

"You fucked it up, didn't you?" Cody drawled, his voice muffled from being face-down on the sofa.

"I never fuck it up, shabuir." Rex flicked his brother's ear and started the second run on the angular sunburst he was forever adding to on Cody's back. He was going to run out of room soon; he was already out to Cody's shoulders and the vain little baby didn't want him poking his shebs like he would with a proper Mando sal'gam.

"I'm surprised you let the boys out tonight, given that you're shipping out tomorrow."

"We don't leave until midday." Rex dipped his needle into the pot of black ink and adjusted his knees on the ground next to Cody.

"Still."

"If they're still hungover by the time we get to Goran then that's on them." Rex wiped away excess ink and kept poking. He'd come a long way from hiding in Cody's tube at night with steel filaments and ink balls stolen from the practice range, both of them practicing patterns that they'd seen on their Mandalorian trainers on each other until late into the night.

Cody chuckled. "What're you going to do with Boba?"

Rex shrugged. "That's up to Ahsoka. She's his guardian."

"Speaking of which…" Cody glanced at Rex and waited for him to say something, and when he didn't he let out an exasperated sigh. "I don't like sitting on this, vod'ika."

"I believe Skywalker," Rex said firmly. He had to. He couldn't go into battle beside a man he didn't trust, so he had made his decision and would stick with it until it bit him in the shebs and everything went to hell.

"So do I. The di'kut doesn't know his own strength, it doesn't mean that it shouldn't be reported," Cody retorted.

"If Ahsoka wanted it reported then nothing could stop her from shutting up about it, we both know that." Rex wiped more ink away. "I'm going to have a chat with her about it when she gets back and we'll go from there."

"So she can convince you to let Skywalker off the hook?" Cody asked sharply. "Even if it was unquestionably an accident, that doesn't mean it should be swept under the rug and you know it."

"I'm not going to throw my general to the shabla akul because his hand malfunctioned!" Rex exclaimed. "Since the kid is the one who this affects, the kid is who decides what happens next, 'lek? You already gave your word."

"Ugh." Cody buried his glaring face in his folded elbow. "Shabla dalgaan."

"Ni cuy shabla dalgaan?" Rex raised an eyebrow and pointed to his chest, offended. "Ni salgorani gar shabla shebs bal ni cuy shabla dalgaan? Ke'haa'tayli at troan'tay, ori'vod."

"Gar ne'salgorani ner shebs, vod'ika, bal meh bev tigaanur ner shebs ni ven'shuku gar cere."

Rex rolled his eyes and continued poking. "Then you'd have to get Bly to do this," he reminded his brother. "And after what you did to his cheeks, I don't think it'll look half as nice as how I do it."

"I gave him what he wanted," Cody said into his elbow.

"I can't believe you did that to your own batchmate." Rex wiped his line and gathered more ink.

"I gave him exactly what he asked for, bev'kovid!" Cody exclaimed, offended.

"As his vod it was your job to talk him out of two giant shabla golden tickets on his cheeks, Codes!" Rex said loudly. "Jesse wanted his cog dead center and I ignored him and did it on the side so he didn't look like a di'kut."

"Ke'pirimpir gaht tay'briik," Cody scoffed.

"Nayc gar." Rex poked his brother's ass cheek with the dull end of the needle and snickered evilly as he jumped and yelped, looking at his shebs with paranoid eyes.

"Little shit," Cody sniffed and laid back down. "You want me to do yours after this?"

"Might as well while we've got the time." Rex finished off the last diamond, completing the diamond-dash dadita spelling of Ponds along the underside of a sun ray. "Ni suc'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc," he said quietly, wiping away the last of the ink.

"Ni partayli, gar darasuum," Cody finished. "Ponds."

"Ponds." Rex lifted his beer from the floor and took a sip. "Now," he said, carefully placing the bottle on the floor where he wouldn't knock it over, "I can squeeze either Waxer or Apex in before I get to the edge, or you can man up and let me start a new one on your–"

"Stop!" Cody whined, smacking the hand with the needle in it away from his shebs.

"Stubborn chakaar," Rex snickered under his breath.

There was a gasp from the doorway. "Language, Captain!" Ahsoka said, pressing a dramatic hand to her heart. She was dressed in her short red sleeping robe instead of her normal Jedi robes and had Boba right behind her, his oversized rancor plushie tucked tight under one arm.

Rex put his needle down with a grin and opened his arms. Boba crossed the room in two strides and wrapped his arms around Rex's neck. "Su cuy'gar," he murmured in Boba's ear, and got to his feet still holding him. "Well done, Boba. Very well done."

