#hera's part plays in my mind on loop

[kuumakama]

Sometimes you gotta steal your husband's cloud and vandalize his photo, no big deal

[thehappyendinganon]

The Second Parent; Zeus

Zeus was familiar with doors slamming open. In the past, it meant Hera had found another one of his affairs; ready to scream and vent her righteous anger on him. In the past, those moments had been months apart.

But now, with the stomps heading to his bedroom - “Zeus!” - and his name punctuated by the 3rd door slam of this week, Zeus would have to get used to his doors bruising his walls more frequently.

“Control this menace!” Hera’s yell was the only warning Zeus got before she dropped something into Zeus’ open palms. Or rather, someone.

Standing up, dizzy and unbalanced, a menace rested against Zeus’ thumb, trying to figure out where she was now. Upon noticing him, the little girl let out a delighted squeak, waving her hand wildly in greeting. Zeus grinned back, gently patting her with a finger before turning his attention back to his irate wife.

“Well?” Zeus leaned back, excited for whatever explanation Hera would have for her anger; it was rare for her to get upset at their unexpected ward, much less angry at the child’s antics. The God Queen took a deep breath, her hand resting on her forehead as she glared at the child rocking on her feet. The little one’s gleeful and guilt free expression being a stark contrast to Hera’s mood. 

“She snuck into my orchard,” Zeus straightened up as he stared at the little girl, “ran circles around the Hesperides and Ladon before climbing up the apple tree.” Hera sighed, gracefully falling into the nearest chair. Her irritated tone became resigned as she looked back at Zeus, trying to muster up more rage at the child’s audacity.

“She tried to eat an apple after swiping it off a branch - the Hesperides stopped her in time - but I dread to think what would happen if she tried again.” Hera grimaced as she remembered the mess that the child undoubtedly made. Zeus stayed silent for a moment, taking the time to process as he regarded his ward, now sitting on his palm.

“Truly?” His voice somewhat dazed. The little ward, uncaring of the trouble she caused, dangled her body off Zeus’ hand. Her steady grip on his middle finger kept her afloat as she swung her body back and forth.

Hera nodded, her mouth set in a thin line as she eyed the child, waiting for Zeus’ verdict. No matter how fond she was of the girl, their ward still had to face some form of punishment.

Unfortunately, Hera’s day would not improve as Zeus let out a bellowing laugh, suddenly tossing the child up and catching her as she let out uproarious shrieks.

“That’s my girl!”

~

Little Menace's earliest memories included part of Olympus, but she had never known how fun it could actually be! The Gods were always had food on hand and eager to play chase, sometimes they would teach her things or give her gifts. Zeus in particular always looked at her fondly; he never minded the trouble she caused as along as he could join in or laugh.

She was glad to have discovered that before she was accidentally left behind on the forbidden cow island before the next loop.

(Menace had actually spent many different loops in Olympus, she was unable to tell because things rarely change up there. Though she did notice when Hera (or another God) glared a little more then usual (Little Menace didn't notice, but her hair gave her an uncanny similarity to Zeus; even with her brown hair and blue eyes, thus accidentally incriminating Zeus for an affair he actually did not commit))

(Little Menace had also found a mirror in Grandma Rhea's room, it whispered insults at her sometimes. Called her a 'Runt' most often. Other times, it mutter about the Fates and a prophecy. Menace never lingered there.)

[kanerallels]

@fairytale-lights tagged me in a fic writer interview game, so let's roll! Thanks for the tag!!

How many works do you have on AO3? 86, which I am indeed losing my mind about

What's your total AO3 word count? 750,882

Your top five stories by kudos/likes:

Catch (a Chenford one shot)

And So The Adoption Begins (one of my earlier Steve Miller Au fics)

Shattering Glass And Gunshots (my Chenford time loop au! Super proud of that one)

Black Is The Color Of My True Love's Hair (Kanej soulmate au. The first fic of mine to get over 100 kudos!)

Birthdays Are Overrated, Anyways (just a fun SWR one shot!)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes I do!! Very, very slowly, but I love getting responded to, so I like to reciprocate that. No one look at how many unresponded to comments are in my inbox (it's 100+)

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Oh definitely "What Is A Legacy?" I generally don't write many stories with sad endings (usually just the middle or beginning) but this one. Definitely was lol

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? I write a lot of happy stories lol. Ummm oh chapter two of my 2022 Kanera Week fic was incredibly soft and sweet. But "The First Minute I Saw Her" is a really good ending too! Plus it was HIGHLY cathartic for me to write

Do you write crossovers? You know I used to think it was cringe and now I'm obsessed with them. Haven't posted too many, though. In my defense a bunch of my favorite female characters don't have enough friends who aren't their love interests, and I have a bunch of drama shows set in the modern US. What, am I not supposed to imagine they're all friends?

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Luckily not that I'm aware of! There's always the chance it happened and I just didn't realize it was hate, but I think that's unlikely

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? No

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Don't think so!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Actually I gave someone permission to translate my Foxiyo fic into Russian once!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! A few times with an IRL friend, and it was really fun

What's your all time favorite ship? Kanera, of course! Close seconds would be Anne and Gilbert, Saville and Galen, and Henry and Bess McCord!

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will? Man I hate to abandon a WIP. Part of me is worried that's how Kanereoke is gonna go, honestly. But I have people invested so I can't give in. Plus I committed to this one really funny bit to do with it and I have to follow through. So probably this happiness au fic involving a war on Mandalore and Hera and Sabine getting stuck there, so Kanan and Ezra have to sneak onto the planet to save them and also Obi-Wan is secretly married to Satine and Ezra finds his kyber crystal on Mandalore.

What are your writing strengths? I do a good run on sentence! In all seriousness I think I'm pretty good at dialogue, and I generally manage to keep people fairly in character!

