#and she's like hm. well. I Want To Be Culturally Sensitive.....

[crimeronan]

Would Camila pick up on *something* going on between Amity and Luz in your AU? Where she’d end up like hmm maybe Hunter and Luz aren’t as together as I thought 🤔

i can't decide if it's funnier if camila's gaydar is really good or really bad. both "🤨🤨🤨" and "i'm glad luz has such good friends :)" are appealing in different ways.

either way, i think the funniest reaction to her cottoning on to there being Something between luz and amity would be less "hm, maybe luz and hunter AREN'T together" and more "hm. maybe..... monogamy..... doesn't exist here."

[skywalkoverme]

"𝐂𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧" 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 9

a/n: I'm bad at summaries sorry lol

Series Masterlist

𐙚 Anakin Skywalker x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+ MDNI

Summary: Anakin confesses.

Warnings/contains: dom! male, dom! fem, Enemies to lovers, sexual situations, some lore etc, anakin likes you! (finally), some angst, more to come as the series goes on etc, proof read-- but english is not my first language!

Word Count: 1.5k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

When the two returned to the Palace, you were by the large fountain with your younger sister on your lap. The young girl mocked your hand as it flowed through the water, creating large ripples. She swam her hands around in the basin of the fountain, giggling as the fishes swam to her. The Jedi stood in the massive doorway that led outside, watching as you moved hair from your face. “Hm…It’s time for bed.” The girl frowned at the Jedi and hugged you around your neck. “Run along.” She ran past the two men and into the palace.

You stood from the ledge of the fountain, your hands clasped as you turned to face the Jedi. This all felt like Déjà vu to the two while you stood there in the moonlight; it’s cool light embraced your navy hair and cerulean skin. The sound of waves on the shore and hollow wind in their ears. “I want to thank you for your help. In the city’s main hospital, your clones are being tended to. I must say, we lost a great many lives, but It was not in vain. For that, I thank you.” You bowed to the two men.

“You’re very welcome, your highness.” Anakin remained quiet and bowed with his master. “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Down in the Ruins, I lost my way, but we found a few things. Paintings.”

“What did you find?” You asked, your gaze switched between the two men. Anakin couldn’t bring himself to talk, to support Obi-wan or even look you in the eyes. “Please, tell me.” Anakin knew you were speaking to him, but he couldn’t open his mouth.

“A few paintings of a woman that looks just like you. That and Jedi from this planet.”

“That’s impossible. We’ve never had child force sensitive enough to become one.” Obi-wan brought his hologram chip to you, a photo of the painting itself. “Oh my…”

Obi-wan thought it over for a second before deciding not to interrogate you. After all, this planet is large, there’s no doubt that something like a temple could be forgotten so easily. Perhaps the painting really was of your ancestor. Regardless, the battle is over, and they would need to return to Coruscant soon. “Perhaps consider excavating the site. There was a lot of good artifacts there.”

“In our culture, it’s best to leave things be. Erden will take what she wants and leave out all the rest.”

“Of course, we understand.”

“You both, as well as your clones, are welcome to stay for as long as you like.” Anakin couldn’t focus. Words sound beautiful when they came from your lips; he floats on every vowel in a pool of your voice. “…your rooms are still made up if you’d like to stay.” Anakin nodded.

“I suppose we will stay until all the clones are healed.” Your hands clasped and you smiled, “Good night, your highness.”

“Good night, Jedi.” Obi-wan left and returned to his chambers. Anakin lingered by the doors, his eyes on your hair as it flowed in the wind. The strands cusped around your curves and reached down to your knees. You didn’t mind as he watched you, “Is there something you need?”

“…I want to stay.” You nodded and glanced at the room’s exit. “No, I mean, I want to know what’s happening here. I want to stay.”

“There is nothing bad happening on Erden. Not anymore.”

He winced as you held back, “I saw it with my own eyes! There are Jedi from this planet. Call it Erden, I don’t care but I want to know!”

“There is nothing here for you any longer, Jedi.” His heart ached in his chest when he heard that.

“Nothing?” You wore a sad smile. “Nothing?” He held the door with his hand. All of this over the course of these few days meant nothing? Of course, he was an asshole to you as you were to him, but you mean to tell him that all of it meant nothing? “You. You’re here.”

“Of course, I am. I am the Queen.”

“Right, the Queen of Erden.”

“All I’ve done, it has been for my people, my planet.”

“I’ve heard you say that plenty of times.” He stepped to you. “I cannot rest until I get answers.”

“Then the night will be long.” You said as you walked past him and into the hall. “I cannot permit you to stay, jedi. My people aren’t the kindest to Jedi.”

“That explains your…daughter?”

“My sister and she simply dislikes men.”

“That’s fair.” He stopped you in the hall by your wrist. “Can we actually talk? A real conversation, not this ghostly whisper.” You looked at the doors that led to your quarters. “You’re acting differently…Speak to me, Y/n.” He refused to let go of your wrist.

“Everything you want to know, you can find in the library.”

“You’re not in the library. You’re right here.” He said and softened his grip on your wrist. “I won’t force you but If it means anything, I’m begging.” You stood against him in the hallway and placed your right hand over his that grabbed your left wrist. His palm began to sweat as your calm gaze fell on his. The open palace allowed a cool amount of airflow throughout the halls. The only light belonged to the moon as you guided him down the hall. His feet moved on their own, his gaze on the back of your head and your white dress.

“If I tell you what I can, will you go home?”

Anakin sat with you on the sofa. Your body sunk into the cushions with him, his hand between yours. “To Coruscant?” He looked at your hands and back at you. “…I don’t know if I can.” He watched your expression, to this moment, unreadable. You leaned forward onto him and hugged around his neck.

Your body heat mixed with his. He could no longer tell who was burning up, you or him. His nose buried in your silky hair and against your neck; the scent is delightful, powdery and sweet like the center bud of a peony. His right arm wrapped around your waist and brought you closer to him. The shape of your body fit like a puzzle in his hands, he refused to let go. “You kept your promises from the day we first met.”

“Yeah? What did I say?”

“I’ll fight your battles, organize your military.” You said, mocking his deeper voice. The man chuckled.

“I did make that promise. And you gave me my lightsaber.”

“You took it back but sure.”

“I didn’t think you minded.” You were relaxed on his body and allowed him to hold your weight. “Besides, I needed it.”

“I can feel it.” You said as his solid hilt pressed on you. He swift took if off his belt and placed it on the table. “Aren’t you scared of accidentally turning it on and…hurting yourself?”

“I used to do that a lot. I’d burn the tips of my fingers, a hole in my clothes, that sort of thing.” You smiled as you imagined him as a teen, fumbling with his lightsaber. All he could focus on was that you didn’t pull away from this hug. As the minutes went by, you stayed in his arms, tucked softly against him.

His fingers found yours; fingertips ran down your palm, slow like a thick sweetener. Before enveloping your fist in his clutch, the man kissed your purple markings. “I think we will be good friends.”

Anakin shook his head and pulled slightly from you, “Don’t say that. Don’t say there’s nothing for me here either.”

“One day and one day soon, you must leave.”

His eyes pricked with tears, “I don’t want to!”

You stared at his hand that clutched yours and brought you close against him. “I’ll remember you, Anakin Skywalker, fondly, that is.” He twists a ring on your fingers and brought it up to the first knuckle. Anakin twirled the sides of the ring around your soft skin. “I know what you’re thinking. I want you to leave.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I want you to go back to Coruscant. Find a wife and continue your journey.” He shook his head.

“I’m not leaving you.” His eyes traveled the valley of your face, each delicate feature of your body down to the ring on your toe, “Read my mind right now and tell me what I feel.” His chest shook as he breathed, each exhale more nervous than the last. Your eyes shut and you synced your breath with his; you rested in his excitement and fear. Each heartbeat rang loudly in your ears. Anakin’s eyes closed when your kiss met his lips. His head sunk back onto the sofa armrest and your bodies became one. He felt himself sink into your skin, your heart in his chest, your tongue lapped over his. He grew drunk off the sweet taste and lay within you.

a/n: Next chapter is just a full sex scene lol. You all deserve it! <3

Taglist from Series Masterlist: Interact with Series Masterlist to be added <3

@luxylya @kaggelagge @larapipa @woow-ies @90wasthebesttimeever @vvsdiamond28 @thescxrpio @thequenue @stanyuqisworld @ruggerosbaeeee @santinstar @cherrylvrsworld @biancaa03 @blniight @lunacurlclaw @citrinebeez @joanagaray08 @soffthours @devlovesbooks @angie2274 @suckitandsee4 @cerise151cherie @adorable-introvert @nitesnchocolate @pisces-triple @starr60 @silkandcologne @shebreathedherlast @malinadbbdh @literalbabydoll @boydepartment @xhino3 @bbbbbbxxghj @clairethecloowny @mattandchrissgirl @brokenbellz @brokenbellz @txriss @rebelatbay @multifandom456 @fawninthesnow @lortheswiftie @col1eenlyn @blazingmiraclecipher @heyy-lei @bettysgardenswift @soldierheart @isa942572 @tenseoyong @obsessed-420 @f1girliesstuff

sorry if i missed you!

[yutafrita]

[2:32pm]

Under the Blue Flames BONUS

Req by @enhazen -mc lists the pros and cons of being with a vampire. Can it be humorous? It’s not much but I hope you like it!

WC: >900

WARNINGS- mentions of blood, biting, occult imagery, mentions of death

"What's it like?" Chaein had plopped onto your dorm bed, legs dangling off the edge.

"What? Being a Resident's Assistant?" you were mindlessly eating some chips your brother had left in the cupboard of your dorm studio after his brief visit the week prior.

"No," she groaned, rubbing her temples, "I... I mean being with a vampire. You're human- partly. That has to be tough."

"Hmm," you leaned against your wall, thinking over her question. Chaein was an elf, and besides the animosity between vampires and elves stemming from political reasons, they were also just naturally opposed. Elves were one with nature whereas vampires, for all intents and purposes, worked against what should be natural. "I mean, what do you want to know?"

"It's hard, right?"

"It can be. If Yuta sees blood his eyes used to almost immediately go red with hunger. He usually is pretty good with having donated blood so I've never worried about him hurting me or anyone. I trust him.”

"But not every vampire is like that."

"Chaein?" you said the elf's name, crumbling the chips bag and tossing it into the trash before you collapsed on the bed next to her. "This is about that person you're dating that you won't tell me about, right?"

She placed her hands to her face to hide the embarrassment, but her pointed ears turning red confirmed your assessment.

"It was hard, at first. I was always worried about him hearing my heart racing whenever we were near each other. I was also worried about other mythics being able to tell that they could smell me on him."

"Your smell is pretty strong- not in a bad way!" she quickly added. You chuckled before going quiet, still thinking.

"I love Yuta not because of or in spite of him being a vampire. It's just... a part of who he is. I wouldn't want to change anything about him. It's also convenient to have someone with hearing as great as his," you added the last bit as you elbowed the elf, hoping to help lighten the mood.

"He's also just so sensitive and so... curious? He didn't grow up with human culture, so he's just so excited by things I find mundane. How's is your vampire?"

"They aren't my vampire... but... yeah. Their parents didn't let them even watch TV."

You sucked your teeth, feeling that ache. Yuta for a few years when he was younger was able to watch human television and even got to play video games with Johnny and Ten.

"If you like them, and you feel safe with each other, that should be all that matters. Do you feel safe?" Yuta knew for a fact you could take care of yourself, this was never a question. But when you were wrapped in his arms, despite him naturally being cold (which was certainly a pro in the vampires favor in the summer heat), you felt safe and warm at heart.

"Do you?"

"I do. I know Yuta would never hurt me, and we'll always have each others back."

Chaein groaned, "you guys are so cheesy, I can't stand it!"

"Cheesy, yes," you admitted, "but you're asking me for a reason!"

"True... they'll outlive me, though."

"Maybe they will, or maybe they won't. Or you could be a cool elf-vampire hybrid and live forever together."

"I think that sounds like a nightmare," she laughed,"Thanks."

Later that night, you were alone with your boyfriend, detailing the conversation you had with Chaein.

"Do you know the vampire she's talking to?" you asked. You two were playing scrabble and you were trying to figure out the next word to layout on the board.

"I haven't figured it out yet... but... do you have any other pros?" this question made you pause and look up, seeing the cheeky grin the vampire now wore.

"Seriously, Yuta?" you teased, and he nodded eagerly. "Well... since you never sleep, you can always help out with an extra chore or two."

"Hm, that is a good one. Give me a con."

"You want a con?"

"I would like an unbiased list!" he was grinning ear to ear now, and you both had completely abandoned the board game at this point.

"Well, I guess it does take me an extra few minutes to cover up my bite marks when someone," you pinched his cheek, "takes a bite out of me."

"Oh you like it," his cheeks were tinted blue, a vampires blush.

"Yeah yeah. But wanna know the best pro?" at your question he raised an eyebrow, and you moved to your bookcase to take out the book you two always would crack jokes about. "I get to pretend I'm actually Bella Swan."

"You said I was Charlie, though," he pouted, "you can't be Bella. That would be weird."

"You're missing the joke," you were giggling, placing the book back down.

"I take being Charlie Swan, very seriously- this is no joke!" and at this response, you burst out laughing.

Permatag! @nini0620

[margridarnauds]

Hi,

So I finished the novel Queen's Gambit by Elizabeth Freemantle and am now extremely angry need to decompress and filter out her garbage I'm shocked that Penguin House published this book and that it is getting made into a movie. To portray young Princess Elizabeth as willingly seeking Seymour out and seducing him is vile. Parr's bitchy handmaid Dot finds them in bed together. What on Earth? No evidence for that. Then Catherine Parr gets angry, blames Elizabeth and they don't reconcile after she leaves. Heartbreaking. Plus, the portrayal of Catherine Parr is horrid there is no evidence she or her stepdaughter Meg were raped during the Pilgrimage of Grace, a devout woman like Catherine wouldn't be contemplating killing either of her husbands, or rejoicing in the prospect of being damned to hell as she puts it after Henry VIII dies. (Maybe with Henry she would think about it but not actually go through with it). I got the impression that this author had an anti-Christian as well as anti-Elizabeth attitude. Tried Sisters of Treason another book of hers but it was also bad. I want to send her an angry letter now calling out her disgusting portrayal of young Elizabeth. Did you send in a review or a note to the author after you read it?

Don't forget Dot's final monologue about Why Elizabeth Is Such A Bitch -- It's Almost Understandable That She's Such a Bitch-Slut.

It's common with historical fiction, really, to not understand the way that religion historically worked. It's very easy to put our feelings on religion, whatever they might be, onto historical figures in an attempt to make them More Like Us, but the simple reality is that they were living in a totally different cultural context. Characters are either religious fanatics so extreme that they make Frollo think "Hm, maybe they're overdoing it a tiny bit", they're Secretly Atheists, or religion just doesn't cross their mind ever (unless, in Tudor media, it's to establish them as a Cool Modern Protestant.)

As for what I did...honestly, put the book aside and thought about every single decision in my life that had led to me both reading and finishing it. As you can see by the fact that I still remember it in vivid detail, it holds a special place in my Hall of Shame. (And it isn't even batshit insane enough to be FUNNY, unfortunately.)

But, my piece of totally unsolicited advice that you are perfectly free to discard at your earliest convenience? ...when you do medieval Irish stuff. Or medieval Celtic stuff in general. You will NEVER see your field faithfully or even sensitively portrayed on page. Every single depiction you get will be based on old stereotypes, colonialist tropes, and outdated information. I've read things about my faves, in particular, that would make most people's hair stand up on end. Things that are truly, deeply vile, that are on par with the depiction of Elizabeth here, or even worse. And it is easy to be angry, it's understandable to be angry, and God knows that my friends have heard me ranting in the DMs. And when I was younger, I was, regularly. And then I got exhausted, because anger is exhausting, especially when it's you and your anger versus a tidal wave of misinformation. I didn't stop getting angry, no. But I started to use it as a tool, not as an explosive -- I let it fuel me, I used it for my scholarship, putting all these different pieces of pop culture about my field in conversation with one another and noting common trends, as well as making comparisons to trends in other areas to figure out what, in our contemporary cultural landscape, is causing us, as a general group, at this point in time, to portray these things in a certain way, as well as how we have portrayed them over time. I have built my career, at least in part, on defending the undefendable, on studying the ink blotches of historiography to see where the historical or literary records meet the popular image, specifically looking at figures who are frequently portrayed as villainous and monstrous. I don't deal in happy endings, I can't when I step in after their final death scenes, after the point where even the possibility of their deaths meaning *something* is gone, because they don't even get the satisfaction of being well remembered. I never expect to see my faves well portrayed -- sometimes, I'm surprised, but it is truly, deeply, RARE.

You send a note to an author, no matter how well-intentioned, and it's easy to write off. The author submitted that work for publication, it's done. They're still getting royalties off of them, whatever that means in the current hellacious publishing landscape, in this case, she even has a movie. They might care, but honestly? They probably won't. They can dismiss you as a crazed, unhinged fan, regardless of how much thought and effort you've put into the critique. You've wasted all that high quality, undiluted anger for something that won't have any tangible effect. My advice, instead? Feel your anger, let the hate flow through you, especially when it reflects biases like sexism, racism, and homophobia, sharpen it, and then use it -- it doesn't have to be in conference presentations or journal articles or any of the trappings of academia, but use it.

Write reviews, absolutely, put it into conversations with other pieces of Tudor and Elizabethan fiction, especially about young Elizabeth (Hell, compare it to, say, Elizabeth R, Becoming Elizabeth, Young Bess, or Lady Bess (Toho 2014/2018), just for examples of the young Elizabeth's life off the top of my head that dramatize the life of Elizabeth), see what other people have said, in journal articles, sure, but also in blog articles or GoodReads reviews online, without necessarily even talking to them, but just to get a survey of what they think and why they think it, and see what you can do. Why do we want to portray Elizabeth this way? Is it a desire to "knock her off her throne?" Portray her as a nymphomaniac bitch slut to contrast with the "Gloriana" image? Is it that we're uncomfortable with the topic of CSA? Or we don't like to think of it as something that historically occurred? (Especially when you compare it to the ongoing bimboification of Katherine Howard, even in allegedly sympathetic biographies.) Is it that we still don't want to believe that it could have happened? That we're willing to give more sympathy to a man than to a child? Some combination of all of them? And are we seeing progressively more nuanced portrayals, or are we seeing more of the same across the board? (I feel like Seymour, at least, has gone from being a romantic hero in Young Bess to being portrayed as genuinely manipulative, even if the execution is still lacking.) On the reverse side, are people more willing to defend, say, Elizabeth I and Catherine Howard than other historical women, specifically because of what they represent and because of their high profile status? Is there a double-edged sword here? Let your anger fuel you.

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Names and Faces

Context:  Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Word Count: 6,477

---------------

It goes like this:

Nobody wants to separate Anakin from the children in his care until they know more about why he’s here. The gamble paid off, to some degree, and he thanks the Force that it did.

He hasn’t felt that cold in years.

He knows the logic of why the Mandalorians he’s fallen in with aren’t doing anything yet. He’s an obvious Jedi, and they don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing. Hedging on the Mando’a and the cultural obligation to childcare hadn’t been anything close to sure, but it was... enough. He got lucky that these Mandalorians leaned on those obligations, at least to the point of keeping them all in the same room. He can sense that much, even before he opens his eyes, and he has to be grateful.

The looming hypothermia had probably nudged things in his favor.

Anakin opens his eyes to a guest room of a cell, something well-furnished and cozy, but definitely not meant to be something he can escape from. His saber is gone, and there are Force-nullifying cuffs on his wrists, and he’s pretty sure they’ve taken his--yep, vibroblade’s gone.

Fuck.

His body doesn’t want to move, and he’s still shivering a bit, but he’s mostly back to normal. When he sits up, he notices that there is, in fact, only one Force-nullifying cuff. They detached his arm.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep and tells himself it was probably medically necessary. Large pieces of metal aren’t great for maintaining homeostasis. He’ll get it back.

Probably.

“Ah!”

The voice makes him jolt, and his eyes fly open.

Two cribs, one much bigger than the other. Both are occupied. The larger one has bars, and through it...

“Snips,” he breathes, lurching to his feet and then crashing to his knees, about as graceful as a newborn eopie.

“Bah!”

“Just--just one second,” Anakin grits out, grimacing as he tries to pull himself to standing again. The fact that he’s down an arm doesn’t impact him much, but the shakiness of his legs is... a problem.

“Owwww,” Ahsoka coos with an exaggerated grimace, reacting to his pain with the innocent sympathy of a toddler. She looks, what, two? Maybe? He’s not sure if there’s anything particular about how Togruta babies age. She’s too young for words, clearly.

“I’m fine,” Anakin assures her, even as his heart sinks. She’s Ahsoka, clearly, he knows her in the Force and it can’t be anyone else, but her memories...

She recognizes him, but that’s not saying much.

He manages to get over to the chair next to the crib, but doesn’t trust himself to take her out right now. The snow and the mess of a fight before that haven’t been kind to him. Instead, he just sticks his hand through the bars and lets her grab at his fingers.

He can’t help but smile, really. She’s adorable, and she’s so damn happy to see him.

“Skyguy!”

“Oh, so you are talking,” Anakin says, part of him relaxing just a tad. “I was worried.”

“Mine,” she stresses, patting at his wrist.

“Yeah, your Skyguy,” he says. So she remembers... some things, at least. “And you’re my Snips.”

She squeals and yanks on his hand, just enough that the Force-suppressing cuff clanks against the bars of the crib. “Sky, Sky, Sky!”

Oh, she’s precious.

“You having fun?” he asks, filling the air with words faster than his head can fill with doubts. “Has everyone been nice?”

“Mmmmm,” she grumbles, falling to her butt with a huff. “Doc!”

“Oh, a doctor?” he asks, wondering at his own tone. He never expected to be one for baby-talk. “Was the doctor mean?”

“Cold!” she tells him. “Cold here!”

She taps at her chest, right where someone might check her heartbeat or breathing; the metal would be cold, and also necessary. He doesn’t fault anyone for it. Considering how poorly Anakin had fared, he’s just happy they’re all alive and mostly fine.

He doesn’t know what year it is. He knows he’s not in the year he should be. He’s vaguely aware of the name Jaster--one of the Mandos had said it while bringing him in--but he doesn’t know when Mereel’s reign ended and Fett’s began. He does know both are supposed to be dead.

Has Anakin been born yet? Has Ahsoka? Hell, has Obi-Wan?

Can he give out any real names?

A series of small, upset noises start coming up from the other, smaller crib.

He stands, but Ahsoka clings to his hand and refuses to let go. He can’t pry her off, not without his other arm, but he pulls away with quiet reassurances that he just has to check on... on...

Her brother, he says, aware that there’s more than a slight chance someone has the room bugged. He’s a Jedi in Mando custody. They aren’t stupid, and neither is he.

Obi-Wan’s the most likely to have already been born. Having the same name and face will draw attention, will cause questions, but... he can’t just rename his master like a recently-adopted pet. That’s just... wrong.

Anakin’s less shaky than when he first woke up, but he still has no way of safely picking up the kids. He reaches into the small crib, something twisting behind his sternum, and tickles under Obi-Wan’s chin.