Boba's cheek warmed up where it pressed against his own. "Your vod'ika is insane," he mumbled back.

"I could have told you that," Rex chuckled, meeting Ahsoka's big blue eyes. "Should have warned you about it, actually."

"Rude," Ahsoka said with a smile. She leaned down to touch foreheads with Cody. "Are we good, vod?" she asked him quietly.

Cody's face softened. "Of course we are, Os'ika," he reassured her, using her to pull himself to his seat.

Rex threw him a questioning look over Boba's head, and Cody meaningfully looked at her arm.

"Alright, enough of this mushy shit," Boba mumbled, pushing away to look at Cody. "Let me see your sal'gam."

Cody snickered and released Ahsoka, who immediately walked into Rex's arms for her own hug.

"Hi, vod'ika," Rex said fondly.

"Ori'vod," Ahsoka said back, purring happily.

"Heard you ran into some trouble on Geonosis," Rex said. He rubbed the root of her rear lek and made her purr rev up like a luxury speeder engine.

"Yeah, we–" she went stiff in his arms and leaned back, her eyes narrow and suspicious. A muscle in her jaw twitched.

Rex raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"There's something on your face," she mumbled after a few seconds of consternated silence. Her lek thumped with an irritated thwack! against her back, stripes so dark that they looked nearly black even in fluorescent lighting.

Rex swiped at his cheek, confused. "Should I go wash?" he asked, bewildered. Had he rubbed against something in the market that she didn't like? Was it that tooka that had tried to come home with him and Skywalker, or maybe some of that soup was–

Ahsoka yanked his head down and buried her nose in the meat of his cheek. She snuffled him like a hound trying to catch a scent then growled, sounding eerily like Grizzer when someone got too close to his slop bowl, with a primal undertone that sent his hair standing straight up.

"Littl'un?" Rex asked faintly. Behind her, Boba and Cody exchanged confused looks.

"Come here," Ahsoka said darkly, then started furiously rubbing her soft lek against his cheek.

"Easy kid, easy," he chuckled, holding her back a little so she didn't knock him over.

"Hold still," she snapped, still bunting her head all over him and purring like a territorial tooka.

Rex barely restrained himself from giggling when she migrated to a ticklish spot on his neck. "What's got you in a mood?"

Ahsoka growled instead of answering and moved onto his right cheek.

"Alright, alright, that's enough." He gently pushed her away from his head after a few more seconds of rubbing. She crossed her arms and pouted. "Hey," he said, chuffing her under her chin. "We need to have a talk, you and I."

Her eyes shot up and lost their attitude. "About what?" she asked warily.

Rex reached out and gently squeezed her left bicep, watching her closely for a reaction.

"Oh." She took a deep, huffy breath and turned accusing eyes on Cody.

Cody met them unapologetically and finished his beer without blinking.

"Step out with me." Rex pulled her gently towards the door and closed it for the illusion of privacy, knowing full well that Boba and Cody were already pressed up against the vent.

"Listen, I don't know what Cody told you–" she began.

"He told me something different than what the General said,'' Rex cut her off, fixing her with his best stern ori'vod look. "I'll give you a chance to tell me your side of all of this, then we'll go from there."

Ahsoka's lips thinned. "I could just order you to drop it, you know," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Don't you dare." Rex mirrored her.

She heaved a deep sigh. "It was an accident. His mech–" she shivered and clapped her hand over the back of her neck, looking around with a frown.

Rex narrowed his eyes. "Don't try to get out of answering with some made-up Force nonsense right now, vod'ika."

"I'm not," she replied, annoyed. Her rear lek thumped again. "I sensed something for the first time in your office. I just felt it again. It's like I'm being watched."

Rex frowned. "Klem, come in," he said into his commlink.

"Yes, Captain?" the gate guard replied immediately.

"Anyone come into the barracks tonight that wasn't a clone?"

"Just Commander Tano and the runt, Sir. General Koon was here for a few moments but left right away."

Ahsoka rubbed her arms like she was cold. "Something's not right," she said, looking at the door to the officer's lounge worriedly.

"Don't let anyone in or out other than troopers," Rex ordered Klem, then closed the channel. His eyes locked onto a trooper at the end of the hall. "Private!" he barked.

The trooper stopped short and stood at attention. Rex jerked his head for him to approach.

"Have you seen anyone enter the barracks in the last few hours that wasn't a clone?" Rex asked once the shiny was close.

"No, Sir!" The trooper clicked his heels together.

Rex nodded. "Keep an eye on the entr–"

"What's your name, Private?" Ahsoka interrupted.

