It was so sudden, even Kylo seemed to freeze in confusion—one moment Supreme Leader was striding ahead of them along the long bridge leading from the expansive viewport back to the throne room, and the next he was simply…gone. Armitage blinked, and blinked again, and looked at Kylo, and Kylo looked back at him, and then the both of them slowly stepped forward, approached the edge, and looked over.
A sudden blast of ephemeral blue billowed up towards them, crackling with unnatural lightning. It blazed bright, then dissipated, and it was as if nothing had happened. They looked at one another again.
“Well,” Hux said. “I suppose…”
“Yeah,” Kylo said.
“That’s that then, isn’t it?”
“So it would seem.”
Armitage tapped his lower lip, sighed, and suggested, “Tea?”
Armie looked from Millicent to Ben and said slowly, “Neither.”
As the wind buffeted the old shack, rattling the windows and the thick oak door, Armie and Ben stared at each other, not making a sound. The wind roared and subsided at random, lashing the wood siding with rain so hard it felt like God wanted to wipe the house completely off the face of the Earth. With a blinding flash, thunder suddenly boomed so loud it left their ears ringing—Ben scooted a bit closer on the couch and put his hand on Armie’s knee.
In the wake of the lightning, the world went eerily quiet, and then there it was again: a soft rasp, not so much like a sneeze after all but more like a creaking groan, coming from directly behind them.
“My name is Steve Rogers. I’m thirty years old. I’m from Brooklyn. I’m a captain in the United States Army. I was declared missing in action after a battle in early 1945. I was found in a hidden HYDRA facility three years later.”
There are a great many things about Steve’s life that don’t add up. He dreams of being 5′4″ with a host of ailments, but he can run for miles without breaking a sweat and he hits his head on the too-low ceiling in SHIELD’s underground headquarters multiple times a day. They tell him he was found in a HYDRA base along the Mediterranean, but he wakes up in the middle of the night, shivering and claustrophobic, visions of neverending ice crowding around his head. He hears whispers that he’s a war hero, but all he can find are pictures of him wearing…tights during a USO show. The crew he works with tells him he was imprisoned alone, but he distinctly remembers a woman’s voice promising him a dance.
There are a great many things that don’t add up, but Steve knows that SHIELD is the best place to start looking for answers (even if they’re probably the ones hiding them in the first place). When he’s assigned a mission with Director Carter–a possible lead on the Winter Soldier merits the very best, of course–he’s thrilled. He’s heard impressive, heart-stopping tales of her exploits during the war, and he is convinced they’ll work well together. Plus, if anyone can shed some light on his mysterious circumstances, it will be the woman who holds all the secrets. He just has to be clever.
Working together does not go according to plan. Carter is brusque one minute and hesitant the next, and they spend the whole mission just out of sync, constantly missing cues and stepping on each others’ toes.
It’s an utter disaster, up until the moment they have to hide in plain sight. Carter drags Steve to a shadowed hallway and plants her lips against his. It’s in the SHIELD handbook that public displays of affection make people uncomfortable, thereby making them a useful tool for all agents. But to Steve, her lips are like a livewire, lighting every nerve ablaze. And for a split second, he knows with absolute certainty that he’s felt her kiss before.
– “Alright who pressed the self destruct button? ”
– “I can soundly assure you he’s 90% dead.”
– “Does anyone have a spare blowtorch.”
– “If we’re about to die right now I want you the know…”
– “So I may have used poison instead of sugar.”
– “What if I kissed you right now?”
– “You know what I changed my mind I’m not having kids.”
– “I probably should have though about the consequences of selling my soul first.”
– “There’s a perfectly good reason for all of these kittens.”
– “Don’t act like you’ve never seen a dead person talking before.”
– “Put your hands somewhere useful.”
– “So I’m either in hell or the heaters been left on for too long.”
– “I told you this would be a bad idea.”
“There’s a perfectly good reason for all of these kittens,” Ron blurted out the instant Harry walked into their room.
Harry stopped, shaking his head, then resorting to taking off his glasses and cleaning them with his sweater. Neither of those worked to dispel the writhing masses of fur that covered his bed.
“We need to distract Umbridge. She’s camped out in front of the Room of Requirement. I figure we set all these loose in the hallway and she’ll go bonkers.”
“That’s either completely nuts, or absolutely brilliant,” Harry said.
