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#you're punching like a separatist
octuscle · 3 months
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looooong loooooong time ago you gave away some magic suitcases. I'm looking for a timeout as a badboy maybe with a racial change cause my life is so straight: graduation last summer, wedding this summer and so on. I want an adventure!
Yes, I still have a suitcase from OTP. I couldn't assign it to anyone. The case was closed a long time ago… If I give you the suitcase, no one will notice.
There's not much in the case. A uniform. A few sports clothes. Protein powder. Energy drinks. All very neatly packed. Looks militarily neat. And even though the suitcase is from Romania, everything is obviously from Russia. At least that's what the flags and coats of arms on the uniform and the Cyrillic characters suggest… Actually, you would have expected something like this in a sports bag or an army backpack rather than a boring Samsonite suitcase. You can't really do anything with these things. But you wanted to go to the gym today anyway. Whatever's in the energy drink, you give it a try.
Shit, that's strong stuff. But you have the feeling that you could tear out trees. You go to the treadmill to warm up. You set the speed to 20 km/h. You wouldn't last a marathon at that speed. But 30 minutes is no problem. You're drenched in sweat. But now you're just getting started. You stand at the punching bag and punch and kick at it as if you've been practising Thai boxing since you were a child. And you have. Just like taekwondo and judo. You are a machine. A killer. Not just in the figurative sense. That's why you were dishonorably discharged from the army. The Serbian one, by the way. Not the Russian one. I admit, as an American you can confuse the flags and the language. Prokleti Amerikanci. Imperijalistički seronje! You spit at the thought of being mistaken for an American. Srbija Srbima. That's not just for decoration on your chest. It's your motto. And that of your comrades. Of course you would have liked to remain a proud member of the Serbian army. But in the end, you're better off with Srpska čast. They embody everything you stand for. Glory and honor for the Serbian people!
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Of course you have to get married next summer. Bring good Serbian fighters into the world. But actually, women's asses are too soft for you. You'd rather fuck the asses of real men, well-trained fighters. Just like you are.
I found this awesome picture @zakucavanje. I would like to emphasize that I do not approve of paramilitary and separatist organizations. But I imagine their members to be similar. And the idea makes at least me horny.
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smolvenger · 1 year
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Life Day Gift
Summary: When you were a kid, you became close friends with Din Djarin. But after you escaped the Seperatist attack on your village, your beloved Din is assumed dead. Now you're an adult working a Life Day shift, where a visiting Mandalorian arrives. You assume he's just like any other customer, minus some armor and a baby, but there's a surprise beneath that helmet...
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Pairing: Din Djarin x fem! Reader
Warnings: Mentions of Death, Din defends you from a creepy older boy and rude customer's at your restaurant job, swearing. Childhood Friends to Lovers. Some sassy banter. Fluff to Angst to Fluff again. Life Day. Eventual Happy Ending.
Word Count: 2K
Link to my A03
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Etsy Link For Comfort Character Letters/Playlists
A/N: Hi there, @againstacecilia! It is I! Your Secret Santa! Here is your gift for @trekkingaroundasgardsevents and @startrekkingaroundasgard's Holiday Fic Exchange! This is my first time EVER writing for Star Wars, so I hope you like it! Reblogs and Comments are appreciated! Happy Holiday Season!
Also, a short playlist inspired by the fic can be found HERE as a bonus! :)
REBLOGS AND COMMENTS AND ASKS ARE APPRECIATED!
THE PAST
You would never forget the boy. Your own home village was quaint, peaceful. The adults talked worriedly of the empire, but it didn’t matter to you. What did matter was that little boy, Din.
You met when an older boy was being far too creepy to you for your comfort when out of nowhere- WHOOOSH! - he was pelted by a rock.
“Hey! Leave her alone!”
Looking into the light from the street corner you were targeted on, he almost seemed to glow. He was small and skinny with dark eyes and dark hair. But despite his smallness, his courage made him stand like he was a giant.
“Or else what?” the older boy sneered.
His answer came in the form of another rock that pelted him so hard in the face that it knocked him down, nose bleeding. You ran away from him, clutching the hand of the little boy.
“Hurry! Let’s go!!!” You pleaded, and both of you ran off.
Hardly anyone believed you about the older boy. You were a child, and he was a teenager. The few who did confront him. The older boy cried and said he was sorry, and he was quickly forgiven In the eye of the adults. They patted his back and smiled and invited him to their Life Day dinners coming up next month.
 Your own pain didn’t matter, but his feelings did. It hurt you so much you ran outside the house to cry.
“Hey…is that you again?”
You turned your head up to see the dark-haired little boy.
“Yes, it’s me…”
“What’s your name?” he asked you.
You gave your own, wiping snot and tears off your sleeve.
“And what’s your name?” you asked.
“I’m Din Djarin. You can call me Din.” He introduced.
“Din…teach me how to throw rocks like you do, can you? Please?”
And that was the beginning of a friendship. You were strangers at school but became thick as thieves. You swapped cookies together. He taught you how to throw rocks and even a bit about how boys would fight and throw punches. It made you feel safer and stronger as that older boy prowled the streets. But Din never left you alone. You scraped your knees, laughed, talked together, and visited each other’s houses. His mother would pour out blue milk to sip on. You would take him to your house and read him some of your favorite stories with you doing all the voices. And Din would go into your room to see your things.
“Trinkets?” He would gasp, looking at the shiny rocks and rings.
You nodded your head. “Mmhmm- let me show my collection!”
Your first Life Day together, Din gave you a special gift. From inside his pocket, he pulled out a string necklace with a beautiful stone on it. It was a golden pendant on a leathery string with a bright star in the center.
“Oh, Din! This is the best gift ever! I love it! Thank you!” you squealed.
And you gave him the biggest hug. He always gave the best hugs.
It all seemed so different later. The attack. The separatists. It seemed like one day; you both were running home from school to laugh about the teacher and snack on blue cookies from your mother.
And the next morning when you woke up there were blasts and screams right outside. Your parents rushed into your room.
“Y/N! Y/N! We must leave, please! Now!” your father insisted.
The pendant was around your neck as you hurriedly put on a coat and grabbed whatever you could. You clutched your pendant, your eyes looking worriedly as villagers fled for their lives around you.
“Where’s Din?! We must find him! We must take him with us!” you pleaded.
“No, Y/N! We don’t have time! There’s a ship we have in the back- they’re taking only the first few who arrive! We must run- NOW!” your mother begged.
You ran with them as you freed your hands to grab theirs. Hearing the screams, the stomping of Stormtrooper boots, and your own terrified heart ringing in your ears and keeping your eyes forward, though your peripheral was filled with the bodies of your friends and neighbors. But you kept running, forgetting the tiredness and the fire in your lungs for what of breath.
Your family hopped onto the ship and flew away to safety somewhere else. But your heart never stopped racing and you didn't stop shaking the whole trip.
Once you had landed on a new planet with a new life, you asked constantly for news about the Djarin family. About the boy.
And it arrived.
Your parents took your hands as you sat at your new table and looked you in the eye. Your mother had a communication device in her hand that she had just turned off. They were already frowning and starting to tear up.
“Y/N…The Djarin family was killed by the Separatists.” she told you.
“Including Din?” you asked.
“He was never found. But we know they burn bodies after. So…including Din…” your father answered.
You leaned into their arms, sobbing for your friend.
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CURRENT DAY
“Hey Y/N! If you have time to lean, you have time to clean!”
Ugh, to think I have to spend Life Day working you cursed, getting up from your thirty second break.
Working at a bar wasn’t glamorous, but it was stable and paid the bills. And if you worked on holidays, there was a bigger bonus and here you were. The fact it was a bar and a restaurant brought over even more customers which meant usually busy shifts.
It was a huge pain in the ass, but it was something. And you knew you had two bills due this week at least. Maybe it was better than another awkward holiday with your family.
You got out and grabbed a rag, cleaning up remnants of a spilled drink on the table. Ooof, you would need a new one.
Why can’t these customers ever learn to clean up after themselves? You thought this as you returned the rag to the kitchen. Didn’t they realize you were human too?
To be fair, you had alien and droid customers frequently so perhaps human wasn’t the right word. Hmm, maybe…being? Creature?
Once you pondered this, you heard a sound like a little coo and looked over.
Speaking of creatures, a tiny green creature was by your feet. He let out another innocent babble. He had big dark eyes and wide ears and was so small, he had to waddle and tug at the end of your pants to get attention.
“Why hello there!” you greeted.
He cooed in response, wiggling his ears.
“What’s your name? Do you have a seat? Want anything to eat or drink, buddy?!” you asked, bending down your knees to greet him.
“Hey! He’s mine!” a voice barked.
You looked up and your blood froze to see a fully armored Mandalorian approach you.
“Oh, I wasn’t doing anything,” you protested, hands on your hips.
The little one waddled to him and the Mandalorian scooped him up in his arms.
“I can’t let this guy get hurt,” he said.
“I wasn’t hurting him, I was just greeting him like I do anyone else,”
“Fine. Is there a table?”
“You’re lucky this one is just cleaned up.
“Aright, give us both some Rootleaf Stew with Polystarch bread. Plus save a slice of Blackberry pie- this little one likes dessert,”
“One thing at a time…I’ll get it!”
You left and re-arrived with the food in hand. In the back the band was blasting all the Life Day hits that you heard so much you wanted to scream.
But once you bent down and were serving the dishes, you felt the little green babies’ hands on you. You paused to see that your pendant had slid out of your shirt and the baby was playing with it. The Mandalorian froze. You glanced down. The baby pawed at your pendant like a cat, giggling.
“Oh, you like this, buddy?” you asked, showing him the necklace.
You investigated the helmet defiantly “is that against your own parenting code, hm? This is the way and all that and a cup of tea?”
The Mandalorian kept looking directly at you through his helmet.
“Where…where did you get that necklace?” he asked.
“Old friend, Life Day Gift,” you answered.
You wiped the stains from your hands onto the rag tied onto your belt.
“Who is your friend? What planet did they come from? What was their name?” the Mandalorian kept asking.
The little green baby kept digging into his food with a content babble.
“Look, it’s…it’s personal, alright? And he…he died. Killed in a Separatist attack with his parents, okay? How is that? I…it’s a lot…”
He nodded his helmet down.
“Oh…I’m sorry. I had no idea…” he then said.
He gave you a spare napkin to wipe the tears at the ducts of your eyes.
“Would…would you like your pies with cream or plain?” you asked per your practice.
“Cream,” he answered.
Once you arrived with the pies, the Mandalorian left a generous tip.
“When is your shift over?” he asked.
“In…in an hour and a half? Why do you ask? Why do you even care?” you said.
“I…I want to speak to you after, if that’s alright,” he answered.
Your blood was cold. Were you being hunted?!?! You hadn’t done anything! But then again, his voice didn't word it as a threat...
“Okay, you can…” you replied.
He stayed at the table. You took a deep breath and released it. After getting a brief sip of water, you continued your shift. Though noticeably, if a customer was being short to you, the Mandalorian would walk up.
“Hey. Show some respect. It’s Life Day, after all.” He would threaten.
The rude customer’s jaw would drop, their color draining, and then act with more manners. You bit back a large smile.
Finally, the shift ended. Once you turned in your apron, you met him outside. But then you felt a splatter of rain from outside.
“Ugh, Maker help me! What an ugly storm!” you complained.
“Come to my ship.” He offered.
The rain pattered on him, making a louder noise against his armor. He seemed rather unbothered by it.
“What?” you cried.
“It’ll be dry there.”
“Okay…that does sound better," you shrugged.
You followed his dark cape, the little pod for the baby floating by his side. Once you got into the ship, you shivered from the rain on you.
He opened a quadrant and pulled out a cloak.
“Here..it’ll make you feel better,” he offered.
You nodded and accepted it.
“Why are you doing all this? You’re just supposed to be a Bounty Hunter. Why me? Just Life Day Spirit in you?” you asked.
There was a pause.
“Is your name Y/N?” he asked.
Thunder shot through you.
“Didn’t I give you my name when I got your food?” you asked.
“You didn’t,” he said.
“How do you know my name?” you questioned, taking a bold step forward.
“You have that necklace that your friend gave you. Were you children then?” he asked.
“Yes,” you answered, feeling the floor give in beneath you.
“And he was killed?" he continued.
“By Separatists, yes.”
He folded his arms in front of him.
“What was his name?”
“Din Djarin. I’d just call him Din. And he was the sweetest boy…not that the Empire cared. They killed him one and the same.” You said, tears welling up.
There was another pause. Quietly, the Mandalorian reached his hands up to his helmet.
“What…what are you doing?” you asked.
He gripped the sides and slowly began to slip it off.
“What! Stop! Isn’t that breaking the code? What about you-“
Once it slipped off, you saw him. Not a boy, but a man. He had matured. There was a small mustache beneath his nose. But his eyes and dark hair and face were almost the same.
“What…what…no…are you…” you started to mutter, both hands flew to your mouth and the world around you spun with shock.
“Y/N. It’s me. Din…”
You caught onto the wall to keep from your dizziness overcoming you. You saw the green baby tilt his head to the side.
“You’re alive…how?” you gasped.
“My mother hid me somewhere. Then a Mandalorian saved met that day. Took me in like their own. Raised me to be one of them …” he answered.
You then looked up. You saw he was starting to tear up too. You ran up and wrapped him in a large hug. He hugged you back and you both began crying.
“Do you…do you have any tea?” you asked.
“Tea?”
“Whenever I see my parents, we drink tea…it’s a drink of reunion!” you said, with a little laugh.
He blinked and then smiled with a nod.
“Yes, I have some…”
He put a small kettle on with three cups enough in the back. The little green baby waddled around freely, excited for a cup.
“Who is that one?” you asked, bending down to pat the baby’s head.
“His name is Grogu,” Din explained.
Both of you cozied up with mugs of tea- added with cream for a bit of flavor. Slowly drinking, you both talked.
He told you what he could about the Madalorians. Memories growing up training. The few adventures he had. How he met Grogu and saved him from being a pawn for The Empire. The misadventures they had together. Your tea was long finished by the time he stopped.
“Well…all that’s exciting! And here there’s old me- what happened to me? I just work in a bar and restaurant now! And look at you- a true Mandalorian warrior!” you praised.
“That’s not true…” he said, looking into his cup.
“What…what do you mean?” you asked.
“Y/N…you learned how to fight. You survived an attack. Every day you get up and brave unpleasant people. Even back when, I thought…”
He blinked his eyes again, looking this way and that. Then he looked up at you.
“I thought you were a good person. A great person in fact,” he said.
“I think the same of you,” you replied.
Grogu waddled to a window and waved his arms, babbling.
“What is it, kid?” he asked, turning around.
Grogu pointed out the window and you followed his tiny finger to look out. It was night by now, but the lights were all on- decorations glowing and the lights on every building felt like the stars were down and decorated in the town.
“Oh, Din- look! The lights and decorations for Life Day! They’re beautiful!” you gasped.
He went up and looked out at it. All of you admired the beauty of it for a quiet minute.
Then you turned to the side.
“Din…can I…can I…” the breath left you.
He looked at you with soft eyes.
“Din, can I join you on your ship…you could use help with Grogu. You can teach me how to fight like you did as a kid. I can give my job a two weeks’ notice.”
“How come?” he asked.
“There’s so much of the galaxy I’ve never seen…that I’ve always wanted to see and…and…”
“And?” he asked.
“I just…I don’t want to be separated from you again,” you confessed.
He gave a small smile.
“I don’t want to be separated from you either…ever again,” he confirmed.
You took his hand and squeezed it.
“I can’t think of a better gift than that…Happy Life Day, Din.”