"Falin, Ma'am," he immediately responded.

Ahsoka's hand shot up to her neck again. "Bucket off, Falin," she ordered.

Falin's visor turned to Rex, who narrowed his eyes; didn't he know who he was talking to? "As Commander Tano ordered, Private Falin," Rex reiterated, crossing his arms.

"Yes, Sir." The clone reached up to his helmet with his left hand, slowly, then his right darted to his holster and drew in Ahsoka's direction. Rex immediately shoved her to the side and took the bolt directly to his unarmed chest–

Ahsoka caught Rex before he hit the ground, instantly out cold from the blue stunner bolt. She gently lowered him and kept his head from hitting the tile. "Cody, k'akaan'jori!" she bellowed, taking off in a sprint. The shiny was already at the end of the hall, halfway through the emergency staircase door.

Ahsoka felt her brain slow down and speed up at the same time, blocking out any stimulus other than her prey. She locked on to his naturally red aura like a beacon, tracking him through the floors with a hunter's focus, even as he got out of what her normal range of Empathy allowed. Following a tingle down her spine, she ripped off a vent cover with the Force and slid into the ventilation shaft beside the turbo-lift, taking a more direct route to the ground floor. She hit the ground hard on her heels and bounced forward, straight through the closet door and in front of him.

She didn't bother ordering him to stop, she spun in a high rear kick and clotheslined him with her leg. The way his helmet popped off and the squeak of surprise he let out would have been comical if the shabuir hadn't just shot Rex.

The surge of hormonal rage she was fighting off after smelling an unknown Togruta female's scent mark on Rex's cheek didn't help her mood either.

She kicked the clone's blaster away – and he was a clone, though the lines around his eyes said he hadn't been shiny for a while – and put him in a headlock, seething and spitting with anger. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she snarled, squeezing his neck just hard enough to not break it. "What do you want? Why are you here?"

The clone, quickly turning purple, shot a jet of fire from his wrist. She let go just in time to duck and felt the flames heat the air above her montrals. She rolled and shot her leg out as she regained her feet, going for a sweep that he barely jumped over.

Ahsoka looked up just in time to catch the clone's returning punch and turn it away, bringing her long leg up in a wheel kick with the same motion. It connected and he went stumbling forward. She used the Force to shove him onto his face, but almost as if he had anticipated it he used the momentum to roll and pop back up to his feet. He shot a length of whipcord at her to bind her arms to her sides and ran for it.

"Zisiyeni," she snarled. She awkwardly pulled her sabers into her hands and cut the whipcord, but by the time she'd freed herself he had already made it to the line of speederbikes near the entrance of the hangar. "Oh no you don't," she growled. She pulled on the Force and leapt. The clone gunned the thrusters and she landed in the exact spot he had been in only moments before. She kicked the neighboring speederbike to life and jetted out of the hangar after him into the nighttime traffic.

The clone shot south through three lanes of traffic and down a half-dozen levels. Her speederbike whined as Ahsoka strained the repulsors. As she brought it up to level, the clone's bike in front of her made a small sparking pop and shuddered.

Ahsoka realized that in their rush, they'd both hopped onto the bikes in the maintenance lineup. Her repulsors were solid, just noisier than a nest full of narchlings, but it appeared by the lavender smoke and constant popping that the clone was riding a speederbike with a tibanna leak. He was going down quickly, and she wasn't going to let him get away into the undercity if she could help it, not after shooting her kriffing Rex.

The clone's bike sputtered three more times and then he started slowly dropping, and even over her whining repulsors Ahsoka could hear him cursing up a streak that would make Boba blush. She sped up with renewed fire in her blood. A first-gen clone disguised as a shiny in her barracks armed with Mandalorian gadgets like a flamethrower and whipcord? She had an idea of who was slowly crashing down in front of her, or what at least. Her brain was putting the pieces together rapidly even as she wove in and out of rush-hour traffic, collecting honks like they were Monomoko badges, too used to having to rapidly plot out a plan of attack while under fire to not multitask.

She'd wager every stupid, overpriced couch that Padmé had ever bought that there was a Null on that speederbike.

Another tingle on the back of her neck told her to draw her saber just in time to deflect a concussion round from a far-off rooftop. She batted it away but the vibration of the bolt blasted her saber clean out of her hand and sent it flying into the undercity below.