The baby--the infant--looks up at him with wide eyes, too blue for the Obi-Wan he knows, but full of wonder and--

Love, the Force whispers through the cracks in the effects of the cuff.

“Love you too,” Anakin whispers, though he wonders if Obi-Wan would really feel like this as an adult again. Babies love easily, he thinks, and he’s the only adult that Obi-Wan knows right now. Maybe it’s just chemicals.

He stands there for longer than is probably a good idea, with the state of his body, but he can’t help it. Obi-Wan keeps grabbing at his finger and kicking with tiny legs, and sticking a tiny, tiny fist in his mouth as he tries watches Anakin.

It’s all Anakin can do to mutter a stream of meaningless nonsense as he struggles not to cry. He’s always had too many emotions, and right now he’s the only person these two can rely on. He’s the adult.

The door whooshes open.

“The medic said you were awake.”

He knows that voice. He closes his eyes and doesn’t turn, because there are a million feelings in his chest and he’s not sure which one is going to come out first.

“Sky?” Ahsoka questions, likely feeling his worry. “Issokay! Good!”

No, she wouldn’t have the mind to recognize why this familiar face she knows as friend is quite the opposite.

Anakin turns away from the crib, and smiles. “Mando.”

“Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the teenager in the door says. He’s not wearing his bucket, but the rest of his armor is in place. Anakin would peg him as younger than Ahsoka was, before. Not by much, but... fourteen, maybe fifteen. The face is painfully familiar, and stays utterly neutral as he answers the question Anakin didn’t ask. “We found your Ident card after you passed out.”

Cool, so, Anakin definitely can’t change his name.

“Are they yours?” the teenager that will one day create an army says.

“They have no one else,” Anakin tells him. It’s true enough. Still, he gets the feeling that’s not what Fett’s asking. “They’re family.”

Jango squints at him. “I was told Jedi can’t have families.”

Anakin’s mind flashes to Padme and the fantasies he’d long harbored of children born free, and tears himself away. He can’t think about that right now. He can’t think of who he’s--

“Jetii!”

Anakin’s head snaps up, and he realizes he’s shaking. Fett’s not neutral anymore, just... concerned.

“I’m fine,” Anakin spits out, and leans on the crib behind him. He can hear the little ones whimpering. He has to pull his thoughts in and bundle them up into something that won’t hurt the incredibly Force-Sensitive babies behind him. “I’m--I’m all they have. They’re all I have. Are the exact words important?”

Fett doesn’t grimace, exactly, but his expression isn’t pleasant. “I guess.”

Anakin waits to see if there’s anything else coming, but no. Just an awkward silence. He holds onto his frustration, but it still gets the better of him.

“What are my chances of getting my arm back?” he asks.

“Hm?”

Anakin waves what’s left of that arm, the tied-off sleeve flapping about. “My arm. If you don’t want to give me mine back, can I at least have some kind of placeholder? I can’t pick up the babies without worrying that I’m going to drop them.”

“I can ask the medics,” Fett says. He stares at Anakin for a little more, and then asks, “Aren’t you going to ask about our plans for you, or...?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you already would have,” Anakin mutters. “Right now, these two are my only priority. I’m more likely to keep them safe and alive here than I am if I try to break out. I can be patient. I would also assume they wouldn’t have been left in a room with me, alone, if any of us were in danger of medical complications.”

Fett flushes and turns. “I’ll tell buir you’re up and active. There’s a nurse droid in the hall, I can have it handle feedings until you get an arm.”

“Thanks,” Anakin drawls, aware that he’s a little bitchy right now, but not in any mood to temper himself.

He settles himself on the floor next to Ahsoka’s crib, lets her play with his hair while the nurse droid feeds Obi-Wan, and then feeds Ahsoka herself. Anakin thinks he could probably pull the droid apart for an escape attempt if it came down to it. He hopes it won’t be necessary. He’s barely existing in the moment as it is. The droid asks Anakin if he needs anything, and he... shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps some non-perishables,” the nurse droids suggests. “Ration bars, for if you are hungry before one of the Mando’ade returns.”

Anakin shrugs again. “Alright.”

He ignores the droid after that. He’s only mostly cut off from the Force by the single cuff. He can’t blanket his Master and Padawan in his own Force presence, try to make them feel safe and calm with the fact that he’s here and ready to protect them, but he can monitor them. He can meditate, even if it’s not the way he prefers to do it. He doesn’t have the strength for moving meditation right now, but a regular meditation... he can do that.

He needs to do that, because no other stress relief option is available to him right now.

Anakin lets himself feel the babies fall asleep, the two of them radiating contentment and warmth. He lets himself trust that, for the moment, he doesn’t need to worry. He lets himself sink into an absence of thought, and then the Force guides him deeper still.

“Anakin!”

His eyes fly open.

This is not the real world.

This is not the room-cell in the Haat Mando’ade base he’s managed to stumble across.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, a smile hidden in a beard and worn laugh lines about his eyes. The right age, the right size, reaching for him and--

There’s only a moment’s hesitation for Anakin to process, and then he sprints forward and yanks his Master into a hug.

“You’re good,” Obi-Wan mutters to him, rubbing his back as they both sink to their knees. There’s a click of bootheels against the empty white not-space that they’re in, and Ahsoka buries herself into their sides. Anakin pulls her in a little closer too.

They stay that for longer than is maybe necessary, but Anakin’s stress levels are sky high right now, and he needs this. A hug, even one that’s technically only taking place in his head, is important.

“Sorry, Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispers. “Thinking in the real world is... really hard right now.”

He pulls away from the desperate hug he’d started them off with, rearranges things so he’s leaning against Obi-Wan, lets Ahsoka lie down with her head in his lap, on her back and legs stretched out across the white nothingness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Anakin says. “I mean, Sith stuff, probably, but... we’re in the wrong year.”

“I’d wondered,” Obi-Wan admits. “I thought it odd that I couldn’t feel the clones, but I only have so much energy to think right now...”

“Please tell me there’s a way to fix it,” Anakin begs. “I can’t be the adult, Obi-Wan. I haven’t even been born yet, that’s how far back we are. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t just bang around making bad decisions without you there to pull me back and--”

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“We’re in the Force,” Anakin says, just a little hysterically. “We don’t need to breathe!”

“Actually, I think we’re in your head,” Ahsoka says. She’s pointing and stretching her feet like a dancer, but looks up to grin at Anakin like the little shit she is. “You’re the only one whose brain is big enough right now.”

“Hey,” Anakin complains, putting his entire palm over her face as revenge. She giggles and swats him away. “That any way to talk to the guy who taught you how to kill five guys in one move?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and runs a hand over her montrals, smiling when she wriggles and makes a little chirruping noise.

“She’s not wrong,” Obi-Wan says. “Though the phrasing was unfortunate, it does stand to reason that as the only person without the brain of a toddler, you’re hosting. Our minds can’t handle the strain of our own selves, let alone sharing space.”

“Infant.”

“Hm?”

“Ahsoka’s a toddler. You’re an infant. Maybe six months.” Anakin grins, just this side of brittle. He doesn’t want to joke about a problem he can’t fix, but what else is there? “You’re the literal baby of the lineage now.”

Obi-Wan sighs over the riot of Ahsoka’s laugh. “Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Master,” Ahsoka assures him. “Skyguy’s gonna take care of us until we can fight again.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing slightly. “I am sorry for you being put in such a position, Anakin. It’s certainly not an easy one.”

Anakin wishes he could say that his immediate reaction isn’t a sense of hurt, a you don’t trust me, a you don’t think I can do this, a you’re disappointed someone else wasn’t here to handle things instead.

He wishes he could make that claim and have anyone believe him, but they are in a shared meditation, and in this moment there are very, very few secrets. He does not make the effort to hide his reaction in time, and Obi-Wan catches it.

Anakin turns away as Obi-Wan’s face fills with surprise and horror. “Anakin--”

“Can we just pretend you didn’t feel that?” Anakin asks, and flinches when Ahsoka pops up from where she lies and scurries around to hug him like a vise. “Can we just pretend I’m not--”

“Dear one, there are very few people I would trust as much as you in this,” Obi-Wan says. “Those who match up are largely the people who helped me raise me when I was actually this age.”

“Being completely reliant on your padawan isn’t--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, cutting him off there. “I can trust you to care for me in ways that don’t just come down to making me a useful general again. I already trust you to risk your life and safety and freedom to see us survive, given what little I remember of that storm.”

“You handed yourself over to Mandalorians you knew nothing about so we’d be safe,” Ahsoka mutters into the fabric somewhere over his ribs. “That could have gone really badly, and you still did it because you were worried about us.”

“We trust you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling Anakin to his chest and resting his chin on Anakin’s head. “We know you.”

“You don’t even know what happened in the storm,” Anakin mutters. “You were asleep.”

“I caught enough listening to the doctors,” Obi-Wan says. He runs a hand over Anakin’s head and through his hair. “You did well, Anakin.”

Anakin wonders why they don’t do this in real life. Obi-Wan doesn’t usually hug him, let alone cuddle. Maybe it’s because they’re all stuck in too much truth in this shared meditation, and the other two are currently stuck in child bodies that crave physical affection in ways they don’t realize they’re expressing in here as well. Maybe it’s the stress.

“What even can you hear?” Anakin mutters, still in Obi-Wan’s arms. Ahsoka giggles at him, nuzzling into his side in a way he doesn’t think she’d ever let herself, normally.

“We can’t really think in the real world right now,” she muses. “Only when we’re sleeping, and probably when we’re meditating once we’re bigger. If I try to think too hard, my head hurts worse than that time Ventress got me in the head with the back of her saber.”

“Everything takes up more space than it should,” Obi-Wan adds. “It’s... all of my senses are bigger and brighter and take up more of my attention, but they aren’t very clear, really. They’re just more. I can’t focus on anything, either, except... well, the feedings.”

Ahsoka makes an annoyed noise. “The whole diapers and bottles thing is really embarrassing, by the way. Only here, though, I barely notice when I’m awake because...”

“Because you’re a toddler,” Anakin says drily.

She huffs. “How would you feel if you were stuck like that?”

That’s fair.

“I don’t remember much,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “But part of me recognizes familiar things, even if I can’t quite make the connection.”

“Was that Fett, earlier?” Ahsoka asks. “Because I thought I saw a friend, and I pretty much forgot the face as soon as they left, but--”

“It’s Fett,” Anakin confirms. “But I guess that’s good to know? You saw his face and your baby brain just assumed it was one of the clones?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we know we trust you,” Obi-Wan adds, and tightens the hug when Anakin stiffens. “Anakin, I can barely understand the world around me at all right now. It’s like being on the painkillers that don’t knock you out but leave you saying only the most ridiculous things that come to mind. You have a general understanding of what’s going on, but all your emotions are too much and the room spins, you can’t stay on one track mentally, you can’t remember what you’ve done and what you haven’t--”

“You can’t control your bladder,” Ahsoka mutters, just a touch spitefully.

Obi-Wan grimaces and nods. “An unfortunate commonality in the experiences, yes. What I was aiming to address, however, is the fact that I only remember a very few things with any reliability. Most of my adult mind, so to speak, appears to be stored in a stasis form in the Force itself, because the infant mind can only handle the barest edges of who I am. But what that infant mind knows, and what I remember thinking once I have some sense of my full self in sleep, is that there is no one I react to as positively as you, Anakin.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ahsoka interrupts, “but can’t because he’s trying to be a serene Jedi Councilor who definitely doesn’t break the code, nosiree, is that we don’t remember much about ourselves when we’re awake, but we remember you, and we know that we love you, Skyguy.”

Anakin stares at her, and then twists around to look at Obi-Wan instead.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka croons. “Stop being emotionally constipated. We’re literal babies right not, which sucks, but we’re like 90% emotion. Tell Skyguy.”

“Yes, er, Ahsoka was not incorrect,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard and refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I, that is to say, we...”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka says, a touch sharper than she might have dared if not for the reversal of their ages.

“I do love you, Anakin, and it’s one of the only things my child mind knows consistently.”

The Force does, in fact, sing with the truth of this. It circles them like a delighted tornado of emotional reality, pulsing like a coat of positivity.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hugs him as tightly as possible.

“Oh! Oh dear, I--Anakin, really, this isn’t news.”

“Master Kenobi, you’re allergic to actually talking about your emotions. Let him hug you.”

“Anakin, I’ve raised you since you were nine, it would be nearly impossible for me to not care, why are you--”

“Master Kenobi, stop questioning him!” Ahsoka whines. “It’s affirmation time.”

“Ahsoka, have you been spending time with the mind healers again?”

“I was a teenager in a warzone and also Barriss bullied me into it for my own good.” Ahsoka shrugs. “I learned some stuff. You two should have gone, too. You were more karked up than I was.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan scolds.

“What are you going to do, spit up on me? You can’t exactly make me run laps, Master.”

“Both of you shut up,” Anakin mumbles, and tries to push as much of his own affection as possible into a little ball of feelings that he can just drop on the two of them while he’s still in his own brain and not somewhere he can’t touch the Force. “Just--just shut.”

Apparently, Anakin’s feelings are a lot, because Ahsoka bursts into tears and Obi-Wan zones out so hard Anakin starts worrying about him.

They’re in a mindscape, a thing that he didn’t really think happened, but does. He shouldn’t have to worry about his--

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling him in tighter. “Why did you...”

“Skyguy, I don’t think you planned on putting in the part where you worry about nobody loving you back as much as you loved them,” Ahsoka says, raw and uneven. “Because, uh, we got that? Skyguy, that’s really wrong!”

Oh shit.

“No, you were... you were not supposed to get that,” he says, just a little strangled. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t--”

“Be our dad.”

Anakin stares down at his Padawan. She stares determinedly back.

“What?”

“Fett asked if we were yours, and you edged around the question by saying we were family, but he was asking if you were our dad. I’m guessing you didn’t want to claim that when we couldn’t agree to it, so I’m telling you now: do it. Adopt us the Mandalorian way or whatever. You were already my older brother, basically, this is just a step sideways in how we talk about it.”

He stares at her a bit more. He doesn’t have words, and his emotions are such a cyclone of conflicting thoughts that he’s surprised the Force hasn’t tossed him out.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be born, but if I am, then I need a name so I don’t have the same one as future me,” she says. She takes his hands, holds them tight and leans in close. “You’re going to be raising us anyway. The Force already made it clear there’s no fixing this, we tried asking while you were unconscious, it wants us to grow up the long way. You’re going to be our dad. Just make it official. Make me a Skywalker.”

Anakin sits up straight, looks her up and down, the determination and affection and--

He turns to look at Obi-Wan. “Master?”

“...yes, Anakin?”

“I know she said ‘we’ and ‘us,’ but I’m not letting anyone speak for anyone else. Not for something this important.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and then rearranges himself to something a tad more formal. He takes one of Anakin’s hands in his own. “Anakin, we’ve been family since you were nine. This is just redefining the terms. We can adjust as we go forward, but for all intents and purposes, the majority of the time, I will be that youngling in the cot. For all intents and purposes, I will be your child, and... and I would be honored for you to make that official.”

“Even if it breaks the Code?” Anakin presses.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan says, almost but not quite overriding Ahsoka’s, “This doesn’t break the Code.”

They both turn to look at her. She shrugs. “What? You guys are always arguing about it and Skyguy was married. I went and did some digging about what is and isn’t allowed. This adoption would be skirting the edges of some rules, since we should be taken to the creche to be raised in a communal manner, and official adoptions are discouraged for reasons relating to later padawan stuff, but since the Force is also insisting we stay with the Mandalorians, I think it qualifies as an exception and will be treated as such, retroactively, by the Council. You also won’t be able to take either of us as Padawan once that time comes. It does not, however, violate the Code in and of itself.”

“What the hell, Snips?”

“I’m impressed, young one,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile Anakin can feel. “I could have expected to see you in court in a few years, with an argument like that.”

“You knew I was married?” Anakin squeaks.

“Rex isn’t a very good liar,” she says. She then droops. “Or, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. He tried, at least, but I caught on. That was against the Code, though. Just so you know.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face, tries very hard not to think about what and whom he’s left behind. He can save that breakdown for later.

He chances a look at Obi-Wan.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“You’re not mad?”

“I knew you and the Senator were close, considering all the kissing you did in the Arena,” Obi-Wan says drily. Anakin isn’t stupid enough to ask how he knows it’s Padme. “I didn’t know you were married, and am a little disappointed you didn’t at least tell me, or consult me before you did it, considering you were still a padawan... but no, I’m not mad. Even if I were--and I am not--we’ve time-traveled, so I’m fairly certain that qualifies as annulment. It’s a non-issue.”

Anakin pushes down the tidal wave of grief for people who haven’t been born yet, and just breathes instead. This is important. This is too important for him to just kriff it up.

“Names,” he says.

“I still want part of it to be ‘Soka,’ if you don’t think it’s too risky.”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a smile. “Almost every time I’ve posed as a Mandalorian, since my first mission with Satine, I’ve gone by Ben. It would be fitting that, now that we’re here and apparently staying, I take the name for real.”

Anakin nods. He closes his eyes, and breathes deep, and thinks that they may be among Mandalorians on a world of snow, but he has the desert in his bones and will never forget it.

“Ahsoka Tano, sister of my heart,” he says, hoping he’s getting the words right, and takes her hands in his. It’ll have more meaning here and now, where they’re both of full mind. He holds her gaze. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my daughter, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Sokanth Skywalker, she who slips through every hunter’s trap, and you are my child.”

She smiles brightly at him, and looks like she might cry. He presses his lips to her forehead. He turns to his Master. He hesitates, because it’s one thing to redefine his little sister, but...

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father of my heart,” he says, his voice catching where it shouldn’t. He can do this. It’s weird but he can do this. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my son, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Ylliben Skywalker, he who hunts the monsters of the darkest nights, and you are my child.”

The man before him almost laughs, well aware of how absurd it is for Anakin to be the one adopting him, but keeps it limited to just a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips. Anakin presses his lips to his teacher’s forehead.

He pulls both of them in close. Padawan and Master. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

Daughter and son. Soka and Ben. His.

“I’m still gonna call you Skyguy,” Soka says wetly. “But Mas--um, Ben. Ben can call you buir, all the Mandos are gonna love it.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says. “I’m going to be telling you Tatooine bedtime stories, by the way. You’ll remember creche stories as you grow, but these’ll be new.”

“I do believe that would be appropriate,” Ben says, laughing just a touch. “I also think we should perhaps disband this, unless you have something else to address. You’re going to be dealing with two very cranky younglings soon.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have headaches after this,” Soka laughs, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we got what we ne--”

“No, shut up, what you do mean, headaches? You said that was only when you were awake!”

“I mean, we’d be sobbing after like three minutes if we were awake,” Soka says cheerfully. “This way, it’s been like... an hour or whatever between all the talking and the hugging and the crying and the feelings, and we’re just gonna be grumpy.”

“Oh my--wake up!” Anakin growls at both of them. “I’m responsible for you now, wake up.”

He ignores Soka’s laughter and drags himself back to wakefulness. Behind him, he feels slight confusion and pain mixed with love and delight. Ben starts fussing.

Anakin drags a hand over his face and groans. He gets to his feet, nods to the nurse droid, and steps over to the cribs.

“Can we put them in the same one until I get my arm back?” he asks. The droid obliges, moving Ben to Soka’s crib. She immediately crawls over to him and envelops him in a hug. She pouts up at Anakin, eyes going watery, and he drops into the chair next to her and offers his hand through the bars. She grabs it.

“You’re going to be trouble for a long, long time, huh?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles at her. Yes, trouble in spades, his Snips.

He starts telling her one of the fables of Tatooine, the really sanitized ones meant for children her age, before they got to the slave stories and haunt-tales. She falls asleep for real, no Force Shenanigans, shortly after. Ben is dead to the world by that point, making small snuffling noises whenever the blanket tickles his nose.

Anakin knows he’s got the galaxy’s dopiest smile on his face. It’s fine.

It’s a few more hours before someone stops by. He’s used the fresher by that point, helped the nurse droid coax Ben through a feeding, and helped Soka play with the little stuffed eopie they’ve given her.

“They got names, aruetti?”

He looks up and over. “Yes.”

The middle-aged man ambles over, arms crossed. “Jango said you claimed to be all they had left.”

He is. “They’re family. I’ve had a few hours to think it over, now that I’m not getting shot at or dying in the snow. To any system that allows it, I’ll be their father.”

“No chance of returning them to their people?”

Anakin shakes his head. “Soka has none who would recognize her, and I already--I already babysat her regularly, and she thought of me as a brother. It’s an easy next step.”

“And the human?”

“I... the master-padawan relationship is often one that is compared to that of parent and child,” Anakin says carefully. “My own master was like a father to me, and Ben is... Ben is all I have left of him.”

There. Not quite the truth, but... technically not lying.

Ben makes a small noise in his sleep, fussing, and Anakin reaches through the bars to brush his thumb across the infant’s chubby cheek. He smiles helplessly as Ben whines and curls in tighter on himself, pressing a tiny fist to his mouth.

“You’re good,” Anakin whispers. “We’re fine, Ylliben.”

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” the Mando says. “But I do believe you’re doing what you can for those kids.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anakin agrees, finally looking away from his... his son.

Mine, the greedy krayt in his chest whispers.

“When are you planning on going back to Coruscanta?”

“I’m not,” Anakin says, standing and looking the man head-on. Anakin’s taller than him. That’s usually useful. “I don’t know why, but the Force wants me to stay here, or at least with the Mandalorians.”

“You want me to believe that you support my cause?”

“I don’t know your cause,” Anakin admits. “But I don’t like Death Watch, and I know you don’t either. Nobody on Coruscant is going to know to miss me, and the Force is warning me away from trying to go back. Whatever it is that needs doing, I’m supposed to be doing it here.”

The man steps forward. “Anyone tell you who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m Jaster Mereel.”

Good for you, Anakin thinks, and doesn’t say. “I’m pretty sure you already know my name.”

“I do,” Mereel says. “Wanna tell me how a Knight with a seemingly valid ident card claims nobody will know to miss him?”

“No.”

Mereel doesn’t even blink. “Try that again.”

“It means exactly what I said,” Anakin says. “The ident card is real. My training and rank are earned and deserved and bestowed by protocol. All of it was done at the Temple in Coruscant, but if you phone up the Temple with my name and face, nobody will know who I am.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why,” Mereel grouses. “What’s stopping me from calling them up anyway and asking them to come fetch your hypothermic ass?”

“...the fact that I already offered to help you?” Anakin manages. “I... I did say that part, right? That I’d help?”

“What’s stopping you from wanting to go back? And don’t give me any of that ‘will of the force’ banthashit.”

“I broke the Code,” Anakain says. The words sit heavy in his mouth, but one of his violations is lesser than the other, and-- “I married, and we’re not supposed to do that. She’s... not around anymore, but it still stands that I did it.”

The Tuskens weigh on his mind, suddenly and intensely. He hasn’t thought about them in ages, has always pushed those memories down, down, down, but--

“And they won’t take you back?”

“They might,” Anakin admits. They probably would, with his full title and everything, especially if he told them about the future. “But they wouldn’t let me keep the kids.”

Understanding flickers. “Not allowed kids?”

“It’s not... technically against the code,” he hedges. “But they’d find out about my marriage while investigating my past--” maybe, he’s not sure what kind of investigation they’d justify for a complete stranger of a knight, especially to confirm the future, but if they had a psychometric so much as touch his saber or arm, once he gets those back, there’d be a risk, “--and after already breaking the code by marrying, they’d be far less willing to bend the rules about the babies.”