“Happy Life Day, Y/N.”
You gave him a kiss on the cheek, which he accepted. His smile didn't drop from it either.
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positivelybeastly · 2 months
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Is it to late to say that the X-Men have essentially lost any humanity they had?
"The X-Men are human, just as much as they are mutant - that's the way it's always been, regardless of how much anti-human sentiment various malefactors may wish to stir up.
The separation between human and mutant is minor, a variation in chromosomes, and to proselytise that the X-Men have lost their humanity is, frankly, offensive.
My name is Henry Philip McCoy, I was born in Illinois in 1986, and I'm just as human as you are, regardless of what I may look like and what I can do."
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"Humanity is a babbling, screaming broth of prejudice, violence, lesser intelligences - it's only by the foolish grace of soft hearted mutants that they survive. Divesting ourselves of what made us human was merely a divestment of what made us weak.
Freedom from their irksome, cruel laws; total separation from their squabbling, their illogic, their weakness; the assertion of our genetically assigned right to succeed them as the inheritors of this planet, this is what makes us strong. This is what makes us mutant."
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So, like, X-Force Beast is a raving fucking lunatic, and I don't feel it's out of character for him to spout this kind of rhetoric - in his reinvention of himself as the necessary bastard for Krakoa, in his process of becoming a born again, hardline mutant rights 'champion,' I feel like it makes sense that he'd be very aggressive about being seen to be a separatist from humankind. It makes 'sense' from a security viewpoint, and it means less emotional ties to potential vulnerabilities, such as old friends, old colleagues - his parents.
That being said, I also do it because I want to remind everyone that Krakoa is very much a dystopia, no matter how pretty the palm trees are and how idyllic the life seems, and there is some fucked up shit that just crept in there. Every single time I heard a character say, oh, that's so human of you, or some variation on that theme, I wanted to start punching the X-Men in the head because fuck you.
But in a good way, to be fair, like, in the way that you hear an obvious cultist say a culty thing and you're like, wow, bro, you're in a fucking cult, maybe you should un-cult yourself before you wreck yourself.
I also feel like it bears pointing out that a lot of the X-Men did NOT do that - people like Jubilee, for instance, whose kid Shogo is just a straight up human, and I very much fuckin' doubt that Jean-Paul Beaubier got away with that kind of shit in his household. And as time went on, I think a good few of them stopped chugging the Kool-Aid and started to realise, hey, did we just become the baddies?
Like, that's the thrust of why Scott and Jean restart the X-Men proper after the team was disbanded, was that feeling of, we need to go out there and save people because regardless of what people can tell us about who or what we are, every mutant had human family that they cared for or loved at some point. Scott's parents were both human, as were Jean's. Hank's parents were two of the loveliest humans you could ever meet. Even Magneto had Anya Eisenhardt.
Most of the X-Men are still very, very human, regardless of how much they might want to occasionally pretend otherwise - hell, you could even point out that the 'least' human among them, people like Magik, aren't even inhuman because of their mutant gifts necessarily, but because of entirely OTHER things that happened to them to change the way they are (though, granted, in Illyana's case, it was at least partly related to her gifts, but you know what I mean).
If not for the Hellfire Gala Massacre, I'm pretty sure a big contingent of people, led by Scott and Jean, were going to plan a breakaway from the Quiet Council led structure of Krakoa and form a new government, or at least push for a reformation of society that was less. Gross. Which means it'll be interesting to see what bearing those trajectories have on what comes after the Fall of X arc is done.
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sun-roach · 8 months
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Hey There! I hope you're doing well.
I keep getting confused. Can you answer this ask by briefly describing your OCs? or you can link the post where you have done that. Also, how do you keep track of so many different OCs? I tried to do that and it did not go well. I kept getting everyone mixed up :(.
Hello there🧡✨
Ofc I can briefly describe them or at least try to make it brief😂
I think I once posted a short description of some of them, but I forgot to put it on the masterlist (grrr i really need to update that list😂)
Okay so I will start with Rainbow squad first.
Rainbow squad is a special force squad of the Coruscant Guards lead by Sergeant Strife under Thorn's command.
They do investigations, clear the lower levels of Coruscant, take care of terrorists and drug cartels, but they also help out guarding Senators or accompany Thorn's other squads as reinforcement.
They are a squad for any mission. Fox threw the squad randomly together.
The name 'rainbow squad' comes from Sticker, because he really wishes to see a real rainbow and the other’s didn’t care much about their squad name.
Now to the squad members:
Sergeant Strife:
Strife is a former arc trooper and operates under Thorn's direct command. He likes harmony and peace, but everyday he somehow finds himself in a strife, hence his name. But since he likes harmony so much he will try his best to solve anyones problem… with his bare hands. He won’t shy away punching anyone to the ground just to have some peace again. Strife is very caring of others, which makes him appear like the buir of his squad. He loves stars, likes to sew and crochet and is the only squad member who can cook okay.
Now Redd:
Redd is the sniper of the squad and an arc trooper. He loves red and will collect anything red he sees. He is also a kleptomaniac so better hide any jewelry if you are near him. Most often no one notices being robbed by him. Redd loves to flirt and embarrass himself at 79's. But despite his flirty nature he is very loyal to the one he decides to commit to. Redd had several traumatic experiences (being almost sexually assaulted and another time being tortured and whipped for informations). He doesn’t talk about and instead drowns his memories in alcohol.
Next is Cuyan:
Cuyan wasn’t a Corrie. He was part of the GAR, a normal trooper. He lost his whole battalion to an explosion caused by Separatists. Half of his body burned and it’s a miracle that he survived. But because of that he was sent into prison with the assumption that he sold critical informations to the separatists. He didn’t. Someone wanted to just get rid of him. He doesn’t know who and doesn’t know why. What he knows is that no one really cares about clones. Cuyan got bailed out by Fox who took him into the coruscant guards since they need more men. He is stubborn and closed his heart away from anyone. But his new squad started to grow on him anyway and he would do anything for them.
The second arc of the squad is Sticker:
He is Redd's batch mate and got his name for sticking to his brothers like a Sticker. He is very optimistic, clingy and energetic. But also a little naive, trusting, loyal and smart. He is the one liked by anyone. Not even anti-clone Senators want to harm him. There is barely anyone who hates him. He loves to create new weapons and finds creative solutions when his brothers don’t see any way out. Sticker also always has a holo of a tooka with him to show it to anyone looking sad. That tooka isn’t even his.
And the last member of rainbow squad, Stitch:
Stitch is a clone medic. He got his name because his face is covered by stitches, which he got during his time on Kamino. Stitch is very anxious since he got out of the tube and always fears the worst. But he is a very skilled medic and always tries to get better. He often forgets the time, ending up skipping sleep because he was fixating on his studies. Stitch is the one who gives anyone a little kiss or hug after any treatment.
Now the other three.
I will start with Kavi since he is an honorable member of rainbow squad.
Kavi is the right hand of a Senator from a wealthy planet. Like the clones he hasn’t rights and was born to serve his Senator. The only reason why the republic doesn’t see him as a slave is him getting paid. Though he doesn’t have much choice but to work as the right hand and do what he is told. Kavi got taught in many things such as combat, piloting, sewing, cooking, anything that would come in handy for his Senator. His biggest dream is to become a pilot. Kavi loves weird things, can be weird and chaotic himself but he is very loving and fights for justice while looking pretty in any dress or suit. And he is Strife’s boyfriend
Now Patcher.
Patcher was in a batch with Neyo, Bacara and Gree before he got put into medical training. He is the chief medic of the coruscant guards and one of the oldest clones. Patcher is the Ori'vod of the guard and the only one who can give Fox medical treatment. The chief medic is victim to several abuses and assaults. His whole body is covered by scars , and he lost one of his eyes, having it replaced by a cybernetic one. His colored his other eye red by himself to make himself look even more intimidating, so no one would dare to get close to him again. He fears of trusting, fears everyone except the vode. Which is why he stopped leaving the corrie headquarters. Patcher can be very rough but he is also very cary and he loves blue milk.
And then there is Fork my precious bby.
Fork is the lieutenant of the 107th attack battalion. He is Strife's batch mate and actually got promoted to commander, but he refuses to take the title since the previous commander was dear to him and he still hopes for him to return. Fork got his name because he loves forks. He would even eat soup with a fork. He got teased a lot for it but his batch mate always loved and accepted him for who he is, making himself accept his name. Fork has severe survivors guilt, believes that his batch mates died because of him, thinking he should have died instead. In his battalion he has no one he is close with since everyone mostly teases him, sees him as a 'freak', because he doesn’t talk. He only talks if he is either comfortable or if his job demands him to. Otherwise he will use his hands to communicate which is easier and more comfortable for him. Fork feels immensely, is very aware of others emotions and actions and all he wants is to save innocent people. Keep as many alive as possible. I could talk more about him but jfjdjdnnd this is getting very long😂😂
As for how i keep track of my ocs…
They live in my head. I forget a lot of stuff about them too but the core of them lives in my head. They all have some part of me in them which probably helps keeping up?
Strife has my need for harmony
Redd has my loyality
Cuyan my loneliness
Sticker my inner child
Stitch my anxieties
Kavi my weirdness and love for energy drinks
Patcher my trust issues
And fork the feeling of being an outcast and also the heaviness of emotions, making talking very difficult
I also smt make notes to remind myself about other details i assigned to them.
But most often everything is just very intuitive for me
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xxlovelynovaxx · 1 year
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Ah, I see the problem that some people are having now. Screenshot start:
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You think we are saying, they aren't actually calling us "lost brainwashed confused LITTLE GIRL victims". What we are saying is they aren't calling us "LOST BRAINWASHED CONFUSED little girl VICTIMS".
Their misgendering of us is very real. It is part of the violence against us, just like them calling trans women men is part of the violence against us. It is how they spread their rhetoric. It is part of how they enforce their oppression.
The thing is, it doesn't matter what a bigot believes except in the specific case of trying to deradicalize them, which requires specialized expertise. What matters is WHAT they say and do and it's IMPACT.
But, they also are doing it because they hate men. They're just not doing it on the other side to "protect" women, but to control people they believe to be women.
You're hung up on believing we're telling you that they're lying about believing transmascs are women. Many of them actually do. Some don't but it's a convenient front for their purposes, with the same end result. But they want to harm women. They want to control us. They want us to be perfect little breeding factories that run the household. They want men to be strong and abled, stoic, capital-producers. This is what a capitalist and colonialist white patriarchy relies on. 'Tradition' and the 'nuclear' family are cornerstones of fascism.
Trans people are a threat to every bit of this. So no, they might lie through their teeth about trans men being vulnerable little brainwashed lesbians... just like they lie through their teeth about trans women being autogynephilic predators forcing their gender fetish on everyone. But that doesn't mean they're lying about not respecting our actual gender.
You're not wrong that hating men isn't their primary motive, but it isn't false, either. Radical feminism relies on bio and gender essentialism to an extreme degree. This is why they hate transmascs that are happy and successfully transitioned and have painted us as the predators transing their "daughters".
Of course they won't treat us like cis men. We are trans. But they do treat trans women like trans men, and vice versa. Trans women aren't the only ones that have been violently ejected from bathrooms, and it's not just a matter of "misplaced" oppression. They have explicitly done this with the expressed intent of sussing out trans men, as well.
Transandrophobia and transmisogyny are in many ways VERY similar - and in no place more similar than the intertwined threads of antimasculism and misogyny at play in both, wrapped around the central core of transphobia. It's very telling, too, how this acts as if "an underclass of women they can hit" is a uniquely oppressed category, rather than being one type of oppressed gender class alongside marginalized manhood and marginalized nonbinaryhood. They are punching down at us all.
So why does transunity continue to believe the trans women involved in it saying "this is what we are experiencing" instead of the trans women speaking over them and claiming they are lying? Well, maybe because speaking over trans women, erasing their experiences, saying you know better, and putting words in our mouths is transmisogynistic even if YOU are a trans woman.
You don't have to believe the movement is in your best interests while we continue forming a coalition of class solidarity to actually fight for our rights instead of engaging in performative separatist nonsense.
And, at a certain point saying, "I disagree that it's possible to fight together long enough to not get genocided because I disagree with you on semantics and academic theory" goes beyond just being too shortsighted to recognize your own best interests and becomes an active threat to the community. Divisiveness right now is DANGEROUS. Squabble and debate all you want when death is no longer at our doors, but defy transunity in the face of it and you've shown you'd rather us all die for your pride.
-your salty neighborhood intersex transneufemmasc
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love-like-poetry · 2 years
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In His Image (Captain Rex x Fem!Reader)
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Part 1: Onderon
Summary: Steela hires you to deliver some weapons to her band of freedom fighters on Onderon. You stay to help Captain Rex train the rebels. You're chemistry with the Captain is stronger than you anticipated.
Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected PIV, oral(both male and female), mentions of previous relationship, first time, it's kinda romantic I can't help myself.
“Incoming transmission.” The robotic voice from the dash rang. “Put it through.” You commanded. A dark-skinned young woman appeared on the hologram. “Patching through our coordinates now.” She said pressing a button. “Got it, I should be there within the hour.” You said entering the coordinates into your navicomputer.
Onderon. You’d only been here once for emergency repairs. Now you are back to smuggle in weapons for some freedom fighters. Separatists have laid claim to the planet. Many like them were forced to turn to mercenaries like you. Before the war you would have never taken a low paying job like this. Now, it’s all you do.
Once you land you grab what crates you can and start unloading them. “There’s more in the cargo hold.” You tell one of the men standing next to the woman who hired you. “I hope the trip was smooth? I’m Steela by the way.” She extended a hand to shake. You gave her a firm grip. “How many people do you have here?” You asked looking around. It wasn’t a bad operation. Small, but each face you saw looked determined. “There are only about 30 of us, but more join each day. Just last week Lux Bontari joined our cause.” She motioned towards a young-looking man. Still looks like a teenager. He has confidence though. You nod then return your attention to Steela.
“I know we only asked that you bring us weapons, but I was hoping you could stay and assist. We could really use the help. We can compensate you for your time. You look around, normally you’d say no and take your credits. But this war has made you soft. “Show me what you’re up against first.” You say reluctantly. Steela leads you to their command center, if you can call it that. “Is this the mercenary? She doesn’t look so tough.” A tall-dark man scoffs, crossing his arms. “Don’t be so quick to judge, you’re the ones who asked for my help. Don’t forget that.” You bite back. “Saw, save it for the droids.” Steela said punching him in the arm. Steela and Saw fill you in on the situation. You aren’t sure this is possible. The city is well fortified with massive amounts of droids. “You need more bodies. The odds are against you right now. Have you already reached out to the Republic for assistance?” You inquire. “Yes, and they refuse to assist us. They said since our false leader sided with the Separatists, there’s nothing they can do.” Saw said with anger.
“I see.” You sigh. “I have an idea.” Said Lux Bontari stepping forward. “I know a Jedi who might be able to help us. She’s broken some rules before. Maybe she can do it again.” He stated rubbing his chin. “It’s worth a shot.” Steela chimed in. You sat back while Lux and Saw made the call. You don’t really care for Jedi. They are pretentious and arrogant “saviors.” You’d considered working for the separatists due to this fact. You’d be paid handsomely. However, the memory of a.. friend, kept you from harming GAR soldiers.
You recognized one of the Jedi on the projection. Mace Windu. Your heart grew dark with anger and resentment. Luckily, he would not be joining the three Jedi coming to assist. The transmission ended and you stood up. “They should be able to help you more than I can. I’ll take my payment for the weapons and be on my way.” You say wanting to get out of there before you have to deal with any Jedi. “Well- Um- your payment is behind the city walls. The rightful ruler will be able to provide the credits.” Steela nervously said. Her feet were shuffling and she wouldn’t look at you.