"Oh, you are dead!" she snarled, straining the thrusters to get ahead of the clone. She jackknifed and drew her shoto at the same time, slicing downward as he sped below her speederbike. She disabled his rear repulsors completely with the blow. He dropped like a rock and skidded to a sparking stop on top of a Quarren buffet. Ahsoka dove, then turned to get ahead of him. She spun to face him and ducked immediately to avoid a grapple to the face. It hit the seat behind her and the clone came flying along the rope feet first, hitting her in the chest and knocking out both her wind and her shebs from her seat right as they both cleared the edge of the roof.

Ahsoka fell, and fell, and she watched the clone's aura go staticky-gray with fear-dismay-regret as she went. She gasped for air that her spasming diaphragm couldn't pull in, and when she clipped a speeder three lanes down with her foot she was sent into a disorienting spin. She tried not to panic, but the inability to breathe while spinning and falling at terminal velocity robbed her of the ability to center herself. Honking speeders swerved around her falling body and she still couldn't stop spinning or even breathe and she was falling faster and faster and she was going to–

A warm, familiar presence covered her skin like a tingling blanket and calmed her panic. The Force cradled her, slowed her flailing spin, then flipped her over so she could see where she was going. Newly-centered, she focused on the turquoise and white speeder below her and carefully aimed for the passenger seat. She grabbed Anakin's outstretched hand and let him yank her to safety.

"Hello, Snips," he said pleasantly. He held up the saber that had been blasted out of her hand with a bemused look.

"Hi, Skyguy," Ahsoka panted. She took her saber back, a little embarrassed. "You're late."

"Yeah, well, you know–"

"Couldn't find a speeder you liked?" she couldn't help but joke.

"Actually, I was getting you Quasar." He shook a plastic cup full of creamy pink tea with orange balls at the bottom. "Hibiscus with triple cream and meiloorun boba. You're welcome."

Ahsoka snickered and took a sip. "You're the best, Master."

"I know." Anakin swerved below a blinking speederbus and sped under the line of traffic stopped at the light. "So who are we chasing?"

"A clone. He identified himself as Falin, but I doubt that's his real name. He was creeping around the barracks disguised as a shiny." A wave of anger rose up hot and bitter in Ahsoka's chest. "He shot Rex when I told him to take his bucket off."

"He shot Rex?" Anakin's aura flared white with staticky fear.

"Stunner bolt. He's okay."

Anakin sighed with blue relief. "You think this clone was after Boba?" he asked, narrowly avoiding rear-ending a police droid.

The clone got off on the exit to Coco Town. Ahsoka cursed under her breath. "I'm not sure, but I can't think of any other reason he'd be there."

Anakin reached over her and fastened her seatbelt without taking his eyes off of traffic, then did a barrel roll through four levels of packed speeders and shot down the center of a descension tunnel. "Uh, Master?" Ahsoka asked, confused. "Isn't this the opposite direction? He's going to get away!"

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Watch and learn, Padawan," he said, somehow managing to sound exasperated and smug at the same time, then leveled out and reversed into a maintenance tunnel. Without any traffic to worry about, he gunned the thrusters and throttled up until the needle topped out at 200/kmh while still in reverse. He picked up his own drink – something iced that smelled like chocolate and kokanini – and slurped it loudly.

Ahsoka chewed her boba and took a moment to subtly examine him while she had a chance; though his aura had lightened to a vivid orange with excitement-anticipation, there was a yellow-violet line of guilt-shame like a bruise along the edge. He was still affected by what he'd done to her. His eyes shone and his energy was manic, borderline feral. He was practically vibrating like a pent-up racing fathier and it didn't have anything to do with the caf; she felt his desire to protect her, to redeem himself, to prove that she could trust him again echoing across their bond.

Anakin finished his drink, tossed it over the edge, shot his arm out over her chest to stop her from bruising herself on her seatbelt, then braked hard. He shot up forty levels in five seconds and practically broke the sound barrier leaving the ascension tunnel, then flew back into traffic behind the clone close enough for her to see the blue relief battle it out with the red anger and chartreuse annoyance in his aura.

The clone was… grateful that he hadn't killed her? Ahsoka was surprised, to say the least.

"You ready?" Anakin asked loudly. He was gaining on the clone quickly now that he wasn't hobbled by the civilian traffic of the main drag. A speederbike with lame repulsors was no match for an engine rebuilt by a podracing gearhead whose only real hobby was making things go way faster than they needed to.

Ahsoka undid her seatbelt, crouched on the seat, and readied her saber with a nod.

"I'll be right behind you!" Anakin yelled. He slid underneath the speederbike and popped up a few inches in front of it. Ahsoka immediately leapt for the clone with her saber ignited and jammed it into the repulsors before he could so much as say papurgaat. The speederbike started sputtering and jerking, and the clone struggled to keep his stolen speederbike from going into a tailspin. Ahsoka did a backflip off the seat, pushing off extra hard to lessen his control.