He doesn’t realize how likely the risk is until after he says it, because he’s just been focusing on staying alive and following the Force, but.. they’d want the kids in the creche. He’s broken the code enough that any investigation they set to prove he’s legitimately a Jedi Knight that isn’t recorded and isn’t in the system is going to uncover something through the Force. They might not let him keep his family.

“What are their names?”

“I already--”

“Jango kept his last name,” Mereel cuts him off. “Did yours?”

Anakin looks the man in the eye, and then attempts to cross his arms in response, to mirror the pose and hold his ground. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten that he’s only got the one arm, which is really kriffing irritating.

“I gave them my name,” he says. “They’ll know where they came from, but they are mine.”

Yeah, no shit they’ll know where they came from.

Mereel’s face twitches, but the man is unreadable in the Force. Still, there’s something in the air... “So, those names?”

“Sokanth and Ylliben Skywalker,” Anakin tells him. He spells it out when the droid asks. He assumes it’s just for the medical data their droids are collecting.

“How well can you fight without your laser sword?”

“You mean unarmed?” Anakin asks, and then smiles brightly and tauntingly and waves his empty sleeve around. Mereel does not appreciate the humor. “Pretty well, but I do better when I have the Force, and am not still recovering from hypothermia. And I’m a fair shot with a blaster, but no specialist.”

Mereel eyes him for a moment, and then nods. “One of my snipers is Force-Sensitive. Never was enough to get more than some basic training in mental shields and the control to not hurt herself, but when we mentioned bringing in a Jetii, someone asked her what she thought. Came by the room while you were unconscious and said she thought you felt sad, angry, and desperate... but that she had a good feeling about where you’d be going.”

“Sad, angry, and desperate?” Anakin repeats, a little offended.

“You act like a veteran, kid,” Mereel says. He shrugs. “Damn near everyone that goes through some kind of war has all that going on. S’normal. You got Kamira’s approval, though, and that means a damn sight more. Keep your secrets for now. We’ll get there eventually.”

No we won’t, Anakin thinks. Out loud, he asks, “So, how much of what kind of work would I have to do to borrow a ship to Tatooine and earn enough to free a slave girl?”

[kiribaku-queen]

Hi! Could you please do a Kuroo x reader please! He’s gone away on a work trip for a couple of weeks and he decides to come back early to surprise her? But when he gets home late at night he sees her in the bedroom with Kenma or Bokuto (someone he’s close with) hugging and they fall onto the bed? (Looks suss as fuck), but really the person was just comforting her because she was missing him and she was crying about it? Kuroo ends up coming to blows with the person being all like “how could you” and she has to step in and explain the whole situation? Basically angst with a fluffy ending?

If you aren’t comfortable doing it with a Haikyuu character maybe Todoroki and Midoriya or someone like that? Or maybe doing the MHA one as well as the Haikyuu one? Up to you I’m easy I’ll be happy with whatever you write hahaha fml

Surprise

Pairing: Kuroo x reader

Angst

Word count: 4.7K

A/N: Oof, it’s about time that I uploaded this one. I promise, the others are coming out! Slowly but surely! I was really excited to start this one though because the scenario was so easy to follow and see in my head. I’m sorry if you think the reader is annoying or too clingy. Reader is a sensitive soul in this one. I hope it’s angsty enough for you and I’d love to know your thoughts on this one, anon! Happy reading!

This isn’t what you wanted.

You didn’t like this one bit.

“It’s only 2 weeks,” your boyfriend tried to comfort you as you pouted in the corner.

“2 weeks too long,” you said angrily, arms crossed over your chest and with permanent frown that doesn’t look like it’s going to go away any time soon. Kuroo laughs at your reaction, looking absolutely adorable to him. He pinches your cheek in hopes that that will cheer you up, but obviously it doesn’t.

“Stop being so pouty,” he laughs and you just glare up at him.

“If you didn’t leave me, then I won’t be so pouty,” you jutted your bottom lip out to emphasize how much you’re going to dread the time away from him.

“You can survive without me for 2 weeks,” Kuroo’s pinch on your cheeks turns into a soft caress to the touch. You lean into his touch until you let his hand cover your face to allow you to take in his scent. It was comforting. The smell of him. The way he feels. Fuck, you were really going to miss him.

“I’ll miss you,” you whisper into the palm of his hands. Kuroo chuckles, picking you up so that you were sitting in his lap. He brings your face close to him so that your noses were touching but not quite your lips.

“You know I’ll miss you too,” Kuroo whispers against your lips that were ready to be kissed any second now.

Truth be told, 2 weeks was not a long time for some people. But for you, 2 weeks was going to feel a suffocating 2 months. Ever since you started dating your boyfriend, you were never really separated from each other. You met in college and spend all your time together, forgetting about your other friends. And then you found out that you both live in the same hometown so when you went home, you guys were still together so no need to worry about long distance. The longest you’ve been apart from each other was probably a weekend, at most. So it’s no surprise that you started to get attached. Unhealthy, you know. But who could blame you? You both loved being around each other so much that you never saw it as a problem. But because of that and with the situation you are facing now, you started feeling anxious about him leaving you by yourself.

You didn’t know what it was. Were you feeling this way because you think he was going to cheat on you? Was it the fear eating you up that he was going to find someone better? Or was it that he was going to have fun somewhere else while you were at home miserable? It could be a mixture of all of them, if you were being completely honest with yourself.

But you knew he had to go. It was work related, you can’t keep him from working. But the thought that he was still leaving you for a good amount of time was upsetting and a bit painful. Kuroo sensed that you weren’t going to lighten up ant time soon. So he cupped your cheeks and placed a light kiss on your lips.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he reassures you again but his comfort wasn’t enough to convince you to feel any better.

“How about this? When I come back, I’ll give you all the kisses to makeup for the time being away plus more if you want,” Kuroo tried to reason with you. And it was tempting.

“Why can’t I have it now?” you gave him puppy eyes plus the pout on your lips. He chuckles again and gives you one quick kiss.

“How was that? Will that last you for 2 weeks?” he asks and you shake your head.

“How about… this one?” and he pulls you in for a deeper kiss. But that still didn’t suffice.

“No? Okay, what about now?” and he kisses both sides of your cheeks.

“Or this one?” now he’s kissing your nose. Then your forehead. Then your chin. Your hands and your neck. Back to your lips multiple times.

“Are you getting sick of me yet?” he teases, the distance of each kiss getting shorter and shorter until both of your lips refuse to leave each other. Kuroo is hugging your waist tight and pulling you closer if that was even physically possible anymore. You could feel his muscles through his shirt and it was taking every inch of you to not further the contact. Both of you got lost in the few minutes you had left together, not wanting to break away first. But he had to go eventually. Kuroo breaks the kiss, leaning your foreheads together.

“I have to go,” he whispers, still breathless from your intimate moment. Anxiety rising in you again because the moment is finally here. Being the good boyfriend that he was, he takes your hand in his as you walk to the front door together. Suitcase in hand and yours in the other.

The front door opens and the tears are already spilling out. Kuroo’s eyes soften at the sight and pulls you in for the final hug before he leaves. You couldn’t look at him because if you did, you knew you couldn’t let him go. What you didn’t know though, is that as soon as he saw you cry, he was doing the same thing. But he had to hold it in for you.

“I’ll be back before you know it, I promise. I’ll call you every night so you can see this handsome face before you go to bed,” Kuroo tries lightening the mood with a joke but it was hard when he was getting choked up.

“Hm,” you hummed back, hugging him harder to imprint the feeling of his touch in your memory.

“I love you,” he says and kisses the top of your head. He was going to miss you just as much. But work was work. Right before he pulls away from your hug, you kiss him once more and this time you were in the lead.

“I love you too,” you tell him when you break the kiss. Your boyfriend smirks and smothers your face with small smooches. Goodness, you two really couldn’t get enough of each other. Kuroo would be with you even down to the last second.

Okay, now it’s really time that he had to go.

“If you need anything, you know you can call me. I love you. See you in 2 weeks, love,” Kuroo says his final final goodbyes. You nod your head and watch him walk down the hallway until you couldn’t see him anymore. He looks back and you’re still watching him, waving every time he looks across his shoulder. And then he was gone. For 2 weeks. What were you going to do now?

 You cried. That’s what you did. The second you closed the door, you broke down in front of the door. Call you dramatic but you couldn’t help but feel that way. You tried to distract yourself by working more, starting a new show, cooking more often, cleaning… but everything reminded you of him. God, it wasn’t like he was dying or breaking up with you. He was going to be back in the 2 weeks like he promised. But it was just making you miss him more. You just couldn’t wait until it was time for him to come home so you could feel at peace.

You cried every day the first week he was gone. Every phone call at night, Kuroo could see that. And he was beating himself up for it because he couldn’t do anything to help you. But you appreciated that he took time out of his night to give you an least an hour long phone call. You caught up about your day and comforting each other through the phone. It wasn’t much, but you’d take this any day than nothing at all.

Kuroo was good at keeping his promise the first week. He called you every night, no matter how tired he was. During the second week, he calls started getting shorter. And shorter. And shorter. Until he was only on call for a couple of minutes. He always used the excuse that he was busy or he had to be with his coworkers. Bullshit. You could tell that they were drinking. He wasn’t working at all. He just wanted to hang out with his coworkers. Who works at 10 o’clock at night after they just finished a whole shift?

Some phone calls were the same; just talking about how you miss each other. This call was different though. It was another quick phone call that night. He began talking about his day: what he did, what he ate, plans after work. You didn’t say much about your day because it was so uneventful without him there.

“Are you going out again?” you ask, your chin rested on your pillow as you facetimed your boyfriend.

“Mm,” he hummed back and he could see the disappointed, or rather, annoyed look on your face. “You know I can’t refuse them. They’re my superiors. If they say drink, I have to.” He tried to explain. Yeah, you knew that. You wished your culture wasn’t like that but there wasn’t anything to be done.

“Hey Kuroo! Ready to go?” you saw some of his coworkers barge in on your call. Kuroo happily smiles at them, giving each one a pound hug as a greeting. From what you could see on the screen, all his coworkers were male, so you guess that was a relief.

“Oh yeah. This is my girlfriend, (y/n),” Kuroo doesn’t fail to introduce you to his new friends. They all try to say hi to you. There was so many of them, that they had to take turns sharing the screen. You smile back, not saying much because now all of Kuroo’s attention was on his friends. You just watched as he interacted with them.

“Alright, boys! Who’s ready to party!?” you hear a woman in the background barge through the door behind the boys. All of Kuroo’s coworkers head towards the woman, forgetting that they were even talking to you. Kuroo, too, was looking in her direction. She came into view and holy mother of Jesus was she gorgeous. A business woman who knows how to dress herself to look elegant and classy yet sexy at the same time. All attention was on her now, like she was the life of the party. And that made you nervous.

Kuroo was with a big group of people. It wasn’t like he was just going drinking with her. But she was all you could think about. The single fact that she was present and was a part of that group didn’t sit well in your stomach. You didn’t want to think it, but you did. What if Kuroo starts to take a liking to her? What if he cheats on you? If she dances up on him, will he let her? Or would he be loyal and tell her that he has a girlfriend? Maybe all your fears will disappear when he introduces her to you. You were about to ask about her when Kuroo suddenly speaks up.

“Okay, babe. I gotta go. I love you, talk to you later,” Kuroo sends you a flying kiss.

“Oh, okay. By-” but before you could even finish what you were going to say, he cuts you off and now you were looking at a blank screen. You stared at your computer screen, appalled and shocked at what just happened. You continued to stare at the screen until it turned black, your reflection staring right back at you. Tears were welding in your eyes as you were overwhelmed with emotion at the moment.

You spend that night staring at your ceiling, silent tears streamed down your face. You missed him dearly, wanting nothing more than for him to be in bed with you and cuddle. But Kuroo clearly looked like he was having the time of his life. This was what you feared. He was having fun while you were at home feeling sorry for yourself.

You knew that he would never cheat on you. Deep down, you knew that. But a small voice in your mind was telling you dark lies, tricking you into believing that he was. These thoughts lingered for days. The thought of him and her together ate at you alive. You never felt so down in your life and it was at that moment that you needed him the most only for him to not be reachable. This feeling was unhealthy and you needed to do something about it. Talk about it. To somebody, anybody. And there was only one person who you could trust.

Picking up the phone and searching their name in a flash, you waited for your trusty friend to answer the phone. And as always, their voice always made you smile just a little bit.

“Hey, hey, hey! How’s my crybaby doing?” his booming voice teased you but you found it hard to take that lightly. “Too soon?” he asked after a long pause of silence. You hummed into the phone and began tearing up again. Why? Because he was right, you were a crybaby. And you were calling him because you wanted to cry and pour your heart out to him. He could hear your whimpering over the phone and his tone of voice instantly changed from teasing to concerned.

“Hey, hey, hey… are you okay?” he asks softly. You can’t see it but his thick brows were furrowed into a frown.

“No. Can… Can you come over? I really need somebody right now,” you asked, hoping that you weren’t going to be rejected. That would make you feel even worse. Luckily for you, Bokuto was already on his way.

“Be there in 30.”

You waited for Bokuto in your living room, practically shaking from anxiety. You met Bokuto through Kuroo. It was only a matter of time before you met your boyfriend’s best friend from high school. And then it was only natural that you two became really good friends. You went to him for everything. The gossip, the drama, the comfort, the hype, literally everything. Kuroo wasn’t one to gas you up in certain situations, but you could always count on Bokuto to. It was only natural for you to call him to come comfort you during hard times. Knowing who Bokuto was, he already has a plan to cheer you up already.

Three knocks sounded through the apartment. You shot up from your seat and rushed to open the door. Bokuto was standing there with groceries and wine in hand. He lifted both hands, showing up the items that he brought.

“Will this cheer you up?” he asks, giving you an uncertain smile. You nod your head and since his hands were already open for you, you just went in for a hug. Bokuto didn’t hesitate you hug you back even tighter, securing you in his arms. He wasn’t Kuroo, but a hug is what you really needed.

“Let’s cook you something up to eat and then we can drink our sorrows away. Sound like a plan?” Bokuto suggested.

“I really need that right now,” you say. Yeah, this is what you needed.

The night was spent eating a simple, yet delicious meal Bokuto managed to whip up real quick and pouring out your feelings to the man. Almost a whole bottle of wine was gone, it was sad that he didn’t bring another one. You felt like you were going to need it. Bokuto sat there, sipping on his wine, and listening to everything you had to say. He gave reactions and advice when necessary but was great at letting you say everything that was on your chest.

Laughs were shared here and there, but Bokuto did a great job at making your forget about why you ever were sad in the first place. Shit, if it was this easy to make you feel better, you would have asked for Bokuto’s help a long time ago.

“Bokuto, literally stop!” you laugh, slapping his hand away from you to prevent him from poking your side again.

“If you stop crying, I’ll stop!” he proposed and continued to poke you. You laughed even harder and ran away from him.

“I’m crying from laughter! Not because I’m sad!” you yelled, trying to escape from the mad man.

“Tears are still tears! GET RID OF THEM!” Bokuto yelled back, picking up speed which freaked you out. You ran into the bedroom but unfortunately, that slowed you down and you felt Bokuto’s arms wrap around your waist.

“Got’cha!” he said as he captured you. Both of you burst your stomachs from laughing but he wasn’t done with you just yet. “You ready?”

“For what?” you asked in between breaths.

“This!”

“NO BOKUTO, DON’T!” you squeal but it was too late. With a grunt, Bokuto lifts you in the air and when you land, your back in his arms but this time, he has one arm under your legs and one arm supporting your back like a princess. You wrap your arm around his neck in instinct so you don’t fall. But you didn’t think anything of it. Neither of you did. You both just burst into a laughing fit once again.

 Kuroo enjoyed the 2 weeks he was away for his business trip. Not only did he gain new experiences and make connections for future deals, but he also made a deeper connection with his coworkers. He’ll admit, the constant drinking and partying was getting old. He wasn’t in college anymore. He can’t stay up all night and drink until he passes out. He’d much rather be in bed sleeping with you wrapped in his arms. He could stay longer, after all, his company did pay for a few extra days after the convention to relax. But he didn’t want to relax. He wanted to get back to you as soon as possible. And that’s what he was going to do.

He thanked his boss for the hospitality, but he just wanted to go home now. It’s been too long and he missed you too much to stay. Also, the thought of you being alone and crying pained him to no end. There wasn’t a day, a single moment, that he didn’t think about you. So, with his boss’ permission, he went home a few days early. No he didn’t tell you. It was going to be a surprise. The thought of seeing your face when he’s come early, it’s already making him smile.

When he unlocks the door to your shared apartment, the first thing he sees are that the lights are open. Perfect, you were home. And he opened the door as softly as he could so that you couldn’t hear. For the surprise effect, of course.

Then he sees the dining table. Oh, you are already? That’s good. At least you weren’t skipping meals. Did you have someone over? Why were there two sets of plates? And wine? Kuroo took a closer look. One glass was definitely yours. You lip stains were all over it. So whose was the other one?

Then he hears laughter that breaks his heart. Your laugh. Mixed with another that was all too familiar. You. Him. Dinner. Wine? Laughing? And it was coming from the bedroom. The pieces were all coming together.

With a heavy heart, Kuroo walks closer to the noise coming from the bedroom. He couldn’t believe it. From down the hall, he could see clear as day. You were in Bokuto’s arms. The arms of his best friend. He was carrying you like how he imagined he would on your wedding day. You had the widest smile, like how he imagined you would when you find out that you would be pregnant with your first child together. Bokuto was making you laugh until your stomach hurt like how he wanted to, even when you guys grow old together. But now he felt like his world was crashing down on him. All those dreams and hopes he pictured for years was disintegrating right before his eyes. He wanted to cry out and go insane. But there was no time for that. Kuroo went up to the couple, seeing red.

Bokuto was laughing along with you. That is, until he saw Kuroo storming his direction and he didn’t look too happy. Panic and fear sets in and he quickly puts you down to face the danger coming to him.

“Look, Kuroo. It’s a misunderstanding,” Bokuto tried to stop him to explain but Kuroo wasn’t listening.

“You bastard,” Kuroo cursed through gritted teeth. He grabbed his best friend by the collar, landing a hard punch to the cheek. You gasped, never seeing Kuroo get so violent before. You covered your mouth in disbelief. But Kuroo disregards you. All of his attention was on the owl-eyed man beneath him. If you looked closely, you could see fume coming out of his ears.

“Kuroo, stop!” you scream, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him back. Kuroo rips his arm out of your grip and back on Bokuto’s collar.

“Kuroo Testsurou!” you tried screaming his name, but his is going through tunnel vision.

“You’re supposed to be my best friend. And you pull shit like this when I’m gone? Did you have fun? Was it worth shoving our friendship down the drain after all those years? How long as this been going on, huh? Days? Weeks? Years? Answer me, you asshole!” Kuroo screamed, letting the anger take over him. But Bokuto didn’t get a chance to answer because not only was none of what he was saying was true, but he his priority right now was to get out of his grip.

“KUROO TETSUROU!” You cried at the top of your lungs. It was so loud that you were sure your neighbors were going to give you a noise complaint. That’s when he lets go. Kuroo faces you rather aggressively, making you fear the man that you love.

“And you. You put on a good act,” he started.

“What?” you question, not knowing what he was saying or where he was going with that.

“Are you trying to be an actress? Because I believed every word that came out of your lying, cheating mouth,” he spat at you. Each word stung like someone was physically squeezing your heart until it burst. You didn’t know what he was saying. You start to shake and your vision blurred because of the unfallen tears filling in your eyes. You didn’t know where to look. All you knew was that you couldn’t look at your boyfriend. If he even was your boyfriend at this point.

“I was only gone for 2 weeks. Not even a full 2 weeks. Were you that lonely and in need of someone that you had to fuck my best friend?” he continued to falsely accuse you of something you couldn’t even fathom to do. You wanted to deny it so badly, so why wasn’t anything out of your mouth? You were so frozen in fear that nothing wanted to come out. Bokuto wasn’t having it though. He got up from the floor and it was his turn to grab his best friend by the collar.

“Do not speak to (y/n) like that. You’re not fucking listening. I’m telling you that this is all a misunderstanding!” Bokuto reasoned. But for some reason, Kuroo wasn’t having it.

“Misunderstanding… how is holding my girlfriend in your arms a misunderstanding? In what situation should you EVER hold my girlfriend like that?!” Kuroo started raising his voice, making you jump. You closed your eyes, still frozen in place, in hopes that that will calm you.

“If you calmed down, I can explain! Can’t you see that you’re scaring her?” Bokuto moved to show your shaking body. Upon seeing your current state, Kuroo realized that he fucked up. His anger got the better of him unlike ever before. After seeing his friend relax, Bokuto lets him go and backs away cautiously. If he was going to attack again, he would be prepared this time.

“(y/n), I’m sorry,” Kuroo softly whispered, going to grab your hand. But you flinched backwards, afraid of the man who was in front of you. He wasn’t Kuroo. He wasn’t your boyfriend. Your boyfriend would never act out like this. You look towards Boktuo, the only man you recognized in the room and begged with your eyes to come help you. Of course, he did. He stood in front of you, protecting you from the stranger in your apartment.

Kuroo’s eyes widen at your reaction. He messed up big time didn’t he? He looks down at his hand, in disbelief at his actions. What the hell got into him?

“(y/n),” Kuroo muttered your name to himself. All of a sudden, the palms of his hands were wet. Was he crying? He touched his cheek and it was soaked with tears. Oh, he was crying. How did he not notice?

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” Kuroo apologized, wiping more of his tears away that won’t stop falling. You peeked at the stranger from behind Bokuto’s broad shoulders. He was looking more and more like your boyfriend now.

“I missed you,” you managed to say with your throat all scratched up. Kuroo snaps his head up to make eye contact with you. You start to cry harder, but you needed to get out what you wanted to say. “I missed you so much, Kuroo. It was so hard without you here. I felt like I was all by myself in this world. And that you were having so much fun with your coworkers that you didn’t want to come home anymore. Or you would find another girl and realize that your girlfriend is a clingy nobody with no potential to succeed in life.” You sobbed and were surprised that you managed to get all that out in between sobs. It took you a while, but no one stopped you until you were all done.

“Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that about yourself. I wouldn’t be with you if I knew you couldn’t be your own person. You are successful in your own ways and I’ll always support you in every way that I can. Baby, I missed you so much. I thought about you every day.” He confessed.

“Really?” Not believing his words.

“Really. Day in, day out. You were the only one on my mind. Even when I was working and doing those boring workshops, I always thought about you. I came home early to surprise you because I couldn’t spend another second without you by myside.” You sobbed even harder, covering your face with your hands.

“Kuroo!” you cried, running into his arms. The moment you entered his arms, he engulfed you in a tight hug. Fuck, he missed you. He dug his head in the crook of your neck, taking all of you in. Your scent, your voice, the way you felt in his arms, how your hairs tickled his noise. But he didn’t want to move away any time soon. Because this is what he longed for for 2 weeks. Eventually, you pull away to peck him on the lips.

“God, I missed you,” he whispered against your lips.

“I missed you more,” you say and he kisses you again.

“I love you.” And another kiss.

