#cannot take caleb seriously and never will

[bibbysstuff]

buh u telling me this guy is a colonel???

[mageofmadness]

LADS MEN + ANESTHESIA

(2k) 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ sfw [17+] includes: talk of surgery though non-descript, under the influence of anesthesia, pitiful men, pathetic attempts at ass grabbing, possibly ooc. go easy on me, i've never written zayne or xav. we're trying.

SYLUS unfortunately does not handle anesthesia well.

he doesn't handle hospitals well, preferring to take care of any issues he has himself. he hasn’t stepped foot in a hospital in years but cannot take care of this problem himself, and he's mad about it. pissed. he’s dismissive of everything said unless it’s coming from you and you have to remind him on more than one occasion to be nice and to stop acting so childish. no biting the nurse's heads off, the doctors are just doing their jobs, etc. he’s a nightmare patient who is only amicable when you’re by his side. sylus is all bark and no bite, too big for the damn hospital bed as they roll him into surgery.

despite that, everything is going relatively smoothly. you kiss him before he leaves, glaring at him as he says, “if i die in there, wait for me. promise i’ll be back.”

he comes out of it immediately and starts yelling for his wife. you two are not married, but good to know where things are going.

he's the one that freaks out and security almost escorts you from the building. you try to calm him down but he’s beside himself. sylus is too big to be manhandled back into the bed, seemingly forgetting he’s hooked up to all these wires, and he refuses to speak to anyone but his wife. gritting his teeth, “where is she? what did you do with her?” you (the she in question) are standing right there, but there’s been a shift change and new nurses and they don’t recognize you and he starts yelling the moment you touch him, trying to get him to lay back down:

"i am married do NOT touch me. do not...don't touch. my wife will kill you. she will! don't touch me, where are the doctors? get her out of here, my wife...oh she's going to be so mad. you touched me, she's going to be so mad. I'm going to be in so much trouble."

it takes you leaving the room, standing awkwardly in the hall as people glance at the commotion, and walking back in for sylus to suddenly recognize you. he looks absolutely pitiful, relieved beyond thought at the sight of his wife finally, and you know he’s never, ever going to live this down. 

CALEB is relentless.

even under the, quite frankly, insane amount of anesthesia he had to be given before surgery, he’s still trying to do for you. caleb tries to give you his blanket because he’s cold (you are not, but the gesture is sweet.) he offers you his sad hospital food, insisting you need to eat and must be starving “y–you…love jello, pips” (you love jello as much as the next person.)

he tries to give you his only pillow and asks for water from the nurse for you as well. he gets mad there’s nothing you want to watch on the tv: how dare the hospital not have your favorite show. he ignores the doctors and glares at them as he scoots over to make room for you to lie down next to him, scoffing at the suggestion that something as vital as you being as close to him might not be the best idea right now.

“it’s in your best interest to let her lay down,” caleb says, eyelids heavy. the doctors eyes widen and you wince. “i’m paying for this hospital stay, correct? that’s what i thought, so this bed is mine, therefore it’s hers and if you don’t want her laying in bed with me, maybe invest in some more comfortable couches. not just a chair.”

it’s all very sweet, except through all of this his speech is slurred and he keeps nodding off in the middle of talking. it’s hard to take his harsh words and mean looks seriously. it makes his glaring at the doctors quite ineffective and when caleb’s finally brought the water, he doesn’t remember he asked for it for you, and drinks it all. his attempt at fluffing the pillow for you is nothing more than weakly punching it a few times, and he offers you the blanket by half-heartedly pushing it onto the ground before powering down like he’s been unplugged.

he only calms once you are in bed with him, sending apologetic glances at the nurses and doctors. telling him yes the water was great and yes, you’re very warm and content (he still has the entire blanket and you’re sweating actually. he runs so hot.) and yes the pillow is fine (you’re not even laying on the pillow.)

RAFAYEL is a runner.

he’s insistent, the moment his eyes open, that he’s ready to go home. pack everything up, give him his clothes—he’s not taking no for an answer. the hospital smells weird and he wants his own bed. these are the words of a man determined to be heard as if he’d have the ability to stand, let alone put on his pants. rafayel is halfway to unplugging himself from everything, scanning the room for his things, asking you for what you think are the car keys as if the way he’s slurring his words isn’t a great indicator of his ability to operate a motor vehicle right now and he’s an arguer. he’s pouting. he’s rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air, dramatically throwing himself against the pillows.

rafayel insists he’s fine enough to go to the bathroom himself: “if i can piss by myself, i can drive a car.”  his logic is flawed. you also say no when he mumbles from the bathroom, “can you come hold it? my dick while i piss?” which negates his previous logic and you do tell him that to which you get a pout and shoved out of the bathroom. 

rafayel is the type to look you in the eyes and half-consciously mumble something about, “i’m not trying to have domestic dispute in the hospital, are you? take me home.” you gently try to push him back into the bed, reminding him he’s in a hospital gown and his ass is out. you’re amazed at the large words he’s using, not so impressed with the way he’s trying to get out of the bed again. and again. you’re also not impressed with the way he’s swaying in place, telling the nurses with a pout that he’s fine. that you’re there to take care of him now so, “you’re dismissed, your services are no longer needed” and that if you’re not going to take him home, rafayel will just go get the car himself and pull it around. you love how overly confident he is, and it really is ideal that he’s so weak from the drugs that he’s easily overpowered.

it takes three nurses and a doctor and you raising a brow at him, pointing your finger and narrowing your eyes, for him to flop himself back down into the bed. he loses steam quickly after that, waking up later and not remembering a thing but you do remind him that he flashed his bare ass to the entire staff.

XAVIER concerns the doctors with how long it takes him to wake up.

he’s out like a light and wakes up after sleeping like the dead and sees you speaking to the doctor. he’s silent, he’s not yelling. he’s quite sound up there in his head despite the anesthesia but he doesn’t like that doctor or how close he’s standing to you or the doctor’s hand on your shoulder or the way the male nurse comes in to ask you something and while he’s the most level headed of them all, he still can’t help but say something. 

you and the staff seem really chummy, and who knows how long he’s been out. he finally clears his throat, both you and the doctor looking over. 

“leave.”

xavier glances between you and the doctor. you’re tired, you’ve been there since morning, and you give the doctor a clipped smile, thanking him and nodding, letting him know it’s fine, and you’ve got it from here. xavier’s eyes don’t leave the doctor until he’s out the door and for the next few hours, you are confined to the small sliver of hospital bed with him as he silently fumes that the doctor was trying to make a move on you while he was indisposed.

“you smiled at him,” he insists. “i don’t trust him. i’ll report him for medical malpractice.”

you take none of this personally, quickly reminding him being nice as a doctor is a good thing. you almost find humor in it, if xavier’s calm demeanor wasn’t somewhat unnerving after the second and third hour. you ask him if he’s in pain, he says no. you ask him if he wants to rest, he says no. you ask him if he needs anything, he says no. you realize too late that he’s doing everything to avoid the doctor coming back into the room. when he finally does, xavier speaks for himself. slowly, a bit stilted, but he’s impressive with his lucidity. tightening his arms around you and asking for the door to be shut this time when you two are left alone. 

“i’ll sleep when we’re back home.”

safe to say he manages to pull it together well enough to be discharged as soon as possible, and once you’re home, he drops the act, turns into a bit of a baby, and passes out to sleep again.

ZAYNE is 100% handsy.

he’s a doctor, he knows what he’s getting into and what’s going on when he wakes up. he wasn’t worried before, he’s not worried now and you’re actually the one that’s been stressed this entire time. zayne has the wherewithal to understand he’s stuck for a bit in this room, and while his can you hand me that water? is genuine, he narrows his eyes as you walk past him and reaches a limp hand out to grab your ass. you turn around, startled, and he shrugs. he has the drugs as an excuse, not that zayne doesn’t appreciate your ass on the regular, he just has an excuse now to grope you in the hospital bed which, let’s be real, he’s kind of into. not the whole him-in-the-bed situation, or you in the bed if the roles were reversed but, well. the thought of you as a hot nurse does cross his mind. he might not remember this later, but his defenses are down, and he won’t blame himself.

“lay in the bed with me,” zayne mumbles, eyes closed. “c’mon.”

you remind him that’s not the best idea, he’s a doctor, and he should know this but he frowns and opens an eye. it’s endearing, this side of him, and you know what’s coming before you even lay down. zayne’s hand falls from the bed, grabbing your ass again as you slowly try to crawl into the bed with him. the doctors come in, and zayne is dismissive, spouting off responses to their questions with his eyes closed as if this is all a walk in the park as he feels you up still under the blanket. a handful off your ass is squeezed every time he has to answer another annoying question.

you whisper, reminding him that he’s not being the best patient right now, and zayne scoffs, seemingly letting the anesthesia work its magic on his limbs and lack of filter:

“i’m lying in bed resting, i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“stress is not good for recovery.” another squeeze. “don’t stress me out.”

you relay all of this to him after he’s fully conscious, even slipping in his mumbles talk of you as a hot nurse he’d let slip while asleep, and he blinks. there’s a slight blush, but he does not deny or condemn his own actions. like he said, he won’t blame himself.

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ. 232.161.195 161.178.232

[heartyluv]

Not the same anon that originally requested this, but I absolutely loved your fic where Zayne and Sylus react to you saying you want to be the first to die. The way you wrote their reactions was perfect and wonderful to read, and (if you’re interested, of course) I’d love to see how the other three guys would also reply to such a statement c:

I only recently found your account and I can’t wait to read through more of your works <3

Note: I’m so happy that you enjoyed and even more so that you’re considering reading more. It makes me super happy. I’m really hoping I wrote Xavier and Rafayel accurately. I’m kinda nervous about theirs, but I hope you enjoy, luvly!

Warning: Mentions of Xavier in an accident, Mentions of Caleb dying (THEY ARE OKAY!!!)

Link to Zayne and Sylus’ <3

Creds to @/enchanthings-a for the divider!

Rafayel

You were elated when your boyfriend invited you over for a little date in his studio. Of course you said yes, because not only is Rafayel hard to say no to, but his studio is one of your favorite places to be.

It’s where you feel your safest to create, and it’s not just about painting. You draw, color, and even write poetry when you’re there. You completely understood what he meant when he told you that the energy in this place was so empowering because you’ve experienced it first hand.

As you and he work on your own respective projects side by side, he starts telling you about how he recently rewatched Romeo and Juliet. You listened intently, even if you already knew the story. But it was as he told it that you found yourself growing slightly emotional.

The story is something almost everyone is familiar with, whether they learned it in school or took it upon themselves to read it on their own time.

The story of two people loving each other so much and so hard that it kills them, because the mere thought of them not being alive to experience life with you, build a stronger love with you, makes nothing else feel worth it—it’s incredibly heartbreaking. And now that you have a boyfriend, the sentiment is much heavier. The thought of Rafayel dying, stirs a pain so uncomfortable in your chest that you know never, ever want to experience it.

“Hey,” he calls to you gently, noticing how dazed out you seemed. He sees the tears forming right above your waterline when you face him, and immediate concern is etched across his ethereal face.

“Let me guess? It makes you cry too?” he teases, gently rubbing your cheek and smearing a faint light blue paint on your skin. “I’m not ashamed to say that I succumb to the emotions every time myself. I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t.”

But when you don’t laugh, when your lower lip quivers the more you memorize his features like he’ll disappear, he began to realize this has become something he needs to take a little more seriously.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks innocently, completely dumbfounded by your change in emotions.

“I’m so sorry,” you finally speak, your words fumbling out as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You feel embarrassed, but you know better than to feel that way around him. He always makes sure you know that embarrassment will never be a real thing between you two. Nothing is off-limits. “It just…the story. It makes me think of you—of us.”

He tilts his head, his soft purple hair swaying across his forehead. “Oh? What do you mean?”

You sigh, taking a deep breath as you get ready to lay your little heart out on the table like you’ve done for him dozens of times.

“Rafayel, I legitimately cannot lose you,” you emphasize, feeling your heart thump harder in your chest from intense emotions. Your voice is shaky as you continue. “And I know this is so random and I didn’t mean to make you telling me about your movie night into a whole thing, but the thought of me experiencing anything in this life without you makes me..sick. It would break me. It makes me realize that I have to be the first one to go the day our time on this Earth is up.”

He smiles softly as you, cupping your cheek in his hand. “Have you seen how I act when you take more than five extra minutes to come home?”

That makes you laugh, a joyous feeling sparking in your being. Most people dislike anyone who turns something serious into something lighthearted, but your Raf always has a way of making heavy situations and conversations feel weightless.

“But in all seriousness,” his face shifts to match his tone to let you know that he takes your worries and thoughts seriously. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that. Ever. You know why?” He stands from his stool, walking to stand between your leg where you sit. “Because we are never going to be apart. I’ve already told you before, you’re not allowed to leave me.” He winks, making the tension ease.

“I’d swim across every ocean for you a million times over. For a man like me to find and experience the love of someone more glorious than himself, it’s not a privilege I take for granted. I’ve always been Rafayel, but I can admit that I will always be a better him, with you beside me. You add too much value and good to my life for you to ever think that I could actually survive without you. I can deal with a lot, but a world with no you? That’s too harsh.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “You have nothing to worry about. I feel just as intensely as you do, pretty girl. I don’t want you thinking of what could be. Think of everything in between, yeah?”

He leans down to kiss your lips and you desperately cling to him. “You’ll never lose me and l’ll never lose you, fair?”

You chuckle, knowing that conversations like this make his heart hurt, too. Similarly to you, your boyfriend hates the idea of abandonment or being separated from you for any reason. He doesn’t take the idea of it lightly. But when he needs to be stronger for you, there’s nothing powerful enough to crush his will to protect your heart.

“Fair,” you nod with a smile.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” He kisses your nose. “Now, why don’t we go for a walk on the beach? We can see about getting something sweet on the way.” He holds his hand out to you and when you slide your hand into his, you know that no matter what the further holds, thinking of what you have now will always be more important.

Xavier

You almost had a heart attack when the hospital called you to let you know that your boyfriend has been in a car accident. They assured you it wasn’t serious, but the only person you’ve ever loved and accident being in the same sentence, made you experience emotions you never thought you were capable of.

They said he couldn’t have called you himself since he was going through some tests and check ups, but not being able to hear his voice made you feel…insane.

When you ran into the hospital, begging for his name and room number, a nurse walked you to him with too much ease. You needed her to be faster, much faster.

“He’s right there. Room 410,” the lady politely smiles. You can’t bother with kindness, moving past her and rushing into the room. He’s sitting on a hospital bed, his blood pressure being checked by the doctor standing beside him.

“Hon,” he says with slightly wide eyes. “I guess the hospital called you.”

“Xavier, oh my god,” you cry, running towards him. You cup his face in your hands, running your eyes over him like your scan is better than a doctor’s. “Are you in pain? How’s your head? Your body?” His eyes stay on you the whole time as you examine him, the doctor chuckling softly beside you both.