The bike came to a spinning crash into an alley two blocks west of where she landed. She sprinted towards the smoke with a curse, hoping that Anakin had blocked off whatever exit he could. A dizzying sense of deja-vu hit her like a cold winter wind off the mountains when she turned the corner, and after she slid into the alley–

No. No.

It was the alley that Obi-Wan had pretended to die in. The crates were still toppled over, the pavement still dark where his blood had pooled. That was where she had held him after he crashed through the crates like a meteor. She'd gently turned him over, carefully minding his neck and back in case he had damaged his spinal cord, Obi-Wan's eyes are shut tight like he had been bracing himself for the fall. His beautiful, glacial-blue aura like the sky above the mountains is gone. His heart is silent, his chest doesn't move, her leggings are sticky and warm with blood. "Please," she whispers. "P-please Bobi, open your eyes, open your… no, no, no, please no, Bobi please–" People approach and whisper amongst themselves. Someone approaches her from the side and quickly retreats when she bares her fangs at them. Frantic footsteps echo through the alley, Anakin comes skidding to a halt seconds later. "How is he?" he asks, his aura blinding white with sheer panic. She looks up at him, unable to say it out loud and make it true, barely able to see Anakin's face through her tears.

The Force screamed a warning through her fugue just in time for her to dodge the clone's swing. She cartwheeled to the side and dodged his leg sweep, then jumped at him with a flying roundhouse kick. He ducked underneath it and shoved her away from him.

She grabbed for her sabers and found only air at her sides. The clone smirked at her and held up the belt he'd managed to rip off, then chucked it into the dumpster behind him.

Shabuir. Ahsoka dropped down into a Fáng Shìlóng stance, turning her toes out and straightening her back before bringing her hands up. The clone smirked at her and sank into Echani.

Ahsoka eyed the remaining blaster at his waist and briefly wondered why he wasn't using it before blocking his first strike; a hard, straight-armed punch to the face that would have broken her nose had it connected. Ducking the next three strikes that whistled in the air around her montrals, she eased out of Fáng Shìlóng and switched to match his Echani. She elbowed the clone in the gut, dropped, then turned on her knees to try and throw him over her shoulder the same way she did Blitz, but instead of letting her get an arm around his neck he rolled into the toss and then threw her forward with his considerable strength. She crashed into the crates and rolled to a stop face-first on the dark stain.

Please Bobi, open your eyes…

The scent of Obi-Wan's blood had her brain in the same spinning, panicked state that it was that night. The clone kicked her in the stomach with his plastoid boot and sent her rolling to the side in a tumbled heap. He straddled her waist, pinning her with his heavy weight, then raised a fist. With no other recourse, she protected her face with her arms and turned to the one move she wasn't allowed to use during sparring; she slammed a knee up between his legs as hard as she could and scrambled the gett'se behind his codpiece. His aura flashed neon orange with shock-anger and he rolled off of her, swearing a blue streak of Mando'a under his breath.

Ahsoka struggled to her feet and hopped backwards a bit, dragging the knee that was still tingling from smacking into plastoid. "Enough!" she snarled, holding her hands up to summon her sabers.

The clone panted and shook his head, his face sweaty and bright red from exertion and pain, and struck at her chest with his elbow before her weapons reached her. She caught his elbow with her palms and pushed outwards, following with a high kick that missed his chin by a hairsbreadth. He feinted forward, her punch went wide, and he pinned her arms at her sides in a wampa hug.

"Get off of me!" she snarled. She headbutted him, used the wall to walk up and over his head to break the hold, then kneed him hard in the spine. The blow sent him stumbling forward, only for him to turn and kick her in the chest and propel her towards the opposite wall.

She smashed into it hard and saw stars, the fatty padding of her rear lek the only thing saving her skull from being cracked open. He took advantage of her daze by dragging her to the ground and pinning her again. He brought a fist up to finish her off and went still; his eyes bugged out of his head and he clawed at his throat. He rose up in the air with lips quickly going blue and was dragged off of her like he had an invisible noose around his neck, plastoid boots scraping helplessly at the concrete.

Anakin stood at the opposite end of the alley with an outstretched hand, his aura a tornado of ivory terror spinning with ribbons of crimson fury and teal protection, all surrounded by a hungry, creeping darkness that Ahsoka recognized all too well. He dragged the clone towards him by the throat and watched him struggle for air with dark, wild eyes.