What are your writing weaknesses? I do a good run on sentence! Also writing action sequences for sure, and about half a dozen other things I am forgetting at present.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fics? I'm always afraid I'll mess something up, so I haven't done it often. Other than Mando'a, which I am still afraid of messing up lol

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? The idea of a Brettsey While You Were Sleeping au haunts my dreams

What's your favorite fic you've written? Oh that's hard. The first few that come to mind I haven't actually published, so I can't choose those. I'm really proud of everything I've written in the Steve Miller Au, and "Shattering Glass And Gunshots" is something that's turned out super well!

Tagging with no pressure @singswan-springswan @ana-cantskywalker @undying-lilies @kazoosandfannypacks and anyone else who sees this and wants to play!!

[itsagrimm]

Imperial Tech 5

CN: soldier life in a fascist state, getting observed and recorded, violence, drug abuse, getting drugged without explicit consent, memory loss, forbidden relationship, getting carried + lifted up, tech & ONCE doing a lot of selfreflecting

Summary: The scenario plays out with Techs and not Crosshairs inhibitor chip working. Y/N is part of the elite squad working under commander Tech. Y/N gets called ES-01 or ONCE by their team somethimes. Previously, they killed senator Tarr, took the Syndullas into custody and are now on the hunt for Hera. (Basically everything just like in the show except for Tech in charge instead of Crosshair)

Imperial Tech X They Them Reader

Part 4

XXXXXX

Ryloth was starting to become Techs least favourite planet to been on. The planet had a challenging terrain, Admiral Rampart was continuously holding him back, but most importantly the dust forced Tech to clean his glasses several times per rotation.

But even with the dirt gone from the lenses the screens showing surveillance data from all Ryloth gave no clue to Hera Syndullas whereabouts.

Tech leaned back. He just needed to be patient. Hera would turn up sooner or later. Children had a high dependency and emotional connection to their caretakers and were unlikely to leave them behind even it was the most rational decision to ensure their own survival.

A part of his mind kept observing and evaluating the data. Another part wandered off. This morning Y/N had cried. Tech had wanted to keep Y/N close so that he could keep the one person calming him down safe, but he had failed. His miscalculation and lack of information about Y/N inner workings had come with the cost of Y/N breaking down into his arms. The regret of carrying out a killing order was too much for Y/N. His command was the direct cause for their pain. And yet Y/N only had whispered about the Empire and service to it itself as root for their misery. A grand and dangerous claim, still Tech could see some causality between the Empire existing and Y/N’s suffering.

But he still hated himself.

Tech had scrambled the recording in Y/N’s helmet to keep this treasonous confession off the records. And he had sedated Y/N to buy them some time to collect themselves. Extrapolating from the way the former clone force 99 had been treated the Empire would never allow a soldier like Y/N to feel regret or be critical and would punish every kind of perceived treason or weakness. And so, his report noted a minor concussion. As a trained medic and commander no one had questioned his claims. For now, he had at least in some way kept his ONCE safe even it was just picking up the pieces of his previous mistake. Another wave of self-loathing washed over Tech.

But at the same time, he felt pride swelling up his chest. The feeling of him carrying Y/N into the security of the LAAT. Their head resting on his shoulder. Half-closed eyes searching for answers from him and lips whispering Tech.

He grinned.

Oh yes, he could get used to that.

The memory was intoxicating. His overclocked mind stuttered at the thought of Y/N’s body in his arms. Like always Y/N calmed and slowed his thought process like nothing ever before.

Tech breathed in and took another look at the data before him. Still no sign of Hera Syndulla. The comm was silent as well. Surprisingly pleased he took a sip of caf before devoting his main attention to Y/N again.

Tech had arrived at the conclusion that he cared for ES-01. He wanted to know everything about them. A part of his brain spiralled around with a constant loop of thoughts about them and their well-being. And just the thought of Y/N’s physical presence near him gave him a calm he had never known before even with his brothers.

He knew that his attachment to his subordinate was forbidden. And he knew that whatever his feelings and basically needfor Y/N in his life were likely not reciprocated. He was just a clone even with his desirable mutations. And he was their commander. Any kind of romantic interaction - not even including physical interaction - was unlikely, overreaching and a danger for them both.

All he had for himself was a little mental box of lovely little memories and even lovelier fantasies of Y/N that kept him occupied in the refresher. That had to be enough.

Another sip from the caf and glance at the monitors. No Hera Syndulla to be found. Nothing of particular interest to note. He checked the comm chatter for news about the Empire or his brothers but there was nothing as well.

But it was fine to ask if Y/N was fine, right? He was their commander and he had given the order to give them some rest, so he was his duty to require report, right?

Tech thought about his brothers. They would know what to do now. Wrecker would support and reassure him no matter what he did. Echo would keep his opinion to himself until asked or in severe disagreement. Hunter would sit down next to Tech, pat him on the shoulder and tilt his head for 12,4 degrees right before giving advice. And Crosshair would just grumble about Tech overthinking again and then just pointing out the most straight forward action.

Crosshair decision making was the easiest to replicate for Tech now.

So that is what he did.

“ES-01?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The bunk room on Ryloth was dark. Someone must have pulled down the blinds. The other members of the elite squad and commander Tech were gone. Y/N checked their comm. Apparently the team was on the hunt for the little Twi’lek girl, that had escaped. Y/N was expected to rest.

What happened?

Their memory was still foggy. The last thing Y/N remembered was being at the canyon, the overwhelming feeling of regret, of breaking down and of commander Tech.

He had…

Y/N checked their arm. A little puncture was visible there.

Yes, a part of their memory slowly returned.