“Are you karking kidding me?” You bark. This is why it’s risky taking jobs from desperate people. The Seps would give you payment upfront. “Fine, I’ll stay to collect my payment. But if your leader doesn’t pay up..” you start pointing a finger in her face. “She said he would pay you.” Saw griped grabbing your hand. It took a lot of restraint on your part to not lay him out right here. “Fine.” You sneered ripping your hand from his grip.
It was getting late; you head back to your ship to rest for the night. You had a difficult time sleeping. You tossed and turned all night. You woke up in a sweat, dreaming about him. It’s been a while since that’s happened. You wish you could move on, but you saw his face almost everywhere you went.
Once the sun comes up, you leave your ship and join the band of rebels for breakfast. Steela left to get the Jedi and lead them back to camp. Until they return, you start showing Saw how the new weapons you brought work. He was eager to learn, but he was also wreckless. There was a rage inside of him, begging to be unleashed. You understood the feeling.
Steela comes back with four figures following behind her. Your eyes widen as you see the familiar face. You attempt to shake it off. It’s not him. He’s just another clone. Seeing a clone without a helmet on threw you off your game. You were only expecting Jedi. Gods he walks just like him. ‘Stop it’ you think to yourself. He’s not Jango Fett. You just stare at him, until you’re shaken from your haze as a Jedi speaks. “At your service, this is General Kenobi, Commander Tano, and Captain Rex.” General Skywalker said introducing everyone. Rex’s eyes wander over to yours and you look down.
Focus. You’re here to do a job. “And this is Y/N. She brought us weapons and has, uh, offered to stay and help us.” Steela tells the Jedi. “What she means is, they can’t pay me for the weapons until their King is freed.” You say folding your arms across your chest. “But that shouldn’t be a problem now that we have you here.” You say looking at Kenobi. “We are not here to fight this war for you, but we will train and help with what we can.” Obi Wan replied. “You came all this way to teach lessons? I can do that.” You scoff.
“We have a great deal of experience dealing with droids. I think that’s quite different from weapon drops and bounty hunting.” Skywalker said in a snarky tone. “Well considering your army came from one of the most skilled bounty hunters in the galaxy, I’d say I’m fit for the task.” You hiss, not breaking eye contact with the jedi.
“Hey, hey come on. We’re supposed to be on the same side here!” Steela interjected. “Yes, you’re right. And we have much to go over.” Kenobi agreed stroking his beard. You all gathered together as the Jedi and Rex took point. They brought some weapons that will only effect droids. Over the next few days, you and Rex train the rookies. The Captain was skilled. A natural leader and warrior. You know he was bred for this, but it still impressed you. Rex seemed equally impressed with your own skills as well.
Watching the rebels try to get past droidika shields was painful. Your face grimaced each time they failed. “Think you can do better?” Rex smirked handing you a ‘droid popper’. You roll your eyes and take it. Without moving from your spot, you carefully toss the device perfectly in place. “Hm, well done.” He said trying to hide his surprise. You blush from the compliment. Turning your face so he can’t see. You’ve interacted with other clones before. But Rex was different. He was so similar to Fett, but eons apart at the same time.
The relationship you had with Jango was.. complicated. You’d worked together on a couple of contracts and whenever the two of you were in the same place, you’d hook up to let off some steam. To Jango, that’s all it was. Colleagues with benefits. But you started developing feelings for the bounty hunter. You didn’t dare tell him, fearing he’d cut ties with you. It never would have worked anyway. His heart already belonged to someone else. His son Boba. He loved that boy more than anything in the galaxy. Boba never really liked you though. You could never figure out why.
“So, you think they’re ready?” Rex asks. You sigh and bite the inside of your lip. “No, but you’ve trained them well with the time given.” You say looking up at him. “We. We trained them well.” Rex smiled looking down at you. You chuckle, “Yeah, I guess we do make a good team captain.” You nudge him in the side. You felt so comfortable around him. His company made the presence of the jedi tolerable.
Over the next few weeks, you and Rex carefully train and watch as the rebels execute small attacks in the city. After each one, the both of you give compliments and critiques to help them improve. The two of you are almost inseparable. You work together so perfectly. You’re almost always on the same page when it comes to tactics and planning.
After a particularly difficult day, you’re feeling a little burned out and need some rest. You don’t want anyone to see you like this. Especially Rex, so while everyone goes to eat, you break away from the crowd. You feel a hand on your shoulder. “Are you not hungry?” You turn around to see Rex. “No, I’m okay. I just have some things I need to take care of.” You softly smile and point back to your ship. “I can bring you something if you’d like.” Rex said with kind eyes. “You’re nothing like him you know.” You say shaking your head. “Sorry ma’am?” Rex asked furrowing his brows. “Jango Fett. You look and sound just like him, but you.. You're just different.” You say looking into his confused eyes. “Oh-uh- I’m sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his feet. “Don’t be.. it’s a nice contrast.”
You squeeze his arm. He feels so good. Even through the thick fabric of his sleeve. “If you get bored spending time with the Jedi, feel free to join me.” You smirk. “Yes ma’am.” Rex grins and nods. You turn around and make your way to the ship.
About 15 minutes pass when you hear footsteps coming up the loading ramp. “You got bored quickly.” You giggle. “Well, I spend most of my time with the General and commander. I figured I’d spend some time with someone who has new stories.” Rex replied holding two plates in his hands. “I brought you some food just in case you got hungry.” He gently placed the plates down on the counter. How is it possible for someone who has only known war and death his entire life be this thoughtful?
“Thanks Rex.” You got up and leaned against the counter while you took a few bites. “Ugh, I should have brought them some spices to add to this mush instead of weapons.” You laugh covering your mouth. “Food is food, right?” Rex shrugged taking a bite. “No, it’s not. Have you ever had a jogan fruit cake?” You ask placing a hand on your hip. “No, I pretty much have the same thing every day. So, this is actually a nice change for me.” He said looking a little embarrassed at his lack of life experience.
“Well.. I’m sure your taste buds would appreciate something more sweet every once in a while.” You reach into a compartment above the counter and pull out a piece of candy. You break it in half, placing one piece in your mouth and hold up the other one to Rex’s lips. “Come on, you’ll love it.” You smirk enticing him. He blushes and opens his mouth so you can place the other half on his tongue. Your finger grazes his lower lip as you pull away.
“Well, what do you think?” You ask brushing some dust off his collar. “It’s.. Kandosii’la.” His eyes brighten from the new taste. “Is that a good thing?” You ask raising an eyebrow. He chuckles as he moves the candy over his tongue. “Yes, it’s amazing.”
“Well, if you’re ever craving something sweet, you know where to find me.” You say biting your lip. “What if.. I’m craving it now?” Rex uttered, cheeks flush. You look up at him and move in a little closer. You can see him starting to sweat. “I-I mean..” He tried to back pedal, but you both knew what he meant. You stood on your toes and kissed his lips. You slip your tongue into his mouth and run it along his. You can feel the heat of his cheeks radiating on to your skin. Rex is not returning the kiss and is still. You pull back thinking you may have misread the situation. You look into his wide eyes. “I’m so sorry, I thought…” You're cut off as he carefully places his hands around your waist and clumsily crashes his lips into yours. He’s trembling. You feel his fingers wanting to dig into your skin, but he’s scared of hurting you.
You start to plant kisses along his jaw line. Taking your time, savoring his scent and taste. Rex lets out a sharp exhale and his hands squeeze your waist tightly. “Don’t be nervous, the jedi aren’t here. No one will see us.” You whisper in his ear, thinking that’s what’s making him so tentative and anxious. “I-I know.. I’ve just never-um-.” His words get caught in this throat as he plays with the hem your shirt. You pull back and caress his cheek. His pupils are blown out, you can barely see the golden flecks in his iris’s. “Is this your first time?” You ask sweetly. “Yes.” Rex confesses looking down. You aren’t necessarily surprised. Since clones age twice the rate of normal men, Rex was technically about 12 years old. Biologically, mentally, and emotionally he was 22-23.
Most clones have their first sexual experience during their first military leave. There’s plenty of ‘Clone chasers’ waiting for them at R&R hotspots. They aren’t ignorant about sex or unaware. Just like the rest of the Grand Republic education programs, sex and procreation are reviewed in class. The majority of beings reproduced the same way. Genitalia just might look different or be located elsewhere for some species.
You trace your thumb along Rex’s lower lip. “Are you sure you’re ready?” You ask wanting to make sure he’s comfortable. “Yes.” He proclaimed with confidence, pulling you closer to him. “Come on.” You smirk grabbing his hand, leading him to your bed. You guide him to sit on the edge, while you straddle him. Now you can feel just how hard he is. You let out a moan and your eyes flutter at the feeling. You grind your hips against him creating some friction to relieve the growing ache. “Kriff.” Rex grunted closing his eyes tightly, burying his face in your chest. You remove his cap, revealing the bleach blonde buzz cut. You giggle and rub your hands over the soft fuzz. “This is a good look for you.” You compliment as he looks up at you. “I’m glad you like it.” He smiles and squeezes your ass. Making you bite your lip.
He moves his hands along your back and waist admiring your beauty. You help him remove his chest plate and shirt. He has a blaster scar on his chest. You trace your fingertips along the raised marks. You make a mental note to ask him about that story later. You push his shoulders, forcing him to lay on his back. You get up and start to unbuckle his pants. You pull them down freeing what you desperately wanted to see. Gods, he was harder than beskar. You wrap your hand around his shaft. You wondered if the Kaminoins cloned Jango exactly the way he was, and they sure did. The familiar size and shape filled your core with excitement. Jango was the best you ever had. Rex may be lacking experience, but he certainly has the same arsenal Fett did.
You felt a little guilty thinking about another man at a time like this, but it was difficult when they looked and felt the same. Though, Rex did make your heart feel lighter. Rex was soft. Even the look of lust in his eyes were mixed with adoration and wonder. Something you’d never experienced with his host. You slowly re-familiarize yourself with the member in your hand. Gently running your thumb over the slit leaking precum. You lick your lips, then get down between his legs. Rex propped himself up on his elbows, not wanting to miss anything. You start taking him in your warm, wet mouth. You felt his cock twitch on your tongue. Rex’s eyes rolled back and he let out a pleasured moan, clenching his fists.
You swirl your tongue around the sensitive tip. You know he’s not going to last long. You decide that it’s probably best to make him cum once before actually fucking him. That way you can both enjoy his first time.
You start bobbing your head up and down. He’s breathing heavily, trying so hard to keep his composure. “Mesh’la. I-I..” He starts to reach down to stop you, he doesn’t want to cum so soon. But you swat his hands away and make eye contact. Your mouth full, tears pricking your eyes as you take him further down. Rex tenderly placed his trembling palms on the top of your head, holding you still as warm ropes of his pleasure coat your mouth. The most delectable moans left his lips. You drink up every last drop. Pushing him to the edge of overstimulation.
While Rex lays back down, trying to catch his breath; you take his boots off and slide his pants all the way off. Then you remove your clothing, leaving you in just your panties. Rex sits up and stares at the alluring site before him. He slinks to the floor resting on his knees. He aggressively pulls your body towards him and he trails kisses along your belly, over your panties, and down your thighs. He takes a moment to inhale your scent then looks up at you. His gaze takes your breath away. It’s as if he’s peering into your very soul.
He trails his fingers all along your body. Wanting to study each curve, bump, and scar. “You’re exactly who I’ve been waiting for Cyar’ika.” He whispers into your skin. The words and heat of his breath make you quiver. Your belly fills with thrilling warmth. His fingertips make their way to your wanting slit. The thin lace keeping the two of you apart is driving you mad. Rex can feel your arousal wet his fingers. You moan and place your hands on his head. Lightly dragging your nails across his scalp. He wraps his strong arms around your legs and stands up, forcing you to rest your stomach on his shoulder. He gently lays you on the bed. Cradling your head as he rests it on your pillow. You pull him down and kiss him as if you need his breath to survive.
You can feel him getting hard again as he brushes up against your thigh. He runs his hand down your navel teasing the sensitive skin between your legs. You’re spread wide open for him. “I want to taste you.” Rex whispers as he kisses your neck. He gets in position and slides your panties down. The cool air hitting your wet pussy makes you shiver. “Mesh’la.” Rex moaned before kissing your warm cunt then licking his lips. “Gar isirir bid gate.” You knew enough Mando’a to know ‘gate’ meant good. He sloppily ran his tongue through your folds. He quickly learned where your clit was because each time his wet muscle passed it, you twitched. He was a fast learner. Rex memorized each part of you as if you were his next mission.
His fingers started digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. He was hungry and the only thing that could satiate him was your orgasm. You started writhing under him. He groaned and slipped his tongue inside your tight hole, making you arch your back and grip the sheets. While tasting your insides he started to circle your swollen bud with his fingers. You let out a cry as he was pressing a little to hard, but it felt so good. He eased up a little, but kept the perfect pace. You started bucking your hips, but he held you down firmly. He was a natural. You grab his hand and lace your fingers with his, squeezing tightly. It only made him go faster. You were blinded by the sensation. “ReeeexxaaAAhHhhH!” Your legs closed around his head as you came. You could feel the vibrations from him groaning, making your elation last just that much longer.
As you came down from your high, you released Rex from your grip. Panting as if you just out ran some rathtars. Rex got up and climbed on top of you. Kissing your soft, pink lips. His chin was shiny from your slick. You did taste good. “Was that okay?” He was genuinely asking as if he didn’t just see you fall apart around him. You lick his chin to clean up your mess then kiss his lips. “It was bliss.” You shift a little to open your legs more. Planting your heels behind his knees. “Now, I want to feel that perfect cock inside me.” You didn’t just want it, you needed it.
He lined himself up with your entrance. He slowly started to push in. He grunted as if the wind was just knocked out if him. He pushed the next few inches in quickly and you gasped. He pulled out. “Kriff, did I hurt you? I-I’m so sor-“ You kiss him, then bite his lower lip. “Don’t pull out again until you’re finished.” You demand. It was almost a growl. Your words made him freeze for half a second. “Yes ma’am.” He grinned. He resumed sliding back into your weeping slit. About half way in, you moan and clench your walls around his thick member. His face contorted in the most delightful way as he closed his eyes tightly and hissed in a deep breath through a clenched jaw. “Give me everything Rex.” You beg, trying to force him deeper inside you.
Rex shoved himself in, balls deep. He let out a sound you could only describe as primal. He rested his head in the crook of your neck as he left himself inside of you. “Fuck me Rex, Gods, please fuck me!” You plead grinding your hips, fighting the urge to cut your nails into his back. He starts to thrust in and out of you rapidly. He hits your cervix over and over again making you scream in ecstasy. “Nnnuuuhhhhhh!” Rex roars, as he pounds you ferociously.
Your vision starts to blur from the tears in your eyes. Your legs begin to violently shake as you convulse under Rex’s strong, sculpted body. You murmur nonsense as he fucks the force out of you. “Please cum Cyar’ika. I need you to cum.” Rex grunts as he starts to shudder as well. You sob so loudly that the sound reverberates off the walls. Your pleasure spills all over his cock and balls. Soaking the sheets below you. Rex couldn’t resist following his instincts. He thrust deep inside your pulsing cunt and growls as he unleashes his gratification, painting your insides with his seed.