All you smell is alcohol, rubber gloves, and oversaturated—but necessary—cleanliness. You don’t like him here. You don’t like it one bit.

“You’re free to go home,” the doctor confirms. “Just make sure you take the pain medicine if you need it. Other than that, nothing to worry about.”

When the doctor leaves, you finally weep. You thought the absolute worst. You thought you lost him.

“I was so scared,” you cry, resting your head on his shoulder as his hands comes to the back of your head to soothe you. “What happened?”

“The taxi I was taking to come see you…A car came out of nowhere down the intersection on a red light, and it was a hard collision against the backseat area where I sat. I saw it last minute before I was able to move, just barely.”

“Xavier… I..” you trail off, not even wanting to finish. “I can’t lose you, Xav. I would rather die than lose you.”

“You don’t mean that,” he says gently, his hand going down your back.

“I do. I can’t live without you. We can’t control how it ends, but however it does, you can never be the one to go first. I’ll never survive it.”

“And neither would I,” he asserts. “A life without you is a life I don’t care to have. Losing you is essentially the death of me.” It falls silent between you two as he makes you pull back to look at him.

“How about this? How about both of us make it a point to be present for as long as we can. Like you said, while we can’t control the end, we can control what our current reality is. And that’s you and I together, loving each other, being here for each other.”

You nod, melting into his touch as he wipes your stray tears. “Don’t say things like that though, okay? Even in extreme situations as concerning as this. I don’t like to think of anything happening to you just as much as you don’t like it for me. Your life is too important to me for you to say anything so drastic over yourself.”

“You’re right,” you sniffle, making it a point to kiss him again—this time extra hard. “I won’t, I swear. But YOU,” you point a finger at his chest. “You’re not allowed to leave the house for the next…forever!”

He smiles, kissing your hand then pulling you close again to kiss the side of your neck. “I’m sure you’ll make sure of that?”

You run your hand through his hair, giggling as he sporadically places kisses wherever his lips will land. “You can count on it.”

Caleb

You shot out of your sleep, your heart racing and your body dampened with a thin sheen of sweat. Cold wet tears fall down your cheeks and you quickly wipe them away, not liking how they feel on your skin. You blink tiredly in the dark bedroom, looking over to where Caleb is supposed to be. Not only was he not there, but it was cold when you placed your palm against the bed. He’s been gone awhile.

You had another nightmare. For some reason, they’ve been plaguing you more and more lately, their origin not making sense when the events occur in your sleep state. But this one, this was the worst by far.

The imagery of Caleb dead. Shot and killed. It replayed over and over until your mind finally won the right battle, letting you wake up to see your reality. But the fact that Caleb wasn’t beside you, it made you panic.

You threw the blankets back, put your slippers on, and exited the bedroom to search for him. You wouldn’t allow that dream to make you think it was real, that he was actually gone. You refused.

He wasn’t hard to find at all though, sitting in his hobby room, putting together another aircraft set he collected. He heard the door open, turning around to see you. He smiled widely, turning fully in his office chair. You didn’t waste a moment more, walking up to him briskly. He pressed his head to your stomach, kissing it tenderly before looking up at you.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” you question softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugs. “Didn’t wanna wake you, so I just came to mess with this.” He sees the sadness on your face, the dewdrop tears that rested on your lashes that you didn’t wipe away when he looks up.

“You’ve been crying?” he stands immediately, ready to handle whatever has his girl in distress. “What happened?”

You try to smile the sadness away, but you see it all over again. You rest your forehead on his chest, your body shaking as you silently cry. You understand that it’s okay—normal, to be emotional about something like this, but you feel like no one will ever get it unless they’ve experienced it. His death… it felt so vivid. It makes your whole body ache.

“I had a nightmare,” you weep, trying to push it out. “That you died, Caleb. It felt so real…I had to make sure. And when you weren’t in bed I…”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, kissing your head before wrapping his arms around you. You press your hands to his back, pressing close just to make sure he’s real.

“I’d die without you, Caleb. I wouldn’t be able to survive…” You choke on your sobs. “I’d rather it be me than you, every time. You don’t understand.”

“Never,” he says sharply, but not to cut. Just to make his point abundantly clear. “Death is never an option for you, do you understand me?” He’s stern, holding your face in his hands.

“I do understand what it’s like to love someone with your whole being, so much so that you can’t differentiate what’s you and what’s them because you’re so intertwined. It’s why I will never let you put me above you. Ever. Because you are what makes me. There is nothing for me if you’re gone.”

You only cry harder, trying to wipe the scene away from your brain and embrace this moment and all the good ones that’ll follow one day.

“I don’t want you to ever speak over yourself like that again. No matter what’s troubling you, causing you pain, rather than wishing it would happen in another way that would only bring you harm, just tell me about it so I can deal with the brunt of it. I’m meant to protect you, let me do that.”

You nod, letting him ease your overwhelming emotions. “I’m sorry,” you say meekly. “Can we go to bed, please? Together?”

“You don’t even need to ask. C’mon.”

He takes your hand, not pushing for details on the dream or the particulars. He’d never imagine making you relive something so traumatizing, even if it was fake. It was real enough to actually hurt you, and that was enough for him to make sure he comforts you to the best of his abilities because you in any type of pain is something he has always vowed to keep you safe from.

[levshany]

Tandem, this is an AU in which the Collector possesses Philip, and there are a lot of things happening afterwards. but now we’ll just retell how it basically started

@angstyhikka drew a couple of arts and helped me with coloring

This is an alternative development of events after the ending of the fanfic “At The Dawn of The Light” (it's not finished yet, but there is already an AU from the ending, yes). The idea belongs to @lasymit, and I (Lev) picked it up :3

Before King's Tide, all events take place according to canon. And then the following changes occur: the witches capture Philip and lock him in a cave in the Titan's skull. The draining spell is stopped without the help of the Collector, but he himself is not found. His mirror remains lying at the bottom of the pit.

For 10 years, Philip was under a sleeping spell. Everything would be fine, but when the Hexside squad wakes up Philip to make him help them with one super important problem, not only does he become mischievous but he also has problems in his head now. Luz and the team think that Philip is manipulating them (you can't blame them for this, Philip is Philip, even with a leaky memory and a leaking roof, he manages to be such an asshole), and therefore they torture him to force him to cooperate with them.

While Philip was sleeping, a cozy corner appeared in his head, in which there was nothing but a green hill, a small house and an apple tree. There, Philip, in his child form, lives with Caleb, who is a figment of his sick mind. During his 10 years in this mindscape, Philip convinced himself that this was reality. And the Boiling Isles, the cave and the witches who torture him are an endless nightmare. Because, on the Boiling Isles, he sometimes remembers that he killed his brother. But this simply cannot be reality.

At some point, Luz and Hunter realize that Philip is not pretending that he is seriously ill and no matter how much he denies it, he needs help, and they soften towards him somewhat. Although both have rather mixed feelings towards their dementia grandpa.

Even in the moments when Philip remembers himself fully enough, his attitude towards the Boiling Isles, Luz, Hunter and even his own mission has changed greatly in any case. He no longer cares about the destruction of witches and revenge for his brother. Philip is tired. Deadly tired. All he wants to do is sleep. He slept for ten years, and this was perhaps the first time in decades of his life that he felt peace and happiness.

While he is in this state, it happens that he encounter the Collector. This is a difficult meeting for both of them, but it all ends with the forgiveness of all grievances. They both don't want to lose each other now. The collector is still locked in the disk, but Philip has the opportunity to let his friend into his subconscious. Seeing the deplorable state of Philip's mind, he decides that he must help - after all, Philip is still his only friend. Collie asks Philip not to go to "sleep" forever, but Philip replies that he has no joy in waking up here. All he dreams of is never returning to the world of the Boiling Islands. The collector, frightened that his only friend is about to leave him, possesses Philip and promises him that he will get them both out of this nightmare.

This is how Tandem's story begins

a huge amount of detail has been omitted to avoid spoilers for "The Dawn". if you wanna learn more go check the fanfic *wink wink*

[deadbydangit]

Hii♡ I wanted to request a story with Doctor, Knight, Deathslinger, Oni, and Clown. Where the reader gets a rock thrown at them by another survivor, and it hits them in the head, making them pass out. Thank you in advance ☆

I believe I can do this. I'm going to simplify it a bit so it's a reader who got hurt. Since my limit is three I'm going to pick three of them. I hope you enjoy. Thank you.

When Their Reader S/O Gets Hurt

Deathslinger, Doctor, Knight

Deathslinger

Caleb loves you dearly.

And he'll tell you that everyday.

You're his greatest treasure.

And he wants you to know that you can rely on him.

But he also wants to make sure you aren't overly reliant on him.

Don't get him wrong! He'll always be there for you.

But he doesn't want you to become too dependent.

"What if somethin' were ta happen and I wasn't around darlin'?"

He wants to know that you're able to fend for yourself if need be.

So, if you fall and get hurt don't expect them to run up to you and coddle you.

Unless you're seriously injured, Caleb expects self-dependency from you.

You're an adult, you know how to take care of yourself.

He can't see himself with someone who's overly needy or overdramatic.

The table is completely turn if somebody is hurting you though.

If it's someone he thinks you can handle by yourself, he'll stand back but be on guard.

Heck, he'll be super proud if you knock that person out.

"He's all bark and no bite. Ya show em' darlin'"

Full on cheering you on from the sidelines.

If it's someone he knows for a fact you can't handle, he'll step in.

Caleb's a smart man, he knows you can't take on someone like Micheal or Kazan on your own.

He has his spear gun pointed in their face the moment they lay a hand on you.

"Ya think about this. Ya lay a hand on them and I'll shoot this here gun so far down your throat you won't know what hit ya."

"Now get."

He can be very intimidating when he wants to be.

And he wants to be intimidating for you. Because he would never want anything to happen to you.

Doctor

Herman can be detached from situations at times.

Very rarely is he out with you.

He spends the majority of his time in his lab or in trials.

He never considered the possibility of someone hurting you.

One, because he's too busy with his latest experiment or torture.

Two, because he sees you as such a nice and wholesome person that hurting you is out of the question.

Anyone who's willing to love him is either insane or an angel.

And he knows you're not insane. He's tested it.

So when you came to his lab all beat up, he was beyond shocked.

Like, at a loss for words shocked.

He's not crying, but it almost looks like he might.

He feels incredibly guilty and stupid for not being there for you.

And for thinking the beasts of the realm would be able to appreciate someone like you.

This will send him into an unbelievable spiral of rage.

Sparks will literally be radiating off of him because he is so angry.

He'll patch you up the best he can, then leave without another word.

Herman will be back in about an hour or so with said person who hurt you.

Well, at least with their head and maybe several other limbs.

He won't tell you what he did. Just assuming isn't pleasant.

He will give you the head as a get well soon gift, because he thinks that makes everything better.

He might be a genius but he has the emotional intelligence of a goldfish.

But you can't deny the gesture (albeit gruesome) is sweet.

And he'd only do it for you.

Knight

He's the complete opposite of the others.

He will be doting on you like royalty.

Because, to him, you are.

You're Tarhos' sweet prince/princess.

And you will be treated as such.

He frequently calls you my lord/lady.

It doesn't matter if you're actually royalty or not. He's intent on making you feel as if you were.

Did you fall and get hurt?

"Foolish prince/princess."

He laughing.

But he is concerned.

"Shall I carry you?"

Even if you say no, he's going to pick you up.

"What is a knight if he cannot protect his lord/lady?"

"Allow me."

It's almost smothering.

If you want to take care of things yourself, you'll really have to prime him for that.

He isn't used to not serving someone.

Someone laid a hand on you?

How dare they!

"They shall pay for their insolence."

He may seem cold and callous at times.

But he's extremely protective over what is his.

And you're his.

And no one dares mess with what is his.

"I shall avenge you. I shall not allow those heathens to dishonor you and your name."

If you tell him it's not worth it he'll dismiss your claims.

"Nonsense. Anyone who is foolish enough to lay a hand on you must be punished severely."

If you keep telling him no he'll stay.

But you best believe his men are on that person when your back is turned.

And that person will never mess with you again.

Tarhos will see to it.

[dissociativewriter]

Love and Deepspace rambles and Frankenstein quotes/connections below the cut <3

Been reading Frankenstein and some of these quotes are reminding me of the LIs >_<

“On the evening previous to her being brought to my home, my mother had said playfully, “I have a pretty present for my Victor— tomorrow he shall have it.” And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine— mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me— my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.”

This reminds me SO MUCH of Caleb, with the deep rooted possession and the somewhat familial bond but still being more than that, it just screams Caleb to me. The “my more than sister” reminds me of some lines of his that I can’t really remember right now but he’s basically like we’ve always been more than friends or adoptive siblings or whatever. And then the “mine to protect, love, and cherish” is like when Caleb says “you’re only safe when you’re by my side” and so firmly believes it like he completely takes away her independence in Captive Bird. And finally the “til death she was to be mine only” again just the strong possession Caleb has for MC is so apparent in all his dialogue and this just keeps remind me of him.

And

“‘You are in the wrong,’ replied the fiend, ‘and instead of threatening, I am content to reason with you. I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind? You, my creator, would tear me to pieces and triumph; remember that, and tell me why I should not pity man more than he pities me? You would not call it murder if you could precipitate me into one of those ice-rifts and destroy my frame, the work of your own hands. Shall I respect man when he contemns me? Let him live with me in the interchange of kindness, and instead of injury I would bestow every benefit upon him with tears of gratitude and acceptance. But that cannot be; the human senses are insurmountable barriers to our union. Yet mine shall not be the submission of abject slavery. I will revenge my injuries; if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear, and chiefly towards you my archenemy, because my creator, do I swear inextinguishable hatred. Have a care; I will work at your destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you shall curse the hour of your birth.’”

I read this and was like oh Dragon!Sylus, definitely! And it’s not just because it refers to Frankenstein’s monster as the fiend, but because he is shown to be hated by society for simply existing and being different. This feels like all the feelings that were implied for Sylus but never directly stated. Sure he acts violently and maliciously (at least when it doesn’t concern MC), but how can he be expected to act with kindness when it has never been shown to him? It’s so sad to me because he’s really just a creation craving a connection he’s denied. Even the “you would not call it murder” bit talking about how the monster’s actions are seen as horrible and unforgivable but if the same thing was done to the monster then people wouldn’t care, or would even applaud it. Even referring to Frankenstein’s monster as a monster reminds me of how Sylus is obviously terrified of being seen as a monster (at least by MC), a label he was probably given for not being the status quo. It’s awful that he’s considered a monster for things out of his control because he’s really such a sweetheart when he’s shown the kindness he so obviously needs and craves.

Anyway… sorry to ramble but I was getting all these thoughts while reading and had to share

masterlist

[utilitycaster]

Hi, you've mentioned for a few times that people tend to react harder on everything Liam does compared to other male cast members. Why do you think that happens?