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Characters: Montgomery “Scotty” Scott, James T. Kirk Additional Tags: lovecraft, Horror, scotty is a miracle worker, but magic has its price, non sexy tentacles Summary:
Mr. Scott always managed to save them, to work some miracle to give Kirk the time he needed. How he did it, Kirk never asked, until it was too late.
Assuming that we’re going to get an announcement about the Obi-Wan Kenobi movie soon, I realized that not only will that likely mean an appearance of kidlet Luke at some point to make me cry, but that ALSO THIS WILL PROBABLY BE WHERE OBI-WAN FINDS OUT THAT VADER IS STILL ALIVE. This is probably going to be where Obi-Wan sees the suit for the first time and we’re all going to have to sit our asses down in that theater and be crying wrecks in fucking public because Ewan McGregor’s face as Obi-Wan Kenobi is going to see what has really become of Anakin Skywalker, after he thought he was dead, and I’m going to have to watch that with my own two eyes and try not to full on sob in my seat.
Oh god…
Why?
WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?
You can think that stuff but you don’t say it!
WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??
And what if Obi-Wan has hallucinations or nightmares?
Or even worse, he’s doing whatever it is he’s doing and he hears a familiar…
“That’s not how you fix a vaporator, Master.”
Or the faintest, distant echo of “Did you train the boy, Obi-Wan?”
Or…. Just to REALLY make us all bawl our eyes out…
“I have always loved you, my Obi-Wan.”
And no matter how many times he looks up, they’re always gone.
And Obi-Wan is always alone.
There. My suffering is complete.
I KNOW RIGHT I AM STILL OFFENDED BY THIS POST MINUTES LATER.
PS: YOUR ADDITION WAS ALSO UNCALLED FOR.
There’ve been rumors (but nothing confirmed yet, as far as I know) that Hayden Christensen might return in VIII or IX.
WHAT IF HE ALSO RETURNED FOR THE OBI-WAN MOVIE?
Flashbacks to the Clone Wars with Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen! Or even just:
IMAGINE EWAN AND HAYDEN ACTING THAT OUT ON TATOOINE. Imagine seeing a shot of Hayden!Anakin walking over a sand dune in the blazing sun, only for Obi-Wan to blink away the mirage and there’s nothing there.
I’M NOT GONNA MAKE IT.
Lets just imagine that poor Hayden finally gets a chance TO act, okay? That poor boy deserved better. HE. DESERVED. BETTER.
Also, you deserve this pain…
The stars of the Tatooine night sky are breath taking. With no light pollution to hide them and little to no cloud cover to speak of the arms of the galaxy spiral overhead, a diamond studded river in an indigo blue sky. Obi-Wan watches the fire and then sparks carried up into the night, born aloft by a surprisingly chilly wind. He pulls his robe more tightly around his shoulders and tries to ignore the cold.
“You should be inside,” a voice says, painfully familiar. “The desert can kill with cold just as easily as with heat, Master.”
Obi-Wan closes his eyes and does not look up. If he looks up the owner of the voice will vanish, some how making his exile all the more solitary. “That is why I built this fire. But I do thank you for your concern. I regret that I have nothing to offer you by way of refreshment.”
The voice says nothing and Obi-Wan will not look, cannot look. If I look he’ll vanish and… and… I must not look.
“It’s all right. I’m not hungry,” the voice says, weary and exhausted. “Why are you out here? Aren’t you worried about the Tuskens? Lightsaber or no, if they get the drop on you, you’re as good as dead.”
Obi-Wan exhales and looks up at a distant homestead. He was here because he was concerned about the recent activities of Jabba’s men. They had been causing problems with the homesteaders and he could risk Luke getting caught in the crossfire.
“I’m looking after someone,” Obi-Wan answered turning his head just slightly, not enough to see but enough to indicate… what? That he was listening to his own hallucination, his own mental persecution?
“Are they worth it?” the other person asks and Obi-Wan can almost imagine him stretching backwards on warm sands, his long leg crossed at the ankles and his weight resting his elbows as he leans back and looks up at the sky. Loose dark honey curls would fall back from his face and for a moment, he would be at peace as if the stars above sang a lullabye only he could hear.
“Is he worth it, Obi-Wan?” the voice asks again, interrupting Obi-Wan’s imaginings. “Is that boy worth all of this?”