Tech had sedated Y/N. He had drugged them. He had carried them and-

Y/N pulled back the thin blanket. He had removed their armour. Y/N blushed. The memory of his long fingers with little scars carefully peeling Y/N out of the plastoid was rising from the depth of their mind like a lazy fish breaking surface of a deep dark pond.

The door to the bunk room opened. Y/N looked up expecting to see one of the returning elite squad members. Instead, Captain Howzer, clone commander of all the regular troopers on Ryloth, entered. Y/N rose and saluted. He was not in charge of the elite squad, but he outranked Y/N immensely. Howzer just waved them to stand comfortably.

“ES-01, there is no need for such formalities. I hope I am not disturbing you?”

“Not at all. I was left to recover from the last mission. But I am well enough now. How can I help you, sir?”

Howzer smiled. It was a friendly smile, honest and a bit sad.

“They call you ONCE, right? And your squat uses they/them for you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mind if I do that too? Numbers and assignments are a bit impractical sometimes so us clones use monikers, but I don’t know too much about naturally born’s and their naming traditions.”

Howzers smile turned a bit shy.

“Not at all, captain. It’s alright.”

Howzer sat down on one of the bunks in front of ONCE. ONCE followed his lead and fell back on their bunk. Now they sat in the small room, their knees nearly touching and smiling like young cadets in polite anticipation.

An awkward second none of them spoke.

“I appreciate you checking on me. But I am sure you are not only here to ask about my health, sir.”

Howzer looked away like he got caught pranking.

“Well… I do think it is my job to make sure everyone on my base is fine. Even if you are not under my command and it isn’t technically my base anymore.” He cleared his throat. “But I do actually need something else from you as well.”

ONCE studies his face. He was a high-ranking officer, an experienced soldier and - like all clones - a warrior. And despite the harsh realities of war that shaped all the clone trooper’s life’s, Howzer had maintained youthfulness in his demeanour. Even now, he looked at ONCE with an open and careful expression.

“What can I do for you, captain?” ONCE finally answered and hinted at the helmet and the build-in listening device as a careful reminder that their conversation wasn’t confidential.

“ONCE, I need to know what happened up there in the canyon.”

“Sir, I am sure I can’t add to what you already know from the reports.” ONCE replied defensively. Whatever Y/N might feel about their life as a soldier, talking openly about their work was a luxury they could not afford. Especially when Y/N was still working through the fragmented memories of being carried and stripped out of their armour by commander Tech.

“The reports do not mention anyone up the canyon.” Howzer continued. “And yet I know that commander Tech had carried you nearly unconscious and a sniper rifle with you both to an LAAT ship that picked you up. And I know that the Twi’lek senator Tarr got hit by a precise blast coming from somewhere of the top of the canyon. I was there. I know what I saw. And I can add all these information together. You need to tell me why it happened.”

Howzers voice had become demanding and intimidating.

And yet he still had the expression of a young man in disbelieve of the atrocities happening in plain sight. ONCE felt hopelessness and regret rising again. Howzer just wanted to understand but it was impossible to explain the banalities of evil at work. The Empire was power hungry. The Twi’leks were resistant. And Tarr had died because he outlived his usefulness as a pawn in this power struggle, killed by ONCE. They remembered that much. But with the listening device in their helmet close by ONCE was in no position to confess without getting court martialled afterwards - if they were lucky.

There was nothing ONCE could say.

“I am sorry, captain. I can only recall very little. But it seems you already know what happened. I am sure you will understand why it happened and that I had no pleasure in following command. But I am a soldier -maybe a bit like you. We are expected to follow orders whatever the costs and then continue on like nothing happened.”

ONCE smiled, hoping he would understand.

Howzer nodded, his expression now nothing but hopeless and lost like a little boy without his family.

ONCE took his gloved hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

It was a familiar gesture between two equally helpless hostages not in control of their life’s.

A desperate look crossed Howzer before he silently formed a word with his lips, carefully hiding his message from the listening device.

Hera

It was the Twi’lek kids name that got away. The kid, that the elite squat was hunting down.

ONCE shook their head.

No, they don’t have her. Yet.

Y/N’s comm lighted up – the Commander calling in.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Commander Tech was in the observation room. Various monitors displayed a never-ending racing flow of surveillance data in aurebesh, numbers and holo transmissions.

Most of it was in in Basic, some wasn’t.

Staring at it with a cup of caf in his hands was the commander.

“How are you feeling?” He asked without looking away from the screens.

“Better.”

In the blue tinted electronic light coming from the holo screens Y/N could see Tech raising an eyebrow.

“I am not only your commander but also your medic. Are you sure you are fine and therefore fit for duty?”

Y/N considered the underlying question. Do you want to return to being a soldier?

“Sir, as long as I am well enough to perform, I am expected to serve.” I don’t have a choice but to return. I can walk steady on both my feet and hold a gun therefore I am good enough to be cannon fodder again. That’s what I signed up for.

Tech tilted his head and took a sip from his cup.

“That is valid point you’re making. As you can see, I am a bit busy with searching the run-away Hera Syndulla. Officially, I can’t examine and clear you fit for duty right now. But I will take your word under the condition you stay close to me in case something happens. Is that alright with you?”

ONCE considered. The commander was asking for a favour. He wasn’t ordering. And he had not only covered for them once but was concerned about their safety. In the oddest way possible and considering the circumstances ONCE was tempted to call this romantic.

“Yes, sir. It is.”

Y/N sat down next to Tech.

“Do you remember everything from this morning, ONCE?”

His tone was casual. But there was more to it.

“I…yes, I think I remember everything.” ONCE paused looking at Tech. His face was unmoved and impression-less. His eyes hidden behind the lenses, blue by the mirroring screens. “Sir, I am very thankful for your… actions.”