Rex rolls over pulling you on top of him, keeping himself inside. You rest your head on his chest and listen to his strong heartbeat. The slowing tempo is soothing. You were burning up from the act and his body heat, but you didn’t want to leave his touch. You just let your sweat pool with his. His rhythmic breathing and the gentle circles he’s tracing on your back almost puts you to sleep. “Will you stay the night?” You ask, keeping your head on his chest. “If that’s what you want cyar’ika.” Rex hums, kissing the top of your head.
Read Part 2: Missing Troops HERE
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firespirited · 8 months
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Enjoyed The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity and Love by bell hooks very much.
Lots of photos of passages that hit hard that I'll edit and post eventually.
It's easy reading and also not. And it's well named.
There are people who you can support and love unconditionally, to whom you provide the care and emotional space to grow and the grace when they mess up... and it doesn't work. We can pour ourselves into giving the gift of a safe, stable environment to grow and get back in touch with all that their inner child cut off and stuff that they need to deal with... And nothing... because there's no will to change. Not even when the change would make them happier, have stable relationships, get into less trouble.
I really appreciate that hooks made that flipside a part of the message. It's so easy to blame yourself for not managing to save someone who didn't want saving and doesn't think they need to grow at all.
She addresses her failed relationships despite seeing so many men in group discussions and in her life come to massive realisations about themselves and undertaking life-changing growth like daring to truly love their kids openly. She also shouted out the queer amab folks who've rejected toxic masculinity: not just the misogyny and repression but the whole shebang : redefining manliness, de-gendering nurturing, refusing any dominance based relationships.
The book is written in binary gender wording in the hope it'll reach the most needing audience (2004 was a while back too) but its thesis is that gender roles hurt us all and people who deviate from that norm are no longer considered correct and good males or females whatever different sexuality, gender change, gender non conformity visible or practiced landed you in the 'queer' box. The language is not up to date but the message is on point.
If you prefer video essays Fiq da signifier has several about men and boys, black men and boys, and who gets brainwashed into the manosphere.
But bell hooks has a way of presenting a thesis with quotes, evidence anecdotes then a one line summary that'll punch you in the neurons.
I was listening to some music from 'pop and indie you need to hear this week' and my brain was seeing patterns clearer than just 'dump the asshole' or 'no you're not fixed and whole because or this relationship as lovely as they are, your lyrics (and past lyrics) suggest you've done the work on yourself and are ready now that someone who's also done the work has arrived and that would be an even better song than this one) because of those two books. As much as I felt the first 'All about Love' was preaching to this choir, it also gave focus and succinct concepts.
I look forward to hearing what mum has to say about this one. She fell out with 'feminism' because of the separatists and gender essentialists (bullied by girls and women and also a social worker until burn out - leaves you no illusions about the natural nurturing divine feminine)
She's known men (and both parents) with little to no will to change who were love black holes and men who've defied their upbringing and culture to be the best dad or partner even though they've been shamed for it. Then again, she might give me a brief 'it was interesting' and shut down conversation because feelings are too much. And in two years time she'll drop 'as bell hooks said' into a conversation and I'll know it helped a little.
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silverwings22 · 2 years
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Caught in the Crosshairs: Chapter Two Monsters: Katie Sky
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Series warnings: Smut, mind control, canon typical violence, childhood trauma, language, chronic illness
Chapter warnings: chronic illness, Crosshair's grumpiness deserves its own warning.
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22 BBY
"You know I feel this is unwise,  padawan mine."
Miria smiled fondly at her much-beloved master.  "A padawan no longer, you know. I've been a knight for five years." 
She was right,  he knew. The woman in front of him was no child any longer.  She was 26, with her hair falling down just past her shoulders instead of a padawan braid. He'd cut it himself when she passed her trials right here on Coruscant… a fitting ordeal for the girl who'd been most happy among the crechelings, she'd been called to try to reach a youngling who'd been impossible for even Crechemaster Yaddle to handle.  A three day standoff with the tiny terror who nearly bit off fingers in his tantrums ended in her sitting on the floor rocking him to sleep. She was as capable as she was kind. 
But it was in Plo Koon's nature to fuss gently.  "Still,  there's no need for you to endanger yourself so.  There are plenty of Jedi to lead this war. Stay,  the creche would benefit from your work." 
"The Council will decide my fate.  But the Force guides me to make a request,  so I must." She said firmly.  "I was on Geonosis,  right beside you. I know what these Separatists will do if not stopped.  There would be no creche to tend if they had their way."
Plo Koon sighed.  A war,  a terrible and heartrending war had taken hold of the galaxy.  She was right… "I do hate it when you're wise.  You were such an easy to manage child."
She laughed, a warm and slight husky sound laced with scars from a throat that never truly healed, even twenty years later.  "Just let me ask,  master.  I promise to abide by the decision.  I'm not Anakin Skywalker."
"Are we discussing my padawan?" Chuckled a voice behind her.  
"Master Kenobi.  Good to see you." Miria chuckled.  She quite admired the youngest council member.  "I'm only here to make a request.  And isn't your padawan due to take his own trials when he returns from escorting the Nabooian Senator home? "
"I see you're all caught up on Temple gossip." Obi-wan chuckled,  running a hand through his longish ginger hair.  He was a good man, and a logical one.  
Miria had hope that it'd work out in her favor. 
"If you are determined to do this,  the meeting is about to begin." Plo finally sighed. 
Miria nodded and followed the two masters into the council room.  Ki-Adi Mundi and Kit Fisto were already seated and chatting with Yoda, and she gave a polite bow as the other members filed in. 
"On your mind,  something is. What troubles you, young Halcyon? " Yoda chuckled fondly.  
Miri straightened up, folding her arms behind her back.  She cut a striking figure here,  clad in a simple cream colored dress with wide elbow-length sleeves and a hem that reached her knees,  with brown breeches tucked into polished brown boots and a simple leather belt sporting her sleek silver hilted saber. Her black hair,  cut through with a streak of white, framed a soft featured face with bright lavender eyes.  "I have not received my marching orders,  Masters. Where shall I serve in the war?"
Mundi and Windu exchanged glances.  "With your… condition… We thought it best to exclude you from service as a general,  Knight Halcyon.  It is my understanding that you wish to become crechemaster with time, anyway." Obi-wan Kenobi said diplomatically.  
"I appreciate the council's consideration to my career.  But I am not helpless, nor an invalid." She didn't flinch,  choosing to lock eyes with him.  "I would like to request reconsideration on the matter."
Yoda eyed her thoughtfully.  "Ill you are,  young one. Require treatment you have,  all your life.  Dangerous it would be to send you to battle."
"I have no right to do any less than every other knight.  If I am unfit for prolonged battle, please allow me to serve in a smaller and more mobile unit.  It is my duty as a knight of the Republic to protect democracy.  I can return to Coruscant when my health demands it.  But I wish to serve."
Windu leaned forward, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands. "What prompts this?"
Miria met his eyes without question.  His were dark,  brave eyes that bespoke wisdom through struggle. "I know the course war will run. We are not infinitely numerous.  As the war progresses,  Jedi will die.  But the need for them will not.  Padawans not ready for the Trial will be knighted and sent to command. And they will die.  If I can spare even one young life,  I will have done a great service. Please grant me a chance."
In his chair,  Plo looked defeated.  This was bravery and strength,  the hallmarks of the Order.  The council would never deny a request made this way…
Sick as she is…
Every eye turned to Yoda. He smiled fondly.  "A clever girl, you are. And sincere.  From Kamino I have just returned.  A unit for you, I think I know.  But no easy task is this.  What they lack in numbers,  ferocity they have."
"I can handle the creche bedtime routine.  I will approach with the same mindset." She smiled a little.  "How many will be under my command?"
"Four clones."
Miria nodded with a smile.  "Then we'll be the best five soldiers we can."
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"I don't see why we need a Jedi General.  We're a special commando unit.  That's too much direct supervision, it'll slow us down." Crosshair fiddled with his toothpick. 
"Maybe you'll finally listen to someone." His brother,  Hunter, huffed. "You sure don't listen to me,  and I'm the sergeant."
"You think he'll let me keep blowing stuff up?" Wrecker murmured a little anxiously.  
"My study into the Jedi order does not show anything about a proclivity for pyrotechnics." Tech shrugged. 
The four were waiting on the dock outside their ship,  a heavily modified Omicron class.  And Tech was just getting started.  
"Great.  Five guys in a ship built for four." Crosshair griped. "As if the quarters weren't close enough-"
"Good morning.  You must be Clone Force 99." His complaining was interrupted by a voice.  A female voice.  
Crosshair turned around from where he'd been sitting on the ship's gangplank and took stock. 
She was willowy, he noted. Petite and delicate looking,  with black hair marred with a streak of white that framed the left side of her heart shaped face.  She was dressed like most Jedi,  in cream and brown, though he spotted arm braces and a chest plate painted with a fresh Republic insignia peeking under the oversized cloak.  She wore blood red lipstick in the style of Naboo, with the full top lip painted and only the middle of the bottom one.  Still,  they were full and inviting lips, curved into a smile below the softest eyes in an amethyst shade.  "Good morning,  gentlemen."
Crosshair got up to join his brothers in a salute.  "Jedi." Hunter said smartly.  "Are you here to take us to our new general? "
The girl chuckled.  "My name is Jedi Knight Miria Halcyon.  I am your new general."
Crosshair couldn't stop his sarcastic mouth.  "You?"
"I assure you I am more than capable." She didn't seem offended by his surprise.  "Now,  I've given my name.  Would you mind giving yours?"
Hunter started. "I'm CT-"
"No no no.  Your names.  You're people, not numbers.  And there's five of us.  I'm sure I can remember." She chuckled. 
Wrecker grinned.  "I like you already."
Hunter smiled.  "Permission to speak freely?"
"Of course." She adjusted her bag on her hip. 
"You're nothing at all like what we were expecting, ma'am."
"I'll take that as a good thing.  Now,  your names?"
"I'm Hunter.  I'm the sergeant."
Miria extended her hand to shake his.  He noted scarring at the tips of her fingers,  like she'd ripped them open at some point. The scars seemed old,  though.  "Lovely to meet you,  Hunter." Her eyes traced his features,  from the serious expression to his long hair and tattoo across the side of his face.  He didn't really look like a clone,  but certainly could pass for a relation to their progenitor.
"I'm Wrecker.  I like to blow stuff up." The largest member of the team grinned,  dwarfing her hand in his and nearly knocking her off her feet with the strength of his handshake. His features,  Miria thought,  reminded her more of the clones she'd met, though stronger and a little more tragic with a clearly blinded eye and spider web of scarring across his face.  He seemed eager to please as a puppy though,  despite his size. 
"I'm sure we'll find an opportunity to put that to good use." she chuckled.
Tech took a step over and shook her hand,  adjusting his goggles with his free one.  "My name is Tech.  I am the unit’s technology specialist."
"Wonderful. I look forward to hearing your ideas." She smiled,  cocking her head.  He had a narrower face and almost reddish- brown hair instead of the black she'd seen before.  
Her attention turned to Crosshair, who eyed her cautiously. "Crosshair." He finally murmured, tossing his toothpick carelessly to the side and slowly reaching for her hand.  "Sniper."
Her lavender eyes moved over him as she reached back.  He couldn't help but wonder what she thought of his silver hair and lean features,  all angles and sharp edges.  
Miria smiled when his fingers met hers,  and he was startled at how… soft… her hand felt even through his gloves.  "Crosshair.  A fitting name. I can't wait to see you in action." His hand felt warm where she was touching him. 
Tech interrupted his thoughts.  "The ship is only equipped with four standard bunks,  General." 
"That's alright.  I have a hammock." She patted her bag.  "I also brought snacks.  I wasn't sure what you boys liked, but I'm determined to find out."
Wrecker grinned.  "I think I love you."
Miria laughed, and it made the hair on the back of Crosshair's neck stand on end, but he couldn't decide if he liked it or not. "Aren't you sweet?" She patted his broad back gently. 
Tech and Wrecker took the general inside the ship to show her around. It wasn't a particularly large vessel,  but she didn't seem to be complaining.  Wrecker helped her hand up a hammock in the cargo hold.  It wasn't much,  but seeing as the men shared a bunk room,  it was the most privacy they could offer. 
Once she was settled in,  they went over a few pre flight checks and Miria double checked supplies, then got off Coruscant  for their first mission together.  
Miria sat up front with Tech,  eyes bright,  as they hit hyperspace.  
"Not bored yet,  General? " Tech raised an eyebrow. 
"I haven't seen the stars in a long time.  I'm just enjoying the view." She smiled. 
Crosshair cursed his exceptional eyesight under his breath.  It would have been so easy not to notice the way the ship lights reflected back in her eyes.
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"No offense,  General,  but you're terrible at sabacc." Hunter chuckled.  The group was gathered in the hold,  sitting or leaning on crates and playing cards. 
"I know.  This is why I don't gamble." Miria chuckled,  wedged between a crate and Wrecker. "I'm much better at dejarik."
Tech's head popped up. "I enjoy dejarik. It's an excellent strategy simulation."
Miria chuckled and showed Wrecker her garbage hand of cards.  He made a face. "Maybe we can play sometimes.  But it's one on one,  and I enjoy time with all of you."
It was the truth.  She'd been flying around with them for a month,  catching up with various Jedi-led battalions. They hadn't really gotten to see her in action yet,  as they usually cleaned up the battlefield while she was trying to get to another Jedi.  But she was always pleased to come back to the security of the Havoc Marauder. 
Crosshair, seated in a perch on top of the nearest crate, made a disgruntled noise. 
Hunter gave him a look before turning back to the game.  "So I've been meaning to ask, General.  How'd you end up getting assigned to a single unit? Don't you Jedi usually have much larger groups under your command?"
"I'm a…. Special circumstance. And I needed to be more mobile than I would otherwise be with a larger command. " She shrugged and discarded a card into the pile.  "I think I like this better anyway. I actually get to know you." She chuckled.  "Except Crosshair.  He doesn't like talking to me." Her voice was light,  teasing enough to make Hunter and Tech chuckle. Wrecker made another face,  but was distracted when Miria held up a bag of Honey Butter crisps she'd brought along during their last stop on Coruscant.  "Might I ask a question of my own?"
Tech nodded.  "If we become uncomfortable,  we will alert you."
She smiled and patted Wreckers leg.  She knew by now he was the emotional one. "I know you're Clone Force 99, but if I didn't know better I'd never know you guys were clones.  I might guess you're brothers, though. So how did this happen?"
Crosshair stiffened,  drawing a knee up to his chest.  Hunter looked at Tech, who nodded and launched into an explanation.  "We are the results of genetic mutations in clone DNA, which gave us abilities the Kaminoans deemed useful in soldiers. Hunter has enhanced senses, Wrecker is exceptionally strong,  I am hyper intelligent,  and Crosshair has incredible spatial awareness and vision."
Crosshair got up,  dropping his cards, and started walking towards the ladder to the bunk room. Miria tuned in immediately to the radiating anger and hurt coming off him. Her hand stretched up towards him.  "Crosshair, wait …"
Hunter sighed as the marksman ignored her and went up the ladder.  "Don't mind him,  General. It's a touchy subject… we're not exactly well received by the regs. It's okay now that we're all together,  but when we were cadets we caught a lot of hell for being different. Crosshair probably got the worst of it, because he never could let the comments go. He always had to fight back."
Miria frowned, looking at her hands on the cards in her lap.  "I understand." She finally murmured.  "Let me talk to him."
"He iis going say something rude."  Tech sighed.
"That's alright.  I'm his friend tonight,  not his general." She set her cards down and went up the ladder after Crosshair. 
Hunter flipped her cards over.  "Maker, her hand sucked."
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Crosshair was moodily laying on his back in his bunk when he heard a light tap on the bunkroom door.  "What?"