“And I’m so sorry. I’ll never do that again. Swear on my life,”

“Yeah, that was kind of scary,” you managed to tell a light joke that made Kuroo feel relieved.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry,” he apologizes again and pecks kisses all over your face. You waited 2 weeks for this moment. You grabbed his face and gave him a passionate kiss that he gladly returned back. You were both making out in your bedroom, but someone was still there. Bokuto clears his throat, letting you know that he was still here. Both of you jump in surprise and turn to the man.

“Can I join?” he asks, making you roll your eyes and Kuroo pushing him away.

“Get the fuck out of here, bird man!”

A/N: As always, I’d love to know your thoughts! 

[sing-a-sirensong]

Venomous

A Reed900 Venom AU I had rattling around in my brain, thanks to Discord.

Summary: Gavin’s strange new “roommate” has some questions about human behaviour. Rating: E Warnings: None

On AO3 here

———————

Some people have their entire lives planned out. Others have no plans at all, just letting life take them in any direction it happens to go. Either way, “expect the unexpected” is a commonly spoken phrase. Unexpected changes are a fact of life, all just a part of the human experience. However, there are some events that seem so far out of the realm of possibility that one might wonder about the existence of some giant cosmic joke. 

Gavin Reed is not the type of man to wax philosophical, or question some cosmic order, or think about his place in the universe beyond being a damn good detective. Right now, in fact, he’s pondering little more than what to eat for dinner as he stands idly waiting at a crosswalk. Music plays a little too loudly in his earbuds. 

Chinese again? Gavin wonders, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. Maybe pizza. Got one of those coupon books in the mail. 

He’s pulled from his musings by a touch against his shoulder, an accidental bump by another pedestrian crossing the opposite direction. Gavin turns his head as they walk away, allowing himself a brief up-and-down glance at the retreating figure. Tall, fitted slacks, legs a mile long. Fuck. Gavin thinks, I haven’t gotten laid in ages. 

Gavin.

He sighs tiredly, pausing his music. He’s gotten so used to the internal commentary by now that he doesn’t even feel surprised anymore when his new… roommate pipes up. 

“Yeah tar pit?” He answers, out loud. He fiddles absently with his earphones, grateful for the wonders of modern technology that keep him from looking like a complete lunatic talking to himself.

Having offspring now would be very inconvenient. 

“W-What?” Gavin stutters, taken off guard by the odd choice of topic. “Dude, what the fuck are you talking about.” A mild annoyance that was not his own filtered into his mind. 

That other human. You considered procreating with them.

He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That isn’t- ok first of all, don’t call it that. And second of all, this isn’t a conversation to have in public. Just wait five minutes until we get home.” The feeling of annoyance settled slightly, and his head was quiet again. 

Less than five minutes later, in the elevator to his apartment, the peace was broken.

We should not have pizza for dinner again. It is not healthy for us to have such an unvaried diet.

Gavin sighs again, something he seemed to do a lot more frequently now. He steps off the elevator, walking down the hall. 

“Alright, how about the chicken alfredo from that place around the corner?” He suggests, unlocking the door and stepping in, shrugging off his jacket and shoes. “I’ll even get it with broccoli so we can eat one whole vegetable.”

Can we get the chocolate lava cake? 

Gavin snorts, warm fondness settling in his chest. “Yeah buddy, we can get the chocolate lava cake.”

Excellent. 

A cantankerous meow signals the presence of Princess Peanut; Gavin’s crotchety, cranky, three-legged very senior cat. She stares up at him with two murky orange eyes and lets out another raspy howl. How rude of him to set foot in his own home and not pay attention to her immediately upon arrival. 

Gavin feels the now-familiar sensation of Nines manifesting physical form, a feeling akin to peeling tape or glue off of your skin, except it feels more everywhere. The odd creature Gavin now shares his body with leans down, bracing their weight on one hand and gently petting the cat with the other. It’s adorable, in a heartwarming, eldritch horror sort of way.

Nines appears to be a young man, looking almost human enough. Dark brown hair that sometimes slips into curling tendrils, blue-grey eyes that almost seem to glow, black stained nails that might be a little too sharp, gleaming white teeth that are definitely too sharp, and pale skin that’s just a touch too grey, fading into the swirling black mass at his hips where he emerges from Gavin’s torso. 

But as odd as it is, Gavin thinks this appearance is for his benefit. He knows that isn’t what Nines looked like the first time he showed himself to Gavin. He remembers it being almost… mechanical looking. All sharp lines, and sleek inky blackness. Two glowing eyes. Of course Gavin had been completely losing his mind at the time, in the middle of a (very understandable) breakdown, so his memories may be slightly exaggerated. 

Another grouchy meow jolts Gavin into motion, Nines retreating back under his skin.

“Alright you fucking Nut, I’m getting to it.” Gavin grumbles, opening a fresh tin for the princess’s dinner. He gives her a quick scratch under the chin, and leaves the kitchen to flop on the couch. 

Gavin.

He hums in acknowledgment, idly considering a nap before dinner. 

We are home.

“Yeah tar pit, we are.” He mumbles. 

We can continue the conversation about procreation now. 

Gavin’s eyes snap open, wide awake now. “Uh, yeah, I guess you’re right. Fuck, um.” He sits up, scraping his fingers roughly through his hair. “First of all, don’t call it that. It’s just sex. It’s not really about making babies or whatever, it’s to relieve tension. Because it just uh, feels good. Really good.” 

Unintentionally, Gavin remembers being bent over various pieces of furniture and fucked silly by his previous trysts. He flushes slightly with embarrassment, Nines definitely saw that. He’s still getting used to sharing a brain, sue him. 

An unconvinced murmur brings Gavin back to the present, Nines was apparently finished rifling through his sexual encounter memory catalogue.

The process of pursuing a sexual partner seems time-consuming and difficult. Why bother if it is not necessary? Your failures outnumber your successes. 

“Way to kick a guy when he’s down.” Gavin grumbles, but he knows the question is genuine and Nines has no malicious intent behind his statement. Nines simply thinks in terms of numbers; success and failure, yes and no, black and white. Gavin sighs. 

“I guess you technically don’t really need a partner, it’s just sometimes better when you’ve got one.” He explains, allowing Nines a very short glimpse of Gavin’s moments in bed or in the shower with just his hand for company. He can feel Nines consider this new information. 

A much more logical approach with a significantly higher success rate.

Gavin huffs out a laugh at Nines’ rational analysis, scratching idly at his chin.

“You’re not wrong.” He says. 

Show me.

“What?! No!” Gavin splutters, instinctively alarmed at the thought.

Why not?

“Because it’s fucking private, not some part of fascinating human culture to observe through a microscope!” A ridiculous point to make to someone that lives in his head and can read all his thoughts.

Gavin can practically feel the unimpressed look Nines is giving him.

Hm. It sounds like you are being a little bitch. 

Gavin barks out a surprised laugh. He’s clearly been a bad influence on Nines’ vocabulary. That warm fondness bubbles up in his chest again and he runs a hand through his hair. You know what, why the fuck not? His life is already so fucking weird, this might as well happen. 

“Shit, alright, why not.” He stands. “But we’re not gonna stay out here for this.” He closes the door behind him once he’s in the bedroom. Gavin does not want an untimely cat-shaped interruption. He strips down, tossing his clothes on the floor haphazardly, and lays flat on the bed. This, at least, isn’t unfamiliar territory. Nines has to be with him in the shower, and he’s merged with all his cells or whatever, so it’s not like he doesn’t know what Gavin looks like naked. 

Gavin relaxes into the sheets, one arm folded behind his head and the other palm resting on his stomach. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply, and tries to pretend this is just like any other time he’s jerked off. 

This is not very interesting.

Gavin can’t hold back his amused snort at the obviously unimpressed tone, but he feigns irritation anyways. “Yeah I’m going, I’m going.” He grumbles. 

He skims a hand down his belly, palming between his legs. This isn’t going to take long, he thinks, the barest touch and he’s already filling out from the anticipation of finally getting off.

Gavin eases into it, stroking slowly over hardening flesh. Pleasure sparks low in his belly, but doesn’t want to overwhelm Nines with too much too fast. But the mental feedback Gavin is receiving seems to just be curiosity at the new sensations, and steadily increasing interest. 

I think I am beginning to understand why humans choose to do this.

Gavin’s dick twitches at the low voice echoing in his head, and he laughs weakly. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He jokes. 

On the next upstroke he twists his wrist, fingers tracing a vein along the underside. He bites back a small noise, forcing his breathing to stay even and trying to quell the simmering heat in his belly.

Do that again.

Gavin’s breath stutters at the abrupt demand, but he complies, hand speeding up and thumb smearing a pearl of precome over the sensitive head. His hips jump and the fingernails of his opposite hand dig into his palm. 

“Nines I- ahh, uhm,” Gavin pauses to swallow hard, “I’m not gonna- ah- not gonna last long. S’been a while.” He manages to grit out. Fuck he’s gonna have a hard time keeping quiet. 

His cock is getting slick in his grip, leaking steadily now. Gavin would feel embarrassed, if he thought Nines cared even a slight bit about how long he lasted. A groan escapes him on the next swipe over the tip, and Gavin brings his hand down from under his head and bites his knuckle to muffle the noises. 

I want to try.

Gavin wheezes like he’s been punched, nearly sitting straight up in shock. 

“You what?” He chokes out. But after the initial surprise of the request, Gavin is slammed with a wave of arousal at the thought of Nines touching him. He squirms in place a little. 

I want to touch you.

Gavin’s cock throbs in his grip. He can feel the hungry curiosity from Nines filtering through his mind, and yeah, fuck, why not. He settles back into the blankets, cautiously laying his hand by his side.

“Oh-kay, yeah alright.” He breathes. “Just be careful alright? Us humans are fucking fragile.”

I would never hurt you.

Gavin feels a pinch of emotion at the sincerity in his statement, and relaxes further into the bed. He gives Nines the mental go-ahead. 

A familiar sensation starts up on his skin, and Gavin looks down to see rippling darkness emerge and pool across his hips, brushing against his cock. Against his overheated skin, it’s fucking cold.

Gavin instinctively jerks his hips back and yelps. 

“Shit that’s cold, Nines, fuck.” An apologetic hum echoes through his mind, and Nines pauses briefly. He resumes his path after a moment and covers Gavin’s cock entirely, deliciously hot this time and squeezes. Gavin curses. 

Better?

“Yeah, fuck, how’d you do that?” He gasps, fingers gripping the sheets. 

Temperature regulation is imperative for survival.

The reply is offhanded, most of Nines’ focus now on consuming Gavin’s responses to his touch. 

Gavin groans, his head tilting back in the pillow. Christ it feels so good, hot and tight and slick. He moans raggedly, praise falling from his lips. 

“Just like that, fuck that’s- that’s good, keep going.” Nines trills happily at the praise, spreading further up Gavin’s abdomen. Curious tendrils flick at Gavin’s nipples, and his hands fly up, gripping the pillow above his head. Nines continues to play with his chest, and Gavin arches into his touch. 

The grip around his cock is scorching, twisting sweetly over the tip with every squeeze. Gavin squirms with pleasure, futilely thrusting his hips up.

More of Nines’ inky form skates greedily across his skin, drinking in every one of Gavin’s reactions. He twines up Gavin’s arms, winding around his wrists and through his fingers, pinning his arms above his head. 

Black tendrils slide down the inside of his thighs, and Gavin spreads his legs without realizing, rocking his hips desperately. Nines smoothes over his body, pressing Gavin’s thighs wider. Gavin lets out a whine, feeling filthy and on display. He tugs against the hold on his arms, whining again when there’s no give.

Gavin always had a thing for being manhandled but fuck, this was- fuck. 

“Oh God, fuck- ohhh don’t stop- baby don’t stop-” Gavin pleads. Nines is purring in his mind, eagerly devouring his pleasure, experiencing it with him.

Gavin keens at the feeling of something prodding at his entrance, nodding frantically and gasping when it presses inside. 

It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, smooth and slick tendrils sliding into him and exploring, swelling inside him until he’s filled so perfectly. He shudders and clenches down, gasping at the fullness. 

Fuck, then Nines starts moving, not thrusting but pulsing, rubbing deliciously against his inner walls. Gavin moans with every movement, drooling onto the pillow as his throaty ah ah ah’s fill the room. 

Gavin’s drowning in pleasure, his eyes rolling back in his head. But then Nines presses up firmly, directly into his prostate, squeezing around Gavin’s cock at the same time. Gavin very nearly wails, babbling desperately. 

“Oh fuck, baby I’m so close- Nines, please sweetheart, I’m gonna come- don’t stop, baby please don’t stop-” He begs, writhing in Nines’ all-encompassing hold. 

“Gavin.”

His name is growled out loud, Gavin hears it right next to his ear, not in his mind, and the faint scrape of sharp teeth on his throat tips him over the edge. 

Gavin‘s voice cracks on a sob, mewling Nines’ name as he comes in long, aching pulses. His toes curl as pleasure rips through him so strongly it almost hurts. He clenches down hard on the tendrils inside him, thighs trembling from the force of his orgasm. 

Nines keeps moving, drawing it out until Gavin is whimpering from oversensitivity, finally relenting. 

Gavin melts into the mattress when Nines releases him, completely boneless. Instead of vanishing beneath his skin, Nines settles across his body like a soothing, form-fitted blanket, petting affectionately at Gavin’s arms and shoulders. 

Fuck, Gavin’s never come that hard in his life.

Was my performance satisfactory?

The smugness radiating through their mental bond was almost palpable. 

“You’re fucking insufferable.” Gavin slurs, tremors still running intermittently through his muscles. 

Perhaps more practice will be needed.

Gavin’s spent dick twitches pathetically at the thought. “If you want.” He mutters hoarsely. Gavin definitely wants. But his eyelids are drooping, and he nestles down into the pillow. A faint question tugs at the edge of Gavin’s mind. “Nap first, food after.” He mumbles, “And I’ll get your lava cake.” A moment’s pause. 

… Can we get two lava cakes?

Gavin smiles fondly into the pillow, chuckling quietly at the timid question. 

“Yeah baby, we can get two lava cakes.”

[trashyart-y]

This brush has temporarily possesed me.

This is certainly an unconventional way of drawing for me. The face was kinda fun to try out at least (her face hasn't been redesigned, just to be clear. Well, the hair was slightly changed, but just a little).

Ignore my pathetic attempt at drawing a flower.

Anyway, I think I've thought up Tasara's actual outfit! Not that ugly excuse of a shirt I improvised. Now she actually holds some drip. The pink one is a long sweater.

The sandals might be changed into some other shoes because they really aren't the best for the adventure she will go on (presumably. Who knows what Michelle has planned)

Mazigh was 13 TITANyears-old when her planet was attacked by Scavengers and rescued by the TITAN crew.

After being taken to the schooling planet, she had a bit of a culture shock (whaaat? You can eat food whenever you want?? What is this blasphemy???)

The first year all she was taught was how to speak, read and understand TITAN because they saw how she was incapable of speaking normally. They kinda just told her to "suck it up" with the whole hearing sensitivity thing.

Due to the way her voice box was created, the longer and louder she speaks, the more her voice becomes strained and hoarse. It has gotten easier, and she has found a voice range that makes her hearable and doesn't take too much strain, but she should still be careful of overuse.

As the magic wore off, however, the whole learning new subjects thing (it did spark a bit of curiosity at the start, but quickly became a chore of sorts) started to feel vapid and she thought it was some sort of joke, an insult (this whole time, while she starved and had to hunt for food while being burned by the sweltering heat, these beings just had to learn some subjects to be given what she slaved away for). It soured her experience, that's for sure.

As those feelings festered, she stopped partaking in classes. And because of that, she was held back a year. Then 2.. (yes, I did find a way for Sara to be older than Ava by 3 TITANyears and still be in the same class, thank you very much)

She begrudgingly changed her mind on this once her younger peers decided to look down on her for the supposedly meek demeanor and "little intellect" and take the classes more seriously. It was more out of spite than anything. Like, "Oho? I'm a stupid lifeform? Watch me be at the top of my class".

And so she did. Baffling students and teachers. Many checks for if she cheated ensued. All came in negative, baby. 😎

She was still seen as this mysterious quiet kid you shouldn't mess with, and people still gossiped, but now it was more in envy and fear, even though she got sent to the principals office from fighting, like, only once.

Hm, she was sorta being encouraged and trained to be a soldier (mostly because of how she was nurtured and lived, tbh. But she's a stealthy gal with amazing critical thinking, planning and improvisation skills. Her better senses and a hunter's/survivor's nature/quirks the shooling planet failed to instill out of her are a plus as well. It's just that they kinda thought she was dumb af and had no chance to be anything else). The only reason she even entertained the thought and showed up in the practises was so she could keep her muscle memory sharp. That, and she kinda hoped to beat up the Scavengers once she grew up.

But other than that, she didn't hold any patriotism or loyalty for TITAN. Mazigh can hold grudges like a motherfucker, and you bet she hasn't forgotten how they didn't give any food supplies for her people if they didn't scrounge up some metal her planet had heaps of that they used for armor and weaponry.

She already knew that TITAN was greedy, and held no respect for what they held off on if her species didn't give them what TITAN wanted.

(Oh, the reaction she'd have once she found out TITAN is affiliated with Scavengers, if not created them...)

Aaaaannd.. I think that's all for now (kinda. You can see how much text there still is)! I finished Tasara's profile! (I already had a sketch for it, but once I revisited it, it kinda looked boring, so I changed up the posifion of her head and did a muuuuch more 🌠refined🌠 sketch.) I'm not sure if I will do Cecil Zenith, Mazigh's demon, but who knows, trying (and failing at--) Ava's Demon art style was pretty interesting.

Ava and Maggie have drawers, and Odin will most likely have a zipper once he makes a pact (that's the popular theory, anyway). To be honest, I'm not very sure what shape hers will take on once she makes a pact (and what the two would wish for in that pact--). I have a few ideas as of right now, but for me to pick between the 3 (more like 2, honestly. That one is pretty much the least likely to be chosen) would take a bit more consideration of whether I wanna go the traumatic or disgusting route of how it'd look from an outsider's perspective.

Okay, bye for real now--

(I am on an editing spree, btw, rewriting outdated info. That is why I'm posting so rarely. This one was in the oven for quite a bit, but amateur hours compared to a few I'm still holding in drafts)

[kalligfamilysoapopera]

COMPANION MEME

Stole this from @shanfamilydrama​ because I thought it sounded fun. If you haven’t done it yet and want to, consider yourself tagged!

Cyra Kallig

Selection Line:

“Now, we crush our foes.”

“I knew you wouldn’t forget me.”

“What new mayhem awaits us?”

"I do not serve you, but I will accompany you nonetheless.”

"Let’s have a bit of fun, shall we?”

Class: Assassin

Weapons: Dualsaber (purple crystal)

Battle Lines:

"Time to die!”

"Feel my power and tremble!”

"Are you afraid yet?”

[Maniacal Laughter]

Exiting Battle:

"Aw, over already?”

"Well then, that’s done I suppose.”

“There was no chance of our failure.”

"Perhaps there will be a real challenge next time.”

KO’d/Low Health:

"I won’t die here!”

"Help me, you fool!”

"It’s nothing... just a scratch...”

Resurrected:

"Thank you... I suppose.”

"I could have handled that myself.”

"That was close... uncomfortably so.”

Misc. Click Lines:

"What are you looking at?”

"If I had anything to say to you, I would say it.”

"Don’t we have more pressing matters to attend to?”

"I know dark secrets that you could only dream of.”

"In time, perhaps we can talk more.”

"Is there not a galaxy to conquer?”

"Hm? Oh, I was lost in thought.”

(Nar Shaddaa Only) “All these glittering lights hide such a vile underbelly... how repulsive. But useful in the right moments.”

Healing lines:

"Let the darkness embrace you.”

"Get up, you’re stronger than this.”

Crew skills lines:

Sent on Mission: “I suppose I can lower myself to this.”

Mission Success: “Did you ever doubt me?”

Mission Failure: “The task was beneath me anyway.”

Gifts: Likes, Favourites, Loves

Courting

Cultural Artifact

Imperial Memorabilia

Luxury

Military Gear

Republic Memorabilia

Technology

Trophy

Underworld Good

Weapon

Maintenance

Delicacies

Full recruitment quest below the cut because I had to be extra like that.

Recruitment Quest:

ALLIANCE ALERT: Enshrouded in Madness Contact: Sana-Rae

Description: Commander, 

I have had a vision of you, travelling to the planet Belsavis. There, a new darkness is festering, one that may grow to rival the other ancient things that dwell there. In my vision, you enter this darkness, and vanish. When you return, the darkness has lifted, and the alliance has been strengthened.

My vision tells me that you should begin your search in the Tomb. More than that, I cannot say.

Quest Objectives and Conversation Tree: 

OBJECTIVE: Search for the source of the darkness on Belsavis

(Upon arriving on Belsavis, travel to the Tomb and enter an instanced area in the Cells of the Lords of the Infinite. Fight your way through a few Primordial Beasts to reach a sealed doorway and Cyra Kallig standing in front of it, lightsaber drawn)

OBJECTIVE: Speak to Cyra Kallig

Cyra Kallig: Why have you come here? Fool, you shall fall as all those before you have fallen! Cyra Kallig: Wait... there is something... different about you. You are not here to stop me, are you?

[Option 1 “I’m here to stop the Darkness”] 

Commander: I am here to put an end to the darkness. Whether that means to stop you, well, that depends. Cyra Kallig: Ah, I see... one of those, then... well, I’m terribly sorry to disappoint, but I am not the source.

[Option 2 “You’re a Sith?”]

Commander (Force-Sensitive): I can sense the darkness within you, Sith. Commander (Non Force-Sensitive): I would know robes and a lightsaber like that anywhere. You’re Sith, aren’t you? Cyra Kallig: Congratulations! What, do you expect some sort of prize? Cyra Kallig: Of course I’m Sith. But I am not the source of the darkness that you seek.

[Option 3 “I just want to talk”]

Commander: Of course not, I just wanted to have a talk. Cyra Kallig: As if I would believe that. You wouldn’t come out all this way just to talk to a Sith you’ve never met before, would you? Cyra Kallig: You’re investigating the darkkness here, aren’t you? Well, sorry to disappoint, but it isn’t me.

Cyra Kallig: I’m here for the same reason as you-- seeking after the source of this darkness. Cyra Kallig: If I know anything about the Dark Side-- and I know quite a lot-- then I would say that this feeling is almost certainly comign from an artefact. A powerful one.  Cyra Kallig: Why it’s only just now created a disturbance, I cannot say. Perhaps the turmoil and conflict in the galaxy is resonating with it and has woken it from its slumber.  Cyra Kallig: Regardless, I wish to access this artefact. And if you do as well, I don’t see why we can’t cooperate. Cyra Kallig: I’ve studied this vault and meditated on this matter, and I believe that the artefact is within this sealed chamber. It seems that the only way to open it is with a key of sorts.  Cyra Kallig: Within this vault, there are various other fragments-- alone insignificant, but when placed within the sealed door, I believe that they will resonate with the artefact inside and cause it to open.  Cyra Kallig: If you find these fragments and bring them to me, then we can reach the artefact inside.

[Option 1 “Why should I trust you?”]