Still, nothing. Maybe all his kindness and patience with ONCE was imagined. Maybe he was just their commander and his reasons from saving ONCE from military questioning and punishment was purely practical.

ONCE felt like an utter fool.

“Fascinating.”

“I am sorry, sir?” Confused they looked at the commander.

“Comm the squad and get your full gear. We are getting attacked.”

An alarm went off.

ONCE saw several alarms popping up on the screens.

A feeling of dread and terror rose in ONCE. Returning to duty was one thing. Entering a fight was another.

Tech grabbed them at the arm, pulling them closer and forcing them to look up to his towering dark height. “Remember, stay close to me.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Y/N left Tech with a look of anxiety and confusion in their eyes.

*crack*

He grimaced painfully. He had broken the cup in his hands, caf dripping down on his armoured leg now. Maybe hiding everything about himself from Y/N would be harder than he thought it would be.

He sighted and allowed himself to linger a bit more on the thought of Y/N and before devoting himself to the tasks ahead.

Someone had attacked the refinery.

What an odd choice. Was it a coincidence with the Syndullas in custody here on the base? Or was there a plan and connection between those facts?

His eyes squinted to see better. Damn Ryloth and its dust. His googles were dirty again.

The Surveillance data showed the leaving troopers going to the refinery. Quiet a lot of them.

If all those troopers left, who would guard the prisoners?

Tech leant back. Caf dripping down his leg, glasses dirty and surrounded by idiots. What was he doing here?

Movement on the screens made Tech face the wall of monitors again.

The surveillance camera transmitted a stream from the refinery with two clones running over the fortified walls.

Echo.

Hunter.

His brothers were here. Tech felt his body respond with a rush of endorphins he quickly tried to ignore.

Think Tech! Don’t let these traitors distract you! What does their presence mean?

He was sure now. Directly attacking the refinery was too simple. Even without him the strategies of his brothers always were absurdly chaotic and erratic. The straight attack just had to be a distraction.

He opened a comm channel to his elite squat.

“Commander speaking. Come to the base shipyard as soon as possible.”

“Sir, isn’t the attack on the refinery?”

“I know, ES-04. Just follow your orders.”

“But sir-“

Tech ended his connection and rolled his eyes. His brothers never had reacted like that. They always knew he had reasons behind his actions.

Frustrated he threw away the broken cup and put on his helmet.

The shipyard was nearly empty. Most LAAT’s and smaller ship were off to the refinery. The attack had drawn nearly all forces away.

ONCE and the Elite squat waited for commander Tech. A couple of regs were with them.

“Who are those?” Tech required.

“Sir, the regular troopers were off duty. I called them in for back up.”, ONCE replied. As always, they were the only one thinking and getting what he had already figured out.

“Good. Get into position before the main gate. Facing inward.”

“The enemy is inside already?”

“Likely. And this is their way out.”

“They? Who is our enemy?”

“Clone force 99.”

The door opened.

Both troopers and elite squad raised arms. But instead of prisoners or the bad batch, Howzer stepped outside.

“Oh.” Tech stated flatly. He hadn’t considered the inner emotional workings at play. Again.

“Brothers!” Howzer call out to the troopers. “What are we doing? We came her to free Ryloth from separatist control. And we succeeded. But look around you. Now we are being ordered to target the very people we sworn to protect! And I will not be a part of it any longer.”

The captain threw down his weapon.

“Who is with me?”

For a short second no one moved. Tech felt his head running at high speed, calculating every option for further action. ONCE, standing next to him, started shaking.

He went cold.

If ONCE threw down their weapons now, they were dead. Tech could do nothing to save them from the empire. Admiral Rampart or whoever imperial was in charge would court martial them. Y/N would be dead. He didn’t need to calculate the chances for that, to know their survival rate were slim.

Please don’t leave me. Tech, suddenly ready to pray to whoever gods were willing to listen to his pleas, leant towards Y/N, unable to stop himself.

They stopped shaking the moment his armour touched theirs.

Some of the regs laid down their weapons. ONCE kept their rifle, unmovable. Relief washed over Tech.

“Arrest those traitors.” He ordered, thinking of anything else but the one person he truly wanted to be saved right now. Even if he had to sacrifice a battalion of regs for that to draw attention away from Y/N.

The elite squad and the loyal troopers moved in. Tech felt detached from what was happening. Nothing mattered. Not even the shuttle with his brothers lifting off somewhere.

He wanted Y/N, wanted to hold them and whisper sweet words and promises he damn well intended on keeping just to make sure that they would be fine and safe. He looked up to see his Y/N putting hand cuffs on Howzer, sneaking a small blade into his boot. His brain registered it but did not care. As far as he was concerned ONCE could commit every act of treason and he would still be ready to commit mass murder just to cover their tracks. Whatever Tech had thought he could keep to himself was brought bare before him the moment Y/N had been in mortal danger, his need for Y/N unable to be hidden.

>>>>>

Do you want to be tagged in the next part or like my writing in general? Write me a message.

<<<<<<<

Part 6

[iimpavidwrites]

Benzaiten Steel and the Fragility of Perception

or: reasons why setting boundaries is important #1283

I’ve figured out a reason why Benzaiten Steel stayed with his mother instead of doing the “sensible” thing and moving out. I think that it’s possible, too, that Juno has always been aware of the answer but, in the scope of Juno Steel and the Monster’s Reflection, he isn’t able to face it head-on because it contradicts his black/white, either/or sense of morality.

TL;DR: Despite Juno Steel’s unreliable narration we are able to see clearly the enmeshed relationship Benzaiten had with their mother Sarah and the ways in which that unhealthy family dynamic shaped Juno Steel as a person.

Sources: 50% speculation, 20% lit crit classes, 30% my psychology degree. 