Ahsoka scrambled to her feet and stumbled towards Anakin. "Master," she called, then screwed her eyes shut as the alley tilted around her. Her head felt like someone had taken a hydrospanner to the back of it. "Master, we… we need him alive." She projected weak green calm and the smell of rain on the desert wind as best as she could manage with her head spinning, praying it would be enough to blow away the terrifying, sticky darkness that she had worked so hard to glean away from him before.

Anakin didn't answer her, too lost in his rage. He recognized the alley, too. It was distracting him like it had her, making it too hard to focus on control. He was panicking from what he'd seen, a clone twice her size pinning her to the ground, about to knock her lights out. His hand tightened and the clone's aura went glowing white with fear-pain.

"Anakin!" Ahsoka yelled, but it was no good; he was too far gone, his aura spinning too violently to accept the pitiful calm she projected at him. She braced herself against the wall and took a deep breath, trying to center herself as best she could before she gleaned it off and brought her Master back to his right mind.

I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. Ahsoka let her aura flow outwards and folded it around Anakin's, drenching him with peace like a spring thunderstorm. The shadow slipped and slid unnaturally around the edges of their joined aura, hungrily sniffing the fresh blood coming from wounds in the heart newly reopened. His grief-rage-guilt hit her with the force of a crashing starfighter, almost throwing her to the ground with its intensity. She box breathed and controlled the spin of the storm around them.

There is no emotion, there is peace. Ahsoka reached out to the darkness and wrapped it around her fists like spiderwebs, tearing the black away from where it choked Anakin's bright red. She had gleaned it away before, she could do it again. She opened herself up to the Cosmic Force, listened to it roar in her montrals like river rapids before going suddenly silent, and let it scour away the darkness surrounding them both.

"Easy, Skyguy," she whispered. "Let him go. You did it. You saved me. You can let him go now."

Something clicked in him, lightened just like it had the night he had broken her arm; it sent the hungry shadow fleeing and lucidity returned to Anakin's eyes. He immediately let the clone fall to the ground and stumbled backwards, wallowing in pale yellow shock-distress at what he'd almost done.

She detangled their auras gently and slid down the wall, as exhausted as if she'd just done a twelve-mile ruck in a blizzard.

"Ahsoka!" Anakin ran to her side and skidded to a stop, dropping to the ground in front of her. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? How bad–"

"I'm okay." Ahsoka pulled herself together and gave him a wan smile before eyeing the limp body of the clone. He was still alive, thankfully. Anakin hadn't… he hadn't.

Anakin nodded and swallowed hard, looking sick. "Let's get going." He slung her arm around his neck and helped her walk back to his speeder, dragging the clone's unconscious body behind them with the Force.

The clone had no tattoos or unique scars, no holotags, not even an identification chip in his wrist. Rex had been conscious for a whole five minutes by the time they returned to the barracks but he wasted no time in helping Cody and Anakin tie him up in a chair in the officer's lounge.

Poor Boba was shaking like an aktipan that lived in a rich woman's purse, his aura trembling and pale violet with shock-guilt. Ahsoka held him on the couch, rubbing his back soothingly and willing her headache to go away.

"I'm sorry," he said for the fiftieth time. "I should have helped. I–"

"You stayed safe. That's all I care about." Ahsoka pressed her forehead against his.

"We have any stims in here?" Anakin barked, throwing open the cabinets of the kitchenette like he expected them to be stored next to the caf concentrate and ration bars. His aura was a tightly-controlled ball of deep red anger-frustration and a little yellow embarrassment, and his mech hand kept clenching with the desire to hit something.

Rex shook his head. "Should be a pack of 'em in my office, Sir." He made for the door. "I'll–"

"I'll get them," Ahsoka offered. Rex still looked a bit unsteady; she'd been stunned enough times during dance practice to know exactly how fuzzy his head was. "Where are they?"

"The top shelf of my locker." Rex nodded at her gratefully.

Ahsoka kissed Boba's cheek. "Stay here, vod'ika," she murmured into his ear before standing.

Rex and Cody both froze and turned to her with staticky-white shock rippling around them.

"You're not actually surprised, right?" she asked them wryly over her shoulder, leaving before they had a chance to respond.

The barracks were still almost empty of troopers and nobody stopped her on the way to Rex's office. She unlocked the door, stepped inside, and stopped dead.

The locker was open. The rucksack, the beskar'gam, even the tooka doll was gone.

She didn't need to call Inspector Divo to help her solve this mystery. There was only one person who could have taken it; or rather, there was only one person who would have ordered it taken.

Kal shabuirla Skirata.