"It's just me,  Crosshair." Miria's voice was muffled, but soft and just a tiny bit raspy. "I brought you some caf…"
Crosshair was a caf addict and he knew it was a bribe,  but it sounded awesome right about now.  "Fine.  Come in."
He did appreciate that she knocked and waited every time she needed to come into their quarters for something. When the door opened, she padded over with the cup of caf held in both hands.  She was in her sleep clothes,  a loose oversized shirt over leggings, with bare feet. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail,  and she looked… cute. And a little pale in the cheeks, but he assumed it was the lack of makeup she normally wore. 
"May I join you?" She asked softly.  
"Don't see why you'd want to." But he took the offered cup and folded his legs so she could sit on the mattress.  
"I like your company." She smiled.  
Crosshair buried his nose in his cup.  "You'd be the first,  besides my brothers…"
"I can't comment on anyone else's lack of good taste. Speaking of which,  did the caf turn out okay?  I tried to remember how I've seen you make yours,  but I don't drink it…"
He raised an eyebrow,  considering her for a moment. She'd been watching him… observing minute details for ways to smooth their interactions.  He almost felt guilty he hadn't been doing the same.  He'd been mostly avoiding any non essential contact. "Before I answer that… who doesn't like caf?"
Miria smiled.  "I know,  I know.  Freak of nature,  but I've just never liked it.  I can drink my tea so oversteeped it could be reclassified as paint thinner,  but I need more than half the cup to be cream before I can stomach caf."
He chuckled faintly.  "Well, you made it the same way I always do. Tastes fine to me."
She shot him another smile… this time wide and her eyes squeezed closed over the apples of her cheeks.  His chest tightened involuntarily.  Wholesome. 
He shook his head to erase the thoughts and went back to the caf.  "I know you didn't just come here to bring me caf. No one's that nice."
"You're cynical,  Crosshair.  But unfortunately you're right, I did come to check on you. I brought caf so you'd actually let me in."
"You're the general.  You could get in."
She chuckled.  "Not like this.  When it's just us,  I'm your friend.  I prefer it that way… I don't have all that many." She admitted the last a little quietly,  offering a little vulnerability to the man sitting beside her to encourage him to let his guard down.  Crosshair was the proud one.  He'd only admit to weakness from a superior position to the person he was talking to.  
And Miria was used to giving ground for others. 
"Seems like you'd make friends pretty easy.  You're persistent." He muttered mildly.  
"Most people in the temple don't want to be close with someone who's going through something that makes them uncomfortable." She shrugged.  "So they politely avoid me.  I almost used to wish they'd say something cruel… it's easier to be angry than process pity."
"Trust me, you don't want that either." He set his cup aside and reached for the box of toothpicks in his footlocker. Once he popped one in his mouth he eyed her curiously.  "So what's the matter with you, then? You want to tell me, of all people,  and I'm guessing you haven't told the others.'
"I haven't.  But… I thought you might understand.  You don't seem the type to waste time with pity. I'm very tired of pity." 
"I can't stand it. So talk, what's your deal?"
She chuckled faintly.  "Something bad happened to me as a youngling,  that's caused some…. Lingering issues.  That's why I'm on a smaller unit,  instead of leading a battalion. I asked to serve,  but I have to recognize my limitations.  Irritating as they can be."
"That's the first thing I've ever heard you complain about." He snorted. "Normally you're so accommodating it's disgusting."
"I've been hoping to make a good impression." She chuckled. 
Crosshair didn't know what made him do it, but he found himself reaching out to tap under her chin with his knuckles and redirect her eyes back on him.  "Consider it made. You're not so bad for a Jedi."
She smiled. "And you're not so bad yourself."
"For a mutant?"
She laughed.  "For a man." She got up and patted his leg as she did.  "Goodnight,  Crosshair."
"Night, General." He watched her walk out. Had she really come up here just to… make him feel better?
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luxmaeastra · 2 years
Note
Ulla frowned and stepped closer to Roff.
"Take me home, if others don't want you here why should I stay?"
Helene frowned at her, looking every inch the Princess she was.
"Because this is our night? It's not one for romance or mates."
Ulla barred her teeth, Roff on put a hand around her shoulders.
"Threatened Princess? I have just as much a Rite to be here than you do - more in fact since this was once all ours."
"Irritated. It still is if you'd recognize Your King."
Roff shrugged and his grip tightened around Ulla's shoulders.
"You want to see what's inside Ramiel?"
Ulla glared at Helene.
"I'd love to."
They windwalked away. Helene snorted and looked to Yvette.
"What?"
Yvette shrugged and sipped at her wine.
"Was all of that necessary? He seems kind and he makes Ulla happy —"
"Separatists and Wildlings can burn in the Abyss for all I care. You're clinging Yvette, you should realize after tonight we probably won't last."
Was it a cruel thing to say? Honestly she didn't care? She walked away leaving Yvette to sort her own shit out. Maybe Marsaili or Cassian would play mother hen to her like usual. She drained her glass and looked to the stars, the alcohol only fueling her rage and impulsiveness. She could handle Ulla ruining herself with some Wildling. But to take that bond during their Rite? To be more focused on that every night than helping them?
It was disgusting. She honestly wondered just how much Ulla cared if she so easily threw them for some cock. She scanned the clearing landing on a group of males. Weren't they the ones who had chased them into the wilderness. She stepped toward them and gave a coy smile.
"You three look bored."
Their leader eyes light up as he took her in, his eyes lingering on her chest before he dragged his eyes up.
"Are you offering to be our entertainment Leanan?"
How endearing of him to use her People's title. She stepped closer and frowned as the three of them paled and scattered. She turned and glared at Azriel.
"Unless you're offering to take their place Azriel I don't really need your menacing routine. I'd rather not deal with any of my brothers tonight - so go away."
The word sounded wrong on her tongue but she didn't care. She was so angry, so furious that everything was slipping apart. What if they truly didn't make it?
//For Azriel and Yvette!! Post their Rite and lol Ulla 😆//
This wasn’t meant to be how their evening went, not after the Rite. They had all worked so hard for it, they had trained and succeeded. She couldn’t help but hold her whine close as she watched as Helene and Ulla went at it, their snipping at each other caused her to frown.
She didn’t like when they fought, especially when she knew it didn’t matter what she said, neither would listen. If this male was close to Ulla, if he was the one who she wanted, what right did they have to stand in their way? Had they not challenged the mould with their interests?
She sighed when Ulla left, she looked towards Helene. She hadn’t expected those words, the harshness from her friend. They were not meant to last? Was she condemning their friendship group? Yes, Marsaili had been busy as of late, Ulla had been drifting, but it didn’t mean-.
“I thought you held out friendship at a higher value than that Helene, if that is how you feel, fine.” She put her glass down. With that she turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowds. She was not going to be Helene’s emotional punching bag.
Azriel sighed as he watched Yvette walk away, he pushed off from where he stood and he began to cross the area. He had been staying away because it was their night, they deserved a night to celebrate as friends. He had not expected it to devolve like this. He didn’t expect them to have a fight, nor did he expect to see Ulla with a male he didn’t know – he’d deal with that later.
When Helene made a beeline for the males he felt a protectiveness run through him. She was her own female, she could handle herself, but he knew the males of their kind. He knew they had little respect for females until they finally learnt their lesson. His jaw set as he quickened his pace, moving to stand behind her when he heard the question.
“Having fun with those because you are angry is not the best thing, you’ll regret it later.” He responded firmly. “What is going on Helene? I saw you snap at Yvette, I saw what happened with Ulla…Talk to me.”
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quicksilvermad · 4 months
Text
Title: The Harem 🔞
Author: Quicksilvermad
Relationship: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
SUMMARY: Din discovers he’s an Alpha while traveling in hyperspace with a ship full of Omegas.
CONTENT WARNINGS: alien biology, near human Din Djarin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha Din Djarin, touch-starved Din Djarin, Din Djarin removes the helmet, smut, biting, creampie, breeding kink, do not read this at work, written prior to season 3 of The Mandalorian
NOTES: I’m blaming the TV show Dark Angel for even thinking of writing this. The main character, Max, had feline DNA and would go into heat. I’m not making that up.
Zara
Chandrila was no Coruscant, thank the stars, but it was still deep in the Core. It was days from Mandalore no matter what hyperspace route you took, and Din's advisors had been adamant that he take at least four guards with him to declare Mandalore's independence from the New Republic. The Uunan sisters volunteered to be his shadows for the trip and had remained just as unnoticeable during the whole process. They'd left him alone for the most part—which Din appreciated because he spent the entire trip memorizing what he had to say to get the New Republic to leave Mandalore be.
The Senate was a pain in the ass to address, but Din was nothing if not resolute.
Mandalore would be left alone from now on, thanks to his negotiating.
Talking was never his strong suit (silence tended to make people run their mouths to fill it—which was handy for a bounty hunter), so he was exhausted from spending the day doing so. It had been a fine balance—trying to placate a group of people who still saw Mandalorians as bloodthirsty thugs and avoiding confirming their bias as they tried to force him to follow their wishes.
He wasn't a barbarian. He'd refrained from punching anyone despite how much he wanted to cave in the Corellian senator's face for suggesting Mandalore pledge itself to the New Republic as a glorified mercenary force.
Weary, he boarded the Gauntlet with stiff muscles and pinged the cockpit as he waited for his guard detail, Kit and Lottie Uunan, to lock up behind him. He headed for the lounge he listened to his pilot, their older sister Gwin, go through preflight checks over the ship's intercom. He buckled into a jump seat as they left Chandrila and waited to release the restraint until Gwin got them into hyperspace along the Hydian Way.
Din didn't quite know what it was that had him salivating and sitting so still that his limbs felt prickly. That was until he removed his helmet for the first time with someone else in the room and physically swayed with the power of the scent that filled the lounge of his ship.
One of his guards, Zara Uunan, was seated at the dejarik table and already not wearing her helmet. She smelled like spiced cider and firewood. She also smelled shocked.
How did he know what shock smelled like?
"You're an Alpha…" Zara whispered.
"I'm a what?"
"You don't know? You're…by the goddess, you're one of my people… You're from Aq Vetina—our people pair bond. Alphas are predisposed to be providers and Omegas are predisposed to be caretakers. Your scent—you're an Alpha."
"What does that mean?" Din asked.
Zara took a shuddering breath. "You're stronger and you have sharper senses than humans. There's…our species has an extra gland in our brain that produces a hormone that's similar to testosterone. It's kind of like the opposite of an allergy when we're around our pair bonds. You can 'smell' emotion because your olfactory senses are extra sensitive to chemical changes that certain species go through when certain hormones get dumped. Like—fear smells bitter and metallic."
"And shock smells sharp and kinda…citrusy," Din said.
Zara nodded.
Din swallowed hard and started to consciously relax his body. "You mentioned Omegas?"
"I'm an Omega—all four of us are. Our kind were cloistered in a distant village when the Separatists attacked the Paired Village. My mother took the option of joining the Mandalorians when they came to the Omega Village later in the day. My three sisters and I are here with my squad right now. Lottie, Kit, Gwin, and I are all that's left of our family. There are no Alphas left. The Separatists made sure to wipe them all out.
"Well…we thought there weren't any left," she said.
"How…how can you…" Din was so incredibly confused. The soft smell of hot cider and burning firewood intensified significantly and his hand, suddenly possessing a mind of its own, reached up so the backs of his gloved fingers skimmed Zara's cheek.
She looks so soft…
"What…what's happening right now?" Din croaked.
"Pheromones. You smell like petrichor," she said, sounding just as dazed and rough. "And razor grass."
Din took in a deep breath through his nostrils and shuddered.
"You smell like… home," he whispered.
Zara stepped closer and nodded.
"Home…" she repeated.
He was transfixed by her. Her tan skin and dark brown hair, her shocking teal eyes, her plush lips, the divot in her chin…
The room felt too warm, but in a good way. The atmosphere was thick and soft. Comforting.
"This is a chemical thing that's happening right now?" Din asked on the tail end of a deep breath being released.
"Uh huh."
"Is it rude of me to say I just really want to fuck y—"
"Nope. Not rude," Zara interrupted.
"Okay, good," Din tugged off his gloves and threw them across the room before removing his vambraces as he stepped closer to her.
Zara had already removed most of her armor, so she quickly started to undo the magnetic clasps on Din's cuisse as he unbuckled his belt and let it hit the floor—too focused on her neck and the way sweat had gathered along her hairline to care about his blaster.
His teeth itched.
Din didn't know why, but he needed to bite right there.
So he did.
Zara hissed and let her body fall slack in his hold. She dropped his armor as her fingers relaxed and she melted against Din's chest.
"Yes…" she hissed.
The moment one of Din's incisors pierced the delicate skin on Zara's neck, she rolled her hips hard against his groin and moaned loudly just as he tasted blood.
He growled and was slightly startled by the feeling of a rumble deeper in his chest. When he pulled away from her neck to look at what he'd done, Din had about half a second to freak out about how viciously he'd bitten her before he registered her hands working frantically to remove the rest of his armor.
Zara shuddered hard and yanked off his cuirass. "Perfect. You're so perfect…" she was muttering beneath her breath.
"I hurt you," Din mumbled as he unbuttoned her pants.
"I nearly came," she reassured him and gave up yanking off his armor padding to grab his cheeks and kiss him. "I want you inside me," she whispered against his lips.
Din had frozen with his bare hand halfway down Zara's pants, lips quivering uncertainly at the feeling of her mouth against his.
He'd never felt anything like it.
With another feral growl, Din yanked her tunic off and quickly stripped out of his upper layers. By the time he slipped out of his suspenders, Zara was tossing her boots into her pile of armor.
Impatient, Din grabbed the waistband of her leggings and roughly pulled them off of her. Zara didn't have time to take off her socks before Din lifted her by her hips so he could hold her against the wall with one hand keeping her thigh tight against his waist and the other hand sliding across her soaked sex.
Zara squealed and jolted against him. "'M so sensitive—never been…never been touched there…"
Din mouthed the two puncture wounds on her neck and slipped his index and middle fingers inside of her. The sound of her wetness seemed louder in the silence of the lounge.
Din hummed in encouragement as he felt her muscles spasm tightly around his fingers as her body jerked against his involuntarily. "Atta girl," he rumbled against her neck.
"Fuck," she whispered and tightened so hard around Din's fingers that he couldn't move his hand. The feeling of her orgasm made the base of his cock swell with something he'd never felt before. Another new itch that felt good.
The hand he held onto Zara's thigh with caressed her skin in wide circles. "Ready?" He asked.
Zara nodded quickly, unbuttoned Din's pants, and yanked them off his hips. His cock jumped with how even just the heat coming off of her body made that good itch around the base of him intensify.
His hips twitched as she guided him slowly inside her body.
Din pressed his forehead against the bulkhead and squeezed his eyes shut at how good it felt. It was nothing like what he was used to—so much more of his skin was bared than usual already—and it was intense in a way he couldn't put into words. The further he sank inside of her, the harder it was for Din to think.
"Maker," Zara groaned. "Please move."
He echoed her groan and lightly bit her neck again before doing as she bid him.
He'd never felt so unhinged during a sexual encounter—the intensity of it was slightly worrying.
But she felt so good.
As he pounded her into the bulkhead, Din gasped at the tight sensation around his cock—how it was harder for him to move at all. Zara squeaked and slapped both hands over her mouth; nearly cuffing Din across the side of the head in the process.
"No," he yanked her hands away. "I wanna hear you."
"Oh, stars," she whimpered. "You feel so big."