Juno’s perception of Ben is shallow and filtered through the limitations of human memory. We all know by now, too, that Juno’s an Unreliable Narrator™.  In light of this, we need to ask ourselves why it is that Juno remembers Ben as happy, supportive, and only ever gentle in the challenges he poses to Juno. Throughout the episode, Ben’s memory is clearly acting as a comforting psychopomp: he ferries Juno through the metaphorical death of his old understanding of his mother (and also himself) and into a new way of thinking. He does this through persistent-but-kind questions, never telling Juno what to do or how to do it. This role could have been played by anyone in Juno’s life (Mick and Rita come to mind first) which makes it telling that Juno’s mind chose Ben to fill this role.

Juno’s version of Ben is cheerful, endlessly patient with Juno and Sarah, and above all he is compassionate. He acts as a mediating presence between Juno and Juno’s memory of Sarah and he doesn’t ask a whole lot for himself. If this is Juno’s strongest memory/impression of Ben’s behavior and perspective, then we can draw some conclusions about the roles they each played in the Steel family unit: Juno was antagonistic to Sarah and vice versa, and Ben was relegated to the role of mediator for the both of them.

Juno: She’s just evil. Ben: That’s a big word. Juno: “Evil”? Ben: No, “Just”.

We can see in this exchange that Ben is a vehicle for the compassion Juno needs to show not only to Sarah but to himself, too, in order to move on and evolve his understanding of his childhood traumas. 

This is not necessarily an appropriate role for a sibling or a child to hold in a family unit.

In family psychology, one of the maladaptive relationship patterns that is discussed is enmeshment. Googling the term you’ll find a lot of sensational results (e.g. “emotional incest syndrome”) that aren’t necessarily accurate in describing what this dysfunction looks like in the real world. This is in part because enmeshment can present many different ways. So, in order to proceed with this analysis of Benzaiten Steel’s relationship with his mom, I need to define enmeshment. 

Enmeshment occurs when the normal boundaries of a parent-child relationship are dissolved and the parent becomes over-reliant on the child, requiring the child to cater to their emotional needs and to otherwise become a parent to the parent (or to themself and/or to other children in the family). This is easiest to spot when a parent confides in a child as if they’re a best friend, disclosing details of their romantic life, expecting the child to give them advice on coping with work stress, and similar. Once enmeshment occurs, any kind of emotional shift in one member of the enmeshed household will reverberate to the others; self-regulation and discernment (e.g. figuring out which emotions originate in the parent and which ones originate in the child) becomes extremely difficult for the effected child and parent. When an enmeshed child becomes an enmeshed adult they often have issues with self-identity and interpersonal boundaries. For example, they may struggle to define themselves without external validation and expect others to be able to intuitively divine their emotions. After all, the enmeshed adult could do this with their parent and others easily due to hypervigilance cultivated by their parent and they may not understand that such was not the typical childhood experience. These adults are often individuals to whom the advice “don’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm” is often relevant and disregarded. They may perceive their own needs as superfluous to others’-- and resent others as a consequence.

Another layer of complication is added when the parent in an enmeshed relationship is an addict, as Sarah Steel was. The enmeshed child often times becomes the physical caregiver to their parent as well and must cope with all the baggage loving an addict brings: the emotional rollercoaster of the parent trying to get clean or the reality of their neglecting or stealing from their child to support their habit or their simply being emotionally absent. Enmeshment leaves children with a lot of conflicting messages about their role in the family, how to conduct relationships, and how to define themself.

We only get an outside perspective on this enmeshment in the Steel family. It’s clear in the text that Juno’s relationship with his mother was fraught. He jokes in The Case of the Murderous Mask that she didn’t kill him but “not for lack of trying”, implying that Ben’s murder wasn’t the first time Sarah Steel lashed out at Juno-- or thought she was lashing out at Juno but hurt Ben instead. During the entire tenure Juno’s trek through the underworld of his own trauma, Juno asks the specter of Benzaiten over and over, “Why did you stay?”. This is a question that Juno himself can’t answer because Ben, when he was alive, probably never gave him an answer that Juno found satisfactory. There are a few possibilities, which I can guess from experience, as to what the answer was:

Ben may never have been able to articulate that his relationship with their mother left him feeling responsible for her wellbeing. 

Or, if he ever told Juno that, Juno may have simply brushed off this concern. After all, as far as Juno was concerned, Sarah was only ever just evil. To protect himself from his mother’s neglect and codependence, Juno shut down his own ability to perspective-take and think about the nuances that might inform a person’s addiction, mental illness, abusive behavior, etc.

It is likely that Ben thought either his mother needed him to survive or, alternatively, that he couldn’t survive without her-- as if often the case with children who are enmeshed with their primary caregiver. It was natural and necessary for him, from this perspective, to stay. Enmeshment is a very real psychological trap.

It is often frustrating and hard as hell to love someone who is in an enmeshed relationship because, from the outside, the damage being done to them seems obvious. See: Juno’s assertion that Sarah was just evil. Juno is, even 19 years later, still angry about Sarah Steel and her failures as a parent and as a person. His thinking on this subject is very black-and-white. He positions Sarah as a Bad Guy in his discussions with Ben-the-psychopomp and the childhood cartoon slogan of “The Good Guys Always Win!” is repeated ad nauseum throughout Juno’s underworld journey. This mode of thinking serves two purposes:

First, it illustrates the role Juno played in the household: he was opposed to Sarah in all things and Sarah did not require any compassion or enmeshment from Juno. Juno was, quite possibly, neglected in favor of Ben which would create a deep resentment… toward both Sarah and toward Ben. This family dynamic would reinforce Juno’s shallow moral reasoning and leave him with vague, unachievable ideals to strive for like “Be One of the Good Guys” or “Don’t Be Like Mom” -- ideals that he can’t reach because he is a flawed human being and not a cartoon character, creating a feedback loop of resentment toward his mother and guilt about resenting Benzaiten. That guilt would further bolster Juno’s shallow memory of Ben as being infallibly patient, kind, loving, etc. 