Ahsoka snatched the box of stims and marched to the stairwell, her brain working faster than her feet. Obviously the clone had led her away from the barracks so the armor would be easy pickings. The only thing she wanted to know, though, was which one of Skirata's little angels of death was currently tied up in the officer's lounge, and how badly Skirata wanted him back. Had he intended to be caught, or was he just trying to keep her as far away from the barracks for as long as possible?

She was still glad she had stopped Anakin from killing him if for no other reason than that they now had leverage to get the beskar'gam back. She slid the door to the lounge open with the Force, removed a stim from the box, and jammed it into the clone's neck without a word. A chorus of protesting shouts sprang out from the men in the room.

"Ahsoka!" Anakin yanked her away from the clone with a bolt of teal concern. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Waking him up." She tossed the box on the table. She was spitting mad, nearly vibrating with it, her lek smacking against her back like a drum. She pushed Anakin's arm down and slapped the clone's cheek. "Hey. Eyes open, shabuir."

"Ahsoka!" Rex exclaimed, shoving himself between her and the tied-up man.

The clone's eyes opened into slits and he worked his jaw. Cody, still shirtless with a large, clear burn bandage over his new ink immediately drew on the clone and held steady, ready to stun him.

"What's going on?" Anakin asked harshly. "You were fine a minute ago, what happened to make you so angry?"

"Where is it?" she spat at the clone. She shoved past Rex and slapped him again, leaving a pink handprint on his cheek. "Where the hell is it?"

Rex yanked her back and held her in a wampa hug.

"Ow," the clone said mildly. His red aura sharpened and hardened into a box around him, keeping any emotions he had guarded and hidden.

"It's gone," Ahsoka snapped, trying and failing to push past Rex. "Someone took Boba's beskar'gam while this sleemo was leading us on a snipe hunt around Coruscant, and he's going to tell us what happened or I'm going to gut him like a Rokarian dirt-fish!"

"What?" Boba was crouched on the couch with Robert under one arm, puppy-eyed and rolling with violet grief-shock that quickly blushed into red anger. "He… he…" Boba got to his feet, trembling with all of the emotions rioting across his aura, and threw Robert behind him. "Tion'vaii ner beskar'gam, gar ne'tom'osik?" he demanded, eyes shining and fists clenched at his sides.

The clone slowly dragged his eyes over to Boba. "Jate, Bob'ika," he drawled. "Ner gett'se shi'jii dayngaanir?"

Boba's face and aura went white and he took a step back. "Ordo?" he whispered, horrified.

Everyone turned to look at the tied up clone. "I should've known," Rex said grimly, backing up with Ahsoka in his arms. His aura was fogged with bright turquoise protection-wariness. "What's going on, Ordo?"

A muscle worked in Anakin's jaw. "Ordo's the captain of the commando squad you told me about on the way here?" he asked Ahsoka quietly, to which she nodded.

"You were a decoy?" Cody asked, frowning severely. His aura went chartreuse with annoyance. "Seems beneath you, Captain."

Ordo rolled his shoulders. "I follow orders, Cody, you know that." He frowned. "Where's your shirt?"

"And did your orders include kicking my Padawan off a rooftop?" Anakin asked, soft and dangerous. He walked forward with a straight back, drawing up to his full height. "Beating her face in?"

"You led us to that alley on purpose, didn't you?" Ahsoka snapped, trying to get out of Rex's very firm hold again.

"I figured I'd need the advantage," Ordo shrugged. "Take it as a compliment. Sorry about the roof, though. That was bad timing on my part."

"Ke'epa osik," Ahsoka said contemptuously.

"Enough, vod'ika." Rex physically turned her towards the couch, where Boba sat frozen and silent like a newborn kybuck in the grass, and gave her a little push.

She swallowed her rage, sat next to Boba, and tucked him under her arm. "It's okay," she murmured into his ear, sending little green bubbles of calm to his aura. "Ni ven'kyramu ad kebbur. I'll rip his throat out if he tries anything."

Ordo raised an eyebrow. "Why would I hurt him?" he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"Why'd you hurt him any other time?" Ahsoka snapped, a growl coloring her tone.

"Because he was being a brat?" Ordo's eyes flicked between her and Boba. "Boba's always been a spoiled kih'osik. Someone needed to keep his head from getting too big."

"Fuck off!" Ahsoka and Boba snapped in unison.

Anakin tilted his head at Ordo. The air around him felt charged, staticky, like lightning about to strike. "I would like to know why you thought you could put hands on my Padawan and walk away with them still attached," he said quietly.