Din couldn't breathe when she clenched around him and pulsed with her climax. Zara shouted wordlessly and grabbed onto his shoulders to avoid tipping over sideways as Din nearly lost his grip on her thigh.
"Holy shit," he hissed and came without warning—letting out a surprised grunt as his body shook and pressed further inside of Zara. She held onto his shoulders tighter and tucked her head under his chin. Both fought to catch their breath. Din absently stroked her thigh—already seeing bruises forming in the shape of his fingers and wanting to soothe the ache of them.
"Wow," Zara whispered.
"Yeah," Din breathed and slowly eased himself from her body with another grunt.
"My sisters will want this, too," she panted.
Din stared at his cum as it leaked from between her thighs. He absentmindedly reached down and slid two fingers through the mess to press it back inside of her—unsure of why he felt like this. There was something beyond primal about what just happened. All because he removed his helmet.
He'd have never discovered this part of himself had he followed the creed he'd been taught.
Din was conflicted about that up until he felt Zara's content sigh blow across his bare chest.
Then, what she'd said finally registered to him. "All of them?!" He craned his neck back to see Zara's face.
"Lottie has always wanted a bunch of children of her own. She's more sensitive to hormone changes than the rest of us. She's due for a heat."
Din felt a bit overwhelmed.
"Kit and Gwin are worried that they're out of time."
"And you?"
"If it happens, it happens."
Din blushed and gestured at the fresher. "Wanna get cleaned up?"
Zara flushed as well. "Yeah, we're a mess," she muttered. She grabbed his hand on the way to the shower and squeezed gently, affection in her shy smile.
NEXT
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neon-junkie · 2 years
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Hi 👋 how are you?
I was wondering if i could please request the prompt "prettier that the stars above" (no45 I think from your prompt list) with either wrecker or tech?
Thank you, hope you're having a peaceful hiatus 😊
Went for Wrecker, since I don't write enough for him!! (gender-neutral reader. reader is a bit self conscious!)
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"C'mon, what's up?" Wrecker questions.
You've been awfully quiet. It's not like you can help it; tonight is your first date with Wrecker, and you decided to go all out, splurging on a fancy outfit that, unfortunately, you don't feel confident in. Wrecker complimented you before you two set off to head downtown, but despite his words, you still don't feel your best.
There's no point in brushing him off. Wrecker knows something is up, and he's always willing to help in any way possible; whether that's talking things out, listening to you vent, giving advice, and so forth.
"I just..." you sigh, keeping your gaze locked onto the floor. "I don't feel great..."
"Oh, are you sick?" Wrecker questions. Before you can answer, he's stopped both of you in your tracks, moving his free hand to press against your forehead, the other entwined with your own.
"No, it's not that," you reply as Wrecker moves his hand away. "I mean, I don't think I look great... I tried a different style tonight, and I don't think it's working for me," you confess, still keeping your eyes averted.
Wrecker pouts, and the hand that was briefly pressed to your forehead moves to cup your jawline, gently nudging you to look up at him. Your eyes meet his, and you're reminded that he truly is the definition of a gentle giant. Wrecker is a unit on the battlefield, being bred specifically for his strength, and trained in explosives. He could punch through a Separatist base with his bare hands - the same bare hands that are oh-so-gently cupping your jawline, his thumb softly brushing over your cheek.
"Well, I don't think that," Wrecker states. "I think you look great! You look..." his words fade away, and Wrecker's brows softly furrow as he moves his gaze from yours. It's clear that he's attempting to find the right words to express his attraction to you, and during his pondering thoughts, he looks up at the night sky.
Wrecker lets out a realisation sigh, and then turns back to you with a grin. "You're prettier than the stars above, you know that?" he exclaims.
It's hard not to smile when Wrecker's grinning at you, searching for that twinkle in your eye as you smile back at him. Ah, there it is - you're blushing, gawking at the man who almost burst from excitement when you said yes to going on a date with him.
"Thank you," you reply, melting into Wrecker's touch.
"Anytime," Wrecker nods, gazing at you with nothing but pure admiration in his eyes. "Anyway, let's carry on. I don't wanna be late for our booking, our... uh, booking that I definitely didn't make weeks in advance before I had even asked you out..."
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wanderinginksplot · 3 years
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Rex + Engineer!Reader
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This is the prequel to the Rex + Blanket Fort + Kisses one-shot found here on my masterlist. As this is a prequel to that story, you don't need to have read it for this to make sense. And as you could probably tell from the picture, this takes place during the Onderon arc.
Rex x gn!reader: intended to be early romance, but could be read as platonic.
Word Count: a bit more than 3,400
Warnings: canon-typical violence, including spoilers for the Onderon arc (S 5, E 2-5) of Star Wars: The Clone Wars
---
"And Captain Rex will train everyone in the encampment on basic combat skills and maneuvers," General Skywalker announced.
You didn't pay overly much attention to that. The general was younger than you had anticipated, but he was clearly used to combat and had the kind of authority usually honed through commanding large groups of soldiers. Still, you knew his order didn't apply to you and moved to slip away from the area. Your schematics needed a lot more work before the rebels could attack without bringing buildings down.
"And where are you running off to?" a muscular man with light hair asked, stepping into your path.
You gave a tight smile. "Classified, sorry."
The man nodded toward the general. "General Skywalker says everyone needs combat training."
"Oh, not me," you reassured him. "I'm a contracted engineer, not one of the Rebels. I'm just here to make sure they destroy as little of the infrastructure as possible while they take back control."
"And do you live in the encampment?" he asked.
You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling sure this was a trap. Eventually, you gave a short nod.
"Then you'll be training with me," he said firmly. "Captain Rex, 501st Legion."
You reluctantly shook the hand he offered and introduced yourself, finishing with, "-but I'm strictly an engineer."
"We're worried that this isn't likely to end without one or several attacks on this encampment," the captain told you. "A few hours of training could save your life."
"And a few hours of work on the city's schematics could save the lives of countless civilians," you argued. Sending that he would continue trying to convince you, you shook your head. "The Gerrera siblings are the ones who hired me. I'll let them make the final choice."
"And I'll leave it to the Generals," Captain Rex agreed.
Clearly not taking chances, he marched off toward where Steela Gerrera and Lux Bonteri were talking with Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, as well as a Togrutan female you vaguely remembered as being a commander.
"Generals, Commander," Captain Rex greeted with a crisp salute. You rolled your eyes. Soldiers. "We were hoping you could settle a difference of opinion."
"A difference of opinion?" General Kenobi repeated with a frown.
"What opinion would that be, Rex?" General Skywalker asked.
The captain explained the situation while you stood in silence. Steela met your gaze at several points during the conversation, looking concerned each time.
"We're only here to train the rebels," General Skywalker said after Captain Rex had finished talking. "Not anyone else."
"All of us are rebels," Steela argued, ignoring your signals that you didn't want training at all. "Just by being here in opposition to the Separatist forces, we are all considered a threat to their power."
"A contracted employee is different than someone who joined your cause because they believe in it," the commander countered, wrinkling her nose. "We aren't offering training to mercenaries."
"We're talking about an engineer, not someone hired to perform assassinations," Lux contributed. "What could it hurt?"
"Generals, Commander," Rex said, his quiet voice somehow drawing their attention. "I think every member of the rebel group needs to be trained. I think it's important."
"Rex…" General Kenobi sighed, but Skywalker interrupted before he could expand on his thoughts.
"I trust Rex's instincts," he told the older general. "If he thinks everyone needs to be trained, we'll make it happen."
You made a frustrated noise before you could stop yourself. "I don't need training. I'm an engineer. I don't work in combat situations."
"That's the thing about combat," Skywalker said with a shrug. "You don't always have to look for it. Sometimes, it comes to you. Especially in wartime."
The group split up immediately afterward, seemingly having come to an agreement. You followed Steela, determined to make your case and get back to your schematics.
"Steela, you know I'm not here for fighting," you said, jogging to catch up to the young woman who had hired you. "It isn't part of my contract."
"It isn't, you're right," she agreed. "But I would think carefully before I turned down a chance to learn such a valuable skill considering how dangerous the galaxy is right now. Surely this could be helpful as a freelancer traveling the universe alone?"
You didn't have an immediate answer to that. Steela clearly noticed, nodding solemnly at you before turning away. "The choice is yours to make."
You gritted your teeth, but your feet refused to move from the spot. To your left was the strategic tent and your unfinished set of schematics. To the right, the Jedi were helping the rebels set up some kind of training ring.
"Well?" a voice prompted. You already recognized it as belonging to Rex.
You stood still for a beat longer before giving a loud and heartfelt groan as you turned toward the freshly constructed training ring.
---
You were bad at fighting.
It wasn't really a shock to you. You had never been particularly graceful or good on your feet. That was why engineering had been such a draw - all mental work, almost no physical.
Rex, to his credit, turned out to be a surprisingly good teacher. He had kept everyone basically together as they learned new skills and practiced as a group. Still, he was determined that you would learn to defend yourself and here you were, fighting to shoot targets in the dying light, long after everyone else had scattered.
"I'm sorry," you apologized yet again as you missed. You were half an hour into intensive shooting lessons with Rex and you had yet to hit a single target.
"You don't need to apologize," he assured. "We'll just keep working until you get it down."
"I don't know if I can," you admitted, lowering the heavily modified blaster pistol until it was resting on the table in front of you. "We're losing the light and it's a bad idea to illuminate any more of the jungle than we have to."
"That's true," Rex agreed, rubbing at his neck while he studied the unharmed target. After a moment, he took the blaster pistol from your hands and holstered it at his side, then removed the holster belt as well.
You nodded sympathetically, hoping you could call it a night and put in a few hours of work on your schematics so the day wouldn't be a total waste.
Rex sighed, removing the subtly armored jacket he had been wearing during that day's training. "I guess we'll… we'll just have to switch to something less impacted by visibility."
"Wait, what?" you had time to ask before the stoic captain flat-out tackled you.
You were aware enough to know that Captain Rex had twisted to take part of the impact himself, but you still hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. In that moment of hollow gasping, Rex had pushed you onto your stomach and pinned your hands behind your back.
"The first rule of unarmed conflict is that you can't let anyone surprise you." Rex paused for a moment. "Actually, that's the first rule of any kind of conflict."
"Is the second rule that you shouldn't suffocate your sparring partner?" you croaked out, turning your head slightly so your face wasn't actively being pressed into the dirt anymore.
Rex laughed. It was the first time you had heard anything other than firm orders from him and you paused. It was a nice laugh. You were forced to gather your thoughts a moment later as he released you and helped you to your feet.
"You probably won't see a lot of hand-to-hand fighting with droids, but the armies aren't capable of anything beyond following orders. The armies are commanded by sentients, and those sentients are often closer to the armies than you would think."
"I have no intention of going after Grievous without a weapon," you joked. "Preferably more than one."
"You should stay away from Grievous no matter how many weapons you have," Rex advised. "But this is good to know, anyway."
"Actually, I agree with that," you said, surprising you both. "I'm a freelancer. Anything that helps me defend myself in a potentially hostile situation is a good thing."
"Okay, let's work on your hits, then," Rex suggested.
What followed was two full hours of unarmed combat practice. Rex was always the target, letting you throw punches and kicks against his open palms. When he realized that you were pulling your strikes because you were afraid to hurt him, he found a padded guard among the assortment of equipment the Republic had sent along.
Eventually, though, you were panting and bone-tired. Rex seemed to realize that without you saying anything.
"One last set of strikes and you're done for the night," Rex told you. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to you.
But as you punched, Rex moved the guard you had been aiming for. You shot him a look, but he only held the guard up, wiggling it slightly. You set up again, but Rex pulled away at the last second, dodging your fist to bop you on the shoulder with the guard.
"What are you doing?" you asked, exasperated. "You said this was the last set."
"It is. Or, it will be as soon as you actually manage to make contact."
You grimaced at him. This time, when he twisted the guard away, you turned with it. You were focused on keeping your footwork correct and your hit strong. You never even saw him move his foot between your ankles, but with a light tug, you were on the ground again.
"Seriously?" you asked from your spot in the dirt.
Rex laughed again, and this time, you didn't enjoy the sound at all. "Do you think your opponents are going to stand there and let you hit them? They're going to fight dirty - they always do. You just need to-"
As it happens, you never did learn what you needed to do. Rex had stepped too close, and your engineering experience told you that his ankles were at an angle that made him vulnerable to a hit. You kicked his ankle lightly, barely making contact, but it was enough to send one of his feet careening against the other. Rex stumbled, failed to regain his balance, and fell.
All of this was done on instinct and you felt as surprised as Rex looked when he landed on his butt in the dirt next to you.
"Good job," he said, breathless but sincere.
"Thanks," you accepted with a grin. "Does that mean I surprised you?"
"Not a bit," he denied, deflating your ego a bit. "I knew you were capable of it. You're an engineer. Engineers like angles and math. That's all combat is, adjusted for whatever you think the other side is going to do."
"Wait, that's… that's a really good point," you mused slowly. "Can I see your pistol again?"
Rex didn't move. "If you shoot me, you'll surprise me in the wrong way."
You snorted. "I'm not planning on shooting you, Captain. I just want to test how the application of math might help me."
After eyeing you for a moment, Rex stood in an enviably graceful motion and hauled you to your feet as well. Wordlessly, he handed you one of his blaster pistols. He had warned you before you began shooting that he had made numerous alterations to them, but you were still surprised by the weight of the weapon in your hand.
This time, instead of relying on instinct - point, aim, shoot - you worked to apply some logic. When you were sure about your angle, you squeezed the hyper-sensitive trigger and watched the resulting beam of weaponized light hit the target.
It wasn't a perfect shot, of course. Math couldn't fix everything. Still, you had hit the target and you cheered aloud, echoed by Rex's congratulations behind you. You had the presence of mind to set the pistol down before you turned, then Rex was grasping your forearm in the odd way warriors shook hands.
"Great job!" he told you warmly. "You're getting better."
"Thanks," you accepted, trying to vocalize your gratitude. You probably could have been offended by the tone of surprise in his voice, but you chose to overlook it.
"Now we just have to dial in your aim and get you comfortable with firing at moving targets, especially during chaotic situations."
Despite your best efforts, you felt your expression fall at that. Rex laughed again. When had he gotten so cheerful? "I'm kidding. That can be done tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" you repeated doubtfully.
Rex folded his arms across his chest and stared at you steadily. "In one session, you've gone from unable to shoot a gun or throw a punch to knocking me down and hitting a target. If you can keep that pace of improvement, you'll be a force to be reckoned with."
"Or at least be able to stop clients who try to cop a feel," you added.
Despite his darkening expression, Rex's tone was unconcerned. "I'm sure you could break the hand of any di'kut dumb enough to try it now. With some training, you'd be able to tear that hand off completely."
And so you continued to train with Rex after everyone else had finished learning to disable tanks and other intense activities. During the day, you finalized schematics, studying holoimages of Onderon’s capital city of Iziz. Your goal was to record your best guesses for the most and least structurally-sound sections of the city.
The dedication the rebels showed for the safety of the Onderonian people was a big reason you had agreed to take this job. Despite what the Jedi seemed to think, you weren't actually a mercenary. You chose your jobs very carefully, and if something didn't match your morals, you would respectfully decline.
Between schematic work in the day and training at night, your time with the rebels flew past. Captain Rex continued to be patient and helpful as you worked to master the combat moves he taught you - ones decidedly more focused on self-defense than the moves he taught the rebels. The first day you had beaten him in a grappling situation, he had beamed up at you with dirt on his face and told you how far you had progressed. The squeezing of your heart at the praise warned that it was probably good that the captain and both Jedi generals were withdrawing from Onderon shortly, leaving Commander Tano to assist with the remaining rebel efforts.