Second, Juno’s black/white moral reasoning is an in-text expression of the meaning behind Juno’s name. When “Rex Glass” points out that Juno is a goddess associated with protection, Juno immediately has a witty, bitter rejoinder  ready about Juno-the-goddess killing her children. Juno was named for a deity who in some ways strongly resembles Sara Steel and he resents that he is literally being identified as his own mother. Juno-the-goddess has one hell of a temper, being the parallel to Rome’s Hera. Juno is not a goddess (detective) who forgives easily when she (he) knows that a child (Benzaiten Steel) has been harmed. This dichotomy of “venerated protector” versus “vengeful punisher”  causes psychological tension for Juno that is only partially resolved in The Monster’s Reflection. The tension is not fully resolved, however, because Juno never gets a clear answer for the question, “Why did you stay?”

The answer is there but it is one that Juno doesn’t like and so can’t articulate: Ben is enmeshed with Sarah who named him, of all things, Benzaiten and that is why he stayed. We’ve already seen that names have intentional significance in the text. Benzaiten is hypothesized to be a syncretic deity between Hinduism and Buddhism, is a goddess primarily associated with water. Syncretic deities are fusions of similar deities from different religions/cultures; their existence is the result of compromise and perspective-taking and acceptance. Water, too, is forgiving in this way: it takes the shape of whatever container you pour it into... not unlike a child who is responsible for the emotional wellbeing of their entire family unit. Not unlike Benzaiten Steel.

Ben stayed with his mother because his relationship with his mother was enmeshed, leaving him little choice but to stay, and this ultimately led to tragedy. Sarah Steel’s failures as a parent are many and Juno still has a lot of baggage to unpack in that regard, especially where Ben is concerned. It’s unlikely that we’ll get the same kind of “speedrunning therapy” episode again but I know that The Penumbra is committed to a certain amount of psychological realism in its character arcs so I am confident in asserting that Juno Steel isn’t finished. Recovery is a journey and he’s only taken the first steps.

[geejaysmith]

Wolf 359 Classpects, pt. 1

Soooo, while I was still busy with the last few weeks of my summer internship, I did keep thinking about classpecting the Wolf 359 cast. Possibly too much, because it wouldn't leave me alone until I'd solved my own God Tier riddle. Unfortunately, it got really long in the solving because I have many Thoughts and want to share all of them, always, so uh, a complete Classpect Analysis of Wolf 359 will be in parts? This first one covers Eiffel's, Hera's, Lovelace's and Minkowski's aspects.

DOUG EIFFEL: An utter no-brainer; ya boi Dougie Fresh is a Breath player if I ever saw one. For Chrissakes, he's the communications officer, and the first one to start complaining about the monotony of being stuck in a deep space sardine can. Breath is associated with communication, freedom, openness, and change - "free as the breeze", you might think of it, but that also leads to Breath players having trouble pinning themselves down to anything. They get skittish if they feel pinned down, and frustrated when stuck in place. Doug's noncommittal aloofness, the way he's off in his own little world (partially to hide from the fact he really does not like himself very much at all), and the way he's incorporated media into his self-perception all match pretty well with John and the Nitrams. But at the same time, he's the one playing mediator even as early as The Sound And The Fury. Being largely outside of the War Industrial Complex the other characters are so familiar with and thus mostly free from its dogmatic worldview of hierarchy and order, he's becomes the One Sane Man when he's the one to shout "what is WRONG with you people?" when "murder" shows up in the top 3 potential solutions to a problem, and he has no hesitation in saying what's on his mind. And it's not all complaints and bad ideas, either; he's got whole speeches telling the others how amazing he thinks they are and how in awe he is of their skills. A key catalyst in the plot of Wolf 359 is the reaching effects of his radio broadcasts. Also, there's something hilarious to the fact that for the aspect associated with communication, Doug *literally* cannot lie to save his life. I kept my ears open for the infamous Breath Hex on my second listen - that is, the strange little way in which things Breath players say tend to come to pass in reality. Cigarette Candy is basically 20 straight minutes of the Decima virus being Breath Hexed into existence, and he guessed Lovelace's situation in one - "Maybe she's a clone, or like a *really* good robot replica."

HERA: Another easy one. Although Hera is resistant to splintering as we've come to recognize it, Heart players are nothing if not determined to be an individual. They have a firm idea of themselves as a person and defend it fiercely, including compartmentalizing away pieces that don't fit their self-image. Maybe less actively putting them down like Jade Harley did to Jadesprite (the manifestation of the negative feelings she repressed out of fear they'd make her less useful) - that would mean attacking or denying a part of themselves - and more... "why yes, I put this part of myself in this box, and I may look at the box on occasion, the box definitely exists, but I don't go near the box and I definitely do not touch or open or interact with the box. And then one day, I will die." So that piece finds other avenues to express itself because it can't not do that. Hera's programming dictates she be "chipper and non-confrontational and always ready to help", but she actively resists being a mere utility and always has - her earliest know action was to attempt a jailbreak of the manufacturing facility she was made in, born rebel that she is. She will insist upon her name over her serial number unless you force her not to, and gets passive-aggressive at people treating her like a machine. And yet, even as she teaches herself to ignore commands literally written into the base of her personality, she doesn't reject her directive to be helpful, nor does she express a wish to be a flesh-and-blood human, or even really to have a physical form? She has a human self-image in mental spaces (we presume, I will semi-seriously point out there's nothing definitively stating she doesn't see herself as like, her fursona or something), but when she has to limit herself to a human-like view of the ship, her immediate reaction is "this is weird, I don't like it."  This is honestly something about Hera that I think may be unique among non-villainous AI characters; she seems to be content with being what she is in general, and she just wishes for people to treat her as a person and not a piece of equipment they can do with as they please.  