This is a good question, and I think genuinely someone could write an entire graduate thesis on fandom and gender, misogyny and backlashes of hate, and I am not the person to do that for a number of reasons. With that said I think there's a couple reasons Liam gets a lot of hate, but I think it's worth noting that literally every cast member gets a pretty significant amount of hate, and that post-Campaign 1 it's honestly been pretty even, from what I've seen, just coming from different quarters.

The first is that, and people who were around while C1 was running feel free to jump in (yes I understand the irony of me, a person who joined the fandom with the start of C2, saying this), but there is a really ahistoric understanding of the fandom in Campaign 1. It's obviously true that there was a ton of misogyny, particularly towards Marisha and Laura (and probably Ashley was spared the worst of it at the time simply by being absent and not out of any respect) but there was also no small amount of homophobia/biphobia (hating on Liam for playing Vax as an openly bi character, hating on Taliesin for being a bi person). There was also, from what I understand, a not-insignificant amount of backlash hate for Vax being bi but choosing to pursue a romantic relationship with Keyleth rather than Gilmore; and people not liking generally that Vax was on the surface the cool fast rogue guy but also was extremely emotional and explored grief and depression in depth.

(I think there's a similarly ahistoric reading that Travis and Sam were the heroes of the dudebro crowd, and to an extent they were, but the downside is, as I said in my post about Marisha, the dudebro crowd of C1 has, thankfully, waned over time, but the backlash towards it hasn't, and so years later people still don't take Travis and Sam's characters seriously and treat them as stupid jokes, despite that never having been the case. Also the dudebros who liked The Player Who Was Asked To Leave have hated Travis from early on, since is feelings on the matter were pretty transparent.)

Moving into Campaign 2, Caleb was quite popular and the "ew, a man having feelings?" crowd was, as mentioned, drifting away, but you got the Marisha Character Defenders who were mad that sometimes characters argued with Beau, or that sometimes people just preferred Caleb to Beau, and you got shippers (largely Beau and Jester shippers) who were furious about Caleb and Jester as a ship. My own feelings aside re: Caleb and Jester and the shippers thereof and their behavior since that ship was sunk, at least they weren't in the habit of harassing cast members over their music choices or sending death threats. A lot of them assumed Fjord was not interested in romance, so Travis was left out of it until pretty late in the campaign, and a lot of them would not admit to being mad at Laura or Marisha, even though they were, ergo: Liam.

The final reason? Liam is on social media and responds to things. I hate to sound like my parents here, but like...Travis and Taliesin get hate on tumblr but also I don't think either of them pay attention or care, so it's not satisfying to people who like being an asshole. Liam actually responds to this stuff (this is not a judgment, I understand the impulse) so people keep doing it. I don't think Liam is actually swayed by the fandom in his gameplay, but I do think he tries to be generous and kind and good faith on social media and so people attempt to take advantage of it. I think Matt is similarly sensitive to the fans but as DM cannot really address all questions/got over it sooner; and Taliesin, Travis, and Sam are all to an extent openly dismissive or oblivious, so while there's some hate it hits a dead end.

[theprinceandthewitch]

I still... do not understand how sibling truthers will literally watch TTT and think Caleb/Evelyn isn't Lunter propaganda...

Like barring the literal mirroring of Hunter and Caleb at the beginning of the episode and the Tale of the brother's Wittebane showing you who's supposed to represent the brothers using an animation from Hollow Mind... The tale foreshadowed Luz dying by Philip's hand:

"Philip set off to save his brother and bring the witch to justice."

With this image overlaying the dialogue

This is not the only example of Luz being foreshadowed to die by Philips hand. In TTT, Luz is foreshadowed to die 3 times, here they are in order.

1.) During Camila's dream, Luz kills herself with a dagger - a weapon that's associated exclusively with Philip.

2.) When Hunter and Luz are in the basement of Caleb's house, we see this image of their shadows

Which tells us, point blank, Philip is going to kill Luz

3.) The final piece of foreshadowing is during the Tale of The Brother's Wittebane, which I've already shown you earlier with the dialogue and the image... but ill also put it here so you dont have to scroll up to see it

"Philip set off to save his brother and bring the witch to justice."

Like I legit don't know how people can miss this when it's right infront of their faces. No one else in the show besides Luz shares traits with Evelyn... so who the FUCK do you think the writers are talking about when they made Masha say "Philip set off to save his brother and bring the witch to justice."

Like... oh my god... 

And dont even get me started on the framing during the carriage ride - how it literally only showed Hunter's and Luz's reactions to the tale AND did this unsubtle shit:

LIKE LMAO??? Hunter is cosplaying as a human character and Luz is cosplaying as a witch character... as they are listening to a story about how Philip's brother was lured away to another world by a witch. You literally cannot make this shit up. This isn't a reach either - it's right there for you to see.

It's honestly so embarrassing when people bring up Luz looking like Philip in King's Tide as proof she's supposed to be Philip... The only reason why she looks like Philip is because she thinks she's just as bad as him. That was what they were trying to convey to the audience in that episode. Which is why you were never supposed to take that "parallel" seriously - as this "parallel" is based on Luz's fears and insecurities.

Also, I can't believe people are bringing up Luz "hugging" Hunter while hes possessed as PROOF she's supposed to be Philip because it looks kind of similar to the painting of Caleb hugging Philip... Luz is LITERALLY DRESSED AS A WITCH and they're using that as proof for Luz being Philip... just think about how dumb that is for a second, especially when you take into account this "hug" comes after the Tale of The Brother's Wittebane...

The show LITERALLY tells you Luz is supposed to be Evelyn and not Philip. She is the witch Philip is trying to bring to justice. [Also ya know.... Luz has been training to become a witch for THE ENTIRE SERIES. So why would she be paralled to the literal witch hunter and not the witch... make it make sense.]

This is why when Philip kills Luz - she is dressed as a witch. This is why when Luz literally and metaphorically steps into her power to defeat Philip, she is still A WITCH... like Jesus Christ... This shit doesnt require a literature degree to understand lmaooo.

[edalynn]

I think I might've found the grimwalker fankid you were talking abt and apparently Hunter made them during an "unforeseen manic episode" I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse 😐 (they're also a grimwalker of Philip, which makes no sense bc didn't Philip become goop and then get completely stomped into the ground??)

Speaking of grimwalker kids, did you know MM's Boscha fankid is actually a grimwalker of Boscha herself? Even though Boscha is still alive?? Which has extremely disturbing implications since a person's bone is required to make a grimwalker 🧍 also the kid's known she's a grimwalker since she was 5 and is (at least from what's been shown so far) completely chill abt it somehow

HM. I DON'T THINK THEY'RE THE SAME,, I mean, I may be wrong (you can always PM or send a non-anon ask and ask me not to post to confirm), but the one that I've seen looks like a Hunter or Caleb clone,, I thought at least. Otherwise that's... even triply fucked up. To make a clone of your abusive relative during a mental break, then have to raise it as your own child, which it will assuredly one day find out the truth of its creation... What the actual literal fuck? Hunt//lows are so fucking broken I cannot. I literally CANNOT. That's actually, literally horrific. Hunter privileges are being taken away. No one else is allowed to make au's or fankids of/from Hunter, sorry guys, Hunt//lows ruined the fun now everyone needs to be punished like we're in kindergarten. Like that's seriously extremely disturbing.

And yeah, I know. That's also seriously disturbing and demented lmao. It's so fucking weird. And not to mention, maybe this will confirm, but the h//l kid I'm talking about- the person also has Boscha having a kid and has made comics about her being abusive to the kids where Willow & Hunter have to go save them or whatever. It's creepy and weird as all fuck. Like, please for the love of god get some help. Not in defense of Boscha, but she literally is shown at the end of the series as helping fight back/rebuild, implying that she does eventually redeem herself. Because she was a child bully. That doesn't mean she's inherently abusive or will take that step up to being abusive. In fact, I've had a lot more experience with previous bully victims becoming abusive rather than bullies themselves lmao. It's just. Gross. And then Hunt//lows come after boschlow shippers, who mostly write or create fanworks/art of redeemed Boscha and her and Willow being in a healthy, respectful relationship. I'm not even really a boschlow shipper- I just like cute wlw art- but I'm way more inclined to ship that rather than hunt//low where Boscha always has the premise of never growing or getting better and is made into some near inhuman abusive asshole to support their "Hunter stands up to Willow's bullies!" narrative.

In conclusion- Hunt//low shippers are disgusting and inherently broken because they almost all portray Boscha like this, as well as think creating Grimwalkers is?? Okay? Socially acceptable?? Not identity crisis-causing? Ugh

[historybunnny]

this is going to get wordy so scroll past if that's not your jam! there are sooo many wonderful stories & simblrs on here but these are some of my favorites!

@antiquatedplumbobs' sewell legacy was the very first story i ever read on simblr! her eye for photography, and the way her scenes and storytelling truly transport you back in time caught my eye from the beginning and it has only gotten better as time has gone on. each character's voice is so strong and as someone who watches a lot of YouTube videos on the topic, i can honestly say this is NOT an easy task to accomplish by any means! she also has gorgeous historical builds, and an AMAZING 1890's themed save file (antiquated brindleton) to help get you started.

helena zhao is dead by @thebramblewood is easily one of my favorite stories on simblr right now. it takes the piss out of classic vampire tropes, while still making it feel natural and combines both light-hearted goofiness with an eerie darkness that gripped me from the moment i started reading. i adore her take on the sibling dynamic between caleb & lilith and i'm positive you will too! plus, shannon is one of the sweetest, kindest people i have ever met here on simblr and i'm grateful to call her a friend!

another vampire story i've been hooked on is @stinkrascal's straud legacy. i still have to catch up but every time i see jade's sims, especially their vampires, i am in awe! and their sets are just as stunning, which is truly remarkable given what we have to work with sometimes!

comedy, in my opinion, is the hardest genre to write but you would never know that by reading @theplottdump's evil spy story, titled the plott dump. the fourth wall breaking is truly hilarious, as well creating dialogue that seriously has me in stitches when i read it. i'm not exaggerating when i say this, but anne's story seriously helped pull me out of a depresso funk recently. she is also the creator behind some truly ICONIC retro cc, under @surely-sims and every piece of cc she creates is a piece of friggin' art! anne not only is a great (and hilarious) storyteller but so helpful, caring and dedicated to being a kind friend.

i love a dark, moody vibe and @inlovewithregencyera hits every mark with their regency era inspired story the curse of the damned. every single post feels like something out of a film, every set is crafted so flawlessly and beautifully, and ugh, i just cannot get enough of their aesthetic and writing style! they also make stunning historical cc and the historical simming community would not the same without her!

i recently stumbled upon @softpine's story camellia (and an extension of that called frozen pines which uses supernatural elements eeeeek!!!), and i was awestruck by the fact that it has been going for six years! SIX! YEARS! like, that is crazy! it's such a fantastic read and i've enjoyed every second of my catch up. their characters are so well-written, a perfect balance between relatable, and realistically flawed, and they have so much advice on how to do the same, which is soooo helpful!

and if you thought six years was crazy, wait until you hear about @applesaucesims' 8 year old decades challenge legacy. uta's editing, and dedication to telling her story for that long is so inspiring to me. i adore looking through every generation, and watching how her editing style has changed and evolved overtime. when i tell you i am LIVING for louis' nutcracker / ballet arc, i am LIIIIIIVING! it's so cute, and unique, i eat it up every single time. uta is one of the most supportive people i've ever met on simblr, and just such a good & kind friend.

and last, but certainly not least, is my favorite storyteller @aheathen-conceivably. alexis has managed to tell some really difficult, hard hitting parts of history while remaining true to her characters throughout it's entirety, in her decades challenge: the darlington legacy. every arc, every character, every word, EVERY SHOT FFS, feels so perfectly thought out, and as someone who's been reading since the titanic arc, let me say truthfully, she just keeps getting better and better! alexis was the first person to chat with me like a friend and i treasure her, and her pixels endlessly!

📩 Simblr question of the day: any other simblrs that you love?

answer in whatever way is most comfortable for you and feel free to share this SQOTD around, make sure to use the hashtag SQOTD and tag me in separate posts ~ 💛

This question was contributed by : @/missmoodring ~thank you for the SQOTD contribution~ (This is question 7 out of 10 that they have contributed :))

[homunculusalphonse]

// toh spoilers

i didn't have a problem with this at first, but king being a titan... honestly takes away the entire meaning of toh.

right in the first episode, we see that king doesn't actually have a powerful crown that makes him a huge beast. he's... just a little guy. like i'm not even joking.

yes, i know the titan clues were always there, and baby king meeting eda was adorable and wholesome, but to me, king being a titan feels... contradictory? if this makes sense, it feels exactly like luz actually being the chosen one, which confirms belos' suspicions. it feels like hunter's disability being erased and that being treated like a GOOD thing (not to mention how cruel it is since they killed flapjack, and yet hunter is never seen using those powers in watching and dreaming. WHAT WAS THE REASON!!!).

what i mean is, these three characters in particular - king, luz, and hunter - are Actually Special. when we're introduced to them, they're not your average heroes. king is a small creature that starts out having no powers, acting mostly like a pet-slash-toddler. luz is a human who can't naturally do magic. hunter also cannot do magic AND he comes from the enemy side. but that doesn't make them any less valid as people. king may be comedic relief and he messes up a lot, but he is a good friend and he always helps. luz is able to figure out glyphs, teaching her own mentor and everyone else. and hunter gets his own palisman even though he doesn't have powers. caleb was his previous owner, too, and he was human! (i know evelyn gave him flapjack, but the point stands)

but by seasons 2 and 3, the show... erases all of that representation. i already mentioned luz and hunter, so king starts developing his own powers, and sure, i don't mind him figuring himself out, but him being a TITAN? seriously? how did toh mess up this badly? why did they deconstruct the fantasy world if they were just going to succumb to the same tropes?

[tarydarrington]

Veth doesn’t know who she’d expected to be waiting on the other side of the knock at the door, but if she’d had to guess, Essek Thelyss wringing his hands like a worried grandmother would have been near the bottom of her list.

“Oh,” she says. “Hi?”

He bobs his head, almost more a quick bow than a nod, tenting his fingers in front of his chest. “Good afternoon,” he says, with the distinct cadence of someone who has repeated the words to himself in the mirror all morning. “I hope you are well?”

“I’m all right,” Veth answers haltingly.

The two of them stand there for a moment, awkward silence hanging between them. Then, finally, Essek gives her a nervous smile.

“I do not wish to impose, but, ah…” He gestures past her. “May I enter?”

“Yeah. Sure.” She steps aside, and Essek gives her a grateful nod before walking - walking? - past her into the living room. “Take a seat, if you like.”

He takes the invitation, perching gingerly onto the very edge of the armchair they keep for their larger-sized guests. Veth follows him in, shutting the door behind her and wondering if this isn’t all a very strange dream. Essek barely meets her gaze as she circles around to stand before him. She leans forward, narrowing her eyes.

"What is this? Why are you being weird? Did something happen? Did Caleb die?"