“Luke?” Obi-Wan confirms even when his heart says another’s name.
Anakin.
“Is that boy worth it?” the memory of his heart’s brother asks. “The heat, the danger, the isolation and the terrible food? To say nothing of the sand.”
“You never did care for it, did you?” Obi-Wan asks softly, not moving and barely breathing, afraid that any harsh movement will scare off the spectre. “Why are you here?”
“Is that really what you want to ask me, Obi-Wan?” comes the soft reply, in a voice higher and softer than that nightmare he glimpsed on the holofeed back in Mos Eisely. That creature of pain, rage and fury trapped under volcanic glass.
I did that to you.
I am so sorry, Anakin.
“No, I suppose that’s not what I want to ask you,” Obi-Wan sighs. “But to answer your question, yes. He is worth it.”
“Who? Luke?” the memory’s voice is closer, there are sounds of a body moving through space, of leather boots and glove creaking and fabric rustling. “Why? Who is he? Why are you out here when you could be in the galaxy, helping people? Isn’t that why you wanted to become a Jedi? Why we both wanted to become Jedi?”
Obi-Wan closes his eyes. He’s so close, Obi-Wan could almost reach out and touch him, could almost lay one thin hand on a strong natural arm and squeeze a hand that should have been whole and healthy. Not a durasteel prosthetic covered in black synthleather.
Taking a breath, Obi-Wan answers as he opens in eyes. “He is important because he is your son, Anakin.”
And for a moment, Obi-Wan sees him, or thinks he sees him, beautiful and sorrowful under the silver light of the galaxy overhead, his dark curls dancing on the cold breeze. His eyes are so blue it almost erases Obi-Wan’s memories of Mustafar and their last words.
A log collapses in the fire and throws up a storm of sparks and smoke and then he’s gone.
Obi-Wan turns back to the distant homestead and his exile and murmurs to himself, “You were worth all of it. Even now.”
[muffled crying in the distance gets louder]
THIS IS NOW A THING THAT MAY BE POSSIBLE IN AN ACTUAL MOVIE THAT WILL BE ON AN ACTUAL SCREEN THAT I CAN ACTUALLY WATCH.
“Why? Who is he? Why are you out here when you could be in the galaxy, helping people? Isn’t that why you wanted to become a Jedi? Why we both wanted to become Jedi?”
I MAYBE DESERVE SOME THINGS, BUT I DIDN’T DESERVE THAT. Do you just. Ever cry about Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life? That his life ended on Mustafar, that he’s barely surviving, not actually living anymore? That everything he wanted to be–a Jedi who helped people, a Master who trained a beloved student, a best friend and brother to the one he loved–is beyond him now because the only thing left for him is to watch over the last bit of Anakin he had, in the form of that child? And he doesn’t even raise Luke himself, barely sees him from a distance, but still. This is all he has of Anakin anymore.
i saw this picture of adam driver and a million deep kylux AUs flashed before my eyes but then i somehow settled on ‘hux is lounging in his backyard and some hot, muscular suspender-clad man pulls his rowboat up to hux’s dock and asks to use a phone’ au. its like the pizza man porn fantasy but more aesthetic.
The weeks Hux got to himself at the family cabin every
summer were the best weeks of Hux’s year.
He’d arrive after the 4th of July, avoiding all the crazy American
shenanigans, and stay through the first week of August. Usually he brought a suitcase of books that
he’d picked up at secondhand stores throughout the year, digging them out from
where he’d hidden them in the box under his bed, science fiction and YA, things
his father would scorn him for reading if he’d seen them. He always dropped them off at a library on
his way home.
Today he was revisiting an old friend, one of the few that
he’d kept over the years. His copy of Dune was held together with packing tape,
the corners rounded and many of the pages dog-eared. The story still swept him away even though he
knew some parts by heart, so it took a while before the noise registered. It wasn’t until a particularly loud clunk,
accompanied by a blistering series of swear words, rang out across the lake
that he realized someone had a boat out there.
There were four other cabins in this quiet corner of nowhere and he’d seen people at three
of them over the years, usually never for more than a week at a time. The Mickels owned the closest one. Their children
were grown and scattered and they’d been talking about selling their place for
the last few years but hadn’t quite brought themselves to do so. He didn’t know who the other three belonged
to. Two of them got rented out
occasionally, but the lake was so secluded, so far from everything, that it
wasn’t a popular destination. The last
one had been vacant for Hux’s entire life, at least during the summer,
dilapated and worn.