ISABEL LOVELACE: Arm-wrestled Hera for the Heart aspect and lost, despite Hera not actually having any arms, but that's okay because there's two aspects that fit her much better: Blood and Time. I ultimately went with Blood.

This is the part where you notice I'm onto the third of four characters in an aspects-only meta post, yet there is still a lot of post to go. This is because These Kinds Of Characters, the sort that're constantly on emotional lockdown, are a Challenge Mode, and for me to truly be satisfied with my classification I have to start drilling into the bedrock of what it even means to have an aspect in general, what it means to have a specific aspect, and what each aspect is really about. When you're on that level you tend to find yourself throwing out explicit expositional statements as incomplete, oversimplified, or unreliable, and looking at the text directly with a subtextual electron microscope. Brace yourselves. I have thrown the author out of the airlock, and I am about to get verbose.  

Lovelace's character sheet describes her in contradictions, and we get to see two different sides to her that resolve into the complete picture by the time Lovelace Mk. III wakes up. There's Captain Isabel Lovelace, goofing around in her earlier logs, and The Terminator. She does things Her Way and is very much prepared to fight you if you object - the whole reason she was picked for the Hephaestus mission was her willingness to go against (in her words) "stupid orders" and do what she thought was right. She's also fiercely loyal; The Terminator is the end result of her anger and grief for her lost crew and at her failure to get them home alive. Her backstory episode has her summing up her complicated relationship to the Air Force with "I owe a lot of who I am to them." And even before she and Minkowski have completely stopped butting heads, Lovelace shoves her out of the way of an exploding wall panel that would've killed her, and takes a near-fatal bit of shrapnel to the gut in the process. At her best, Lovelace is a fearless, boundlessly determined, dedicated firebrand of a leader. At worst, she can be impatient, stubborn, shortsighted, and ruthless. I dunno about you but that reminds me of a certain... angry crab that I know.

"Time" was what a few people chimed in with for Lovelace and while I see some of the connections (her awareness of the time loop, "Variations on a Theme", her multiple selves and multiple deaths, the repeated motif of clocks and pocketwatches) I don't think she quite fits in with the other Time players. Unlike most Time players, she doesn't have a fixation with historic context, the "Why Things Are The Way That They Are." This manifests in Dave's paleontology and his taking of source material for ironic twisting, Aradia's archaeology and knowledge of The Nature Of The Game, Damara's... /noises and vague gestures bc I don't want to go back through Meenahbound but her role as The Handmaid fits the pattern, and Caliborn's own warped, thoughtless replication of narrative archetypes. Context. Decisions. What came before and how it shapes the now, where your decisions will take it from here. The consequences those decisions will have. The details versus the larger picture. Even failure has its place in that scheme - that's the Time aspect. Lovelace doesn't like to dwell, she's a very "barrelling forward momentum" kind of person.

Side note: Aradia, Dave, and Damara all face hesitation to take action they had to learn to overcome. Also, all of them had to be pushed to use violence except in self-defense; Aradia let Vriska cross a series of lines before beating the everloving shit out of her, and Damara snapped after what, years? Of Meenah's abuse. Dave, on the other hand, never raises a hand to another person except as a complete necessity. Caliborn is, if anything, an aberration here in that he's outright homocidal and self-doubt is something that happens to other people. Caliborn is an outright aberration to a lot of Time player patterns, and to SBURB in general, because it's SBURB, so the rules are made up and the points don't fucking matter, except when they do, because Fuck You, The Author Said So.

No, Lovelace's approach to decision-making is that regrets are for afterwards, and "if I fail I deserve to be out of this picture; also, this situation has gone entirely pear-shaped, time to fling myself into the sun." (and that sounds an awful lot like someone that I know very well, but I'll deal with that royal mess when I get to the crazy whamma-jamma that is Classes). Impatience and railroading of other people can be her undoing just the same as assertiveness and decisiveness are her gifts.

...aaand then I went ahead and watched the live episode and yeah, major Karkat vibes there. However, I note that I don't believe we have ever hit hard evidence in Homestuck that Blood players are capable of Chilling The Fuck Out - this is part of the limitations of classpecting characters who weren't made for this system, you really have to dig into how much of their behavior is situational and where you see the kernel of individual perception shine through, the Rosetta Stone by which you begin to see the constants. "Where the object becomes the subject", to quote Memoria.

Finally, I think it's also worth noting that while Lovelace has a lot of connections to Time motifs, she also has connections to a lot of Blood motifs that arguably become more important to her story. Personal bonds and social justice are two of the Blood aspects strongest associations - see Lovelace's loyalty to her crew, and extending her desire to avenge them out to everyone Goddard Futuristics has ever used and tossed aside. The physical body and literal blood are other strong associations, and gee, how many times does the O-negative Cure-All Alien Juice in Lovelace's veins become a critical plot point? Not to mention the implication that her new friends all pulled through the finale because all of them now have her blood in their system. I'll accept that she's closer to the line between Blood and Time than some, but I'm holding by ground here: 

(Also, here's some irony for you, she may share an aspect with the Cancer trolls, but her birthday is August 11th, making her a Leo.)

RENEE MINKOWSKI: Minkowski was the hardest of these 4 to come to a decision on. My first inclination was Mind. Her general disposition put me in mind of a Life player. But then, I sat down and thought my way past the Commander's layers of emotional armor and ultimately settled on Light.