"No!" Essek reins in his volume, pressing his palms together in apology. "No, certainly not. It is simply…"

Veth raises her eyebrows to prompt him.

"Well, I, ah…" His fingers draw little circles in the air, as though he can pull the words out like a spell. "I have read that it is custom in the Empire to request the blessing of a guardian if one wishes to…" The pained look on his face stretches even further. "Court."

Veth blinks at him. He’s serious. He has to be. That face, all pinched up towards the middle, reminds her of the way the neighbor boy looked when he admitted to breaking her dining room window. It looks absolutely absurd on the former Shadowhand.

"Well, I'm sure he would be flattered, but even with the slower aging, Luc's a little young for you."

She can practically see the joke fly over his head. "No," Essek blurts hurriedly, eyes blown wide with mortification. Veth might have laughed if she didn't feel a bit guilty. "No, I…" He brings one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut, and she suspects he's rooted out the sarcasm.

"If you're talking about Caleb," she says as a peace offering, "I'm certainly not his mother."

"No." Essek presses his palms together again, this time in his lap. "I have considered ways to make a meaningful gesture regarding his parents, but…"

He shakes his head. Veth can fill in the blanks. She wouldn't want the beginning of a new relationship to be tangled up in past trauma, either.

"So," he continues. "I had thought, perhaps, that as his closest friend, you might be a suitable alternative."

Well, that’s… She isn’t sure if it’s flattering, exactly, but she’ll accept the show of respect. She takes a moment to scrutinize him as he watches her apprehensively. Essek and Caleb. Caleb and Essek. It makes a certain kind of sense. Once, years ago, she might have railed against it; despite his growth, it’s still difficult sometimes to look at Essek and see anything other than her husband’s former jailer.

But lately, these last few years, Veth has been at home. She’s been with her family, the most important people in the world to her, and Caleb… well, he’s been off on his own adventures. And without Veth there to look after him, it’s been on Essek’s shoulders to make sure he comes back from said adventures alive and whole. Which he has, so far, without fail.

And that look Essek is giving her, as though if she says no, it might actually dissuade him?

"First of all," she begins with a sigh, "you’re not at court. You’re not courting. You're dating."

At the look of confusion on Essek's face, she takes a deep breath.

"You'll take him to have a meal together, or to see a play, or to watch a lecture. Don't do the lecture thing, that's a bad idea. That would be a terrible date." She pauses. "Although, with you two, maybe."

She can tell from the look on his face that she's losing him, so she waves her hands. "Nevermind that. Disregard all of that. The point is, you'll take him to nice places and do enjoyable things together."

Essek shifts uncomfortably. “I… don’t know if I can do that,” he admits. “I cannot be seen outside of the confines of his home or areas outside of the Empire.”

Veth frowns. “Well, you’re going to have to take him somewhere. You have disguises, right?”

Essek seems to consider it. “I do,” he says. “I suppose it would be worth a small risk, from time to time.”

“You’re darn right,” Veth agrees. “And don’t skimp, either. Caleb deserves the best.”

Essek nods entirely too seriously, as though he’s filing all this away in his mind. Veth makes a mental note to pester him with a progress report in about six months’ time.

Not one too rigorous, though. It’s hard to imagine prodding at him for entertainment’s sake when he looks so pathetic.

“Is there anything else?” he asks tentatively, when the silence persists.

“Well, let’s see.” She runs a finger over her chin, theatrically deep in thought. She already knows her answer. “Do you care for him?”

“Of course.” The sincerity on his face almost makes her feel bad about this. “More deeply than I have ever cared for anyone.”

She shouldn’t ask. It’s probably not something he’s discussed with Caleb himself, yet, if they’re only just now getting together. It would be prying, even for her. “Do you love him?” she asks, anyway.

A little, lost smile turns up one corner of Essek’s lips, and it’s almost a whisper when he replies, “How could I not?”

A pang of something that has never quite left Veth’s heart smarts for the first time in years, and she looks away with a matching smile.

When she and Caleb had been traveling with the others, people tended to hem and haw when she brought up how amazing Caleb was. They thought he was talented, sure, but it sometimes felt like none of the others could see the unquenchable light in him. But looking at Essek’s face, at the way his eyes are shining, Veth can’t help but think that maybe, finally, somebody gets it.

"Alright." She reaches out, and before he can flinch away, pats his hand. "You've convinced me. You have earned my permission to have regular sex with my adult, human son."

“I…” His brow furrows. “Truly?”

“Yeah, go nuts.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Caleb’s a grown adult. He can make his own choices, and if he’s choosing you, then good for both of you.”

Essek blinks at her like she’s just handed him a full pardon from the Bright Queen.

“I mean, obviously, if you hurt him, you will have all of us to answer to,” she says. “But you’re the guilt guy, so I think you’ll probably have yourself to answer to, first.”

"I…" He clasps his hands together. "I expected more… what is the word? Pushback.”

Veth braces her hands on her hips. “You know what? Fjord and Jester didn’t even tell me they were dating until I literally saw them kissing, and Beau and Yasha were barely better.” She jabs a finger towards Essek’s chest, ignoring the way he startles at the movement. “So you have just made it to the top of the Winter’s Crest card list.”

Essek presses his steepled fingers against his mouth, but not before Veth catches the bashful smile spreading there.

“Thank you,” he says. “Truly, I… This means a great deal.”

“Heck yeah, my blessing’s worth a lot,” she replies with a grin. “You know what? Tell Fjord that. He doesn’t have my blessing. I’m gonna make him work for it.”

This time the joke doesn’t pass him by, and she can read in his small smile that he’s grateful for the show of familiarity.

“I should hope he will rise to the occasion,” he says, and Veth gets the feeling he isn’t just talking about Fjord.

[bryceslahela]

random specific headcanons i have about choices characters

disclaimer: don’t take this seriously <3

• zeph can burp on command. shreya knows seven different languages and will teach you how to swear in them. beckett knows five and will not teach you shit. atlas finds doing laundry really therapeutic and will do it late at night while everyone is asleep. griffin had a crush on someone once and decided to choreograph a whole dance routine to ask them out but the day before he were supposed to do it, they moved away. he thanks the higher powers every night. aster is really bad at handling kids, if a kid comes in the store she goes in the back. she also will blend into foliage purely to hide from people.

• maxwell has almost gone to jail, multiple times. his crimes range from tax evasion to gbh to eating an apple off of his cranky old neighbour’s property. his brother covered for him. liam was the president at his alma mater, even though he didn’t run. people just found him hot. hana is a hit with old ladies, they adore her. they were all angling to set her up with their sons and when she said she was lesbian, they immediately offered up their daughters and nieces. drake once got so drunk he called liam ‘mommy’ and when liam awkwardly offered to pay for his therapy in response, drake passed out.

• cassius had a wife at one point, she left him because he was ‘too boring’. sabina was once gifted a lion cub and when it bit aquila, she would reward it in treats. aquila eventually threw it out though :(. syphax is the youngest child and he has mostly older sisters. marc antony thinks he has a god complex, he does not. he has a lot of other issues though.

• eiko is obsessed with musicals and she makes mc do duets with her. it’s a problem at this point. in the future after moty, levi has multiple a-lister best friends, when he shows them to mc, he thinks its totally normal. mc will wake up to ryan reynolds walking in the hallways after leaving levi’s. thomas fainted when luz was born.

• speaking of musicals, caleb is obsessed with hamilton and glee. he hangs a poster of them both in his locker. michael secretly enjoys listening to beyoncé and lady gaga, but he’ll play nothing but indie music, that has less than 1k streams, around his friends. emma had a crush on big bird when she was little, no explanation. aiden adores just dance and that will be the secret he takes to his grave. he thinks hes being slick but his parents know. maria cannot spell pharaoh, and feels like it’s too late to learn how.

• bryce cannot take a bad picture, and when jackie tried to take one of him, it ended up so pretty it was put on multiple pinterest boards. he still brags about it. jackie has a strong southern accent and her voice is slightly deep, kinda like beyoncé’s. sienna had three boyfriends at once during high school, they never knew about e/o but she got so stressed out about it that she ended it with all of them. raf was average in middle school but suddenly had a glow up before high school. he looked so different that people just flat out refused to believe it was him.

[yellowocaballero]

No Chip AU: Star Wars Rebels + Lesbians, Clones Being Terrible Imperials, and Cartoon Supervillains

Caleb Dume would have a witticism. He would have an insightful yet cutting remark. He would have an acerbic comment that was maybe, just a little, on the edge of mean. He would drop one of those cool one-liners that she knew he practiced. Sometimes, when Depa was twirling her lightsaber and facing down a squadron of clones, she reused those damn stupid one-liners.

And, once, one of the clones had faltered. And Depa had dived for him first.

But Depa didn’t feel Master’s spirit in her now. She just felt cold.

“Commander Cody,” Depa said archly, falling back on one of Master’s old lines - reaching for him desperately, begging for his strength. “I should have expected to find you here. I recognized your foul stench when I was brought onboard.”

“Funny. Sit.”

Depa didn’t have much of a choice. She sat.

More things I said I wouldn't write and then did. This is, basically, a single scene from the midseason finale of Star Wars Rebels if it was - and I cannot emphasize this enough - incredibly gay and extremely cool. They've sworn Rebel vengeance against their Season 1 arch-nemesis Imperial bastard, a children's cartoon supervillain who has no hidden depth whatsoever.

10k of Evil!Cody under the cut. Or...is he???...

“My clone commander can beat up your commander!”

“Oh, no way. Your guy’s a priss, all he does is formwork.”

“All yours does is make googly eyes at Master Aayla!”

“Ew, stop reminding me -”

“So, uh,” one of the clones said, scrubbing the back of his neck. “What’s…up?”

“Oh, you know,” the other said dryly, as Obi-Wan started tugging at Quinlan’s hair, “not much.”

“Yeah? See the game last night?”

“Stop ruining my hair, I spent hours on that!”

“Won’t distract from your ugly mug, Quinlan!”

“Didn’t catch it,” Obi-Wan’s clone commander said, “too busy doing formwork.”

“You should come to ‘76’s sometime,” the other said optimistically. “Take some time off for once.”

“Unfortunately, I’m a bit busy.” Obi-Wan’s clone commander looked down at him, who was two seconds away from biting his brother. How were they thirteen and not eight? Was Depa like that at thirteen? There was no way. “Sir, I think I see some empty seats over there.”

Quinlan’s babysitter cheerfully grabbed his compression shirt, reeling him back in. “Let’s nab a seat in the back before they all fill up!”

Depa sighed dramatically, folding her hands inside of her robe. “Children, Grey,” she said wisely, nodding with ancient wisdom. “Never have any.”

“Wasn’t really planning on it, sir,” Grey panned.

The conference room was filling up fast, clones and Generals walking inside talking quietly with each other. Several clones were already at the briefing podium, cursing over some holotechnology or another, and two council members were standing in front of the projection screen talking seriously between themselves. But Jedi were incapable of doing anything without gossiping for twenty minutes first, and Depa watched a handful of clones wait around with exaggerated patience for the briefing to begin as their Generals chatted merrily away. Sometimes Depa could almost swear that they annoyed the clones, but every little eye twitch was so quick she always convinced herself that she imagined it.

Grey, for his part, communicated sheer exasperation with Master’s flippant and cheerful attitude by sighing just a tad louder than necessary. He thought he was subtle. He wasn’t. Styles, who was easier to work with and very refreshing, openly complained. But she didn’t play favorites.

There were plenty of other miniature commanders milling about for the two kids to bother. Luminara and…the blonde one, the grandpadawan of Grandmaster’s friend Master Tahl, were playing some sort of highly complex and inscrutable string game. Their clone commanders - Gree, who was a delight, and another one Depa didn’t recognize - were sitting behind them, laughing and shooting the shit. Their masters Master Offee and Master Olin were next to them, talking quietly and seriously. Depa perked up when she saw Stass and Adi sitting carefully next to each other, fastidiously taking notes on their datapads as their clone commanders sat silently next to them staring straight ahead. But she didn’t have the opportunity to go chat with her friends, because the kids decided that she was the ideal person to bother.

Obi-Wan eagerly waved and beckoned her over, and Depa resigned herself to politeness and navigated the aisles of tables and chairs to meet with them. Grey followed her, stopping behind her to salute at his military superiors. His military superiors stopped punching each other on the arm long enough to salute back.

“Depa, tell this idiot that Marshal Commander Bly was not top of his tactics class!” Obi-Wan demanded. “The 212th is the most decorated -”

Quinlan sneered, crossing his arms. “Most overhyped if you ask me. All you guys do is bigwig political missions. We do the real work.”

“You aren’t cooler just because you’re a spy, Quinlan,” Obi-Wan hissed. “It means nothing to me.”

“You want to be a spy so bad it makes you look stupid!”

“Shut up!”

“I…really don’t want to pick sides in this.” Depa looked at the two long-suffering clones behind the boys, who both saluted on cue. Depa saluted back, looking helplessly at Obi-Wan’s clone commander. At her side, Grey ticked his eyebrow. Bly nodded. “I’m sorry, Commander. I know we’ve met, but…”

“Marshal Commander Cody, sir,” Cody said crisply. He did seem a bit prim. “At your service.”

“Marshall Commander Bly, sir,” Bly said, far more cheerfully. He grabbed Quinlan’s compression shirt again, pulling him backwards. “Sorry about these two, they’ve had too much caff today.”

“They have?” For some reason, Cody looked a little distressed. “Commander, I told you the caff is bad for you.”

Obi-Wan looked up at him, wrinkling his nose. “But all the other guys drink it…”

“The other guys aren’t thirteen, nimrod!” Quinlan irritably batted at Bly’s hand, but he let Bly pull him away. “The superstar 501st’s gonna be commanded by a major shortie. And I’m going to be six feet tall.”

“You’re both going to be midgets forever,” Depa said curtly. “And proper Jedi are not concerned with shallow matters of appearance. Such as height.”

Quinlan squinted up at her. “You sound more like Master Windu every day.” It was clearly not a compliment, but Depa decided to take it as one. There were worse things in the world than sounding like the greatest Jedi in the Temple. Besides Master Yoda. But not besides Master Yoda.

Obi-Wan just looked away from her, glaring at a point across the room. “Proper Jedi, proper Jedi, proper Jedi. Whatever. This place reeks anyway. Let’s go, Cody.”

“Ah - yes, sir. Right this way.”

They watched Cody carefully shepherd him off, depositing him in a chair at the back next to his relentlessly fidgeting master. Depa watched Cody stand behind them as Obi-Wan dug in his robes and extracted a handful of clicky toys, silently passing them to his master. Bly and Grey twitched their eyebrows at each other again.

Quinlan propped his hands on his hips. “He’s been like that all the time lately,” he informed Depa regally. “It’s really annoying. I just don’t get him anymore. He’s started making up all these curses.”

“Oh, has he,” Bly said, twitching an eyebrow.

“Has he?” Grey said, ticking an eye.

“He has.”