Commander: And why exactly should I trust what you say? How do I know you won’t turn on me? Cyra Kallig: Oh, I very well might. But you want to unearth this artefact, as do I, so it’s best we just cooperate. We can figure out the fine details later.

[Option 2 “I’ll find these fragments.”]

Commander: I will return once I’ve found your artefact fragments. Cyra Kallig: Good, and I hope you do hurry.

[Option 3 “Why can’t you do it?”]

Commander: Why am I the one who has to do the grunt work? Why can’t you find these fragments yourself? Cyra Kallig: I could find them myself, of course-- but if I were to do that, there’s no chance that I’ll let you share in my discoveries, and you wouldn’t want to be left out, would you?

Cyra Kallig: The artefact fragments will probably be scattered throughout this vault. I doubt that they’ve been taken, but if you can’t find all of them, perhaps killing a few of the vault’s denizens might help with your focus.

OBJECTIVE: Locate Artefact Fragments (4) Bonus: Defeat Vault Guardian Beasts and Droids (15)

(The artefact fragments will be in clickable places around the vault, they’re set within carvings. A number of Guardian Beasts and Droids can also be found, and they’ll drop credits and junk loot. Once you’ve found all four fragments, the objective will update)

OBJECTIVE: Return to Cyra Kallig

Cyra Kallig: You’ve found them! Oh, how wonderful, now, hand them over to me and I’ll unseal this vault.

Commander: [Gives artefacts]

[Cyra Kallig places the artefacts in the door. It begins to glow, and opens up. Within the vault is a Rakata Mind Prison, suspended in the middle of the chamber.]

Cyra Kallig: I’ve seen these before... they can trap a person’s consciousness inside of them... but this one, it’s strange. Not like the others.  Cyra Kallig: It feels... empty. Like an endless void, but one that spreads out, consuming all...

[Cyra Kallig approaches the Mind Prison]

Cyra Kallig: Whoever, or whatever, was trapped here... is no longer the same as they once were... now, simply a fountain of dark power... Cyra Kallig: [maniacal laughter] Cyra Kallig: Such power that it will drive mad anyone that comes near it, should they not have the strength to resist! This is amazing!

[Cyra Kallig turns to face the Commander]

Cyra Kallig: You... you’ve come here for this artefact as well... I will not allow you to have it!

[She draws her weapon]

OBJECTIVE: Defeat Cyra Kallig

(Cyra Kallig is an elite enemy and uses a variety of melee and Force attacks typical of the Sith Assassin, with both a stun and knockback ability. At 75, 50, and 25% HP, she will stealth out and summon a pair of Illusions, both Strong difficulty, who you must defeat before she will re-appear.)

OBJECTIVE: Speak to Cyra Kallig

Cyra Kallig: I cannot believe it-- you’ve beaten me! I was right, there truly is something special about you... The artefact is yours, I suppose... even I can admit when I’ve lost.

[Option 1 (LS) [Destroy the Artefact]]

Commander: I won’t keep it. It must be destroyed. (The commander strikes the artefact, destroying it)

[Option 2 [Seal the Artefact away]]

Commander: No, it’s dangerous. I’ll leave it here in this vault, and destroy the key fragments. (The commander backs away from the artefact)

[Option 3 (DS) [Take the Artefact]]

Commander: Yes, it is mine... It’ll look nice in my collection, don’t you think? (The commander takes the artefact)

Cyra Kallig: You’re far more powerful than I could have imagined... You can resist its pull. But then... I suppose I’ve always been a little mad myself anyway. Cyra Kallig: [chuckles ruefully] I suppose you’ll just leave me to my fate then... now that you’ve beaten me down, broken me, mortally wounded me...  Cyra Kallig: Typical. Just when I think I’ve finally attained power, everything is lost...

[Option 1 (LS) “Let me heal your wounds.”]

Commander: No, everything isn’t lost. Let me help you. (Heals her wounds) Cyra Kallig: What... you... but why would you do this? Now you’ve made me indebted to  you!

[Option 2 (DS) [Say Nothing]]

Cyra Kallig: I suppose all of this seeking after power was bound to catch up with me... Eventually, I would have to find a foe that I couldn’t beat... [dies] [[ QUEST END: Cyra Kallig is killed and cannot be recruited ]]

[Option 3 (DS+) “You were always weak.”[Kill her]]

Commander: Killing you wasn’t even a challenge.  (The commander deals a killing blow to Cyra Kallig. Cyra crumbles to the ground and dies.) [[ QUEST END: Cyra Kallig is killed and cannot be recruited ]]

(If Option 1 is chosen, conversation continues as follows)

Cyra Kallig: I suppose I should give some grand speech about how I owe you my life now, and will follow you to the ends of the galaxy or something along those lines... that’s what you’re used to, isn’t it? (She gets up) Cyra Kallig: But I’d say that, since it was you who wounded me in the first place, and you who then healed me, that it cancels it out-- so truly, I don’t owe you anything at all! Cyra Kallig: Still, though... if you came here seeking this artefact, there’s a good chance you’ll find other sources of power in the future, so I suppose it couldn’t hurt to aid you. Perhaps someday I’ll be able to take them as my own. Cyra Kallig: Or-- who knows, perhaps if I fight beside you long enough, I’ll discover how to defeat you! [Laughter, but more genuine than before] Cyra Kallig: At any rate, I am more than willing to work with you on your future endeavours. If you ever wish for my assistance, I’ll be leaving for Yavin Four shortly, so you may find me there.

[Option 1: “You should join the Alliance”]

Commander: I am the commander of an Alliance fighting the Eternal Empire. Your power and skills could be useful. If you’re interested, come to Odessen. Cyra Kallig: An alliance... fighting the Eternal Empire... how fascinating. Quite the monumental task, isn’t it? Well then, perhaps I could be persuaded to help, provided I have sufficient opportunity for mayhem. Cyra Kallig: No-- I’m certain that with my help, your alliance will wade to victory through the blood of your enemies! I shall join you.  Cyra Kallig: Farewell, Commander. I will gather my things and join you and your Alliance on Odessen. [[ QUEST END: Cyra Kallig is recruited into the Alliance. She can be found in the Force Enclave and is now available as a follower. ]]

[Option 2: “I’ll keep that in mind”]

Commander: Thank you for your offer. I have no need of you right now, but I will certainly remember this. Cyra Kallig: Yes, yes, of course-- but be aware. Should you take too long to show up, my mind might have changed. [[ QUEST END: Cyra Kallig is not recruited into the Alliance, but should you wish to recruit her at a later time, she can be found in the Temple Ruins on Yavin 4 and can be recruited there. ]]

[Option 3: “I would never seek your help.”]

Commander: I do not wish to have someone like you within my alliance-- go where you wish, I don’t want to speak with you again. Cyra Kallig: Suit yourself. Just remember that, should we meet again, I will not be inclined to show you mercy. [[ QUEST END: Cyra Kallig is not recruited into the Alliance and cannot be recruited at a later date. She can be found in the Temple Ruins on Yavin 4 in a small instanced area as a hostile champion-level solo boss. The area also contains a lockbox with credits and a “Cultural Artefact” type companion gift. Once Cyra is defeated once, she will not respawn, and the instance will be closed to you. ]]

If you chose to delay Cyra’s recruitment (Option 2), and visit her later on Yavin 4, you will receive the quest “Continued Madness” in your mission log, which directs you to her location. Should you abandon the quest, you will receive it again upon entering the instanced area on Yavin 4.

CONTINUED MADNESS

OBJECTIVE: Speak to Cyra Kallig on Yavin 4

Cyra Kallig: Ah, Commander, it’s you again.  Have you reconsidered my offer? [Option 1: “Yes, Join the Alliance.” ]

Commander: Yes. I would like you to join the Alliance. Cyra Kallig: I thought you would never ask! Fortunately, I’m still interested. I will see you on Odessen. [[ QUEST END: Cyra Kallig is recruited into the Alliance. She can be found in the Force Enclave and is now available as a follower. ]]

[Option 2: “No, not yet.” ]

Commander: No, I haven’t decided yet. Cyra Kallig: That’s no fun. Come back when you’ve become capable of making a decision, and we’ll see if I still want to join your little cause.

[Option 3: "I’ve changed my mind.” [Attack]]

Commander: I’ve decided that you’re too dangerous to be left alive. Cyra Kallig: Oh, well then-- let’s at least make it good!

If option 2 is chosen, the “Continued Madness” quest remains in your log, with the objective “Speak to Cyra Kallig on Yavin 4″ until she is recruited or killed. 

If option 3 is chosen, you will fight Cyra to the death, this time as a champion boss with more difficult mechanics than before. 

In any ending where Cyra is killed, she will drop a unique set of armour called “Cyra Kallig’s Armour Set” which is bound to legacy and can only be obtained through killing her. She will also drop “Cyra Kallig’s Maddening Lightsaber,” a unique weapon with a special purple-indigo crystal “Cyra Kallig’s Lightsaber Crystal” and a dark-side haze tuning “Cyra Kallig’s Lightsaber tuning”. Cyra will only need to be killed one time to unlock the armour, the weapon, the tuning, and the crystal in collections.

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of The Spheres Chapter 1: Terran Tarantella

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, implied murder

Characters: Loki(Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel)

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:   

“I see a bad moon a-rising

I see trouble on the way

I see earthquakes and lightnin’

I see bad times today”

                       Creedence Clearwater Revival

A small group of men, and one woman gathered in a small room; the kind that seemed like a storage closet from the outside, the kind that had cameras installed, but not functioning. Beyond this room, the basic hustle of running a government rushed on, but within it, all heads were turned to a handful of hand written documents scattered over the table.

“And you're absolutely sure this translation is correct?” One of them asked.

“Yes.” The woman said. “Well, as much as I can be. Old Norse is a contentious language, but this is written so much more clearly than most of our primary sources.” She gestured to the letter in question, written in gold ink on purple parchment. It was a museum quality piece of work, and it would likely never see the inside of one. Its contents were just too incriminating. Especially since the President seemed to be seriously considering it.

“Hm. Well then, we should probably chose someone shouldn't we?” He said.

“Mister President?” The translator asked. “Are you sure? I've been quite plain about what this says. What is being asked of us. It's...reprehensible. And frankly, I am surprised that King Thor would even allow it.”

“Ma'am, this is a culture that is old beyond reckoning.” Another man-one of the generals? She couldn't keep them straight-piped in. “An alien race on top of that. It's only to be expected that they would have customs that are unfamiliar, even repugnant to us. We should keep an open mind.”

It was ridiculous. She knew for a fact that many of the people in this room and beyond held virulent hatred for several cultures that existed on Earth. There was no reason they should be showing this kind of cultural sensitivity to a bunch of aliens who just showed up and started making demands. Especially that one...

“I ask you to understand that sometimes we make hard sacrifices for the good of all.” The President said. “Asgard is a galactic superpower.”

“Was.” She pointed out. “Now they're a bunch of refugees.”

The President gave her an annoyed glance. “They will no doubt regain their power shortly. Their technology is wildly advanced. And if we go along with the occasional weird little whim they have, they will be grateful. So America gains access to Asgardian tech. Imagine how many people could have their lives bettered by Asgardian friendship.”

The translator couldn't help but wonder since when this man gave a shit about bettering the lives of others. It was disgusting, that this was probably just another path to money and power for him. Even moreso that no one else in the room was questioning this, even a little bit. They were all known for eating scraps from his table anyway, and likely looking to grab some of those benefits for themselves. At what expense?

She decided to start looking for another job.

“Asgardian friendship would certainly be a boon for our country.” She said. “Do you have further need of me?” She wanted out of here badly now. She didn't want to be in the room while they made this awful choice.

“No.” The president said. He tapped one of his men on the arm. “Escort her out, would you?”

With relief, she followed the man out of the room.

She never made it to her car.

                                                                               ******

Loki wandered through the dark and cramped byways, to the furthest reaches of their new settlement, past the places where the rest of his people felt safe, past where even he felt safe. These outside places were no longer the haunts of petty criminals or undesirables exactly, not that he feared such unsavories. No, these rough walls were now the lair of the most notorious and hidden Asgardian of all. So mythical was she, that almost no one knew she still lived.

Gullveig the witch. If stories were to be believed, she was the first witch. If stories were to be believed, she had been killed three times, and returned each time. If stories were to be believed, that meant she was now beyond death.

If stories were to be believed, that meant he was as well.

But that was not why he was here.

In all the whispers, in all the screamed confessions, all the gibbering of those who had visited her, her power was very real. Real and terrible, for she could grant any wish, any wish at all, and sometimes that was far more than the wisher actually wanted. Word a wish poorly, and it would be granted. Fail to think through the consequences of a wish, and it would still be granted. It was why she had been killed so many times in the first place. But that was the fault of the wishers, not Gullveig herself.

And Loki had thought through this wish, and knew what it would cost him. But the gains...if he had calculated correctly, predicted correctly, the gains for Asgard could be immense. Steeling himself, he found the one area that appeared to be lit, and entered.

“You have returned again.” She said in her cracked and watery voice. Her back was to him, and she appeared to be warming her hands over a tiny fire in a glowing crucible. Fires-real fires-were strictly forbidden within the confines of Asgard right now, but it was debatable whether those embers counted as a real fire, debatable whether she lived within Asgard. On the edge of things, always as she liked it. “So you are truly committed?”

“I am.” Loki said. “I have made my decision.”

The old witch cackled in amusement. “It may be your last! After this, you will be different. You know this, yes? This person who stands in my doorway? He will no longer exist.”

“That is by design.” Loki said.

She turned to face him. She was, by far, the oldest Asgardian he had ever seen; bent, wizened, wrinkled and scraggly. She didn't look the part of a witch. She wasn't horrifying to look at, simply old, frail, wrapped in a pale shawl. She wasn't frightening at all, except that he knew her to be older than his father's father, and that she had one, single-minded focus in life that transcended any morality or ethics she might have ever had.

“Did you bring me what I want?” she asked.

“Yes.” He offered up a sizable sack, filled with every last scrap of gold that he owned. He had pried it from his armor, stripped it from his jewelry, and pricked out every last shimmering thread from his royal wardrobe. His, and only his: she would not accept any that he had taken from someone else. This had to be his sacrifice to make-the first of several.

Gold was all she ever wanted. Anyone could buy her services, if only they offered gold. Sometimes she didn't care where they got it, but as a ruler, he was a special case. No one knew what she did with it. Surely, she had collected enough over the millennia to build a palace out of it, but it was never anywhere to be seen.

She smiled at the sight of it, seemed to stand straighter, move more spryly.

“Now, for yours.” She plunged her claw-like fingers into the crucible, stirring the embers and ashes with rapidly blackening talons. She plucked forth a glowing ring, strewn with runes, and shook it, blowing ashes from the darkening metal. Using her tattered apron, she polished the ring until it shone even in the weak light of her tiny hovel.

It was not gold, which she would never have parted with, but platinum, a metal that just happened to be fairly abundant in their new settlement. He did not know if the powers of Midgard were aware of the riches to be found in the place they had allotted to Asgard, but he would certainly see that Asgard got to claim them.

The glow and runes had thoroughly faded from the ring before she set it on his palm, with the instruction 'not to put it on until you mean it'. But he knew exactly what he was going to do with it. He had taken the opportunity while Thor slept the long and powerful sleep of an Asgardian ruler, to send a message to the country of most of his brother's friends. The country he had tried to conquer. It was a message that promised things, as in days of old. A promise of power, of friendship, of mutual benefit, in exchange for a life. The simplest and most common of agreements.

Perhaps that might make up for his earlier...indiscretion.

He vanished the ring to his magical hiding place, and exited Gullveig's home. While Thor slept, Loki ruled, and it wouldn't do for him to be missed. Winding along through long, rough corridors, until he returned to the well-lit and finished walls of Asgard's new buildings, he found Heimdall and his advisors waiting. Perfect. He needed to tell them to expect a visitor soon.

                                                                            ******

“There. I think that's everybody within the parameters.” One worker said, pushing back from his computer.

“Let me check.” His partner leaned over the keyboard. “Lessee...age range, yeah...unmarried, yeah...less than twelve thousand a year, yeah...anti-Party sentiments on social media...arrest record, yeah...'other undesirable'? That's pretty cold.”

“This whole thing is cold.” He agreed. “But the projected benefits are worth it. Whoever's chosen will be contributing more than their current life is worth.”

“Cold as ice. Well, let's do this.” His partner hit the sort command, the program sifting through millions of names before settling on one at random.

“Well, there's our unlucky lady.” He said, pulling up all the personal information the computer had. “Sorry about this, miss, but maybe you should've made better life choices. Either way, your sacrifice will usher in a new age of prosperity for us.”

“Well, when do we get her?”

“We've got people in her town. We'll just send them a message tomorrow. Well, sleep tight, miss. There's no telling what that freak is going to do to you.”

“Fucking frigid, man.”

                                                                             ******

With a groan, you pulled yourself out of bed. Another day, another dollar. Never quite enough dollars for the amount of days you spent though.

You found your cane and hobbled to the shower, wasting precious morning moments under the warm spray. You probably wouldn't get a chance to bathe this evening. You would be going to a protest-you had finished your sign last night, and it should be dry by now.

You didn't bother to turn on the lights; the sun was peeking through your window, and it wasn't like your studio apartment had much clutter to trip over anyway.

Getting your leg attached, and grabbing a slice of buttered bread, you just barely caught the bus to work.

It was simple data entry, but it-barely-paid the bills. And it didn't require you to stand for hours, or be constantly walking back and forth, or talking directly to customers, so you were thankful to have it.

You'd still be voting for better conditions though, and surreptitiously trying to unionize. You, and everyone there were still being exploited, and it wouldn't do to just accept that, simply because it could be worse.

Now if only Betty had called in...Nope, she hadn't. It was practically every day lately, that you prayed for your ultra-conservative coworker to just stay home, but she never did. She bragged to you-or within earshot of you-very often about her perfect attendance. You could never prove that she was doing it as a jab to your occasional medical related absences, but you wouldn't put it past her.

She noticed you slipping your sign under your desk.

“That's inappropriate.” She said with unconcealed disgust. Ugh, the twit would hate protesters. She somehow thought she was closer to those power-hungry hangers-on that the regime seemed to draw out of the woodwork. She had much more in common with the people crawling in the streets than she ever would with the so-called 'president' and his cronies, and she would actually benefit from the changes you were all marching for, but her pointy, oyster-white nose was so far in the air that she would never see it.

“It's none of your business.” You grumbled, slipping into your chair, and setting your cane aside. You wouldn't be getting up from there for the next few hours.

“It is my business to know whether I share a cubicle wall with a violent thug!” She trilled sanctimoniously.

“Okay, first of all, that kind of accusation is inappropriate, and prohibited by company policy. Second of all, what am I gonna do? Limp at you?”

“If you decide to get aggressive with me, I can't escape. I have to run down the stairs, but you can beat me to any floor, just by using the elevator!”

“This again? Give it a rest!” You were this close to reporting her. Again. Maybe if you did it enough times, somebody would actually do something about it.

Betty held a genuine grudge over the fact that you were the only employee on this floor who got to use the janky old service elevator. Everybody else had to use the stairs. Never mind that it was literally the only way for you to even get to your desk. No, if there was something that some people were allowed to do, but Betty wasn't, it was clearly incontestable proof of oppression against Betty herself. Also, if the 'wrong sort' of people were allowed to do the same things Betty was, well that was also anti-Betty oppression. She just wanted so badly to be able to claim oppression, that she didn't realize that she actually was being oppressed by the people she wanted just as desperately to emulate.

She was exhausting.

“Good morning you two! Hey Betty, you got those numbers for me yet?” Saved by the boss. Well, not really. He didn't like you, but he didn't like Betty either. He didn't hate either of you. He was just the boss-make believe friendly, but distant, concerned with other things. However, he disliked when employees wasted time, and Betty did. A lot. That's what happened when someone was an incorrigible gossip.

Betty slunk back to her desk, cowed for at least a few minutes. He handed you a bit more work to do, then meandered down the aisle, greeting other employees, and handing out more work on his way to his own tiny office. He wasn't all that important either, in the scheme of things. It was really amazing how many people kept their gaze so fixed on the people in power that they couldn't see them pouring quicksand around their feet.

But you would lend your voice to the march on their behalf anyway. They deserved better too. Maybe they'd see it someday, instead of continuing to fight against their own interests.

For now, though, you would concentrate on your work.

The morning came and went, your little lunch alarm signaling its death. You grabbed your cane and walked slowly and carefully to the break room. You kept a week's worth of small lunches in baggies in the fridge here. Salami, little cheese slices, crackers, cherry tomatoes, baby carrots, and grapes. Not much, but tasty and filling, and you got all the food groups. There was an unspoken rule about not messing with other people's food that, thankfully, nobody in the office had ever broken; at least not while you'd been here.

You could see into the tidy lines of cubicles from the break room, and while you crunched away at your carrots, you noticed something worrying. There were two men in matching suits and shades talking to Betty. She spoke to them animatedly, gesturing at your cubicle. One of the men peeked inside.

Oh, you didn't like that at all.

You didn't actually have anything to hide, but you knew damn well that didn't matter. If these were cops-or worse-they would find whatever it was they wanted to find, one way or another.

By the time you got back from your lunch break, the men had disappeared, but Betty still had a distressingly smug grin on her face. You checked every drawer and every cranny of your desk: nothing had been taken, and nothing had been left behind. You went back to work, trying to ignore the anxiousness that was creeping up your back.

You had just finished and sent your last spreadsheet when your boss opened his door and called you to his office. You slowly made your way there, trying not to pay attention to the malice sparkling in Betty's face, or how your other coworkers glanced at you with pity or distrust.

The suspicious pair of men were hiding out in your boss' office, and you'd never seen him looking more uncomfortable.

One of the men positioned himself closer to the door behind you, not that you could run anyway.

“Um...Do you know why I called you in here?” Your boss asked.

“I assume it has something to do with your new friends.” You said sourly. This was going bad, you could see it a mile off. You honestly didn't know why they were here, or what they wanted. “Seriously though, no I don't. Why have you called me in here?”

You'd make him say it at least.

“Er, well, unfortunately your employment with us has been, well, terminated. So, if you would just gather up your things-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” You interrupted.  “On what grounds? Because these guys said so?”

'These guys' said nothing.

“No, no, it's, uh...your arrest record...”

“That's ridiculous! Why didn't you fire me two months ago then, when it happened? Because you know it was pure bullcrap, that's why! You saw the footage; I never threw anything at that cop! He tripped over some garbage that was already there, then turned around, knocked me down, and hit me with my own cane. They let me out the same day because they knew they had nothing. Cane's still bent.”

“Look, I'm sorry, but you're fired. I'm sorry. Now go on, get out of here.”

And take them with you seemed to be the unspoken plea. You stormed out of the office with as much dignity as you could, spoke to no one, shoved the meager contents of your desk into your purse, gabbed your sign, and got into the old service elevator for the last time.

You would be reporting this, to anybody who would listen. It was completely unacceptable. And now you would have to go through the ordeal of applying either for unemployment, or disability. You hoped your savings would last long enough for your appeals to go through.

You spotted their reflections in a display window on the way to the bus stop. The two men from the office were following you now. Were they feds? Had Betty and your spineless boss sold you out to the feds? You hadn't even done anything!

You almost expected it when they dragged you into an alley, a pungent-smelling cloth held tight over your face, muffling your voice. It made you cough, but that also made you inhale, and in moments, soft blackness wrapped around you.