Despite your determination to stay out of the conflict, you had eventually been forced into it when the Separatist armies had attacked the rebel base. One of the rebels you had known by appearance if not by name had been hit by blaster fire before he could use the rocket launcher held in his hands. He had held it up to you, begging with his eyes that you take out the ship that had fired on him before it could do more damage.
You had accepted, and the ship was a roiling ball of flame before you could make yourself nervous about shooting anything other than Rex’s now-familiar blasters. You tossed aside the rocket launcher and found a discarded blaster. From that point until the combat had ended, thoughts of schematics or building solidity were gone from your head. You were as much a part of the rebel group as anyone else, and you watched with the same horror as Steela Gerrera fell to her death, despite the best efforts of Commander Tano.
The funeral was lovely. Onderonians didn’t believe in mourning for their dead. Instead, they truly celebrated all that the departed had done to create a better society… and Steela had done a great deal.
When things had ended, you were sitting on a raised set of stairs overlooking the ceremonial area. The dais holding Steela’s cloth-draped casket was filled with people far too important for you to bother. You were glad to see Saw speaking with King Dendup. After he had handed you the agreed-upon payment for your services - despite your many attempts to refuse the credits - Saw had left, ignoring the sympathy you tried to offer. He needed to speak with someone, and if that someone was the man he and Steela had worked so hard to save, so much the better.
“Nice ceremony, huh?” someone asked from behind you, and you twisted a bit to find General Skywalker standing there with Captain Rex beside him.
You nodded, but you could feel that it was a half-hearted motion. “Steela was so young. She had a lot of promise.”
“She died fulfilling the mission she set out to finish,” Captain Rex countered. “She knew the risks and thought Dendup was worth it. Her choices were her own. All we can do is respect them.”
With a joyless smile, you said, “Doesn’t make it any easier.”
“It never does,” General Skywalker admitted, sitting next to you. Rex’s comlink chimed and he stepped a respectful distance away before answering it.
Skywalker sat beside you in silence for a while. Normally, you would speak first just for sake of politeness, but you weren’t feeling that generous. You let the silence linger while you watched the activity on the dais.
“Have you ever thought about using your talents for the Republic?” the general asked eventually.
“I thought I was a soulless mercenary?” you asked before you could think better of it.
“And I thought you didn’t work in combat situations,” Skywalker countered. “But I’ve seen the battlefield recordings. You handled yourself well.”
You glanced over at him in surprise. “Are you trying to contract me on as a soldier?”
“Force, no,” he denied quickly. “As an engineer. I sent samples of your work to a friend of mine who works as an engineer in the private sector and they were impressed. The GAR is struggling to find good engineers comfortable working in combat. The pay is a bit lower than you’re used to, but it’s steady work.”
Ah, he had cut straight to the heart of your problem with freelancing. The fight to survive between jobs meant that anything extra you were making was eaten up by the time you were hired on again. And your morals meant that jobs weren’t nearly as frequent as you would like them to be. But being in constant combat… Yes, you had survived this time, but that didn’t mean you were rushing to repeat the experience.
You grimaced. “I appreciate the offer, really, but I don’t know if it’s for me. Combat engineering isn’t really my specialty.”
“I think you’re selling yourself short,” General Skywalker told you seriously. “I’ve seen samples of your past work, and a lot of it is on worlds that have a lot of fighting. I’m sure you know that none of your structures have sustained extreme damage, no matter how much combat was happening around them. That’s an impressive record.”
“You researched me?” you asked, feeling a little stunned.
“Well, the Republic likes to know who they’re hiring. But honestly, I’m not the one who did the research,” Skywalker said, looking past you. You followed his gaze to Rex, who was suddenly very intently looking at his comlink. With a mischievous grin, the general added, “I think my captain has taken a liking to you.”
You fought back a grin, turning away from the captain, and your eyes fell on Steela’s casket once more. Suddenly, keeping a straight face wasn’t as much of a struggle. “If I said yes, what would my official job duties be?”
“You would oversee a group of construction experts - both civilian and enlisted - using maps and satellite footage to find the best possible choices for locations to build bases, bridges, or other structures to help us complete campaigns,” he answered easily. “Preferably, to win campaigns, but that’s more on us than you.”
“And would I work with your group?”
“The 501st?” Skywalker asked, sounding surprised. “I’m not sure, but probably. We’re a planetary landing battalion, so we always need someone who has the knowledge of places to build. You might have to stay behind on some planets to supervise base construction, but you could always catch back up with us. Is that something you would want?”
“Yes,” you said firmly. “If I did agree to that-”
“I’m no good at negotiations,” he interrupted with a self-deprecating smile. “You speak clearly about what you want and I’ll do what I can.”
“I’ll work for the Republic,” you said, feeling the nerves twist in your belly. “If you can make sure I’m permanently attached to the 501st.”
“Deal,” General Skywalker accepted immediately, holding his hand out for you to shake. “Welcome to the 501st.”
---
A/N - I assure you that there is no timeline of any sort happening in my writing, so don't think too hard about where this should fit into the narrative. It won't end well.
Thanks for reading!
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jessiebanethedragon · 3 years
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so i randomly thought about a fic with crosshair with his iconic line "you miss me? how touching" and im kinda shocked about how it doesnt exist! so i went to you to request this 👉👈 bcs you're one of my fav fic writers and i'd like to see it from you, no pressure though! bcs i know you dont exactly have all your hours to provide us with fan content :] <3
Hello! thank you so much for this request i’ve been in love with the idea for so long sorry it took me ages to get it written! anyways here it is! 
love ya oxoxox Jessie
Miss you (Crosshair x separatist!Reader)
You met Crosshair in a hurricane of cruses, punches and a bloody nose on his part. And from the glare he sent you way after Hunter had wrestled you into binders, you knew the mutual feeling of hatred was obvious. And of course, when the republic so graciously offered to help you make amends, in return for separatist intel and a forgoing of your prison sentence they put you back into the clutches of Clone Force 99. 
Crosshair could not stand you. With enough cheek and sass to rival his own, and looks that were infuriatingly good, the resident sniper had it out for you. 
But to be fair, you hated him as well. You hated how tall he was, how his deceivingly slim frame gave way to sturdy muscle that your hands had been over top of on a singular occasion that you couldn't get out of your head. 
“Tell me the layout again.” Sergeant Hunter demanded, standing over a disastrously incorrect map of a separatist base. 
“You’d be better off without a map at all!” Exclaimed throwing your hands up in defeat, “the weapons room is here, on the west side of the basement. Not on the east side of the top floor.” You went through the entire map again and again, in order for Hunter to relay it to Tech when him and Crosshair got  back from intel. 
“I still don't understand why we have to be out in the middle of nowhere.” Tech’s voice crackled through the comms. 
“Because She can’t be trusted.” Crosshair hissed. 
“She has been completely honest with us thus far.” Tech retorted, 
“She has a name” You called into your vambrace, 
“Fine, The separatist cannot be trusted.” Oh you could hear the smirk in his voice now. And the damn sniper wore it so well… 
“Ex-separatist.” Wrecker kindly pointed out in your defence. 
“Enough. All of you, Tech what's your status?” Hunter cut in, giving up on the holo-map completely. 
“Approaching the south entrance stand by.” You furred your brows, south, why did they go to the south. You distinctly remember telling them to go North… oh, oh shit. 
“Tech! Abort mission!” You said into your comm, grabbing your blaster and pack off of the walls of the ship. “Tech! Do not approach the south entrance. I repeat do not engage at the south entrance!” Why, Why did they never listen! You looked at Hunter and Wrecker who seemed unbothered. 
“Where do you think you’re going, Spitfire?” Wrecker asked teasingly, “South entrance is unguarded.” 
“According to your map, but according to me the south entrance is next to…” “The Barracks.” Hunter finished for you, before running into the cockpit shouting into his comms. You and Wrecker shared a look of panic. 
“Are you coming with me or not?”  You asked him, and his eyes darted to the cockpit where Hunter was currently firing up the engines and the ramp that was beginning to close. 
“I’ll meet you there Spitfire.” He promised, brothers come first, you could understand that. And even though you knew the Havoc Marauder could get there faster, something other than your brain told you that you had to go on foot. And so you threw yourself out of the rising ship, and onto the forest floor of a separatist planet. 
And that, well that brings us to the present situation, finding yourself once again in a pair of binders and your comrades nowhere to be found. In hindsight, trampoline through the undergrowth like a bantha on spice wasn't the best idea. But maybe you cared more for Clone  Force 99 than you’d like to admit. 
“Where are they?” Whorm Loathsom sneered, far too close for comfort. 
“The term ‘they’ is pretty ambiguous, could you perhaps speci-fy” your sentence was cut off as his clawed hand met your throat, your own hands fumbling at his face as you struggle for air. 
“I’ll ask you again, traitor. Where are the clones you’ve been travelling with?” Loathsom didn’t let up on his grasp, and the corners of your vision were beginning to blur. 
“At... your... mother’s.” You choked out, still trying to wriggle out of his grasp. His claws were beginning to cut into your skin, and you knew blacking out was imminent. 
“I don’t think you have the time for sarcasm.” He hissed, increasing the pressure causing you to flounder in his grasp. “Now, i’m giving you a chance for redemption here. Tell. me. Where. They. Are!” Maker, you realized, he’s going to do it, he’s actually going to kill you. And just as yours eyes fluttered closed and you began to black out, you hit the floor with a resounding thunk. Only to be pulled onto your feet again and into something familiarly solid. 
“Miss me?” Crosshairs voice was heaven layered honey over the sounds of wheezing and laboured breaths. 
“Crosshair?” You gasped up at him, his arms around your frame moving to pick you up. 
“How touching, you almost look pleased to see me.” You blinked repeatedly at his smirk, before wincing as he began to move. 
“Where?” He asked, setting you down again. You tried to speak again but your lungs were still working double time. “What did they do to you?” He whispered, “I should've been faster.” 
“Crosshair,” you tried again, essentially mewling into his chest, “I can’t…. Can’t” you were panicked, scared, trying to chase a breath you just couldn't catch. 
“I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill them all.” He snarled, standing up again with you safely in his arms. Maybe Clone Force 99 cared for you more than you thought. 
Bed rest sucks, you decide about one day into Techs mandated recovery schedule. What sucks more is him and Hunter marching you back to you bunk every time you try to get up. So, naturally, you resort to sneaking around during the night when the self-proclaimed medics of the Bad Batch are asleep. 
You clutch a cup of some kind of herbal drink, Wrecker and Tech keep them by the box load so you figured they must be at least decent. But right now you’re wondering if you missed something because the stupid wet herb-flower bag thing keeps flopping around in the cup every time you try to take a sip. And the thing is way too hot, so you resort to blowing the steam away as it rises. 
“Shouldn't you be in bed?” Crosshairs voice comes from the doorway into the hull of the Marauder. 
“Miss me?” You ask, mimicking him from before, enjoying the irony. 
“Nope.” He says, popping the ‘p’. You scoff at your mug of hot herbal whatnot. “Wrecker was beside himself though.” 
“Was he?” You tease your sniper, and a part of you wonders when he went from being ‘the’ sniper to ‘your’ sniper. 
“Yeah, inconsolable in fact.” Crosshair moves from the doorway over to your spot  in the hull of the ship. 
“Really?” you arch an eyebrow, standing in an embarrassing attempt to meet his height. But he’s closer than you calculated and in your adjustment you fumble and find yourself against the wall. 
“Aw, little Spitfire’s all choked up, mind the pun.” Crosshair sneers at you, stepping firmly into your personal space. 
“I do in fact.” You retort, “mind the pun, i also mind you in my personal bubble.” You go to plant a hand on his chest to push him away, but he’s so solid. Maker, why is he so warm and firm under your hands. Why, oh why, does he have to feel so perfect to your palms. And in the three times you’ve now touched him, Crosshair’s starting to feel familiar. 
“You gonna push me or just cop a feel?” He raises an eyebrow, but you miss it under the blush on your cheeks and your gaze hits the floor. His hand comes to your chin, index finger underneath while the thumb caresses your cheek. 
“I didn't get to thank you… for coming back for me.” You’re not sure where this is coming from, but it happens anyways. 
“You’ve got a weird way of apologizing Spitfire,” He murmurs looking back to your hands in his chest, watching your eyes react as he moves his other hand to your hip. He smirks oh so proudly when you sigh and relax into his hands, and move yours to hold his face and lightly  scratch at the short hair on his neck. 
“Crosshair…” You exhale looking at him, and the energy between the two of you does the rest of the talking as he leans down to connect his lips to yours. 
Kissing Crosshair seems to contradict everything else about him. It’s slow and soft, he takes his time memorizing the feeling and shape of your lips of his. And with all the time he’s spent pushing you away, now he’s pulling you impossibly close. Your kiss is akin to the second half of your nickname. Crosshair is on fire, but he can't bring himself to care. For you, he tastes of a forest after rainfall, crisp with mist and peaceful. You don't want it to ever end, but the burning in your abused lungs forces you to pull away. Immediately he pulls your foreheads together, a Keldabe kiss, because it’s the best he can get as you both heave for air. 
“I did miss you. And I was worried.” He tells you, lips brushing against your own  as he speaks. 
“I know,” You say, pressing a second kiss to his lips where you can both feel the other smile. 
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aftercreation · 3 years
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So if we don't condone our label being appropriated and warped to include men we're not real lebsians and we don't exist?
Lmfao please get the fuck out and sit down.
We're still 'real' lesbians if we can recognise that if you like men in any form you're not a fucking lesbian and that there are a MULTITUDE of other labels out there better suited to the attraction you feel.
I used the term “real lesbian” as a reference to how often mspec lesbians are met with “if you tell that to a real lesbian in real life they’ll punch you in the face” which is Not True
Sorry you need to be validated by me, a lowly bi butch :) maybe go to therapy.
P.S. bi lesbians have always existed and the lesbian separatist movement was a disaster learn your queer history
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glacecakes · 4 years
Text
Revenge is Sweet but You're Sweeter
Andrew kidnaps Hugo to get back at Varian.
Warning for blood, torture, general violence. Nothing too graphic. GOD THIS TOOK FUCKING FOREVER TO GET OUT. Basically my cat had a cancer scare and my depression is at an all time high so I was unable to get anything done. I wasn't happy with this fic for most of it until I sat my ass down and said I Will Finish This If It Kills Me. I'm still not THRILLED with this piece but it's finished and fuck it it's done i'm DONE I HAVE DEADLINES.
-
Hugo’s vision blurred into existence after a few blinks. As far as he could tell, he was trapped in some old barn, arms trapped behind his back. He flexed, tugging at the restraints on his hands. The ropes burned his wrists, but they didn’t budge. His legs scrambled in an attempt to stand, but it didn’t work, and he was stuck still on the floor. His eyes scanned the vicinity, trying to gauge his surroundings.
“What the…” he mumbled. His eyes blinked asynchronously as he struggled to focus.
How the heck did this even happen?
The last thing Hugo remembered was that he was talking to Nuru and Yong, sharing some hot cocoa while Varian got some more firewood. They were talking about Varian’s unusually anxious behavior as of late. He was already an anxious guy, but ever since he got a letter from home, he’d been a wreck. He started looking over his shoulder constantly and even sleeping with a weapon by his side. And anytime any of the three asked, Varian would abruptly change the subject.
“What if we all asked him about it? Like, at once?” Yong asked.
Hugo bit his lip. If he were in Varian’s position, he wouldn’t want to spill. He doesn’t want his position compromised, and Varian likely didn’t want the same done to him.