Hux could
see
a car parked out in front of this cabin now, a battered old Volvo, and the boathouse door was open. There’d been a boat in there? And it was seaworthy? Well, not all that watertight, it seemed,
because as he watched the man used a pail to bail it out before taking up the
oars again. He was headed in Hux’s
direction. Dark hair clung to his forehead from his
exertions and Hux couldn’t help but appreciate the flexing of the muscles in
his arms and back as he rowed. Finally
he made it to the other side, bumping up against the dock not too far from
where Hux sat.
“Hey there!” Instead
of tying up, the guy jumped out, dragging the boat up onto the shore. Probably a good idea, with how it was
leaking. “I’m staying at the cabin
across the lake, but the key isn’t where my dad told me it’d be. I can’t get any service on my phone. Do you have one I could borrow?”
Rich golden eyes held his, and a grin tugged at one corner
of his mouth. Realizing he was staring,
Hux shook his head.
“Of course, yes. Come
on up.” Folding the corner of his page
over, he set the book down.
“Dune! Sweet! That’s one of my favorites.”
“Mine too.”
“There’s a path, you know, that goes around the lake,” Hux
offered as they climbed the hill up to his cabin..
“There is? Shit.”
“I’ll show it to you after you make your call.”
“That’d be great. I
don’t know if that boat will make it back across.”
“So how long will you be staying?” he asked as he pointed
out the phone. “If you don’t have a
landline over there you’ll be cut off the entire time.
“A few weeks. Maybe a
month. S’okay, wasn’t really planning on
making many calls.”
While his new neighbor punched in the numbers, Hux leaned
back against the doorframe, taking in every glorious inch of the man. He wasn’t unaware of Hux’s scrutiny, but he
didn’t seem to mind.
“Hey, Uncle Lando.
Yeah, I got here okay but there isn’t any coffee can on the porch … No,
not in the boathouse either. … The rowboat leaks too. … Okay, I’ll check there. If it’s not, though, I’m breaking a window. There’s some wood I can use in the boathouse
to cover it up. … No, the guy across the lake has a phone. … Okay. Thanks.”
As he talked he caught Hux still checking him out and
winked.
“About that path?”
They chatted on the way, simple things, but it wasn’t the words
that mattered. It was the sly grins, the
sidelong glances, and the occasional rich burst of laughter that stayed with
him. Halfway around the lake, Hux made a
decision. This summer he’d do something
besides read.
Kylo tilts his head, regarding Hux curiously. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. I’ve been ignoring it since you’ve started because I don’t believe in rewarding childish tricks, but it’s starting to get in the way of work. You need to stop it.” He goes back to his holopad.
He can still feel Kylo’s eyes on him. “Hux. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, really, you don’t? I’ll believe that when the fourth moon goes clockwise.”
“Hux, I’m serious.” There’s a hand on Hux’s knee now and Hux looks up, annoyed. “I’m not doing anything. I mean, I don’t think.”
Hux grits his teeth in irritation. “Oh, really? So this ghostly blue apparition claiming to be your grandfather has been following me around for two weeks jabbering my ear off about old senators and this isn’t you?”
Kylo’s mouth has fallen open. “My…wait, what?”
Hux feels something cold within him. “Wait, this- you genuinely- aren’t doing this?”
“Did you say you’re seeing my- my grandfather?”
“I told you,” Anakin Skywalker’s ghost says, leaning over Hux’s shoulder like they’re good friends. “I’ve been telling you. He’s got too much of me in him, he won’t listen.”
Natasha didn’t look up from the paper as Tony staggered into the kitchen, just continued sipping at her tea, the mug not quite covering up her smirk.
“In front of the coffee maker? Really?”
Tony’s voice cracked on the last word. “C’mon, give a guy a break. This is not what I want to see first thing in the morning.”
“It’s 2pm, Tony.” Bucky’s chuckle followed Steve’s words and Natasha could see Tony’s reflection in the toaster throw up its hands.
“Even worse. Haven’t you two gotten it out of your system yet?”
“C’mon, Tony. You should know.”
Nat shook her head. He’d asked for this one. Her lips moved in synch with Steve’s next sentence.
thew1ghtknight 