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 11.5

What Does a Moth Sound Like?

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time: the party returned to Barley to deal with a few loose ends while their hired muscle dealt with the biggest, scaliest loose end. Between that session and the next, we had a brief mini-session to wrap up one of said ends we'd left unwrapped- what exactly is up with the Kanthalga family?

(Also included: a conversational omake between Looseleaf and Saelhen, pictured courtesy of @drazelic, Looseleaf's player.)

After their encounter with Kensa, Oyobi tries to talk the party into going to the tower and helping the Deathseekers kill the dragon. Her brilliant plan of "stab it in the brain before it can cast any spells" has some flaws, though, and they patiently explain the plan's many flaws and strike a blow against Oyobi's sense of invincibility.

They also ask Malath a few questions, trying to get to the bottom of her odd discomfort with the idea of the dragon as a culprit and the presence of Deathseekers.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "When we spoke before, you asked us whether the dragon was green. I regret that I still cannot answer, as I have not seen it, or heard any news on the topic from the deathseekers. But you seemed... concerned that it might be a green dragon. Is there any reason that such a dragon might pose a particular threat to your town?" Benedict I. (GM): "Mmm. I don't know if you've heard, but... going on thirty years ago, there was a town to the east called Grain." "It was attacked by a green dragon, and the elders... as the dragon had words with them, they had to be remanded to the custody of their gods." Looseleaf: Oooh, that is harsh. Benedict I. (GM): "In the ensuing chaos, the miscreants who now inhabit Wheat set fire to the town and fled further east." "The survivors of the disaster fled west, and established Barley here." "If that same dragon still has its sights on our people, we could be in grave danger." "We refused to submit once, and it very nearly destroyed us."

As far as they can tell from their questioning, Malath isn't hiding any dark secret- she's just sort of a control freak, who's nervous that her control over the people might slip. Plus she's worried that if the dragon is provoked and comes to town, she- as the current elder in charge- might suffer the same fate as Grain's elders.

Saelhen... isn't satisfied with this. Something seems wrong about Malath Kanthalga- Thalath wouldn't try to enlist their help rescuing Kensa for no reason. She takes the party to the general store, in hopes of catching Kensa on her nightly delivery.

Kensa arrives as expected, but when she sees Saelhen there, she makes her delivery and tries to leave, rather than sit at the loom as is her custom. She seems afraid of Saelhen.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...I don't intend to keep you from your work. Though I did have a question I wanted to ask you, dear. If you'll permit me one." Kensa Kanthalga: "...A question?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Of a sensitive nature, possibly. Something vouchsafed to me by... someone you might know." Kensa Kanthalga: She looks less afraid and more confused, now. And after thinking a moment... "...oh." She actually looks a little angry, now. "That makes sense." "He sent you, didn't he?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: Okay, the conclusions she's reached here... may or may not be correct! "Under what I am starting to think may have been false pretenses." Kensa Kanthalga: "What did he tell you? Did he say I was being brainwashed?" "I don't need to be rescued from my duty by someone who abandoned his!" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "More a very general concern for your person than anything --" Ah, there's the word that raises her hackles, duty.

Having somewhat misread the situation, Saelhen is unpleasantly surprised to find that Kensa seems just as devoted to the teachings of Diamode as Malath is, and has no interest in fleeing. She seems contemptuous of her older brother on the basis that, uh...

Well, the Goddess of Family, who's all about having kids and living a very prescribed sort of life path inside strict gender roles, is- as might be unsurprising- a bit of a homophobe. The party never met Thalath's boyfriend (who works the night shift at Wheatley Inn- they never stayed the night there), but there are several reasons why the place isn't popular with the locals.

Saelhen is caught kind of flat-footed here- she can tell something's still not quite right, but she doesn't have the kind of cultural context to unravel this level of baggage.

Luckily, she brought along an ersatz cleric of Diamode, and so... Orluthe is able to spot the missing piece of the puzzle.

Orluthe Chokorov: Orluthe, in the back, has been looking increasingly uncomfortable. So far, he's had his stole and cap stowed away, so as not to be recognized as a cleric of Diamode. He's now taking them out and putting them on. "Hey, um, miss?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen... legitimately forgot he had those. Kensa Kanthalga: Kensa turns and notices him- possibly for the first time. "Oh, ah- Mr., um..." Orluthe Chokorov: "Chokorov," he says. "I'm..." He holds up a hand, and points at a tiny circular scar around his pinky finger. "You have one of these, right?" Kensa Kanthalga: Kensa looks down at her hand, and you can see- yes, she has a matching scar. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Well. That's novel information about Orluthe. Religion check to... I mean, we know the finger-cutting thing. I guess a "what does this mean, it's not like these two have disowned anyone" check. 13 - RELIGION (2) Benedict I. (GM): With a 13, you know that only a parent needs to cut off their finger- but you're not sure what happens with sibling relationships. This might be something related- like you don't have to cut your finger off all the way? Some sort of signifier that the connection has been severed, though you don't know the finer doctrinal points. Orluthe Chokorov: "My older sister," he says. "Four years ago. We all had to get the mark." Kensa Kanthalga: "Wait, but..." Orluthe Chokorov: "You didn't want that to happen to you, too, right?" "You can't stand up to a power like that. You'd never win, right? If I tried to defend my sister, my parents would have two missing fingers." "You have to pretend, right?" Kensa Kanthalga: "Why... no, it's... I really...!" Orluthe Chokorov: "Feels that way, doesn't it? For a long time." Kensa Kanthalga: Kensa looks terrified- like for the first time, someone's seen right through her. Orluthe Chokorov:"It's not a betrayal of your family- of your duty- to... have love." "There's nothing in Diamode's teachings about the mark, you know? Neither of us had to take it." Saelhen du Fishercrown: ...well. That's a... new consideration. Kensa Kanthalga: Kensa's on the verge of tears, looking like she's about to bolt. "N-no, I- I really... want to... I have to..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen is right back to Steal This Child Town. "...wait, do you seriously mean that the finger-cutting thing came after the scripture?" Orluthe Chokorov: Orluthe nods. "I mean, the finger-cutting is... it's a punishment. You're not supposed to disown your children. It's not like you can do it and then you lose the finger and then you're all square and it's fine." "And when parents scar their kids' fingers to make them share in a punishment for a sin they didn't commit... Diamode doesn't want that." "I should know," he says, gesturing to his vestments. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...well. Thank you, Orluthe." Saelhen's face is hard. "I was previously under the impression that I had misunderstood a culture which is strange to me." "But now it sounds as if... I haven't, quite." Kensa Kanthalga: Kensa's makeup is starting to run. "What... what do you know? I- I wanted to... if I could've... I couldn't..." "What do you want with me?!" "I had to, okay? I have to!"

Orluthe having successfully exposed Kensa's fear and dissatisfaction with the situation, Saelhen proceeds to talk her around to trying to leave. It's pretty touch-and-go for a little bit, but Kensa's mind is made up when the party mentions that they're going to be passing through Corolos. Apparently, there's something there she really cares a lot about...?

So they're going to need a few days for Kensa to prepare to, uh, run away with a bunch of strangers. That's- this is technically kidnapping, right? This isn't something you should do in real life? This is kind of bad? Hm. Well.

-

Anyway, they've got some downtime here in Barley while the Deathseekers do their work and Kensa prepares to leave. And- well, later in the campaign, there was a flashback to this time period, so I'm going to cover that scene here.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: So: days in the past (but not many)... It's Cassie Zeishus's inn, and Saelhen is brushing up on her card tricks; she's let herself get rusty, just a bit, ever since she left... Well, since she got to Oyashio, anyway. She's cutting a borrowed deck at one of the inn's tables, downstairs, flicking cards from hand to hand, then up her giant poofy sleeves. Where's Looseleaf? Looseleaf: Probably sitting around outside, doing her whole 'fix-things-up' gimmick! After the early burst of things-to-fix, though, business has dried up a little. There's just not that many broken things left to fix that people need help with after a while! Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen is... bored, she decides, for a reason. She can't evaluate how impressive her card tricks/cheating techniques are without a proper audience! She knows how they work already! So she leans out the door. "How goes the repair work?" Looseleaf: "It isnnnnn't," Looseleaf says back. "I think that there's not much repair work left in Barley at all!" "I've done too good a job and my business has dried up. This is why you never peddle perfect cures, innit." Abruptly, she gets up from the carpet she'd gotten Orluthe to roll out for her- the one from Lumiere's tower. "Boooored." She rolls it up. "I demand entertainment."

Saelhen decides to entertain Looseleaf by performing a card trick... and proceeds to roll a natural 1 on her sleight of hand check. She completely fucks it up, and Looseleaf- who had to be convinced to put money on the wager- earns herself a silver piece.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...I lost the card." "So I'm going to have to replace that for Cassie. On account of her deck being a card short." "Your card, specifically." Looseleaf: "Hhhhokay." "Wow, you're actually serious, aren't you." "I thought this was still part of the bit, but, if you're serious, you know the card's on the underside of your shoe, right?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "I just want to reassure you that I'm good at this, Looseleaf --" Looseleaf: "I thought you'd stepped on it because, y'know, part of the trick." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "No, I already checked there --" Saelhen finds the Hierophant stuck to her instep. There's a beat. Then she blushes furiously, in what looks like actual mortification. "Oh damn it." "I haven't done that since I was sixteen, what the hell..." Looseleaf: Looseleaf laughs. It doesn't sound like her usual laugh, and you can only tell it's a laugh because she's bowled over laughing. The actual sound of the laughter sounds like- trilling chirps with a hint of vibration, a distinctly insectile sound. "Oh gods," she says while somehow still laughing simultaneously, "that was- I'm so sorry about how much I'm laughing, Saelhen-" She's still moth-laughing. "Please understand that your status is no way diminished in my eyes and you are still every bit as much of the cool conwoman you always were in my eyes- oh my gods I'm going to die laughing."

Saelhen, intrigued, attempts to use her preternatural skill at impressions to try and copy the laughter, which Looseleaf finds freaky-deaky.

Looseleaf: "Yeah, if you really want to imitate mothspeech what you actually need are the standard instruments. Your throats are not cut out for the kinds of vibes we naturally talk with." "No offense- your throats are perfectly nice, I mean." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "I'm aware my throat is lovely." "What do you mean, standard instruments? Some kind of... pipe, or flute, or something?" Looseleaf: "The Standard Instruments," she says, this time with an intonation so that Saelhen can tell it's words with Capitalized Letters, "are... sort of like a flute, yeah, except instead of working like a woodwind it's more like, a bunch of little flutes with flaps of springy metal at the end, so when you blow through the flute the flaps vibrate and you get a sound that's way closer to the range of sounds we make, and it doesn't hurt your throat nearly as much. The Standard Instruments for imitation mothspeech." "Alternatively, if you knew spirit magic, we could have just taken you to the Archive of the Ever-Living Voice, but that's not really an option..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen attempts to imagine this. "So, ten harmonicas glued together." Looseleaf: "Yeah pretty much." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...that last comment sounded alarmingly practical, in its concerns, Looseleaf." "Are you proposing to teach me, here?" Looseleaf: "How dare you imply that I would ever let slip the magical secrets of my people to an outsider who knows nothing of our ways or our culture why I am absolutely offended and ha ha I'm just messing around." "If you want to learn mothspeech," Looseleaf hesitates for a moment. "...Well, we should get started by trying to put together, as you put it, ten harmonicas!" "...Does this town have harmonicas?" Benedict I. (GM): This town totally has harmonicas.

So it looks like Looseleaf is going to be teaching Saelhen the language of the mothfolk!

Looseleaf hesitates, though. "...You know, learning mothspeech is- well, it's not likely to be useful, you know?" "There's, like, no chance you're ever going to get to really put it into use with anybody other than me." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...it is a bit obscure, isn't it?" Saelhen looks contemplative for a moment... then cracks a grin. "Which means that absolutely no one will know when I insult them." "Beyond their range of hearing, even! Oh that'll be such an easy way to blow off steam, dear, I love it."

After a shopping trip to assemble the device that substitutes for having moth mouthparts, they have a nice time bonding over linguistics. Building the thing is tricky, but... Saelhen gets a good roll!

Looseleaf:"...Y'know, trying to reverse-engineer an instrument just from how you saw it once is... more difficult than I thought it would be." Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen expertly pulls two pieces together. "This and this, yes?" Looseleaf: "Yeah, make sure you leave extra length on the tubes- I don't know exactly how long they have to be so we might have to cut them down a little to fit... The day continues. Looseleaf teaches Saelhen a whole plethora of fun insults in mothspeech. Things like, "You must have had a hole in your cocoon while you were pupating, because your brain clearly leaked out during your metamorphosis." "Remind me what instar you are again?" And, her favorite of all, a surprisingly terse noun that apparently translates to "immature child who sticks two feathers on their forehead and thinks that means they have the antennae of an adult."

Saelhen manages to nail the pronunciation pretty quickly, and adds Mothfolk to her list of languages.

The conversation turns to Elvish (Looseleaf is shocked to learn that Oyobi has been being rude this entire time!), and Saelhen's upbringing in Kanzentokai.

Looseleaf is shocked by Saelhen's quick mastery of the language- and of Tabaxi, and Halfling, which are apparently languages she speaks.

Eventually, Looseleaf decides to make a wager with Saelhen. The stakes: if Looseleaf can fool Saelhen with a card trick of her own, Saelhen has to teach her Thieves' Cant. If she loses, she'll have to tell Saelhen how she did the trick- a standard "is this your card" situation.

Saelhen gets a 21, and Looseleaf then has to explain that she was able to track the card via... spirit-linking. Which she then has to explain she's been doing to the bracer.

Looseleaf: "I'm trying to use this as a, uh, lighthearted segue, to confess to the fact that I've soooorta actually had a tracking magic thing set on you, like, since we met." "I'm hoping that's not, un- discomforting for you, since you said, you liked the whole suspicion thing I had?" "But, yeah, uh, I was totally suspicious of you the whole time, and my first response to seeing someone I pegged as a conwoman trying to con the university out of a magic item was, to, put a tracker on the magic item." "Which is that bracer. I know the position of that bracer, at all times, as long as it's within ten miles of me; further than that, and I know the direction it is relative to me." "I'm coming clean because- well, I guess, we're friends now actually, and you should know about the fact that I'm technically tracking your movements. And also because I want to give you the option to tell me to fuck off with that shit, if you want to." "I think that keeping the tracker's still a good idea, on a practical level, though, because of the, uh, use-case, where, a scary badguy chops your arm off to take the bracer, like that way we could still get your arm back and get the bracer back and I'm also rambling because I'm nervous that this is the end of our friendship aha." Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen has gone very still. Like the hackles-up bristling from earlier, except... a lot less movement. "......" Looseleaf: "Look, if you want me to turn it off I'll turn it off!" Saelhen du Fishercrown: And then she very deliberately settles back into motion, with barely even a little bit of shaking hands! Deep deep breath. "...you make a good point. "About the, bracer tracking." "I am..." "Fine, with it." Looseleaf: "Iiii am not convinced you are fine. You seem like you are in fact very emotionally distraught about it," Looseleaf says with caution. "I could... put a tracker on something that's not the bracer, for you to hold, of your own volition?" "Really, at this point, I'm less scared of you running off with the bracer, and more scared of something happening to you because of the bracer." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...with a condition." "Which is that you do not tell anyone that you can track things, or, if you have to reveal your hand, that you don't tell anyone that you can find me." Looseleaf: "...You don't want to be found, by... something or someone that wants to find you?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "In general, no." "...I'll tie something around the bracer. Or place a coin between my skin and its surface, or something. You can track that." Looseleaf: "Okay. I'll try my best to not tell anybody about my ability to find you. Except unless I have very good reason to believe that, I dunno, a dragon has abducted you and if I don't find help for you then you're dead, or something like that. Is that fine?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "That would be fine, thank you. And I forgive you for... the initial... situation."

It seems... Saelhen really doesn't want to be found, by someone. I wonder who?

Still, the two of them manage to talk the issue over like adults, and grow closer as friends- so that means everything is probably fine, there's no secrets anymore, and absolutely nothing else is going to go wrong in the town of Barley.

NEXT TIME: END OF DAYS!!! HOMICIDAL INTENT!!! THE SINISTER MACHINATIONS OF THE SHADOW-MAYOR OF WHEAT!!!

[zuzuslastbraincell]

For the salty ask game: 6, 10 and 16? <3

6: Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?

I never used to like kataang or maiko much, but I’m good with the former and really like the latter now.

while I’m still not a big fan of the kataang (without wanting to write an essay: ember island players ruins it for me), I’ve softened on it a lot largely just from seeing the content for it on here. they’re just honestly very sweet? I don’t know if it’ll last for practical reasons, but the idea of aang & katara offering each other hope from the beginning and until the end is just lovely. 

as for maiko, I absolutely love the strength of mai & zuko’s dynamic (platonic or romantic) just from their boiling rock interactions alone. I feel like a lot of early s3 maiko very much demonstrates that they have some communication difficulties to work through together (thinking about the beach in particular here, but also the ‘are you cold?’ scene, as well as the break-up via letter interaction, that’s the big one) and in a sense mai represents part of zuko’s ‘ideal’ life as a perfect prince that he realises that he has to break from in the first half of s3, but I’ve come around to the idea that if they spent some time working through their communication issues they could really have something lovely? I do also think mai deserves a short break from the stifling culture of nobility/time to explore herself first, but after that? totally could work. like, i’m personally really attached to the gay zuko headcanon and always have been but a lot recent mutuals are maiko shippers and i’ve become very attached to maiko as well because of them (in parallel universes of course).

16: If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

so many things....

1. less racist, more sensitive worldbuilding. crucially better south asian rep, clear south asian rep. this also means including removing the caricature of guru pathik and changing the design of combustion man (and p’li) not to include a reference to shiva. the show’s philosophies and vocabulary owes so much to south asian culture and the lack of representation in that aspect alone is shocking.

2. references to the fact that there are some air nomad survivors / descendents in hiding in various and that being a late s2 / s3 subplot. (maybe aang is still the last airbender tho? but certainly his culture won’t die with him). the culture isn’t perfectly preserved / has changed with time and enduring hardships, some things have been lost, but there are still survivors clinging on, proud. maybe it’s this community that helps with him the avatar state, not a random guru? or they could help him with his s3e1 dilemma about ‘blending in’, as many of them have discarded certain aspects of appearance in order to hide? i feel like this could add so much to aang’s arc in the latter half of the show.

3. better writing of the white lotus, with the white lotus as a international resistance org that operates in all nations, that uses old man’s pai sho club as a front. they’re introduced as opposing the dai li in ba sing se, as trying to organise resistance in secret, have ties to some local revolutionary/radical factions as they have a long standing rivalry with the dai li (& part of the reason the dai li side with azula is to crush the white lotus and resistance to their reign). iroh is not grand lotus but merely gets recruited in s2, as part of a redemption arc.

4. a subtle iroh redemption arc where iroh realises he cannot simply be passive and perhaps let the treasonous thought ”hm, maybe it would have been better if the avatar fought sozin” cross his mind - he needs to take a more active role in opposing the fire nation, and he joins the white lotus. i think he also needs to reckon quite specifically with the cost of the siege of ba sing se, he needs to make amends to those hurt from it on both sides - be confronted by fire nation defectors who left after the siege because why were their deaths less important that his son’s? as well as encounter how the siege left scars on the lower ring, in a less visible way (untrained lower ring residents formed resistance militia and generally died in huge numbers; plague and starvation greatly affected the lower ring, etc.). no iroh as a moral authority here - he’s morally grey trying to become good. also he doesn’t stick around in ba sing se, he realises the jasmine dragon, as lovely as it is, isn’t true redemption either, and at the end of the series he stays in the fire nation.

5. leading into point 3 (and 4): in s3 the gaang encounters and works with grassroots underground resistance in the fire nation. i think this is a better message than ‘oh the fire nation is a soceity ridden by class division that exploits its poorer / less privileged people and its own environment as long as it doesn’t affect the elite, and turns even its most privileged children into traumatised child soldiers and is indirectly hurt by its own colonialism and imperialistic culture, and that’s deeply sad’ - i think a better message is ‘the fire nation is a society with all those problems and you can do something about it. you can stand up. even though that’s scary.’ this resistance group is around for day of black sun (in fact they’re vital to it) and then you see a key member in boiling rock too.

6. no combustion man. honestly? weak writing. would much prefer zuko attempting to ‘stealthily’ track the gaang on the false premise of a ‘welcome home tour’ where he slips out under night to try and chase them down - this would mostly be alluded to in a few scenes. i also think this would get zuko to realise how much the fire nation itself has been hurt from war. i think the main early s3 plot points e.g. the beach episode still happens, as does the war meeting. i feel like zuko would need extra firepower to be a decent s3 threat - maybe he takes mai and ty lee with him? zuko ultimate lesbian ally takes bored lesbians from the palace for a knife throwing chi blocking field trip kjfshdj i’m joking. but seriously we could also have a combustion bender on board as well as a potential new character (i’m imagining someone like a younger p’li if i’m honest, same age range as zuko), as long as they have a character beyond being a scary assassin. maybe they defect early to the resistance group before the day of black sun, tell zuko they should too (but zuko doesn’t listen)? that’d be rad.

7. the existence of grassroots resistance would basically allow for the series to end with zuko being offerred the crown, but deciding to give it up / end the royal line. rather than a power vacuum, or iroh, the existance of resistance means there are clearly people (i.e. adults) who can fill that space. maybe this is a bit optimistic of me but i would just love to set up a scenario where zuko doesn’t become a boy-king of an imperialist nation and where absolute monarchy doesn’t continue, where there’s a clear shift in system. i understand the narrative power of zuko acknowledges he has inherited wealth and power that has been gained through exploitation and imperialism, and dedicating his whole life to undoing the damage his family has done, but i think he can do this without being the fire lord? in fact not being the fire lord is a good first step. zuko finds another way of doing exactly this.

8. talked about this a lot recently but better toph s3 representation & greater ties to the earth kingdom. also, i’d just appreciate a lot more flavour from the earth kingdom as a whole, and more prominent characters from there?

9. okay i’m not sure there is quite honestly space in the narrative for an azula redemption clearly on screen in as much depth as zuko’s but 1. i’d like iroh not to treat her horribly, thanks, and maybe even try to reach out to her at appropriate moments, maybe we see him (comically) say a lovely warm hello during her s2 appearances, maybe we see her play pai sho with him in s3 while he’s in prison in return for some secret info he’s not actually giving her while he’s not-so-subtly suggesting she should defy her father (but it’s too little too late, he already *chose* zuko in her eyes, and perhaps he did and is only just beginning to realise that) 2. i would like some hope and optimism at the end for azula. her breakdown is truly tragic but it feels like pain for pain’s sake in a sense - i would have loved for the finale scene with zuko & ozai replaced with a scene where someone visits azula and tells them they’ll be there for her and/or they love her. perhaps iroh, perhaps zuko (though i think that one would be more complicated obviously). i would love a post-finale scene where iroh sets up a tea shop somewhere in the fire nation where we see azula out the back, finishing up wiping down/mopping the patio, and before aang goes inside to say hi to his friends, we see them bump into each other - azula bows deeply, a clear apology, and aang accepts it. then we see azula runs off to go hang out with some friends before we follow aang inside as he encounters his own friends.

basically i’d rewrite a lot of s3. i’m dearly, dearly attached to s3, especially the second half, which has some of my favourite episodes of the entire season, but i think it’s flawed.