“I don’t get you guys either,” Quinlan said plainly.

Depa and Grey escaped in the confusion as Bly laughed, peeling away just as Quinlan began snorting with laughter too.

Master was already sitting in a chair in the front, grumpily resigned to the nerd seats due to Grandmaster drafting him to help with the presentation. Depa, who was a nerd, was excited to score the great vantage point. His head was pillowed on his arms, apparently catching one of his five minute micro-naps that he had perfected in the field. Styles was openly jealous, but Depa was jealous that he only needed four hours of sleep a night. It seemed that the Kamino hadn’t managed to breed out exhaustion, though.

Depa gently mentally nudged Master as she took her seat, sending him rocketing upwards. Grey stood stiffly by the table, eyeing Master as he frantically looked around the room. Depa gently reached up and smoothed out his bedhead. He should tie his hair in that little nerftail more often. It was always getting in the way and looking messy. The nerftail made him look roguish, but she would never tell him that. He’d get a big head.

“I’m up, I’m up!” Master squinted at Depa, who smiled at him, before moving over to the stone-faced Grey. “When’d you two get here?” In the background, Obi-Wan tried to jump over the tables and throttle a heckling Quinlan as Cody struggled with his existence. “Oh. How’d I sleep through that?”

“Rambunctious, aren’t they?” Grey said diplomatically.

“With Anakin and Aayla as their masters, it’s a miracle they aren’t worse,” Master panned. “I used to babysit those two when all our masters had their old man teatime. Feral little beasts.” He paused a beat and Depa nodded in sympathy. Grandmaster’s friendship with Master Jinn and Master Tholme frequently left Depa as a babysitter and the kids convinced that she was a buzzkill. “Considering Master Tano, it’s a miracle Anakin isn’t worse…”

“I think the Marshal Commanders do alright,” Grey said, strangely quickly. Almost defensively. “Considering everything.”

Master blinked at Grey, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Does alright at what?”

“...their jobs, sir. May I sit?”

“You can sit in general, Grey,” Master said, somewhat mystified. Depa took her datapads out of her bag, primly arranging them on the table as Grey carefully sat down on Depa’s other side. Master poked her in the stomach with his finger. “Looks like the poor tech guys finally figured out the holoprojector. Pay attention, padawan.”

Depa hummed, fastidiously aligning her datapad and flimsi. Which three colors should she use today? She had her coordinated swatches in another file, but maybe this header should be sparkly… “To the briefing?”

“Yeah, look.” Master pointed at the projection screen, and Depa and Grey turned to look with him in complete unison. “It’s beginning.”

It wasn’t a bad memory, but it wasn’t a good one either. It was nothing; just another day. The man who would one day become her arch-nemesis fading into the background and her greatest traitor sitting calmly next to her. Master sleeping by her, as if he was safe in the Jedi Temple, as if he was safe anywhere. As if he would wake up the next morning and smile at her, white teeth flashing. How strange.

The blaster bolt to the skull had probably given her a concussion. Why else would she remember this?

************

Depa had given up on struggling a while ago.

The Force suppressant cuffs left her permanently dizzy and slightly nauseous. The persistent slight discomfort bothered her more than the soft throb of pain in her leg, flaring up at every step she took down the long austere hallway. She never felt sharp or completely present, and it was impossible to think clearly. To think of a plan. If it wasn’t for the damn cuffs she’d have a damn plan!

It sounded pretty good. Just that little thing in the way. If she just fixed that one thing, then she could handle the rest.

So she walked proudly between the two soldiers, head held high even as the cuffs dug into her skin. The soldiers didn’t say much, but that's what she expected. They were professionals.

This was the first time she had been captured without being roughed up. They were simple about it. Shot, cuffed, captured, celled. About to be interrogated. Clones were simple people.

What would Grandmaster do? He’d be calm, proud. He’d show utmost Jedi respectability and serenity. He’d make them feel like idiots. She could practically hear him now - ‘You represent the Jedi wherever you go, and you must show the galaxy the strength of the Jedi’. She had to show them that the Jedi were beaten but unbowed.

What would Master do?

“You know, that Stormtrooper armor isn’t very flattering,” Depa said cheerfully. Sorry, Grandmaster. “Kinda adds a few pounds, you know? I can give you the name of my tailor if you want.”

They didn’t respond. Professionals. She could practically hear Master laughing now. At least he was happy.

Depa tried a different tack. “Jedi never talk. Have you ever once had a Jedi talk under interrogation? You won’t get anything out of me. I’ll never betray the Rebellion.”

“Uh huh,” the trooper on her left said.

“Don’t ‘uh huh’ me! I’m being serious!” Depa set her jaw firmly. “I’m no traitor. Unlike -”

“Oh, can it,” the trooper on the right said. “You all say the same thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Depa said, outraged, “am I boring you?”

“Yeah.”

“Quiet on deck,” the trooper on the left snapped, and they fell silent.

Depa automatically fell rebelliously silent before she even realized it. Dammit. Why did they have to sound the same as they used to, talk the same? Why did they have to keep the same damn ships, the same damn guns? At least their armor was different. Ugly. Matched their souls.

They all said the same thing. Before they killed her Jedi siblings. They all said the same thing, right before they tortured and killed them. Before they would torture and kill her.

She had to fight the urge to dig in her feet, but another look at the large rifles changed her mind. Show them serenity. Show them that they hadn’t won. They would never win, so long as the Ghost still flew.

The thought bolstered her. Sabine, Zeb, Chopper…they were okay. This was worth it, so long as they were okay.

So long as Hera was okay. So long as Hera was safe, she could withstand anything.

Depa had endured the unendurable because of Hera. Hera had pulled her out of the pit, given her life. The only torture was being without her. What were some stupid Imperial torture droids next to that?

But they didn’t stop in front of another cell or a private room - any location with restraints and a torture droid. They stopped in front of a conference room. Just a regular conference room, the same as every other one on the ship. She had been in one a million times, yawning as Master and Grey debated another battle plan over a holotable. How incongruous.

The door didn’t open to a conference room. It opened to…a dining room?

It wasn’t fancy - nothing on a Star Destroyer or in the Empire was fancy. It was just a long table set with a dozen chairs, with some art bolted into the wall on either side. But there was something ostentatious in the austerity all the same, decadent for the sheer waste of space and the effort undertaken to convert two or three conference rooms into an almost empty dining room.

It had to be for those airheaded non-clone officers. They were all political appointees and stupid as a box of rocks. They were the kind to put that long and ridiculous stone table in the dining room, with transparisteel lights flickering overhead. It gave the room a soft glow, putting it in harsh contrast with the fluorescent lighting of the rest of the ship. If you squinted you could even pretend that you weren’t on a ship a lightyear away from the nearest planet.

With some small satisfaction, Depa realized that the clones had to fucking hate it.

But it wasn’t some stuffed shirt human officer that Depa could talk circles around sitting at the head of the table. It wasn’t anybody easily manipulated or intimidated. Depa’s heart almost jumped out of her chest when she saw him, and she had to fight to wrangle the fear out and bring the peace back in. To let the consuming, firey hate drain out of her. Think of Grandmaster - pretend he was meditating beside you, the utter picture of safety and peace - think of Master Caleb, his laugh - but Master was dead, and even the memory of his laugh felt more like a vibroknife.

Marshal Commander Cody stuffed a root vegetable in his mouth, beckoning at Depa and her escort with two fingers. “Sit down.”

Caleb Dume would have a witticism. He would have an insightful yet cutting remark. He would have an acerbic comment that was maybe, just a little, on the edge of mean. He would drop one of those cool one-liners that she knew he practiced. Sometimes, when Depa was twirling her lightsaber and facing down a squadron of clones, she reused those damn stupid one-liners.

And, once, one of the clones had faltered. And Depa had dived for him first.

But Depa didn’t feel Master’s spirit in her now. She just felt cold.

“Commander Cody,” Depa said archly, falling back on one of Master’s old lines - reaching for him desperately, begging for his strength. “I should have expected to find you here. I recognized your foul stench when I was brought onboard.”

“Funny. Sit.”

Depa didn’t have much of a choice. She sat.

Amazingly, there was food in front of her. When she surreptitiously checked Cody’s plate at the far end of the table she saw that the food was identical. Mashed root vegetables, some sort of stewed fruit. Heaps of pickled greens. Far from decadent, but far from the fare a clone always ate. Had he raided the Grand Inquisitor’s fridge? Why?

Obviously, she did not eat the food. She just held up her hands, pasting on a scowl. “Hard to take advantage of your hospitality with these cuffs, Commander.”

Cody was almost hunched over his food, both elbows propped on the table as he rotely speared the pickled vegetables and stuffed them in his mouth. He waved a hand without looking up, and one of the troopers stepped forward to press a small box to her cuffs. They fell off, and Depa swayed as she felt the Force come rushing back to her.

It was like eating a fruit bar when her blood sugar was low, or warming herself by a fire. Receiving a warm hug from Master when she felt alone. When everything else was gone, the Force had always persisted. And Commander Cody had removed the cuffs for…what? So she could eat? He knew that she wouldn’t. What was his game?

They sat in silence for a second, Depa’s spine straight and hands folded neatly in her lap. She finally surveyed the room closely, and she saw two more troopers standing rigidly at attention behind Cody. Four troopers plus Cody. The point was moot, of course - she couldn’t escape an entire Star Destroyer by herself. She had been the one who suggested to Admiral Yularen that they build locks into escape pods so potential Seppie prisoners couldn’t escape. Or so Ventress couldn’t escape. Again. It was hopeless.

No. She wasn’t without the Force, so she wasn’t without hope. She had to hold onto that.

“Well,” Depa said archly, finally breaking the silence. “I’m still waiting on the torture.”

Very slowly, Cody said, “After I finish eating.”

Depa waited for him to finish eating.

By the time he finished his plate, Depa was wondering if this was the torture. He was the Ghost’s sworn eternal nemesis, and Sabine had sworn a blood oath to run him through with the Darksaber, but he was probably still one of the most boring people Depa had ever met. Somehow, it was the worst part about him.

After what felt like forever he finally straightened, grabbing a disposable napkin and wiping his mouth before balling it up and throwing it on the table. Cody leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Depa wondered if he was about to tell her to leave him alone so he could finish watching the handball game.

“Good to see you, Depa. How’s Chopper?”

Pleasantries? “How’s that electrical burn?” Depa drawled.

“Didn’t even scar. Teach me to underestimate a droid again.” Cody leaned back in his chair, sizing her up with dark eyes. Depa’s spine crawled. “Eat your food, you’re too skinny.”

Depa pushed her plate away, pursing her lips.

“Suit yourself.” Cody pushed his own plate away. He leaned forward for the first time, folding his gloved hands on the stone table. For a man she’d never seen out of armor, the Stormtrooper armor looked terrible on him. His only identifying insignia of rank were two black pauldrons on his shoulders - a contrast to the single red pauldron of his officers. An Imperial cog was stamped on both pauldrons like a brand. “I’m going to tell you exactly how this is going to go.”

“You’re going to waste both of our time before you torture me?” Depa felt her lip curl, and she didn’t bother to fight it. Serenity, Grandpadawan… “And then you’ll kill me once I talk? Please. Jedi don’t break under torture, and Ghost doesn’t sell out their Rebellion. You won’t get a word from me.”

“I’m not going to torture you.” Clones were locked down tight in the Force, and it was almost impossible to read anything from them unless you were blatantly trying, but Depa could have sworn she caught a whiff of exhaustion from Cody’s stone face. “You are going to tell me where the Rebel base is.”

I’m not - what? “What do you mean you aren’t going to torture me?” Depa asked, a strange mix of anger and bafflement rising in her chest. “A nice meal isn’t going to get the location of the base from me, Marshal Commander.”

“I’m not going to torture you,” Cody said emphathetically. He said it strangely, almost forcefully - almost to himself. “You are going to tell me where the Rebel base is. Because in one week, the Grand Inquisitor is going to return from his little field trip chasing down one of his weird…Jedi things.” Cody half-rolled his eyes dismissively, as if the Grand Inquisitor’s eternal hunt for dark Sith artifacts was a weird quirk. “And he will be very interested in the location of Mace Windu. Your self-righteous bastard of a grandmaster.”

“He was a thousand times the man you’ll ever be,” Depa hissed. Serenity, Padawan… “Mace Windu is dead. Just as dead as Qui-Gon Jinn, who trusted you.”

The barb about his old general didn’t phase Cody. “That self-righteous bastard didn’t trust me as far as he could throw me.” Cody half-shrugged, as if he was conceding the point. “Don’t play games with me, Depa. We all know he’s alive. And the Grand Inquisitor has a special interest in the man.”

“He is dead,” Depa repeated, punctuating each word with heavy emphasis. “You want to know his whereabouts? Check the bottom of Coruscant.”

Mace Windu, of course, was not dead. Depa had never once believed he was. Mace Windu was a steady mountain in the Force, and no matter where she was Depa could always see him on the horizon. She didn’t know where he was, and she hadn’t seen him since before the Republic fell, but that wasn’t important. She always felt him.

He had been around often growing up, especially when Depa was young and she had the sense that Master Caleb had felt a little intimidated by her intense eleven year old stare. They had all been close. Master Caleb had been warm and cocky and loving, and he was the only one who could ever draw easy smiles from Master Windu. They had their arguments, almost constantly, but their steadfast Jedi natures meant that little squabbles and arguments never kept each other from dinners twice a week or group meditation.

It used to bother Depa a lot when people shittalked Master for being flighty and shallow or Grandmaster for being a hardass. For not being attached. Not being attached meant that Master and Grandmaster never let little things or petty feelings get in the way of their love for each other or Depa. It meant that they had always put her first, even above their own desires.

Looking at Cody, all Depa could see was Master putting her first. Jumping in front of her. Telling her to run. Not attaching himself to his own life or wellbeing, and sacrificing it all for Depa.

But Cody tilted his head and half-raised an eyebrow in a perfect expression of patient disbelief. It struck Depa strangely, and it took a few seconds of a heavy heart to realize why.

It was the same expression Obi-Wan would always make, when they were all so much younger. Sure you’re headed to the private meditation rooms at 0100, Depa. Of course you aren’t sneaking out or anything. If you slip me that training holocron Master Windu gave you, I might even believe you.

“That will be your story for the first hour,” Cody agreed, and Depa’s gut boiled until he dropped the expression that little Obi-Wan had worked so hard to mimic. “You’re brave. Maybe two. But the Grand Inquisitor’s no torture droid. I’ve seen him rip minds to shreds. He’d flay the location of your Grandmaster from your mind and leave you comatose.” Cody leaned forward, eyes dark and dead and boring deep into her. “He will get the location of Mace Windu. He will get the location of your Rebel Base. He will use you as bait for the Rebels and lure Windu out, and then he will kill him. That’s how it will go, Depa.”