Ordo met his eyes, wary, but more curious than afraid. "She got me good a few times. You should be proud."

"Oh I am. I am very, very proud of her." Anakin said silkily, leaning down. "So answer my question."

Ahsoka's commlink started flashing with an incoming holocall. She looked at Anakin, who nodded at her before she accepted it. A hologram of a plain man in his fifties wearing gold-painted Mandalorian armor popped up on her wrist.

"Ahsoka Tano." The hologram nodded. "Kal Skirata. Pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure's all yours, I assure you," Ahsoka snapped. "Where is Boba's beskar'gam? What game are you playing?"

Skirata chuckled. "It's safe. I presume my boy is as well?"

"He won't be if I don't get a very good reason for your attack on my Padawan and Captain tonight," Anakin snapped, striding forward to get into visual range.

"General Skywalker. Your reputation precedes you." Kal crossed his arms. "I'd rather have this chat in person. Why don't you all come down to the fairgrounds? It's Weequay Independence Week, the place is hopping tonight."

Ahsoka translated it: Lots of civilians, neutral zone. "When?" she asked harshly.

"As soon as you can. Bring my boy, and yours. He's a good shot, I bet he can win you a stuffed bantha while we talk."

Ahsoka looked at Anakin again, who pursed his lips and nodded. "If you try anything funny, you'll regret it," he promised.

"No funny business, I swear." Kal laughed again. "See you soon, ad'ika." He closed the channel before Ahsoka could.

Rex immediately started dialing a frequency on his own commlink. "Jesse, how drunk are you right now?" he asked over the loud music.

"Just getting started, Cap– hey, di'kutla, watch where you're going–"

"Grab everyone who's still walking in a straight line and get down to the fairgrounds." Rex paused, then quirked the corner of his mouth. "Someone tried to kill Ahsoka tonight. I–"

"WHAT?!" Jesse shrieked. "Kix! Where the hell is Tup, go grab him and Fi– I don't care if she's here, we need to go, now! Rex, we're leaving. Tell us where to meet you."

"One way to motivate him," Anakin said, biting down his laughter as Rex gave Jesse directions.

"Clearly." Ahsoka rubbed the bridge of her nose. She was still resisting the urge to smack Ordo, who looked far too blase about the situation for her liking. Gleaning took a toll on her. She'd have what she could only describe as an emotional hangover for at least a day. She took Anakin's mech hand and squeezed it.

It was worth it.

"You're sure about this?" Anakin asked her quietly.

She nodded and pulled Boba close to her with her other arm. "Absolutely." She gently rubbed her lek over the top of Boba's head. "We're going to get it back if I have to ransom Ordo back one limb at a time," she murmured.

Ordo raised an eyebrow. "I'd prefer you didn't," he said.

"Not up to you." Ahsoka met Cody's eyes. He raised his blaster with a smirk.

Notes:

MANDOA TRANSLATIONS Sal'gam*: tattoo (lit color+skin) Atawai'la*: kindness Shabla dalgaan: fucking bitch Ni cuy shabla dalgaan? Ni salgorani gar shabla ass bal ni cuy shabla dalgaan? Ke'haa'tayli at troan'tay, vod: I'm a fucking bitch? I'm tattooing your fucking ass and I'm a fucking bitch? Go look in the mirror, bro Gar ne'salgorani ner shebs, vod'ika, bal meh bev tigaanur ner shebs ni ven'shuku gar cere: You're not tattooing my ass, little brother, and if that needle touches my ass I will break your fingers Ke'pirimpir gaht tay'briik: Go piss up a rope Nayc gar: No you Os'ika: Little shit (affectionate), a pun on Ahsoka's normal diminutive of Ahs'ika Ka'akaan'jori: Sound the alarm! Papurgaat: lit. 'fruit,' in this context it's like "before he could say diddly" Shabla bev'kovid: Fucking dickhead Tion'vaii ner beskar'gam, gar ne'tom'osik?: Where is my armor, you piece of shit? Ner gett'se shi'jii dayngaanir: Your balls finally drop? Ke'epa osik: Eat shit Kih'osik: Little shit (not affectionate) TOYDARIAN TRANSLATIONS Zisiyeni: Damn it OTHER NOTES Gleaning: Empathically sharing another person's emotions and releasing them to the Force Po'ackster: A hyena-like creature native to Jedha, known for its wide grin and hysterical laughter-like bark Aktipan: that wee little elephant creature from the Fifth Element. I've been obsessed with him for 20 years you're goddamn right he's crossing over to the SW verse

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @soliloquy-of-nemo Dividers: @saradika-graphics

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