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [18]

v. human trials

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Violence, mass murder, fighting, language, blood, death. A slightly spicy moment.

Summary: Finn goes off the rails, and you arrive just in time to witness the aftermath. 

a/n: one day late on posting this, bc yesterday was just....not the day for me, so apologies! it’s starting to get crazy for our friends in the 100, so I hope y’all are ready! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You stoke the fire, and the flames rise a little higher, sharing their warmth. You lean back against the fallen tree behind you, turning towards the cave when you hear someone leave, smiling when your gaze falls on Bellamy. He smiles back and settles down beside you. “They’re both asleep.”

You hum in response. “Where’s Octavia?”

“Keeping watch.” He’s silent for a minute, before he reaches over and grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You look down and smile, before turning your gaze to search his face. “I really am sorry about earlier and not agreeing with you at first about Mel.”

“I think you made up for it when you lowered yourself over the side of a mountain.”

His fingers trace patterns over the back of your hand, and you close your eyes and drink in the feeling of his skin touching yours. You feel electrified, every nerve awake from his body being so close to yours. He shifts beside you and you open your eyes to find him turned towards you, facing you fully. His eyes rove over your face, mapping it, and you do the same with him, cataloging each cut and bruise from the last few days that mars his skin. 

He reaches up and brushes a bruise that darkens your cheekbone, fingers tracing over it lightly. You lean into his touch, and he whispers, “You’re so beautiful.”

You smile, melting from his words, melting beneath his gaze, and he leans forward, closing the space between you. You allow him to press his lips to yours, and his kisses are soft at first, so soft that you wonder if you’re imagining the whole thing. But when you peek one eye open and see his face close to yours, you know you aren’t dreaming. 

After a while, his kisses grow hungry, his lips pressing harder against yours. You open your mouth to catch your breath, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth. As soon as your tongues meet, a fire starts to grow within you, and your hands start to roam up to his hair, where you give a light tug, causing him to moan into your mouth. You swallow it greedily as his hands drop from your face, skating down your neck, over your back and chest, before settling on your waist. He tugs you towards him, lifting you slightly until you are sitting in his lap, straddling him, one leg on either side of him. 

His lips shift from your mouth, over your chin and down to your neck, where he latches onto the sensitive spot there. A breathy moan slips past your lips, which only seems to encourage him harder as he nips and laves over the spot. You almost let out another moan when you hear a throat clearing behind you. You and Bellamy fly apart, and you jump from his lap and stand, both of you looking embarrassed about being caught. Octavia smirks at you both and Bellamy pulls himself to his feet, stammering, “Uh, I’ll go stand watch. You two get some rest.” And he practically scurries off, leaving you and Octavia alone. She walks towards you and you hope the dark of the night hides your blush as she settles down against the log, patting the spot beside her. You lower yourself down, avoiding eye contact. “So.”

“So.”

“You and my brother.”

It’s not a question, but you answer like it is. “Yes.”

“Hm.” She doesn’t say anything else, just gazes in the direction Bellamy left in.

“It’s still new.”

She reaches out and grabs your hand. “He deserves to be happy. You deserve to be happy. And I think you're good for him, so I approve.”

You’re more pleased than you thought you’d be to hear the words, and you let out a quiet laugh. “Well, I’m glad we have your approval.”

You’re both quiet for a minute, before she tugs on your hand, and you turn towards her. “Is that why you didn’t go with Finn to find Clarke?”

“Yes and no.” She looks confused, so you add, “Honestly, I'm a little scared of Finn right now. He went a little...off the rails once we lost Clarke and the others.”

You pull your hand free from hers and push your sleeve up your arm, revealing the bruises. Octavia gasps, “Finn did that?”

“Not on purpose. But yes.” You take in a deep breath, and let it out as a sigh. “I just didn’t want to be alone with him, even if it meant finding Clarke. I’d rather be a few days late to the party and have other people with me, just in case.”

She nods in understanding, and you stifle a yawn. She laughs and motions towards the cave. “You should probably get some rest, we have a long walk ahead of us tomorrow.”

“You’re probably right.” You stand, stretching out your limbs, before you start to step away. You pause and turn towards your dark haired friend, giving her a smile. “I’m glad you’re back, Octavia.”

“Yeah, me too.”

And then you both wave goodnight before you head into the cave and settle in beside Mel and Monroe, letting sleep take you.

-

Much of the walk back to Camp Jaha consists of catching up with Octavia, and hearing all about the things she’s seen since you last saw each other at the battle at the dropship. She tells you about Lincoln and Nyko, fighting the Reapers, and the few bits of Grounder culture that Lincoln had taught her before she lost him. You take it all in with excitement, despite the sadness you have about Octavia losing Lincoln. 

It’s near midday when the terrain starts to look familiar, and the sounds of camp reach your ears. Everyone lowers their weapons and puts them away, not wanting to be seen as a threat as you burst through the treeline and out into the open, following the path to the front gates. Up ahead, you can hear Guards jumping into action, training their guns on you. You send up a silent prayer that Shumway isn��t among them. As the gate opens, the guards start to yell, “Weapons. We need your weapons!”

Bellamy and Mel pass through first, and he gives up his pistol. You and Monroe hand over the rifles, but Octavia keeps the sword strapped to her back. They don’t press her for it. Your mom jogs up to the group, ignoring you all and focusing on the injured girls. She reaches Mel first, reaching up to brush the hair from her face. “I know you. Factory station. Where are the others?”

Mel whispers back, “There are no others.”

Bellamy drops his arm from around her, and turns to your mom. “Found her a day from here. No survivors. Lots of supplies.”

“Get her to medical.”

You and Octavia step forward with Monroe, and your mom reaches out for her, taking her hand. You see a pin on her jacket glinting in the sun, but you don’t get a chance to ask her about it, because she’s already turned and heading back to medical, thinking only of the injured. You look at Bellamy, about to say something, when you hear the sound of feet thundering towards you. You turn just in time for someone to collide with you, and your mouth stretches into a grin when your eyes catch on a head of golden hair. She whispers your name, and you feel tears prick your eyes. “Clarke.”

She pulls away to look at you, and you feel your expression harden when you see the cuts and bruises all over her face, but she gives you a watery smile, making you forget. “I thought you were dead.”

You shake your head and pull her in for another hug, shocked that she’s here, shocked that she’s alive. She pulls away and gives Bellamy and Octavia equally strong hugs, all of you happy to be alive and reunited. As you watch the reunion, Raven steps up beside Clarke, crutch under her arm and brace secured over her leg. You feel a pang of sorrow in your chest and you reach forward to hug her, happy that she made it through the surgery. When you pull back, Bellamy is turning towards Clarke. “How many are with you?”

“None.” Your face falls, and you see Bellamy and Octavia’s do the same. Clarke looks behind you, and then around you, before her eyes meet yours, searching. “Where’s Finn?”

You shake your head, thinking of Finn, unhinged, looking for your twin. “Looking for you.”

Her face falls, and she thinks a moment before reaching out to grab your hand. “Mom is the Chancellor.”

“What?” 

She nods at the others, “C’mon, we need to tell her everything. We have to get to Finn and we have to get back to Mount Weather.”

Four heads whip towards her at the same time, shocked. “Mount Weather?”

“I’ll explain everything, let’s go.”

She pulls you towards the Medical tent, already talking of Mount Weather and escape plans. 

-

An hour later, you, Bellamy, and Clarke stand outside of the council’s meeting room, waiting, pacing. Clarke told them everything, about Mount Weather, and the harvesting chambers, and the Grounders. And you and Bellamy filled them in on everything you had seen and witnessed, leaving out the parts about Finn losing his mind. Because they don’t need to know right now. Because we protect our own.

Finally, when it seems like a lifetime has passed, the council exits their meeting, and you and Clarke approach your mother, expectant. Bellamy lingers behind you, still pacing. “Well?”

She turns to Clarke with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but they’re on their own.”

Clarke shakes her head and you make a sound of protest. “What? No. You can't just cut them loose!”

She adopts the Mother Tone. “Sweetheart, we don't have the manpower to send out two separate rescue missions and protect our camp.”

“They're in trouble,” you cut in, forcing your mom to look at you. “They’re either gonna get themselves killed or they're gonna make things worse with the Grounders.”

“Who we need to get our people out of Mount Weather,” Clarke adds. 

She looks between you both, “I know you both feel this is unfair. But our priority has to be with Chancellor Kane if there is any hope for peace.”

“If you wanted peace, you shouldn't have killed the only Grounder who was gonna help us.” Your twin’s voice is hard, and she glances over at Major Byrne, who is standing nearby listening. 

“I’m sorry. The decision's been made.”

Bellamy stops pacing, and steps forward to join the conversation, jaw clenching with anger. “You’re sorry? Finn and Murphy are out there looking for Clarke with guns you gave us, and now she's home, you're just going to abandon them? If you can't spare the guards, we know the terrain, we have a map. We can do it ourselves.”

You and Clarke start nodding, agreeing with him, but she immediately shoots him down. “Absolutely not.”

“Mom-”

She cuts Clarke off, voice hitching with emotion. “I just got you both back!”

And before either of you can argue, Jackson comes running down the hall, stopping beside your mom, looking sheepish. “Abby. I’m sorry, we need you in medical.”

You glare at her and step back. “You better go.”

She appraises you, and then Clarke, picking up on both of your anger and frustration, and as her gaze bounces between the pair of you, she yells, “Byrne? No one leaves this camp.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She gives you one last hard look before brushing past, and you grab Clarke’s hand and pull her over to Bellamy, the three of you standing close. You look at each of them, and set your jaw. “We’re leaving this camp.”

They both nod, and Clarke adds, “And we’re gonna need guns.” She steps away, “I’ll go find Raven and Octavia.”

“We’ll go get supplies. Meet at the back of the camp, behind the prison.”

And then you break apart, leaving Clarke to head towards the engineering station, while you and Bellamy search for packs and food. 

-

Less than an hour later, you and Bellamy are standing behind the prison, waiting, when Raven walks up and sets down a large duffel bag. “I scored you a couple extra clips.”

Bellamy reaches in the bag and starts pulling out weapons when Clarke jogs up to join you. “Hey. Our mom's in surgery and the team going after Kane just left. We should, too.”

Bellamy hands you a gun while he looks at your twin. “Did you find Octavia?”

“No. I found you.” You all turn at the sound of her voice, watching as she jogs closer to you. She comes to a stop beside her brother. “I’m not letting you leave here without me.”

Behind you, Clarke starts, “Octavia-”

“Finn and Murphy are headed for Lincoln's village. I’ve been there. Have you?” She turns and looks at Clarke. “Has she?”

Bellamy tips his head to the side, a smirk on his face. “You done?”

You bend down and pick up the backpack at your feet, passing it to him so he can offer it to her. She eyes it with suspicion. “What’s this?”

“Your pack.” She smirks at him and takes it, and he holds out his arm in front of him. “Lead the way.”

She steps towards the fence, and you start to follow, but Raven holds out her crutch, blocking her path. “Whoa. Not so fast, Pocahontas.”

She touches her crutch to the fence and it sparks with electricity. You turn to Bellamy, your brows lifted, and mutter, “That’s new.”

“I thought you said it was handled.”

Raven turns to Clarke. “It is.” She pulls a radio from her pocket and lifts it. “Shut her down, Wick.”

She waits a minute and then tests the fence again, and this time, there is no reaction. She smirks, “Handled.”

Octavia tosses her pack through the fence and ducks through, and you all follow, immediately heading toward the trees, using them for cover. You run through the woods for a few miles, before slowing to a walk. The sky grows darker earlier than usual, and a rumble of thunder tells you why. 

You smile when the first drop touches your skin, still just as in love with the rain as the first time you saw it, months ago, when Bellamy was still a jerk and Wells was alive. You wish he could be here to see everything now. Because despite not knowing him well, you know he was a good man. He protected you and Clarke from the truth about your mother, and your father’s death. Too bad he didn’t realize it was your fault all along. Because I’m cursed.

Bellamy pulls you from your thoughts when he reaches out to grab your hand, lacing your fingers together. “What are you thinking about?”

You shake your head, dislodging the bad memories, only focusing on the good as you smile at him. “The first thunderstorm.” You see his smile lift and you ask, “Do you remember it? After your talk with Wells?”

You see his face fall a little at the name and his smile grows sad, but he nods. “I wish he was here to see this.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

You both keep walking in silence, following behind Octavia and Clarke, watching the way the rain falls through the thick canopy of trees and soaks the ground below. After a while, the rain lets up, and the sky grows darker, this time with the setting sun. You shiver a little as night falls and the air grows cooler. Bellamy drops your hand to shrug off his jacket and drape it over your shoulders, and you push your arms through the sleeves, smiling in appreciation. He looks around before turning to you. “I think we should stop for the night, get some rest.”

You smirk, “Whatever the hell you want.”

He laughs, surprised, before calling ahead to the others and relaying the message. They both agree, and soon you have a makeshift camp, complete with a fire. After everyone has eaten, Octavia is the first to lay down, already fast asleep before her head hits her makeshift pillow. You see Bellamy’s lids drop, and you fight back a smile. “I’ll keep watch.”

“No, I’m-”

You cut him off, “Bellamy, seriously. I’ve got it.”

“Wake me up in a few hours, and I’ll take over.”

“I will.”

He lays down beside a log, facing the fire, and you watch him drift off to sleep. Clarke leans against you, watching the fire. You sit in silence for a long while, enjoying each other's presence when you suddenly remember. “Oh.”

You pull up your sleeve, revealing the watch, and take it off your wrist, before reaching out to grab Clarke’s arm. She lets you take it and reattach the watch, now with its rightful owner and situated beside her bracelet. Your brows lift when you see it. “Mom gave it back to you?”

“Yeah, right after she stitched me up. They took her necklace too, because when I woke up, it was gone.”

“We didn’t see it with the bracelet or the watch.”

She nods, before she suddenly sits up and turns to you. “Earlier, when you were telling Mom about Finn and the Grounder you kidnapped, I felt like you were leaving something out.”

“I was.” She looks at you, expectant, and you let out a sigh. “He killed the Grounder. We were all arguing about what to do with him, when Finn just picked up his gun and executed him like it was nothing. Then he walked away, acting like he hadn’t just killed a man in cold blood.”

“That doesn’t sound like Finn.”

“It doesn’t. But losing you, and the others, the war… It changed him, Clarke. He’s not the same peacekeeping Spacewalker that we met on that first day.”

She turns away from you, glancing over the fire and out into the woods around you. “We’ve all changed.”

You shake your head, “Not like this.”

She says nothing, thinking it over and you both resume your earlier silence before she eventually lays down beside you. “I’m gonna get some sleep.”

“Goodnight stars.”

“Goodnight moon.”

Her eyes slide closed and you stay on watch for a couple of hours, scanning the woods around the camp for any signs of danger. You start to consider waking Bellamy soon, from boredom or lack of attention, you don’t know, but as usual, he beats you to the punch, and is already awake when you swing your gaze towards him. He lifts his gun and stands, motioning for you to take his place. You nod in thanks and lay down, shifting his pack around a few times until you get comfortable, before sleep takes you quickly.

-

Your eyes slide open slowly, greeted by a fire, brain working to remember where you are. It comes back to you in a flood, and you shift your gaze up, locking eyes with Bellamy across the blaze. His eyes drop away, and you swear you see a tinge of pink across his cheeks when you sit up, stretching your limbs out and to the sky, shaking the sleep from them. You couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep, but it feels like enough, your body finally learning to adapt and work with less. 

You stand and walk over to Bellamy’s log, dropping down beside him, before leaning back to look at the stars. His gaze follows yours, and he’s quiet for a minute, before he lets out a short hum. “Hm.”

You turn to look at him. “What?”

“Do you remember when you told me the story about Orion? How he was killed by his lover Artemis because her twin challenged her, and then she put him in the stars because she felt so bad about it?”

“Yes.”

He turns to you, fighting back a smile. “You weren’t trying to warn me or something, were you?”

You let out a quiet laugh, surprised, before hitting him lightly on the arm. “No!”

He laughs too, and you marvel at the pretty sound, something he rarely lets out into the world. You’re both looking at each other, his amusement still twinkling in his eyes, when Clarke shifts on the ground beside you. You both turn to her, and she meets your gaze, starting to wake up. Bellamy watches her for a minute, and then offers, “When we got back to the dropship and no one was there, we assumed it was the Grounders.”

“Of course, you did. You couldn't have known it was the Mountain Men. No one could have.”

He shakes his head, thinking of the 47, thoughts jumping to the worst. “How long until chocolate cake turns into being hung upside down and drained for their blood?”

“I don't know, but we don't have much time.”

You look between them. “First we find Finn, then our friends in Mount Weather.”

“And Lincoln.” Your gazes all shift to Octavia, now wide awake and sitting up. “I think we've slept long enough.”

She stands and grabs her things, already walking away, and you all follow suit. You kick dirt over the fire, making sure it’s put out before you follow the others through the woods, using only the moon for light. 

-

The moon gives way to the sun, partially hidden behind clouds heavy with rain, and your group travels together mostly in silence. By the time the sun is high in the sky, it has broken free from the clouds, shining bright through the trees around you. Octavia starts to gradually speed up as the area becomes more and more familiar to her, and soon she breaks out into a run, leaving you all to catch up. 

She comes to a stop at the bottom of a small hill, gaze locking on a large white statue in front of her. Bellamy checks the map and nods in confirmation, coming to a stop beside her. “This is it. Which way to the village?”

Octavia says nothing, her gaze never leaving the statue as tears start to well up in her eyes. She whispers, voice breaking, “The Reapers came from there. I couldn't save him, Bell. I couldn't save him.”

She starts to cry and he pulls her into a hug, comforting her, as you and Clarke watch on, hearts hurting for her. You know Clarke is thinking of Finn, and you’re both thinking of your father, and you step closer together, wrapping your arm around her and pulling her close. 

You are all pulled apart when a burst of gunfire echoes through the trees nearby, and everyone takes off running, lifting their weapons as you do. Bellamy pulls ahead, but you are all right on his heels, fighting through the burn in your legs and ache in your lungs as more shots echo around the woods. You can hear screaming as you draw closer, and you feel fear tangle in your stomach and chest. 

You see Bellamy pull to a stop ahead of you, now at the edge of the forest, and the shots pause, no longer punctuating the air. You, Clarke and Octavia stop beside him, and the fear in your stomach turns to horror as soon as you see the scene before you. 

Finn stands on the other side of a fenced in pen, a group of Grounders trapped inside. All around the pen are bodies, some still moving, some dead, bleeding from a variety of gunshot wounds. Octavia runs forwards first, recognizing a few of the Grounders, and you, Clarke, and Bellamy follow at a much slower pace, shock dulling your senses and slowing you down. 

Clarke comes to a stop in front of Finn, and his face pulls into a dazed smile. He steps towards Clarke, but she steps back, keeping the distance between them. “I found you.”

She shakes her head, in horror, disbelief, shock and turns away from him, lip quivering. You can no longer ignore the sound of crying around you and you drop down to the nearest body, searching for a sign of life. When your finger fails to find a pulse, you move to the next, relieved to see the rise and fall of the woman’s chest. You search her body for injuries, finding three gunshot wounds. 

You pull your pack off your back, searching for medical supplies, when someone drops down on the other side of you. You look up and meet Murphy’s eyes, and he whispers, “Let me help.”

You nod, pull out antiseptic, tools, bandages, and direct him on how to pull out the bullets and bandage them properly, taking a page from Clarke’s book. Bellamy joins you when you move to the next body, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Octavia and Clarke doing the same, Murphy now at their sides assisting. Finn stands amongst the bodies, frozen, watching everyone move around him. 

When you finish administering first aid, you look around, watching as the Grounders care for the dead, wrapping them in cloth and then securing it with pieces of rope. You and Bellamy exchange a look before you both walk over and help them, working silently with the Grounders, attempting to clean up the mess that Finn made.

When everyone is cared for, Octavia walks over to Nyko and talks to him briefly before joining your group again. “He says we should go, before the others return.”

You all heed the warning and leave the village, alternating between walking and running back to Camp Jaha, but never stopping until you reach the inside of the camp, secured behind a wall of guards and an electric fence.