Depa ground her teeth, fighting for her calm. He wasn’t even threatening her. He wasn’t even trying to scare her. He just said it plainly and flatly, as if he was listing military regs. “Grandmaster puts the wellbeing of the many over the wellbeing of the one,” Depa said evenly. “Even if he was alive, you couldn’t use me to draw him out. He would never sacrifice the Rebels like that.”

“Like you sacrificed yourself for your family?” Cody asked pointedly, and Depa stiffened. “I saw the footage. You stayed behind and bought time for them to get away. I heard you were better at tactics than that, Depa. You’re the most valuable member of your family, and you created a significant security breach for…what? Hera Syndulla?”

“Keep her name out of your mouth,” Depa whispered.

But Cody just leaned back, folding his arms. He didn’t break eye contact. He didn’t even blink. Had he blinked once, this entire time? Did clones even need to blink? “I don’t care about Mace Windu, Depa. I don’t even care about your family. I want Amidala. If you give me the location of your Rebel base, then I will let you go. No torture neccesary.”

Depa stopped short. Cody’s expression didn’t change. “Isn’t the Grand Inquisitor your superior? If he wants the location of a dead man so badly, why would he allow you to let me go?”

“What makes you think I’ve reported your capture?” Cody’s eyes arrested her, and she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. “Nobody has to know. Just give me the location of the base, and you can walk safely out of here.” He worked his jaw, expression heavy. “Or you can leave here in pieces, mailed one by one to your Grandmaster. And we will still have the location of your Rebel base and the location of your Grandmaster. It’s an obvious choice.”

“Go to fifty of your Mandalorian hells,” Depa said calmly.

Cody’s finger tapped his bicep. “I am being extremely generous, Depa.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“There’s only two choices here. Only one of the options keeps you alive.”

Padme’s babies were on that base.

Depa leaned forward, gripping the table. She looked Cody dead in the eyes, and she forced herself not to blink. “I’m not telling you a damn thing,” Depa hissed. “You’ll have to torture the information from me after all, Marshal Commander.”

Before Depa could blink, Cody thumped a fist on the stone table. Every clone in the room startled, drawing themselves upwards, and even Depa jumped.

“I am trying to fucking help you!” Cody snarled, and for the first time Depa saw some strange cousin of light in his sunken and dead eyes. “Just let me help you, you stubborn child!”

And Master’s laugh roared in her ears, and Depa’s mind roared with it. She stood up, letting the stone chair skitter harshly on the durasteel floor.

“Like you helped Obi-Wan Kenobi, you traitor?” Depa cried. Cody froze. “That kid worshiped you! He loved you more than he loved his real family! And you repaid him with a blaster bolt in the back. If that’s your definition of help, Commander Cody, then you can keep your damn pity.”

Clones were shut tight in the Force, and Commander Cody was locked down tighter than a Hutt’s wallet. But even as his expression twisted in cold rage, Depa felt a burning cold flash of pain spike in the Force.

She had only a second to interpret the strange and misplaced pain before the butt of a rifle collided with her shoulder. She cried out, buckling forward, and another impact sent her crashing to the ground. Her back throbbed with pain, the durasteel digging painfully into her elbows, but before she could get her bearings a foot like a durasteel weight collided with her stomach. Pain shot through her stomach like she had been knocked with a hammer, and she fell to the floor with a soft grunt. She heard voices above her, sounding almost fuzzy and distant.

“Peel! I didn’t tell you to beat her!”

“But she insulted you, Commander -”

A third voice piped up, as outraged as Peel. “Real family -”

Cody said something in a harsh, choppy language, and Peel said something back, and a fourth voice joined the fray in a placating tone, and Depa gasped as she fought for her breath. She forced recycled air into her lungs until she could stagger up, coughing. The clones ignored her, still arguing in the familiar but unplaceable language.

“Enough!” Cody barked in Basic, and all noise fell short. The other troopers abruptly seemed anxious, and Peel stepped backwards in a sulk. Cody looked back at Depa, who was still standing with Peel breathing down her neck. His expression hardened - in anger, or in something else, she couldn’t tell. “Don’t talk about things you know nothing about.”

But Depa just drew herself up as straight as she could. When she reached for the Force through the pain and the fear she felt its warm light, and she let it bolster and strengthen her spirit as surely as it bolstered her body during a firefight.

“I will be a Jedi as long as I live,” Depa proclaimed, “and I will die a Jedi if necessary.”

Cody stared at her.

Finally, he looked back at the trooper behind him. He had a red pauldron, and something about his Force signature was a little familiar. “Wooley, bring him in.”

Him?

Wooley turned sharply on his heel and exited through the back doors, almost stiffly. The trooper on the other side of Cody shifted, readjusting his grip on his rifle. Cody looked back at him too, slowly leaning back and resting an elbow on the thick stone arm of the chair. “Crys. Call in the other officers to spectate. This could be useful.”

“Should I record it too, sir?” The trooper said. It took Depa’s long familiarity with clones to catch the tinge of bitter sarcasm running underneath his words.

Cody said something impatiently to him in their language, making Crys grumble nonsensically but reach for his communicator anyway. Depa’s skin prickled.

Tension and fear stretched through the Force, but she only had a few seconds to feel it. Peel grabbed her again, locking the Force cuffs back on, and it was only his firm hand that kept her upright.

She battled the nausea, and it was only the sound of boots scuffing on durasteel floors and the click of armor that alerted her to the troopers filing into the room. She twisted her head around only to see a slow stream of what seemed to be officers filing inside. They were looking at each other, at Depa, and at everybody but the relaxed Cody.

Two figures re-entered the room through the door behind Cody - Cody’s man firmly helmeted, and the new figure with his helmet latched to his belt. They were walking together, two soldiers walking in sync, but a thick tension rippled between them.

Depa barely noticed. She was too busy looking at Grey.

She watched as he saw her. He stopped short, eyes widening in shock, frozen. Depa’s breath caught.

She waited for the thump of fear. The last time she had seen him was when the Republic and the Jedi fell a little more than a year ago. When he shot Master.

She had always wondered what the expression on his face had been. If it had been sober; if it had been nothing. If he had been smiling. He hadn’t even reacted to Master slicing through Styles’ neck. He had just shot -

But fear didn’t come. She only felt a thick, hot, heavy rush of rage. She reflexively tried to release it into the Force, but the Force didn’t come. She was alone, and her only company was the awful rage rising in her throat.

“Depa,” Grey whispered. He turned to Cody, who was only silently watching them. “Sir, what’s she doing -”

“You!” Depa screamed. “You killed -”

The rifle hit her shoulder again, and Depa sagged in Peel’s arms. It hurt far worse than before, the impact hitting her developing bruises with no protection from the Force.

There is no death, Depa, there is only the Force. There is no pain or rage, just isolation from the Force. There is no loneliness or desolation, just separation from the Force. Be serene, Depa, don’t disappoint us…

“We captured her when her team snuck in and tried to steal the Grand Inquisitor’s list of Force sensitive children,” Cody said blandly. Depa flinched. “We've been keeping the capture need to know. I determined that you needed to know.”

Grey didn’t look away from her. She couldn’t look away from him. A Jedi didn’t hate, or at the very least they never showed it, but she let him see the hate. He still didn’t look away - as if he was forcing himself to stare at her, to accept the hatred.

“Her team,” Grey said slowly. His eyes darted to Cody, but he didn’t look away from Depa. “What team? Other Jedi?”

“Right. I forgot. You’re a recent transfer to the 501st.” Cody held out a hand, and Crys stepped forward and pressed a datapad into his hand. He scrolled through it, swiping his finger down and down, but somehow Depa had the sense that it was just for how. “The Rebellion’s special ops squadron deployed for high priority and high danger missions. Psychological profile of the team indicated a repeated willingness to take high danger missions due to sublimated suicidal ideation.” What? “Al - Captain of the ship is Sabine Wren, exiled - leader of the decimated Clan Wren. Ex-Death Watch, current clanless vagrant. Revenge quest, Mandalorian typical tendency towards adopting teen girls, sublimated suicidal tendencies.”

“She’s ten times the person you are!” Depa cried. “What do you know about family?”

Cody swiped his finger again, ignoring her. “Vice Captain Garazeb Orellios. Second in command. Psych profile indicates he seeks to regain his honor as a warrior and compensate for his perceived failure to protect Lasat. Disgraced survivor, one of the few survivors of the Lasat genocide, sublimated suicidality. Psych profile notes a pattern.”

“Sir,” Grey said stiffly, “I don’t see what these vagrant terrorists have to do with me.”

“Neither do I,” Cody said, somewhat mysteriously. “Pilot Hera Syndulla -”

“Shut up!”

“Daughter of Twi’lek Insurrectionist leader Cham Syndulla. Was smuggled off Ryloth after the Empire seized the planet and her mother died. Father reportedly refuses to allow her to join the Twi’lek revolution so she shacks up with the Rebellion instead in her eternal fight to retake control of her ruined life. Genocide survivor…that’s a lot of speeches about hope, she may not even be suicidal…and a girlfriend.” Cody scrolled down as Depa grit her teeth. “And Chopper. Complete with droid. Cute.” He tossed the datapad on the table, leaning back again and quirking an eyebrow at Depa. “Finally, the enforcer Depa Bilaba. Padawan of Caleb Dume, Grandpadawan of the Empire’s Most Wanted Jedi Mace Windu. Genocide survivor…a lot of speeches about the Force, so perhaps simply suicidally stupid…joins with the Rebellion because it’s what her master would have wanted. What would you make of that, Captain?”

“That the Empire makes its own enemies, sir.”

Grey seemed to regret the sentence the minute he said it, but Cody just quirked an eyebrow. It was sickening, but Depa had seen that expression on Obi-Wan’s face too - is that really the bet you want to make? If you want me to clean you out, suit yourself…

That kid had always given off the air of knowing something you didn’t. Once he hit fourteen, fifteen, all honesty stripped away from him. He started pretending - always an innocent Jedi Rylothian angel in the Temple, always the perfect soldier in the field. Fourteen, fifteen year olds were supposed to wear their hearts on their sleeve, to burst into the adult world as themselves before the galaxy taught them the right and wrong way to exist. How had that bratty kid learned to hide who he was so well? Who had taught him?

But Cody just hummed. He withdrew a blaster from his thigh holster, fiddling with it slightly. Grey looked away from Depa for the first time, wide eyes fixed on the blaster.

Something wasn’t making sense. Grey should look…Depa didn’t know how he should look. She had no way of knowing how Grey should feel. But why did he look scared?

“How long did you serve under Caleb Dume, Captain?” Cody squinted down at the blaster, adjusting the muzzle.

Grey didn’t blink. He didn’t look at Depa again. “Three years, sir.”

Cody hummed again. “And you were successful in the field execution of Caleb Dume?”

Grey didn’t look at Depa. “Yes, sir.” Unsaid: as we’re all fully aware.

“But Padawan Depa Bilaba escaped.”

“Obviously, Commander.”

“You failed,” Cody said bluntly, and for just a second it felt as if the entire room held its breath. “The Empire doesn’t give second chances, Captain.”

Grey’s eyes widened. Depa’s heart jumped in her chest from - what, from fear? Why? Why was Grey’s fate her problem?

But Cody just looked up. He tossed Grey the blaster, who caught it easily out of the air. “I, however, do. This is your second chance, Captain. You have my permission to execute the traitor.”

The room stilled. Depa’s chest froze. Peel’s grip on her arms tightened, almost painfully. She could barely feel it. She could only look at Grey, whose expression held nothing at all.

“You don’t need information from her?”

Cody shrugged, leaning back in his chair and propping an elbow on its arm. “She was very clear that she wouldn’t talk. She’s loyal. No point in keeping her around, then. I thought I might do you a favor.”

But Grey didn’t move. He just stared at the blaster, expression blank.

Fury rose in Depa’s chest. “Why the hesitation, Captain?” Depa snapped, and Grey closed his eyes. “You didn’t hesitate when you killed your general. Don’t tell me you’re a coward too!”

“Depa,” Grey gritted out between clenched teeth, “you are not helping.”

“The girl’s right,” Cody said mildly. “I gave you an order.”

“You did not,” Grey snapped. “You said that I have your permission. Cody, if this is some sort of damn game -”

“It’s a soldier’s honor and privilege to kill a Jedi,” Cody said, cutting him off and ignoring him. “Your failure to kill one teenager was an embarrassment. A good soldier would want to do this.”

Grey was silent. His hand was still clasped around the grip, his other dangling loosely by his side. He looked at the ground. Depa couldn’t see his face.

“But you aren’t a good soldier,” Cody said, “are you, Fulcrum?”

What?

Depa faltered, and she felt Peel’s grip loosen too. The troopers behind her started murmuring, the word ‘traitor’ ringing clearly in her ears again and again. Grey didn’t look up from the floor.

“That’s impossible,” Depa said weakly. “Grey can’t - he wouldn’t -”

Wouldn’t he?

Fulcrum was invaluable. They had to be a clone, and with their access to command codes they were probably an officer. Their leaks had saved lives, saved Jedi. When the Empire caught wind of a Jedi sighting, Fulcrum sent the information to the Rebellion so the Ghost could intercept. Nobody knew their identity for opsec, but their information was always good.

Their information was why the Ghost knew that the Grand Inquisitor was off the ship. Why they even knew about the holocron. Why Depa was -

“Was this a trap?” To Depa’s shame, her voice was low and wavering. “Was the intel a trap?”

Grey’s head jerked up to meet her eyes, and Depa almost recoiled when she saw the frantic desperation in his eyes. “No! Depa, I wouldn’t -”

“Yeah,” Cody said blandly. “But it was mine. Grey didn’t know.” He glanced at Grey, whose face had paled. “You won’t deny it?”

“What’s the point?” Grey’s face twisted in faint bitterness, and he looked away in what might almost be shame. “You wouldn’t make an accusation without proof. I knew the risks. If you want to make a spectacle of my execution, then go ahead and get it over with.”

What? Depa’s head was spinning. Peel was cursing under his breath next to her, but she could barely hear him. All she could see was Grey’s endless faces - her Captain, her spy, her enemy, her friend. She couldn’t make sense of it.

“Grey.” Depa’s heart sank in her chest, despair creeping in for the first time. “Why…?”

And Grey turned to look at her, and Depa saw a new face.

“Because I regretted it!” Grey cried. He couldn’t look away from her, and Depa finally realized that he was trying to memorize every feature. That he knew this would be the last time he ever saw her. “The minute I pulled the trigger, I regretted it. When Dume looked at me as if…as if he forgave me! Do you think you got away on accident, Depa? I regretted it the second I - please, Depa. I regretted it.”

Depa was speechless. What was he pleading for? What was he asking for?

“I can’t make up for it,” Grey said roughly, voice hoarse. “It won’t erase what I’ve done. I won’t ask for forgiveness. I knew Fulcrum would get me killed, but - but it’s what the General would have wanted. It’s what he would have wanted for you. He can’t protect you anymore, but I can try. I owe him that.”