That’s what he told himself, anyway. He definitely did not have a crush on Varian and wanted to keep Varian as close as possible for as long as possible.
He moved to object, but Nuru and raised her mug in agreement.
“When he gets back, we’ll confront him. Something’s bothering him, and we’re his friends. We only want to help.”
Help, or bother? To Hugo it felt like they were too nosy for their own good, and were excusing it as concern. But hey what did he know. Not like he had many friends before them. He’d thrown back the cocoa in quiet acceptance, said goodnight to the others… and now…
Moonlight filtered in through the barn’s broken windows and decaying roof, seeping into every crack and filling the room with shadows.
A shadow from which a man stepped out.
His hair was slightly greasy, yet kept in an immaculate bun. A long, well-groomed beard did little to hide the feral grin on his face. He sauntered across creaking floors, circling around the teen like a shark. He carried a sword which left imprints on the floorboards,
Hugo puffed his chest up in defense. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by this… kidnapper? Assailant? Whatever he was he looked like a jerk.
“Finally you’re all awake. I was worried I’d used too much.”
“Too much?”
“Sleeping powder. Just sprinkled it into your water supply when you weren’t looking. Child’s play, really.” The man laughed, resuming his pacing.
Hugo cursed internally. He let his guard down and paid the price. Being with the trio of hooligans he called friends made him soft, as Donella would’ve said. How long had this man been following them? How long had he waited to strike, judging them and gauging every opportunity, deciding that tonight was perfect to attack mere teens? He just hoped the other three were safe.
Wait, no. Don’t think that. Remember Hugo, you don’t care about them. They’re a means to an end.  
As Hugo’s eyes adjusted to the dim barn, he began to notice more silhouettes creeping in the dark. They slowly joined their comrade, as if summoned. They were of varying shapes and sizes, age and creed. They were dressed too poorly to be bounty hunters, looking more like weary travellers. Further back, near a large hole in the barn roof, was a hot air balloon. It was likely how the teen was transported here. A floorboard splintered under the largest man’s weight.
“Who are you?” Hugo barked. “What do you want with me?”
“You mean your friend never mentioned us?” A short woman asked, stepping up to him and patting his head in mock sympathy. “You poor sheep, travelling with a wolf.”
He recoiled at her touch, nose scrunching up and eyes screwing shut. Her hot breath tickled the strands of hair on his neck.
“We are the separatists of Saporia. I’m the leader, Andrew.” The man bowed. “I hope you don’t mind that we… borrowed you for the evening?”
Ah, Saporia. Something about rebels against Corona, right? Varian had mentioned them in passing once. His face had screwed into pure disgust at seeing a crest painted on a wall in Bayagnor.
“Pricks,” He’d muttered, throwing a goo bomb to destroy the paint.
Likely this guy had beef with Donella, which meant it was up to Hugo to get himself out of here safely. He wondered what she did to earn this anger.
“Yea sure, love getting kidnapped by washed up Coronans,” Hugo snapped, bracing for the inevitable smack that followed. The other kidnappers laughed at his pain. He’d seen this scenario many times under Donella. Sometimes he was the victim, sometimes he was the instigator. But it always worked the same. Those who tried to play the hero, those who tried to resist, they always got the worst of the treatment.
Sure enough, Andrew snapped his fingers, and his cronies descended.
“Hope you don’t mind, we have to… prepare you for our guest of honor.”
-
How long did he sit there, taking hit after hit? They were never intense, rather a series of mildly painful blows that built up over time. Andrew refused to let his compatriots hurt him too much.
“He needs to stay alive and intact.” He said. “Save the broken bones for our dear old friend.”
That didn’t stop any of it from hurting. It didn’t stop the blood that trickled down his nose from a particularly nasty punch, nor the stinging of Andrew’s knife across his back. One eye was beginning to swell shut, and his ribs, while not broken, still ached from repetitive kicks. Individually, it was nothing Hugo couldn’t handle. But combined, the wounds were starting to wear him down.
He never let it show though. If his tormentors got wind of his breaking will, they’d mock him to no end. He had to keep his chin up and show he was better than them. That’s what Don taught him, anyway. Either play up the child act and gain their pity, or stay determined. But above all, never give away information.
He never played hero normally. But then again, he was usually the youngest, the favorite. Donella would let heads roll if her cronies let Hugo suffer when they could take the hit. It was her way of showing she cared, in a twisted way.
In this scenario, he had to be the hero. There would be no sympathy shown, there hadn’t been so far. No, he’d have to figure this out on his own. Yong and Nuru could come save him, sure, but he didn’t want them to risk it. Not that he cared about them or anything! It was just… they were likely to fail. Right?
Oh who was he kidding. Hugo didn’t want to get the others involved.
Responsiblity sucked. How does Varian do it?
BANG!
“ANDREW!”
Speak of the devil.
The door to the barn was blasted open, revealing Varian filled with a fury the likes of which the other had never seen. His eyes were wild, pupils like pin pricks. He rapidly scanned the area, softening only slightly when he saw Hugo was alive, only to reignite to even further anger when he saw Hugo’s current state. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, indicating he ran here.
Andrew spread his arms wide, greeting Varian like he was visiting for dinner, as opposed to holding his friend hostage. “You made it! I was worried you didn’t get my message.”
Varian held up a piece of paper. The words were impossible to make out from afar, but the implications sent shivers down the spine. “I got your note.” He growled, crumpling the paper in one hand and tossing it to the floor. “Now what do you want?” His voice was venom.
It sounded a lot like Donella, in Hugo’s opinion.
Andrew’s companions slinked ever closer, forming a semi circle behind the prisoner, while Andrew saunted up close to Varian.
To say Hugo was shocked was an understatement. He’d never seen raw fury like that from the normally awkward and intelligent alchemist. And apparently he knew this guy, which meant it was not about getting revenge on Donella.
What had Varian done to get himself an enemy like this?
“Oh come on, I can’t say hi to an old friend?”
“We are not friends. ”
“We were, at some point.” Andrew hummed, wrapping an arm around Varian. “Such a shame. And I think you know what I want.” The younger was as tense as a stone. He sent a death glare up at the man and didn’t answer the question.
He patted Varian’s cheek condescendingly. It was a facsimile of the constant, warm touches of home. Varian wanted to throw up.
Varian grit his teeth, shoving Andrew off and backing up towards his friends. A hand slipped into his pocket, preparing to throw down a bomb, but one of the goons surged forward. His broad muscles pinned Varian to the floor, cheek falling with a loud smack. The bomb rolled across the floor.
He flailed his feet, akin to a rabid animal, but it was no use. The man drug Varian to the wall where previously unnoticed shackles glinted in the moonlight. Each cuff was wrapped around Varian’s wrists. He pulled, able to get about a meter away from the wall, but that was as far as it let him.
"Oh come on," Andrew said, circling around Varian like a snake ready to swallow its prey. "You act like you’re all mature now, but I’ve seen the real you. Deep down, you're still the same naive, evil brat I met in prison."
Prison? When did Varian go to prison?
Varian's body shook with fury. "I am nothing like you." He growled.
"Are you sure about that? Didn't you do the same thing I did?" He fiddled with a knife, getting into Varian's personal space and dragging the weapon down Varian's cheek. "We both wanted something, so we kidnapped the one our target holds dear. And we both threatened to kill them if they didn't cooperate."
Hugo felt his insides turn to ice.
“I want,” Andrew whispered, leaning up to Varian’s face, hot breath ghosting across his cheeks. “For you to suffer.”
Varian met his friend’s gaze, and his body shook with barely hidden disgust. He’d let Andrew hurt the ones he loved once before, he’ll be damned if he lets it happen again. From the looks of it though, he was too late. Guilt and anger bubbled in his stomach like a volcano.
“Don’t worry, goggles,” Hugo said, keeping his voice steady. “I’ve had way worse. Trust me, it’s like kitten scratches.”
Varian’s eyes twinkled with unshed tears, yet he smiled, bunny teeth peeking out from between his lips. “You look like shit.” A faint blush spread across his cheeks. Even now, covered in bruises and blood, Hugo still managed to take Varian’s breath away.
If we get out of this, he vowed to himself, I’m going to tell him how I feel.
For a brief moment, he glanced down at his hands, and then back up at Hugo. The older teen followed with his eyes and allowed a small smile.
A bobby pin.
He put his hands behind his back, to prevent anyone from seeing.
Distract him, Varian mouthed.
How? Hugo hissed back.
Varian shrugged. The older alchemist rolled his eyes.
“Hey Andy, was it?” Hugo raised his head to stare Andrew down. He let a familiar facade slide into place. “Ya mind explaining why I’m here?”
Varian’s eyes widened, and he banged his head against the wall in frustration. Not like that! He thought.
“Like I get that he’s here to suffer or whatever,” He raised his eyebrows to imitate quotation marks. “But uh. I don’t get why you need me. Maybe I’m just not smart enough to understand your plan.”
It was a cheap shot, appealing to the ego, but it did the trick. Andrew seemed like the type to gloat and monologue, and sure enough, he slunk across the room towards Hugo, a pep in his step.
“See, it’s quite simple, really. Varian here… well. He hurt us a while back.” Varian rolled his eyes, but made no comment. With the attention off of him, he picked at the lock. The soft clinks of the metal were easily ignored.
“For a while, I thought that if I ever saw him again, I’d make good on my promise, and splatter his body on the ruins of Corona.”
“Yea good luck with that last bit.” Hugo rolled his eyes. “So what, I was just bait?”
“Oh no,” Andrew’s grin was near maniacal. “We figured death was too light of a punishment. No. If there’s one thing the kid never shut up about, it’s family. Oh, I love my dad, ooh I can’t wait until we find a way to free him, ooh those darn royals tore my family apart blah blah blah. So what better torture…”
He slashed Hugo’s cheek with the knife. Blood oozed out the cut as Hugo hissed in pain. From the corner of his eye he saw Varian flinch, arms shaking as he tried to pick the locks faster.
“...Than to force him to watch us kill the ones he loves most?”
The word love and Hugo were not commonly used together, let alone when talking about Varian. And yet… Hugo’s stomach fluttered at the idea. He was a loved one? It seemed almost impossible, but he could see the frantic energy Varian exuded as he tried to work as quietly and discreetly as possible.
No, he probably just means friend… right?
What if he doesn’t, a traitorous voice whispered. What if it’s exactly what you think it means?
He couldn’t help it. “Varian?” He asked, voice soft.
The younger alchemist gave him a sheepish smile, hiding his hands behind his back.
A mental war was raging in Varian’s head. Every fiber of his being screamed to save Hugo, go to him, protect him, but he couldn’t do that while cuffed. The only way to save Hugo was to keep the attention off himself and solely on Hugo. He couldn’t let Andrew see what he was doing.
“Aw, how sweet,” Andrew crooned. He leveled the sword and Hugo’s chin, redirecting his gaze. His soft expression morphed into a scowl of defiance.
With the sword still at his jaw, Andrew shoved his fist into Hugo’s stomach. The wind was knocked out of him, but Hugo kept his head steady. Any sudden movements could mean he bled out.
Varian let out a whine.
He had to focus.
After a few more seconds, the first cuff was open.
“Trying to play it cool, huh?” Andrew stood to his full height, dropping the sword. He loomed over Hugo and grit his teeth. The man was no longer in a playing mood. He wanted Varian to suffer, and by god the kid was gonna suffer sooner rather than later.
He raised his boot, and slammed the toe into Hugo’s face with a crunch . His glasses cracked on impact. His head hit the wooden beam with enough force to rattle his skull.
Andrew gripped his neck and squeezed. The air escaped Hugo in a rush and he moaned in protest.
Varian couldn’t suppress the scream that pushed its way out. The still intact chain rattled with his tugs.
“Andrew please,” His voice shook on the second word. “Let him go. It’s me you hate.”
“Did you not listen? You’re a smart kid, Varian. I’m going to kill him, and then I’m going to kill everyone else you love. ” His fingers tightened around Hugo’s neck, and he turned back to the older teen.
Hugo’s vision was darkening. “Varian,” He wheezed.
The second cuff snapped off.
And Varian lunged.
With an inhuman cry, he toppled Andrew, sending the man sprawling onto the floor. They rolled onto the floor until Varian was on top. Quick as a flash, he grabbed the discard sword and put it to Andrew’s neck.
Hugo gasped for breath, coughing as sweet air filled his lungs. He blinked the dark spots out of his eyes.
The other Saporians ran to help their leader, but faltered at the sword.
“Stay back!” Varian screamed. He pushed it deeper into Andrew’s neck, nearly drawing blood. “Release him!” He ordered. “Let Hugo go or I kill him right here, right now!”
“You wouldn’t,” Andrew snarled. Varian’s glare pierced his very soul, and the furious teen smacked him across the face.
Damn that felt good.
The last time Varian had been this angry… god, it might’ve been when he was 14. When he saw how happy Rapunzel was with her family, while his own suffered, while he withered away and turned to ash.
The Saporians were quick to obey, one of the taller men untying Hugo. He slid down the pole, grabbing at his throat with his now free hands. His wrists were stained red with ropeburn.
Slowly, he stood to his feet on shaky legs, leaning against the pillar for support.
Satisfied, Varian turned back to Andrew, who was smiling.
“What are you so happy about?” the alchemist hissed.
Andrew laughed. “You really haven’t changed a bit.”
Varian’s eyes narrowed. He slammed the hilt of the sword into Andrew’s head, and the man fell unconscious. He stood off of him.
The other separatists did nothing. They knew what he was capable of. Without any leverage, without their leader, it was a losing battle. Especially now that Hugo was free.
Pointing the sword at the Saporians, he said, “Next time, I won’t let you guys go alive.” He slammed it down into the floorboards with a huff.
“Now get out of my sight.”
-
The walk back to the campsite was quiet for the most part.
Hugo was leaning on Varian heavily, one arm wrapped around Varian’s neck and the other clutching at his waist. Everytime he staggered or tripped, Varian’s grip tightened ever so slightly.
His eyes were stone cold, but never directed at Hugo. If he saw Hugo looking, Varian’s eyes softened, glittering under the stars. It was nearing daybreak. The smoke from their campsite was now visible.
The tents came into view, and Hugo’s entire form sagged in relief. He was so ready to drop into bed and not wake up for 12 hours, but he needed medical care.
Nuru and Yong had long gone to bed, blissfully unaware of what had transpired. The next hour was quiet as well, Varian silently tending to the most serious ones. It was a tender moment, their own little world. A bubble that would be broken by speaking. So for now, Hugo was silent. He let Varian dab at the blood under his nose, let him remove his glasses for safekeeping, let his breath trail over Hugo’s cheeks as they both blushed.
At last, the worst was over.
“So…” Hugo finally said. “That was… something.”
Varian snorted. “Understatement.”
“We gonna talk about what just happened? Any of it?”
“Which parts do you want to talk about?”
Hugo hummed. “I mean I’d like to know what the fuck that guy was…” Varian turned green. “But not right now.”
Varian breathed a sigh of relief. “Then, what?”
Hugo bit his lip, preparing for the worst. “You love me…?”
“Oh…” Varian’s face lit up bright red. His eyes averted, looking anywhere but Hugo. “I-I mean… maybe not love… not yet at least. Not that I hate you! No, I…” He winced. “I… like you. A lot.” He moaned. “That was the worst confession ever please stab me now.”
Hugo laughed. He couldn’t help it. After everything that had happened today, from kidnapping to torture to this , it was so overwhelming and horrible and also so perfect.
“How about, instead of that…” He said. “I uh… say I feel the same? Not love yet, I don’t think but… if you wanna try and get to that point?”
The sun rose behind Varian as he smiled. “I’d like that a lot.”
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