-

next chapter

[normal-thoughts-official]

Do you have any hcs for Magnus taking ppl to pride for the first time? I kinda feel like he’d act as a guide for others, making sure everyone feels safe and happy during their first time. Like, I can picture him bringing daylighter Raphael out for the first time, showing Meliorn around (bc even though they’ve been around for a while, the Seelies don’t really do human stuff) and holding Alec’s hand while he looks around in amazement.

well surprise surprise this got very long. bet y’all never saw that coming

ok so i particularly love this ask because like, the idea of meliorn going to pride for the first time is a riot and i adore it

like seelie society has developed completely independently from mundane society in every way, hell, it existed before humans did. so there's absolutely no reason whatsoever to believe that their culture even has the concepts of gender of sexuality, and believing that it would be the same as modern western ones is just straight up anachronistic tbh

so like personally i hc that seelie society has no gender (and therefore no concept of sexuality in the way that we see it), so the idea of pride- doesn't even make sense to them, cuz there's no concept of these identities, much less a history of oppression that would bring forward the need to celebrate their resistance like there currently is

so meliorn would want to go just to like, see what that's like and what's it all about. and the whole time they're just following Magnus around and like, taking notes. hm, interesting, what is this trans thing again? ah yes, people who dont think their personality matches the one mundanes believe would be brought by their genitals. hm. fascinating. and Magnus is just like, laughing loudly and it's the best pride he's ever been to, because he knows how ridiculous queerphobia and cishetnormativity are, but meliorn can make that so clear in their words in a way thats just, like, fantastic to hear, you know? and they dont even mean to, but it's great all the same

plus meliorn actually does feel good because a lot of people look at them and smile broadly or even wave, especially younger people who are just like, in awe of them and Magnus, who are so unapologetically gnc and indisputably beautiful, and looking at them is just like, inspiring, you know? and Meliorn has never felt this admired and appreciated and they dont even fully understand why, they're just walking around in their usual clothing and leaf makeup and everyone is just like, in love with them. and it's nice. they can tell there's an edge of sadness to the whole thing, like how their normal everyday existence seems to be so shocking and refreshing for these people, but mostly they feel good about it

later they bring their findings to the other seelies - you know, the ones who dont usually leave the realm and are way less familiar with mundane culture(s) than they are - and the others are like. shut up. there's no way this is real. the shape of their genital defines what wavelength they are supposed to find appealing? this makes no sense. and meliorn's like "idk what to tell u buddy i literally physically can't lie" and they're like surely this is an elaborate prank

but anyway it's fun and nice and they enjoy it greatly and ask Magnus a lot of questions, and Magnus loves going with them more than anyone else because its just so fun and the way this is completely unnatural to them feels refreshing - Magnus doesnt have to explain why he feels the way he feels, for once, but rather he has to explain why people dont get that, and thats a good change tbh

okay onto other ppl im sorry for this tangent djdndjdndk RAPHAEL YES. god i just. okay i love the mental image of Magnus taking Raphael to pride aaaaaaaa

like okay first of all so many layeRS to make this emotional, okay. the fact that he's now a daylighter and can enjoy being out in the sun, the fact that this is a bright costumed parade and it kinda reminds him of the día de los muertos parade and makes him feel at home, the fact that he gets to celebrate and meet other ace ppl - just, so many good things going on here dundidmdi

and Raphael was kinda unsure about going because 1- pride can get pretty sexual at times, and while he gets it and doesn't mind other people's business, he doesn't want to be hit on or participate in that; 2- big crowd makes senses go craycray and it can get very overwhelming and he's scared of overload, plus it's just not his scene in general with huge parties and such. but a part of him does want to go and he's torn, so of course Magnus is immediately like "oh dear, don't worry, i can take you, i'll make sure it's good" and Raphael is like okay

so Magnus takes him and it's :') nice, because as always he’s just so attentive. disclosure i’ve only ever been to the São Paulo pride so i’m gonna go with how it works in here but im assuming it’s not that different in like, other places. also São Paulo currently has the biggest pride parade in the world along with NYC so you know, i think it’s influential at the very least

anyway so he finds a section that’s led by ace pride groups, one that’s considerably small (in number of ppl) and spacious, and it’s. nice. very nice. magnus makes it a point to paint the ace pride colors on raphael’s face (we deserve raphael in makeup tbh) and raphael is all like “it’s fine, it’s not like i’ll want to draw a lot of attention” (like he isn’t wearing the ace flag colors already) and magnus is like hush, let me have this, i want my boy to have a good pride experience. so raphael lets him and hides his smile and lets him, and it’s. cute okay

also idk why but i have the mental image of raphael seeing some other latino guy with some sign like. “i’m not your fetish” or something of the sort, and kind of tearing up because his whole life he’s been seen as this kind of sexual fantasy that couldn’t not be about sex, much less not be interested in it, and he feels seen. and it’s nice, okay

and as promised it’s not too overwhelming in matters of like people, tactile issues and such (there’s little magnus can do about the noise other than spell raphael to decrease his sensitivity so he doesn’t get overwhelmed, which is not ideal because it makes communication a bit harder between them, but he does it anyway if raphael asks him to), and if raphael gets tired, they can always turn into a corner and take a portal back home and cuddle the post-crowd jitteriness away. so it’s a success. and raphael hugs magnus later and thanks him and says that it was so great, that he’s missed this, the energy and the colors and the sun, and he never thought he’d get to have it again, and he did thanks to magnus. and magnus hugs him back and tells him “anything for you, my boy,” and it’s the sweetest thing okay im emo

also okay this still falls under Raphael and Meliorn but the POLYCULE okay, or at least saiaphaeliorn. like sign me the fuck up for the 4 of them together at pride, meliorn and magnus helping make some cute pride-themed makeup on the other 3, just aaaaaaaaa. maia looking absolutely gorgeous with her face framed in the bright bi colors, maybe a sunny dress with the trans flag colors? just because i think she’d look so cute in like, a mostly white dress with baby pink and blue details, okay. simon just paints the pan flag on his cheek but it’s still vibrant and cute and it suits him. and ghhghghghg meliorn delicately painting raphael’s face with colorful glitter..... effervescent, okay. just beautiful

and they get to hold hands in public and laugh and crack jokes and simon loves the music and the festival and raphael smiles fondly at him and maia singing along (him and meliorn definitely don’t know what the fuck they’re singing, but it’s okay because they’re clearly happy and that makes the two of them happy too) and just duahsdiahdaiuha soft okay. also they all get to experience meliorn’s takes on the whole thing and it’s fantastic and as usual meliorn gets raphael to laugh until he almost cries, and simon smiles brightly at the sight and gives meliorn a peck for their efforts, and just aaaaaaaa

in short they’re SOFT and i’m SOFT. and look yes i know that usually parades esp big ones are super crowded (lord knows the SP pride parade is an experience) but if in SP with 5 million ppl parading i could find sections with less people where you had enough space to walk holding hands and hear each other and not be overwhelmed, then i’m sure they can too, especially with magic and powers at their disposal. so i’m going to have this

also like. as much fun as this is for magnus (and it definitely is, it’s very nice to get to enjoy to be himself openly, and to bring kids there for their first time, and you know), it’s also bittersweet because like. he was there at stonewall, he was there for the first pride, you know? and apart from the obvious part where he lost so many friends who were there, there’s just. the very bad memories of the riots, because as important as they are and as much as he obviously doesn’t regret them, riots are hard, they are the language of the oppressed. he’s had to magically protect people from being shot by the police, he’s had to withstand trial by the Clave for using magic to shield the people from the tear gas and risking being seen, he’s had to save a lot of lives and he’s failed at it sometimes, too (i’ll always hc that he’s the reason neither Marsha nor Sylvia died during the riots and you can pry that away from my cold, dead hands). and he’s also seen it be whitewashed and lose some of its resistance and meaning, he’s seen Sylvia be booed at a later march when she spoke against imprisonment, and he’s seen so much be lost

and in that sense going to pride with alec later on might be his favorite, because it’s not like, a first time where he’s trying to get everyone to have the most fun they can and shit, you know? plus alec loves watching more than he does participating, he feels way too exposed in the crowded streets with so many openings and whatnot. but watching from a rooftop, where he has the best view, can still hear the sounds and enjoy the colors and the beauty of it from a distance? that’s perfect for him, and it’s a different experience

and magnus sits by his side as they watch, hand in hand, and reminisces about everything that he’s experienced after so many years, all the changes he’s seen, how he feels pride but he also feels loss and he feels old, and he fears what happens if pride’s history is forgotten, you know? and alec listens to him, listens to his version of this story, playing with magnus’ fingers and just enjoying the sound of his voice and the sight. and it’s nice. alec is always super attentive and enjoys hearing him talk and magnus can get lost in his memories unapologetically, you know? and it’s good

but that’s later on, of course, when they’ve already attended plenty together. for alec’s first pride he probably wants it to be like, perfect, so much so that alec has to tell him to slow down again, because of course magnus wants alec to have The Full Pride Experience, but alec would rather soak it up slowly than participate in a lot of stuff, anyway. magnus paints the rainbow flag on his cheek (one of the only occasions alec lets magnus put glitter on him, then promptly complains for the next three months because i swear that stuff is still on my skin, magnus, the other day i found some on my shoes! and magnus laughs at his antics as always and alec is forced to laugh too and can’t even be mad) and they kind of stay more by the end, and alec is kind of smiling in disbelief to himself the whole time as he watches all the colors and the unapologetic way people express their pride, and magnus can’t stop looking at him and grinning, too. and they walk hand in hand and it’s cute

(later, magnus says, see, mundane culture isn’t so bad, is it? and alec looks at him with a way more serious look, full of joy and happiness, and says, no, it isn’t. and kisses him and thanks him for everything, and it’s sweet)

also I'm soft thinking about Magnus reminiscing about planning the first pride along with "his dear friend Brenda" to Alec and/or Raphael, them putting their arms around his shoulder as he tells them the softer stories, too, the good things they did

small bonus: Magnus plays 2 truths and a lie with Simon regarding his memories of past prides, and Simon gets it wrong every time and is all wide eyed by the end, which makes both Magnus and Raphael laugh :)

[todorokiaimee]

An Interview with The Todoroki’s

A Blues In The Night After Story | Art by @raikiriart​

INTERVIEWER: Our readers want to know everything about your relationship and to be honest, I’m quite curious myself. Let’s start at the beginning. How did you two meet?

SHOTO: We met at our favorite coffee shop. I would always see her by herself reading a book and one day I finally got the courage to talk to her. Honestly, it was a bit of a disaster.

AIMEE: He almost killed me twice before he ever asked me out.

SHOTO: That’s a bit dramatic, Love. (An adorable blush flashes across his face)

AIMEE: He tired to one-up my snide comment with one of his own which resulted in me choking on my coffee. Then later I caught him off guard and he almost barbequed me with his fire. (She giggled while giving her husband’s hand a tight squeeze.) I had never seen such an adorable side of this usually stoic man. And the next day he asked me out on a date and the rest is history as they say.

INTERVIEWER: I see, then I have a question for you Mr. Todoroki. What would you have done if Aimee had decided not to go out on a date with you? Or worse, was currently dating someone else?

SHOTO: Hm, that would be obviously regrettable. I can’t think of spending my life with anyone else but Aimee. If she just turned me down, I would probably ask her again at a later time, try my best to win her over. If she was with another man, I would have no choice than to wait patiently in the wings until it dissolved.

AIMEE: Aw, you’d wait for me, cher? 

SHOTO: Without question.

INTERVIEWER: What’s it like being married to a top Pro Hero?

AIMEE: It’s a little weird, to be honest. I feel so incredibly safe. Between my husband, his friends, and my father-in-law, I know my daughter and I are very well looked after. But it’s a double-edged sword. We do attract attention, sometimes unwanted attention, but that’s part of the package. I was already used to the stares from being a minority here in Japan but it’s just intensified since I started dating Shoto. 

INTERVIEWER: Do you feel accepted by the Todoroki family, Aimee?

AIMEE: Of course! I couldn’t ask for better in-laws. Even King of the Grumps Enji. Although nowadays, we call him Pop-Pop which I find insanely adorable. I really feel like part of the family. They are my family since my mother passed when I was young and my father is serving his sentence in America. 

INTERVIEWER: Do you think your mother would have approved of Shoto?

AIMEE: Absolutely. He’s exactly the kind of man my mother would have wanted for me. I do think she would be surprised that I ended up with a Pro-Hero through. And let’s be real, I could do a lot worse. (She laughs, giving her husband a playful nudge.)

INTERVIEWER: Forgive me if this a difficult subject, but have you been in contact with your father since his sentencing and deportation?

AIMEE: I have. I can’t condone the things my father has done, but I understand why he did them. Grief can make a person do crazy unthinkable things. I give him a call once a month and send him letters with pictures of his granddaughter. He’s still my father after all. 

SHOTO: He’s still family. He’s remorseful and doing his time. We don’t want to keep him from Kiseki but we’re also not bringing her to a prison. So we send pictures, and she’ll talk to him on the phone. She doesn’t quite understand his situation at this age, but we’re doing our best as a family.

INTERVIEWER: How do your students feel about your marriage to a Pro Hero?

AIMEE: Well, not to brag but the kids get super excited when they find out they’re assigned to my class. They love it when Shoto stops by. A lot wonder why I still teach with my husband’s income but I would miss and worry about my students too much. I love my work. 

INTERVIEWER: How do you two handle the bridge between your two cultures? 

SHOTO: Aimee has lived in Japan since she was a preteen so she was pretty familiar with mine by the time we met. However, I had to give myself a crash course in hers. I think my biggest faux pas was touching her hair without permission. 

AIMEE: I keep telling him that he gets a free pass because he’s my husband. 

SHOTO: Even so. (He chuckled giving his wife a knowing smile.)

INTERVIEWER: How do you deal with unwanted attention as an interracial couple and family?

AIMEE: It’s never easy. My instinct is to tell the haters off but only makes the situation worse. Plus we’re trying to set a good example for our daughter. 

SHOTO: I often have long conversations with Pro Hero Rock Lock. He’s also in a happy interracial marriage with 10 years of experience over us. He stresses that as long as your family is safe, you should let the comments roll off your back. That being said, I’m not above intimidation if it saves my wife and daughter’s feelings. 

INTERVIEWER: Speaking of your daughter, you’ve chosen such a unique name for her. Is there a story behind that?

AIMEE: Well when we decided to have a baby, I struggled to get pregnant. My doctor diagnosed me with primary ovarian insufficiency or premature ovarian failure. It’s a scary way of saying I have lazy ovaries that don’t produce eggs as often as they should. We were told my chances of getting pregnant were slim. But after a year of fertility treatments, I was finally pregnant. Our miracle baby. So we named her Kiseki, the Japanese word for miracle. And we also gave her the middle name Anette, after my late mother even though it's not a Japanese practice.

SHOTO: Our little one is too special for only one given name.

INTERVIEWER: Wow, that must have been difficult for you.

AIMEE: Oh I was devastated when I found out. I felt like less of a woman. Here is this one thing that women are just supposed to do, are expected to do in many cultures and I couldn’t. My body was betraying me.

SHOTO: I felt so utterly useless to her as well. It broke my heart to see her in that state every month. Not being able to fix it and save the day nearly killed me. However, we pressed on. Starting a family was too important to us to give up. Actually, giving Aimee her hormone shots had become sort of a bonding experience. 

AIMEE: We used to have little dates where he would meet me at school during my planning period to give me my shot which was time-sensitive. We would look forward to it.

SHOTO: And of course, we enjoyed the other process of making our little princess. 

AIMEE: Cher! (They giggle with blushes on their faces.)

INTERVIEWER: Who does Kiseki take after the most?

SHOTO: She is her mother’s daughter for sure. So kind and curious. She also has a lot of her sass and smart mouth, but somehow it never meant to be that way. She’s just telling her unfiltered version of the truth. 

AIMEE: Oh, you should tell the Halloween costume story! (She giggles.)

SHOTO: (He chuckles.) Kiseki wanted to go as Endeavor for Halloween this year. Before I ordered it for her, I asked her again to be sure. “Are you sure you want to go as Pop-Pop? Not a princess or maybe even Daddy?” She just shook her head and said matter of factly, “No I want Pop-Pop. Your costume is boring, Daddy.”  

AIMEE: (She laughs.) That’s my girl! Telling it like it is. But to be honest, Enji’s costume does have actual fire.

SHOTO: Maybe one day she’ll appreciate her father’s minimalist style. (He chuckles.)

INTERVIEWER: Do you have any clue what her quirk might be?

AIMEE: Well her quirk hasn’t manifested yet but judging by her appearance, she’ll probably have a variation of one or both of her father’s quirks. She has white hair and blue eyes, so it’s possible she could have both fire and ice quirks.

SHOTO: She could also have a variation of yours, my love. As far as we know, your quirk isn’t tied to appearance. So I suppose to answer your question, your guess is as good as ours. We’ll love her just the same quirk or no quirk.

INTERVIEWER: What kind of father is Shoto?

AIMEE: He is such a doting, overprotective father. While I was pregnant, I wasn’t allowed to lift so much as a finger. Given our history struggling to get pregnant, he was so worried about every little thing during my pregnancy. It would have been cute if it didn’t drive me crazy. (She laughs.)

SHOTO: Pardon me for worrying about my wife’s and child’s well being. (He smirks.)

AIMEE: You would have thought I was suddenly made of glass. (She giggles.) But I couldn’t ask for a better baby daddy. Our little girl wants for nothing and there's nothing he wouldn’t do for her. If she asks politely, it’s done. She’s a total daddy’s girl too. Unfortunately, that often makes me bad cop and him good cop.

SHOTO: (A light blush forms on his face.) I can be firm too sometimes.

AIMEE: Sure, cher. Sometimes. (She smirks.)

INTERVIEWER: Do you think you’ll try for more children?

AIMEE: We’re open to the idea, I think. Right, mon cher?

SHOTO: We certainly wouldn’t say no to another child. I think Kiseki would be a wonderful big sister. I know my father would love another chance at a grandson.

INTERVIEWER: What’s your favorite thing about each other?

SHOTO: Her eyes. They’re so expressive. She can bend me to her will with a single look.

AIMEE: His voice. My husband’s a man of few words but he always knows just what to say. Plus I’m a sucker for his deep baritone.

INTERVIEWER: Many of our reader see you two as “couple goals.” For our last question, do you have any relationship advice?

SHOTO: Never stop trying to win your partner over. Don’t let the romance and intimacy die after you’ve been committed to each other.

AIMEE: I totally agree. It’s the little things that matter most. Cooking a meal for your partner, taking the time to write them a little love note on a post-it. The little things that say I love and appreciate you, go a long way. And of course communication. Every relationship needs good communication to thrive. 

SHOTO: Yes, you must acknowledge the good and talk through the bad. Enjoy the journey and cherish your loved ones. I know I do.

MASTERLIST

[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

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Part 19

"I still can't believe you like musicals," Angel said as he flipped through a stack of jewel-case CDs. 

When they had finished eating, he and Demie had migrated from the kitchen table to the living room. He sat on the couch, while Demie sat in the armchair. When Angel had sat down, Demie had stood looking at the couch for a moment before awkwardly taking the chair. Angel could only figure that Demie was afraid that sitting too close to another man would be gay. 

And yet, Demie had the soundtrack for Les Misérables playing on a dusty old stereo, and had been humming along with an enthusiasm that Angel just didn't believe existed in straight men. Of course, that could just be him stereotyping, but he got a powerful gay vibe from Demie, and his gaydar had never steered him wrong before. 

"Musicals aren't gay," Demie said. "They're art. I bet you think wrestling is gay just 'cause it's guys touching each other." 

"Wrestling is super gay," Angel replied. He glanced up to see Demie looking at him, brow furrowed and nostrils flared. Demie reached behind himself, picking up a ratty throw pillow he'd been sitting against, and chucked it at Angel. Angel shrieked, lifting his arms just in time for the pillow to bounce off of them. 

"That's for saying shit's gay when it isn't," Demie said, pointing a finger at Angel as if reprimanding him, before settling back into his chair. 

"Okay, well," Angel picked up the pillow from the ground and tucked it under his arm, "you can at least agree that country guys aren't usually into musicals." 

"How much do you know about people who live in the country?" Demie asked. 

"Admittedly not much." 

"Yeah, so keep yer damn mouth shut, fuckin' city slicker." 

Angel laughed, looking back at the CDs. There were so many original Broadway recordings. He didn't even have this many musicals, and he'd been in theatre class. 

"So, which one's your favorite?" He asked. 

Demie leaned his head back against the chair, thinking. "Aida. But the original opera's better." 

"God, you listen to opera, too?" 

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" 

Angel had a response, but he held it back. Demie was turning out to be full of surprises. He was cultured in a way Angel just didn't expect out of someone who lived in the backwoods. But he didn't really want to have something else thrown at him, so he kept his mouth shut, like Demie had advised. 

"What about you, what's your favorite?" Demie asked. 

"Hmm," Angel tapped his mouth with his forefingers. "Would it be stereotypical to say it's Rent? Of course, Wicked's a close second. Oh, and I love Hamilton, but I haven't gotten to see it live because nobody can." 

"You said you did theatre, right?" Demie said. "What shows were you in?" 

"Oh, it was just high school plays. Most of them I didn't even get speaking lines, I was just the obligatory dance kid. But I did get to play the Jester in Once Upon a Mattress my senior year." 

"Never heard of it." 

"Really? It's super common for high school productions." 

"Never been to high school." 

"Oh." That made sense. Angel hadn't really thought of how Demie would've handled being in school, considering he wasn't human, but it was pretty obvious now that he probably just… wouldn't. 

"Were you homeschooled?" He asked. 

"Basically," Demie grunted in reply. "I don't know how to do fuckin' algebra, but it's not like my parents really expected me to do anything besides farm." 

"It's not that big of a deal, I know algebra, and I've never used it a day in my life since I finished high school." 

"Hm." 

Once again, Angel had felt like he'd said something that had sort of ticked Demie off for reasons he didn't really understand. Though, a lot of stuff made more sense in retrospect, like why Demie had been so upset about bringing up the Goatman. There was probably a lot more to be sensitive about when you weren't even human. 

Still, Angel wished Demie would communicate what bothered him more. He wanted to be friends - ideally, he would've liked more than that, but he could settle for being friends for now. But Demie had emotional barriers a mile high up around him at almost all times.  Angel just wished he knew how to get Demie to ease some of them down a little. 

"Oh jeez," he said, glancing out the window behind him. The sun was dipping down below the trees, casting the clearing in grey tones. "It's gonna be dark soon, I should get going." 

"Really?" Demie asked. When Angel looked back over at him, his expression looked a little let-down. Not a lot - Demie just didn't seem to emote very much. But after spending the better part of the day with him, Angel felt like he was starting to pick up on the nuances in Demie's expression. Like right now, his eyebrows were raised just a little, his eyes widened just enough so that he didn't look sleepy. 

"Yeah, it's like an hour and a half back to Charleston, I don't really wanna take those dirt roads in the dark," Angel said, setting aside the stack of CDs and standing up. He stretched his arms over his head, yawning loudly. 

He hadn't meant to do it, but when he stretched his shirt road up a little, exposing his stomach. When he lowered his arms again and opened his eyes, he saw that Demie was looking at his belly. But Demie quickly blinked and his eyes flicked upwards to look at Angel's face. He did it so fast that it seemed as if he was afraid he'd been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. 

Demie stood up too, and they both stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. For probably the tenth time that day, Angel found himself thinking about how fucking tall Demie was. 

He'd always liked tall guys. 

"So…" Demie said. 

"This was fun," Angel said, trying to fill the awkward silence. "We should do this again sometime." 

Demie's eyebrows rose a little higher. Angel wasn't sure what that meant. Surprise? Happiness, maybe? 

"Really?" Demie asked. 

"Yeah. Now that I know you like musicals, I'll bring my Bluetooth speakers next time, we can listen to some of the shows I've got." 

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be cool." Neither Demie's face nor voice showed it, but something about the way his shoulders got a little tense, like a spring coiling, gave Angel the impression that Demie was genuinely happy to hear that. 

"Cool. I'll call you and let you know when I'm free." 

"Cool. Cool, yeah. I'll be here." 

"Alright, well…" Angel turned towards the door, but stopped when he heard Elaine's voice coming from the edge of the living room. 

"You leaving?" She asked. She'd stayed in her room the entire time he'd been in the trailer, so he was surprised to see her come out now. 

"Yeah?" He replied. 

"Let me go move the van, I kinda boxed you in." 

"Oh. Thanks." He cast a glance over at Demie. "See ya." 

"Yeah, see ya." 

Once he got outside and down off the deck, Angel sighed. He felt so heavy and bloated. The food had been delicious, but he never ate anything fried. He didn't even know what the calorie count for the meal had been, but he knew he'd have to hit the gym before going home to work it off. 

He followed Elaine over to the cars, put his hand on the handle of his driver's side door, and made to open it. 

Immediately, Elaine slapped the door and shoved it closed again. Angel blinked, turning to look at her. She kept her hand against the door, taking a step closer to him, cornering him against the car. Whereas Demie's face was placid and expressionless, Elaine seemed to have resting bitch face, and right now she looked especially pissed. 

"Do not tell anyone about him," she said. Her voice was low and barbed. 

"What?" 

"Do not tell anyone about Demie. If you tell anyone about him, I will kill you." 

"Okay?" Angel tried to back up, but she just got closer. This felt even more dangerous than when Demie had asked the same thing, and Elaine didn't even have a gun on her. 

"I'm dead serious," she said, and her voice showed it. "I know people with pig farms. You ever see pigs eat? They'll eat anything. You tell anyone about Demie, and they'll never even find your body." 

"I won't tell anyone," Angel said. He couldn't stop his voice from shaking a little. 

"You better fucking not," Elaine said. She pushed against the car to propel herself back, then turned and went over to the van, climbing up inside it. Angel quickly opened the car door and slid inside. His hands were shaking. He'd been threatened before, but never like that. 

The van started up behind him, and Elaine performed an agonizingly slow eight-point turn before finally pulling up parallel to his car. He couldn't help but feel like she'd deliberately boxed him in, specifically so that she would have a chance to threaten him. 

And yet, as he backed out of the driveway, he couldn't help but feel like it was worth it to have gotten to spend time with Demie like that.