“Grey,” Depa whispered. “I don’t…”

She didn’t understand why her heart hurt. She reached for the Force again and again, but it couldn’t tell her. She realized too late that she was trying to memorize Grey’s face too - the naked longing, the love that showed too late.

Cody’s voice broke the strange connection between them. His face was flat stone, unimpressed and cold. “I’m giving you one last chance to prove your loyalty to the Empire. The only people who know you’re a traitor are in this room, Grey. I can make this go away. Execute the Jedi and we never have to talk about this again.”

Grey’s grip tightened on the blaster. Depa jerked backwards, forcing Peel to keep her still. Her heart roared in her ears as Grey stared at her, eyes wild and desperate.

But then a weird calm seemed to settle over him. He stood up straighter, dark brown eyes focusing intently. He turned to Cody, staring him down, and dropped the blaster on the floor.

It landed with a clang, splitting the heavy tension in the air. Cody’s eyes flickered to it before snapping back to Grey.

“What happened to you, Cody?” Grey asked plainly. “You’ve changed so much. What would Obi-Wan say if he saw you like this? Do you think he’d recognize his own father?”

Cody was silent.

Grey turned to the crowd, calm and sure. “What happened to all of us? We used to be proud of ourselves. Our Jedi, our padawans - they were proud of us. Have we done anything to be proud of in the past year? The executions, the genocide? We can barely call ourselves men anymore.”

“Shut him up, Wooley,” Crys snapped. “Sedition -”

“I might be a traitor to every damn person who ever trusted me,” Grey said, “but I’ll accept my execution knowing that I saved children. And you’ll die knowing that you killed them. That’s it.” He looked back at Cody, whose expression hadn't changed. “Enough spectacle. Make me an example and just do it. Just have Peel cover her eyes.”

“She’ll die anyway, Grey,” Cody said simply. “The only thing you can control is whether or not you walk out of this room. Make the smart choice.”

But Grey just shook his head. “My general would make the right choice.” He glanced at Depa, half-smiling. “Never knew him to do the smart thing.”

“Then you’ll both die like him,” Cody said. “Self-righteous and useless.” He waved a hand, beckoning Wooley forward. He slung his rifle off his back with no hesitance, the helmet hiding any expression. Peel’s left arm moved to wrap around her shoulders, moving his right hand to cover her eyes.

Depa screamed. She didn’t know what she screamed. It just felt like an explosion, shattering serenity into a million razor-sharp pieces that tore her apart. She surged against Peel’s arm but the cuffs made her weak and sluggish, and he just pressed her back tightly against his chest. She could feel his smooth, steady breaths fall in and out, the plastoid digging into her shoulder as she struggled against the grip.

“You’re supposed to be brave for them,” Peel whispered in her ear. “Come on, stop making him watch this.”

But she couldn’t be brave. Depa was brave all day long, for everybody. She had been brave when she was eleven and skinned her knee, and Master had freaked out about it worse than she did. She had pretended it didn’t hurt just so he wouldn’t be upset.

She played brave Jedi for the Rebellion, because they relied on a Jedi’s wisdom and guidance. She played it for her family, who needed her strength. Jedi didn’t talk under torture, so Depa never would. Jedi are serene, padawan, serene - serene - serene -

How could anybody be serene like this? How could Depa be a Jedi? It didn’t even feel possible.

Hot tears trailed down her cheeks, and she realized too late that she was crying. Tears spilled for the clone who killed her master. The Force wasn’t with her, but a Jedi’s empathy rose in her chest. The Jedi felt the pain of all living beings. But Depa always felt blinded by her own.

Then Cody glanced back to look at her. Peel’s arm froze.

“The location of the Rebel base, Depa,” Cody said. “Now.”

Wooley lifted his rifle.

“Grey!”

“The location of the Rebel base,” Cody repeated calmly. “Or Fulcrum will die right here, right now.”

“Don’t tell him anything, Depa,” Grey barked. He didn’t even try to move. “Don’t tell him a damn thing.”

“You have no self-preservation instinct,” Cody told Grey, almost casually.

“And you have no soul.”

Cody’s expression softened - not in nostalgia or tenderness, but in a strange disconnect from where they were. Seeing another time, another place. “We used to debate about that, didn’t we? For hours and hours.”

“Ponds and I debated,” Grey said coldly. “You sat next to Ponds and said thinking about it was a waste of time.”

“Wanting things you don’t have is a waste of time.”

Depa was not listening to the pointless nostalgia session. She was screaming.

She wasn’t making a sound, but she was screaming all the same. The cuffs kept her from entering the Force, from taking its hand and letting it flow into her, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. It didn’t mean others couldn’t hear her. She wasn’t alone. Master was here with her. The dead never truly leave us, and he hadn’t abandoned her.

Master was here with her, inside Grey’s heart. Inside her heart. He had pulled them in the same direction, pulled them together. He guided them both, and the Force had guided them together to this place. It meant something. It meant - it meant -

It meant that Depa was so weak, and so scared, and that she missed her family so much. She just wanted somebody to come and make this okay. She was nineteen years old, far too old to need a guardian or mentor, but she couldn’t help the cry of her heart.

Depa reached out her hand for a dormant bond, for a quiet and subtle connection strong as durasteel, and grabbed it with both hands. With shameful attachment, with abiding love. She couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel anything - but it was always there.

Depa screamed down a bond. Nothing echoed back. It was all she could do.

A voice permeated her haze, and Depa stumbled to awareness only just enough to see the rifle pointed at Grey’s heart. He stood tall and proud, chin jutting out.

“One last chance, Depa,” Cody said, flat and bored. His right hand flexed on the arm of the chair, squeezing tightly into a fist before relaxing. Depa’s breath heaved. “Nothing?”

Depa gasped.

“Fine.” Through the haze, Depa almost heard a shade of frustration in his voice. “Wooley, ready. Aim.”

Grey smiled at her. Peel raised his arm.

“Fi -”

“Dantooine!” Depa screamed. “It’s on Dantooine!”

The scene screeched to a halt. Peel’s breath halted. Grey’s face fell.

Cody didn’t react. He just eyed her, eyes dark. “Coordinates?”

Depa gave him the coordinates.

“Crys.”

“Yes, sir,” Crys said, saluting sharply. He turned on his heel and left the room, already activating the comm on his helmet and contacting the bridge. He would give them the coordinates, and the ship would be on course for Dantooine in minutes.

“Wooley.”

“Yes, sir,” Wooley said stiffly. He let the rifle muzzle fall, entire body untensing, before swinging the rifle back over his back. “Yes, sir…”

It was as if the room exhaled. Peel’s hand dropped, and she could feel his long sigh of relief. Somehow, it was the most obvious in Cody - Depa saw him abruptly sag, leaning on the table and burying his face in his hands. She hadn’t realized how tense and tight he was until he relaxed, his shoulders slumping as he rubbed his eyes.

The only person who wasn’t relieved was Grey. He looked a little broken-hearted. “Depa, the…”

The babies. Depa turned her face away. They’d be fine. They’d be just fine.

Cody stood up, both hands planted on the table. He seemed lighter, easier, but his strangely sunken-in eyes looked even worse. Even stranger. “You two will make an escape from the cells in the confusion during the aerial bombardment on the base. We’ll stay in orbit, use the torpedoes. No need even for the Starfighters. It’ll be in and out. Wooley, take Grey to his cell. Everybody else but Depa clear out.”

Wooley stiffened, even as Peel stepped away from Depa and Wooley moved forward to grab Grey’s arm and roughly shove him forward. Grey moved with him, too stunned to protest. Everybody else cleared out in record time, eager to escape the fraught scene,

The dining room door slid shut with a final hiss, and for the first time Depa was left alone in a room with Cody. She had never been alone in a room with him, even before the Republic fell. He was always one step behind or one step in front of somebody else - existing permanently only in relation to other people. A different Cody for every person, with nothing underneath.

For a final, dizzying second, he reminded her of Obi-Wan again. He had been the same way - always the perfect person for every situation. She couldn’t help but wonder who Cody was when he was alone with Obi-Wan. He was the only person left who knew.

“I gave you what you wanted,” Depa said, voice hoarse. Her throat scraped raw from screaming. “We made a deal.”

“I hear I’m a chronic double-crosser,” Cody said wryly. He walked towards her, and Depa fought not to back up. She stood up as straight as Grey, tilted her head just as proudly. “I want to make a trade. One you’re not going to tell anybody about.”

“I’m not interested,” Depa said flatly. She rooted her feet to the floor, even as Cody advanced closer and closer. “And I hear I’m rather bad at keeping secrets.”

“You’ll be interested in this one.”

Cody stopped in front of her. He was just a few inches taller than her, and Depa was able to meet his eyes securely. They were awful to look at - dark and empty, but bubbling over with something corrosive. Nothing like a Darksider’s, but reminiscent of their wildness.

His hand reached down automatically to his belt before stopping short, jerking away. He grimaced, then reached around to the back of the belt instead, sliding something out of the back compartment.

Even though the cuffs, Depa felt it. Even if it wasn’t the Force, if it was just her senses and heart, she knew it immediately. Her breath caught, heart jumping heavily in her chest. She knew that feeling.

Cody dangled Caleb Dune’s lightsaber in front of her face. He held it by the bottom with two fingers, as if it was a dead womp rat. The sight almost bisected Cody’s face, the light reflecting oddly off the metal and shadowing one half of his face, but Depa didn’t care. It was Master’s lightsaber. Master’s - !

Depa reached out for it instinctively, as she used to reach for Master on the battlefield, but Cody yanked it away at the last second. She felt as if he had ripped part of her chest away from her - as if he had ripped Master away again - and she couldn’t help the cry that escaped her lips.

“You can feel it even through the cuffs, right?” Cody asked. “Jinn explained it to me once. A Jedi’s heart is made from kyber. It absorbs their Force energy. Looks like it feels like him. Something you never thought you’d ever see or feel again, isn’t it?”

“Give that back!” Depa cried. “That’s mine!”

It was - it should have been - but Cody just lifted an eyebrow. “Really? I could have sworn I found it in Grey’s trunk. I have four or five of my own, but it seemed Grey kept it more as a keepsake than a trophy. Seems like I have another trophy for the collection.”

Depa made another furious, impassioned swipe for it, but Cody easily kicked her away. He pointedly put his other hand on his blaster, and it was only then that Depa retreated. She forced herself to calm her breathing, searching for that calm, but all she could feel was Master. Even through the cuffs, deep into her heart - a trophy - Master, a trophy -

“What do you want,” Depa gritted out.

Cody didn’t smile in victory. Something in him just sharpened instead, as if the battle had only just begun. As if he hadn’t already won, and Depa hadn’t already lost.

He slid the lightsaber easily onto an empty spot on his belt without looking. He stepped forward and grabbed Depa’s forearm, reeling her in close. She grunted, straining away, but he just stared down at her in intense concentration.

“Where,” Cody said slowly, “is Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

Depa froze.

The words skipped over her brain, and she had to stop and rewind to even process them. It was the last thing she had expected to hear from him. From anyone, but especially him.

“Wouldn’t you know?” Depa asked. “You’re the one who killed him.”

Cody’s face twisted in - rage? Pain? He pulled her in, shaking her. “As if I could kill my own son? Cut the shit and tell me where he is!”

“He’s dead!” Depa pushed him away, and Cody let her. The way the clones talked - son, father. Were they insane? Where was this coming from? “You can’t feel other Jedi in the Force, but I can. Trust me, I’ve looked. He’s not in the Force. He’s gone. With your own hands or not, you killed him.”

But Cody just stared at her, Master’s lightsaber dangling loosely from his hip. It looked so wrong on his hip. The words coming out of his mouth felt so wrong. “Then your corrupt magic’s wrong. I know he’s alive, the same way you know your grandmaster’s alive. I can feel him.” He put his hand on the handle of the saber, Depa’s eyes following the motion. “And you’ll never get this back if you don’t tell me where.”

“There is no comparison between us!” Depa snapped. “Grandmaster’s my family. Obi-Wan is my family, the Jedi are my family. Your weird - weird obsession with Obi-Wan isn’t family, it’s possessiveness.”

“Clones aren’t allowed possessions,” Cody snapped, and Depa jerked back. “He was all I was allowed. You could never -” He stopped short, working his jaw, and for the first time Depa could see Cody fight for it - that implacability, that stone. “I won’t chase him down. I swear it. Nobody else even knows he’s alive, I won’t tell anybody. I won’t capture him, I won’t hurt him. I won’t try to take him back. The Empire, it’s - it’s not safe for him. He’s not safe with me. One day - but not yet.” Cody stared her down, ignoring Depa’s increasing twin shock and worry. “Just tell me where he is. If he’s okay.”

And somehow, for some strange and obscure reason, Depa wanted to tell him. This clone under the sick delusion that he was some sort of father - she wanted nothing more than to tell him that Obi-Wan was okay. That he couldn’t see him, and that he would never hold him again, but that he was alright. If that was all he wanted, then some hurting part of Depa’s soul wanted to give it.

“I can’t help you,” Depa said honestly, helplessly. “We thought he was dead. The Force tells me that he died more than a year ago. I can’t help you.”

Cody stared at her for a long moment, hand gripping the saber, before he seemed to come to a decision. He looked away, expression twisting, before Depa saw him draw himself up and paste the scowl back on his face.

“Good,” Cody said roughly. “Then he’s too smart to hang around terrorists. He’s keeping his head down like I taught him. That’s good.”

He was insane. There had to be something wrong with him, something impossible to understand. Not even the other clones seemed to understand it.

Sabine flashed through her mind, reassuring and warm. Flipping her braids over her head or elbowing her in the side. Zeb’s jokes about the irrepressible Mandalorian urge of child acquisition, and how of course he should have expected that their work partnership would end up with two teen girls and a crazy droid. Depa and Hera would straighten, smiling innocently and elbowing each other, as Sabine punched Zeb in the arm. Chopper would whistle incessantly, demanding to be included.

Long, dark nights. Sabine opening the door of her and Hera’s cabin twice a night, making sure that they were still there and still breathing. A familiar language, finally clicking into recognition in her mind. Two girls without mothers, mourning family.

An off-hand comment from Sabine’s brother during a tumultuous and terrifying encounter - something’s been different about her since he lost his niece, but that’s no excuse for…

“I told you what I know,” Depa said, fighting cold memories. “We had a deal. Give me back my master's lightsaber.”

Cody seemed to remember that she was there, jerking to attention. He unclipped the lightsaber from his belt, holding it up by two fingers again. “This? I told you I’d give it back if you told me where Obi-Wan was. You haven’t told me anything.”

“There’s nothing to say,” Depa said coldly. “I gave you what information I had. Give me the lightsaber back.”

Cody stared at her for a long moment, assessing her. She tilted her chin up, summoning every ounce of steadfastness and bravery and resolution she could.

Finally, he shrugged. He casually flipped the lightsaber in the air, grabbing it by the hilt. “Then our deal’s still ongoing. Find me Obi-Wan, and you’ll get your lightsaber back. Until then, I think it’ll look good on my wall.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “I hear that your lightsaber’s your life. A life for a life. That sounds fair.”

A life for a life.

Depa had heard that too. Master Jinn had said it as often as Grandmaster, to the point where she was confident it was something Yoda told all of his students. She had a faint memory of Obi-Wan preaching to some Initiates about it during a pilgrimage to Illum.

A fainter memory, even stranger. Some changing of the guard on some forgotten planet, as the 501st and 212th landed to relieve her battalion. Cody, face blurred in her memory, placid subservience overlaid with sinister lies through hindsight. Returning a dropped lightsaber to Obi-Wan as Master Jinn scolded him. A lightsaber’s your life, don’t make Cody clean up after you…and your robe, padawan? Your armor? Commander, please -

If Cody handed over one lightsaber, could he receive that in return? Obi-Wan’s teenage moaning and groaning, dropping his robe and armor and lightsaber in the easy and casual confidence that Cody would pick it up. Could Cody have that back - did he want it back?

Or did he want something perfect? A situation that he controlled; a galaxy where everyone followed his judgment and leadership and jumped to his desires. Where he was the unquestioned father; where he could be a father.

Depa heard her master’s laugh in her mind, but she felt Sabine’s hug enveloping her. Zeb ruffling her hair and Chopper banging her leg. Hera’s kiss and her body on hers. The memory tingled on her skin, even when the Force was not with her.

And Depa found herself saying, “A lightsaber’s a lightsaber. That’s all it is. If Obi-Wan’s alive, he deserves to be outside of your control. I won’t tell you anything more. Keep the saber. I hope it looks nice on your wall.”

Cody stared at her, expression unreadable. Depa wondered for one second, two, if he would torture her for this. If he didn’t give a shit about Mace Windu or the Rebel base, but if he would torture her for Obi-Wan.

But he just turned away instead. He walked back towards his chair, where Grey had refused to hurt Depa and dropped the blaster. He bent down, picking it up off the floor.

He turned around and aimed it at her. Depa dived to the floor immediately, but the cuffs slowed her reflexes and Cody was inhumanly fast - he fired a shot directly at her heart.

The blaster whirred. Nothing happened. Depa collided with the floor, skidding on the durasteel before scrambling upwards. She glanced backwards frantically, looking for a blaster scar on the wall and finding none before looking back at Cody.

He squeezed the trigger a few more times. The blaster whirred, but nothing happened. He dropped it on the floor, letting it rattle before he casually kicked it away.

“I look forward to your miraculous escape,” Cody said, before his soldiers took her away.

They were firm but unexpectedly gentle. One put a hand on her back and guided her out, the other saluting professionally at Cody. Depa had to strain to glance backwards, stealing only a glimpse before the doors slid shut.

Cody was staring at the lightsaber in his hands, rubbing his thumb absently along the hilt. He closed his eyes, and for just a second Depa saw him pretend that he was holding a different sword before the doors slid shut and he disappeared from view.

**********

Her escape was miraculous.

It came only a few hours before they reached Dantooine. Depa had been in her third hour of ineffectual meditation before the cell door beeped open and a trooper walked inside. Depa was surprised and wary - the troopers almost never came inside the cell, and for some reason they always knocked. Somewhat anxiously. Depa almost had the impression they were told years ago that you should always knock before entering a woman’s quarters and that they extended this courtesy to prison cells.

“Hey,” Depa said. “Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?”

The trooper took off their helmet, and Depa was treated to the sight of twin lekku escaping from their suffocating helmet and a bright white smile.

“Come on,” Hera said, “is that way to thank your rescuer?”

Depa stood up and thanked her rescuer very quickly but very thoroughly. They had mastered the art of kisses under fire ages ago - there practically wasn’t time for any other kind.

They separated, gasping, and Depa couldn’t help but tell her. “Hera, I’m sorry - I told them, they’re headed for the Rebel base, they’re -”

“Already evacuating,” Hera said cheerfully. “Master Windu got in contact with us. Did you know he was alive? He told us that the base was compromised, and that you needed help. You Jedi really are something. With you on our side, I never feel like we can lose!”

“Oh,” Depa said dizzily. She can’t believe that worked. It worked. It had been a gamble, an insane leap of faith, the stupidest possible choice born from desperation, but - but it had worked. He had heard her. How could she have ever doubted him? “That’s great.”

But when she opened Depa’s cuffs with a pilfered key, and when Hera pulled her out of the cell over the collapsed forms of two unconscious troopers, she couldn’t help but fall short. She glanced backwards at the cell next to her, at the one way ray shields trapping a tired clone lying on the bed with his hands folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

“Hold on.”

Hera glanced backwards, eyes widening in surprise as Depa let go of her hand so she could walk forward and use Hera’s pilfered codes to slice through the lock. “We don’t have a lot of time, Depa, why are we stopping over a clone?”

The ray shield fizzed off, and the clone scrambled upwards. His eyes widened as he saw Depa, Hera uncomfortably swimming in stormtrooper armor behind her.

Depa held out her hand.

“We’re here to rescue you,” Depa said. “Come on.”

Grey shook his head dumbly. “Depa, I don’t deserve -”

“We’ll talk about deserve in the ship,” Hera said quickly, grabbing Depa’s hand again - not even questioning it, instantly accepting that they couldn’t leave their clone friend behind. “Let’s run!”

And, yet, again, they ran for their lives. The sounds of blaster fire echoed above their heads, and Hera tossed Depa her lightsaber. The snap-hiss and purple beam brought power rushing back into her body, and she covered them as they dived for the escape pod, the pneumatic doors screwing shut just in time.

Hera jumped to the console, separating them from the Star Destroyer at record time and sending them rattling off into space. She was whooping, high on the joy of an escape well-made, and Depa watched in awe as the wonderful twinkle of Ghost gleamed in space. Sabine and Zeb had come for them. Her family had come for her.

But she couldn’t summon joy. She could only turn a horrified and confused look on Grey, who was wearing an identical expression. They, veterans both, knew something that Hera couldn’t. Depa knew better than anyone.

The escape pods should be locked to the ship. So why…?

“So, uh,” Hera said, glancing backwards as she pulled the hyperspace lever. “You aren’t evil? And…who are you?”

Grey clamped his jaw shut, shooting an anxious look at Depa. Should he say that he was Fulcrum? Should he pretend that he was nobody? How could he admit to Depa’s love, to anybody, that he had killed a Jedi in cold blood?

But Depa just smiled at him, and before she could think better of it she slung an arm around his shoulders. “How does Specter Five sound?”

“What?” Grey cried.

“Sounds fun!” Hera yelled, over the roar of their ship escaping into hyperspace - far, far away, and never far enough.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

The first aid kit is empty. Polynein, Beau and Caleb?

Beau's fine, honestly she is. Sure, in training today she might have gotten a little more beaten up that normal, but it's nothing she can't handle. She's used to blood and bruises by now. But the same cannot be said for Caleb. When she walks into their home, collar stained with blood, he is by her side in an instant.

His eyes scan her face and arms, cataloging all of the injuries, "What happened?" He asks softly, hands shaking slightly.

Beau shrugs, "Training new recruits, they're...a bit more talented than I was expecting. I'm fine, man. Jessie will be home later and she can fix all of it."

Caleb shakes his head, "No, you are hurt, Beauregard." He takes her by the hand and brings her down the hall to the bathroom. He gives her a gentle shove towards the toilet so she sighs and sits down on the lid as he opens up the cabinet and begins shuffling through it, looking for the healer's kit.

"Caleb, seriously," Beau tries, "it's not a big deal. Let's just wait for Jester or Yasha."

The wizard doesn't respond. He sits back on his heels, pulling out the small box with a look of triumph. A look that falls from his face immediately when he opens the box. There's almost nothing left inside, a few short pieces of bandages and empty vials.

The shaking of his hands gets worse instantly, his eyes darting around the contents like more will magically appear. "Hey, it's okay, man," Beau tells him gently. "Jessie and Yash will be home soon. They can take care of it."

Caleb shakes his head, "You're hurt, you're hurt, Astrid."

Well fuck.

Beau slides off the toilet to kneel on the cold tile beside him. She rests one hand lightly between his shoulder blades and pulls one of his hands into hers. "Caleb, I'm not Astrid. I'm Beau and we're in our house in Rexxentrum. Essek is just upstairs, do you want me to get him?"

Caleb blinks, "I-I don't know."

"Okay." Beau squeezes his hand, "We can just stay right here. Can you tell me what my name is?"

"Beauregard," Caleb says softly. "You're my sister."

"That's right." She squeezes his hand again. "And I got a little roughed up training today but I'm not dying, I'm not bleeding anymore. I'll be perfectly fine until the healers get here."

He turns to face her with unreadable emotion in his eyes and before she can say anything more, he takes her by the back of the neck and pulls her into a tight hug. It hurts a little due to her bruises, but she would never tell him that. Instead she just hugs him back, saying nothing when he slyly turns his face into her neck so he can feel her pulse point.

[grayintogreen]

Critical Role Fic Masterlist [August 1st-August 31st]

WOOF. What a month. Not an exceptionally great one for Ye Olde Depression, but I guess I went the Hemmingway in dealing with it. I found a neat word tracking app, but I only started it midway through the month, but just from HALF the month, I racked up 50k+ words. ...Yeah.

Anyway! For the record, I’m separating out the flashfic featured in paper moon and tinsel stars here on my masterlist for ease of access for people who might only want to read specific ships/characters, since the anthology is, uh, poorly organized. I like titles. It’s a thing.

This was also the month of the Tombtaker Hostage Situation and 90% of my bad things happen bingo prompts. I’m doing Whumptober next month so maybe I’ll cool it on the dark stuff in September (probably not).

LET’S GET TO IT, SHALL WE?

SHIPPY FICS

Creecien (Cree/Lucien)

and the heat only goes where you tell it to go. (E, MIND THE TAGS, 4955 words). The Mighty Nein fail to beat the Tombtakers to Cognouza. It still doesn’t really go well for them. Also monsterfucking. But seriously, mind the tags. It’s dark.

he’ll never know how much you’ve done. (T, 2896 words). Cree and Lucien, pre-canon. Getting your wounds tended because you used Life Transference on your stupid asshole crush and he is an oblivious dick.

this story’s yours and this story’s mine. (G, 2679 words). Tinytakers!! Baby Cree has some deep-rooted psychological issues. Lucien is Lucien even at thirteen. 

and i shall give you sparks that blaze as hot as any fire. (E, 3686 words) ‘Tis the month of Creecien smut. (No really). Cree’s wavering in the wake of the other Tombtakers’ deaths so Lucien bangs her in front of the Immensus Gate. WITH RELIGIOUS SYMBOLISM.

i need to touch a holy place. (E, 3546 words). I TOLD YOU. This is the missing sex scene from this church takes no conversions. I don’t know who the target audience for this is. I guess it’s me.

Widomauk (Mollymauk/Caleb)

i have been the source of all the troubles we have known. (T, 3508 words). Molly comes back after the fight with Lucien and he’s not okay. At all. 

and he’ll laugh when your troubles are gone. (G, 2613 words). Caleb and Molly go to a flea market. IT’S JUST SHAMELESS FLUFF. I CAN WRITE THAT SOMETIMES.

Lucigast (Lucien/Caleb)

guard your eggshell heart. (T, 1910 words). Part of the Earthquake Weather series. Scourgers get the jump on the Tombtakers and Lucien is none too pleased about it.

in the dreaming trees. (T, 2469 words) Part of the Earthquake Weather series. Caleb accidentally dreamshares in the Tombtaker Discord Chat and things escalate. You may see this one again, because I promised the porn continuation at some point. And I keep my promises.

the scourge of cabin boys and kings. (T, 2856 words) Part of the Earthquake Weather series. Caleb and Lucien discuss scars. And Lucien cannot get this damn wizard under his thumb.

Other Ships

spread your wings and show me quick. (G, 744 words) Astrid/Jester. Jester teaches Astrid how to ice skate.

mad science love song. (G, 808 words ) Yeza/Essek. Yeza asks for Essek’s help tinkering. Trust ensues.

GEN FICS

wounded in an accidental war. (T, 1348 words). Beau gets injured by Molly due to a wayward Charm Person. Bonding, guilt, and wound care ensues.

and the choir sings hallelujah to a god i will not observe. (T, 1999 words). Yasha gets left behind on Cognouza to deal with Lucien alone until the Mighty Nein can save her. Turns out she’s more than capable of ruining his day alone. (CW: Self-harm, ritual bloodletting)

by the flicker of their fire. (T, 1737 words) Another part of my TOTALLY ACCIDENTAL “Tombtaker Hostage Situation” series I ended up writing this month. Caleb gets left behind in 123. He’s a very disagreeable hostage.

what the promised land would promise me. (T, 3169 words). The Intuit Charge massacre from the Tombtakers’ perspective.

too rough for the soft way. (T, 2656 words). Beau and Lucien get snowed in and “bond.” Kinda.

but we’re so much more than that old, bitter law. (T, 1721 words). The Empire Siblings deal with the consequences of fighting power and oppression, but at least they have each other.

even the sky bleeds twilight. (T, 1927 words). In which Lucien murders Vess DeRogna. That’s it. That’s the fic.

against the devil’s own roulette. (T, 2860 words). Brand of Castigation is a bitch and now it’s Fjord’s turn for a Tombtaker Hostage Situation(TM). Good thing he’s good at honeypots. Kinda.

a generation sacrificed in self-defense. (T, 3230 words). Astrid asks Caleb and Beau to facilitate her taking back the night on Trent Ikithon without murdering him. Cue the torturerer getting a little bit of torture right back. And Astrid invents a new spell! Yay! (Yay?)

every moment changes lifetimes (even moments we regret). (T, 789 words). That moment at the T-Dock was not the first time Caleb had to make the same difficult choice.

this is a song of fingers pointing, casting shame. (T, 2827 words) Beau makes friends with Astrid and Eadwulf. They have a lot in common, after all.

the coyotes know her name. (T, 2561 words). Jester gets a successful divine intervention. Artagan uses it as an excuse to cause problems on purpose.

bind me, break me, can you take me (T, 2456 words). Beau gets left behind with the Tombtakers and discovers an unexpected ally. 

you’re my canvas (better yet, dear, you’re my muse) (T, 1616 words) Beau and Molly get high in the Blooming Grove and Molly finds out about her tattoo.

trickster’s silken ribbon. (G, 901 words). Fearne meets Artagan as she enters the Material Plane for the first time.

we keep our tribal secrets and we recognize our own. (G, 922 words) Threeleaf AU. Caduceus observes a sibling brawl between the Threeleafs.

close your eyes and let me in. (G, 1194 words) Set in the Doppelganger’s Song universe. Molly convinces Lucien to let him braid his hair.

if you would curry my favor. (G, 735 words) Threeleaf AU. Molly and Kingsley attempt to get their brother a date because he is the worst.

so this is what i’ve known of love (G, 707 words) Caduceus embraces the chaos of his two families meeting... within reason.