First off, by being a stickler for protocol and procedure as well as an Actual Responsible Adult, Minkowski is a kind of character that Homestuck straight-up just does not have, so snap judgements aren't gonna cut it here.  This is, again, another limitation of the classpecting system - all the examples we have to draw from are teenage disasters stuck in a lawless hellscape of some description or another, and written by an author allergic to boxing himself in with hard conclusions. But I digress.

Commander Minkowski is also stubborn. When she sets her mind to something, she digs in her heels, cranks the dial to 11, and then breaks off the knob and pockets it so you can't turn it back down. We see this as soon as episode 2, and at it's most hyperbolic when she Captain Ahabs the plant monster. Her's is iron-willed, bloody-minded, unstoppable, Determi-fucking-nation - when she sets her mind to it.

The submarine thought exercise is what had me initially lock her down as a hero of Mind before I mulled it over. The exercise is meant to provoke thought about priorities - what you think your role's purpose is in that situation will determine your priorities, and thus, your decisions. Mind heroes' most prominent skills are in riding the flow of causality, watching decisions, their causes and their consequences, and directing that path. They know people, and how to direct people. But the need for this means that they can get a little co-dependent. Other people are understandable - it's themselves that Mind heroes have the greatest struggle with. Without that vehicle of another person, Mind heroes may find themselves adrift and struggling to define themselves. This is fitting, given Mind is the most direct counterpart to the Heart aspect.

However, upon further examination, I found that this framework of priorities setting your decisions can also be extended to the Light aspect. What is "lucky" in a given situation? What do you define as a fortunate outcome? Rose arguably gets Grimdark'd by something like this, she asks the cue ball "are the horrorterrors evil?" and in doing so attempts to pry into the motivations and intent of *indescribable eldritch beings existing on a nigh-incomprehensible plane* and wedge it down into a relative human understanding of morality, which is sort of like trying to fit the Pacific Ocean into a water bottle. She was trying to deduce what impact the horrorterrors would have upon her and her friends, but asked the wrong question and got an answer she couldn't handle. She didn't recognize Doc Scratch was baiting her into this by leading her into a specific framework through which to ask the question. Vriska died because of her failure to recognize she was in a situation where luck didn't matter. Aranea got trounced because of her inability to recognize that reshuffling reality to prioritize herself and her preferred outcomes still didn't overcome the fundamental nature of timelines - you try to take over the alpha timeline with an insubordinate branch? That's a doomed timeline no matter how you slice it, and we know what happens to those. Luck and knowledge are both used by the Light-bound to give themselves power, whether in showing themselves off as The Smart One or the The Helpful One or The Unstoppable One, but their limited viewpoint often leads them to overlook the limitations of their own framework, or in other words, missing the bigger picture. I'll point out here also how Minkowski has the entire DSSPPM memorized and is the one who wants to get to the bottom of whatever the hell is really going on up at Wolf 359. Additionally, one of her other ambitions, at least once upon a time, was writing musicals. The verbal arts are one of the domains of Light players.

So while on the surface, Minkowski bears the most resemblance to a Life player, Life players tend to have an element of conformity to them. Unquestioned assumptions they've internalized have about the context in which they exist. Light heroes, on the other hand, need conformity so they have something to defy when they jump up and down screaming LOOK AT ME!  

So after much pontificating, I came to a decision. In the end, what Minkowski wanted more than anything else was a stage. Maybe to direct rather than hold the spotlight, but still; that's a Light hero if ever I saw one.

[anathtsurugi]

Chapters: 5/8 Fandom: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Implied Ahsoka Tano/CT-7567 | Rex Characters: Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor, K-2SO, Bodhi Rook, Baze Malbus, Chirrut Îmwe, Galen Erso, Lyra Erso, Orson Krennic, Saw Gerrera, Wilhuff Tarkin, Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Davits Draven, Alexsandr Kallus, Hera Syndulla, Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, C1-10P | Chopper Additional Tags: Rule 63, Rule 63 Everyone, Rebelcaptain - Freeform, spiritassassin, Mind Rape, Battlefield Flirting, because that's a tag now, Intent to corrupt a minor, kalluzeb - Freeform, Ghost crew during Rogue One Series: Part 1 of The Dark Side of the Moon Summary:

"That is your given name, is it not? Jin Erso, son of Gaila Erso." "This is Captain Cassia Andor. Rebel Intelligence." "Beni. Rook. Cargo pilot. Local girl, huh?"

 Or...what does Rogue One look like with all of the characters gender-flipped?

Snippet:

"Auntie!" Jaina called out shrilly as she threw another ball. "Down!"

This time, Alix allowed the ball to hit her, making a show of groaning in pain as she went down. "Oh, no! She got me! Curse you, rebel scum!"

Ziba laughed as she looked down at her, giving her shoulder a gentle tap with her prehensile foot. "Thought you didn't like playing the big, bad Imperial. Too many bad memories."

Alix opened up a single eye, grinning as she looked up at her lover. "Whatever my princess commands, I shall gladly do. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm dead."

"Karabast. Don't even joke about that," Ziba snarled quietly.

"Language, Gereziba," she scolded right back. Ziba sighed.

"What about Mira? Where's little Tano got to?" the Lasat asked her, referring to Rei's little girl.

Eyes still shut, Alix vaguely shifted her head toward the far corner of the room, where the tiny half-Togruta was curled up under her thin blanket. "Sound asleep. How Heron gets them both to nap at the same time, I'll never understand."

"Y'know, you're wastin' your talents...not bein' a mother yourself," she suddenly heard Ziba saying. Feeling her heart do a summersault in her chest, she had to employ every ounce of her own willpower not to allow her eyes to shoot open.

"Jaina and Mira are enough of a handful as it is," she said, trying to sound casual as she kept her eyes shut, "but if you're applying for the job...then..."

"Maybe I am, but that's not why I'm here," Ziba said, the sound of her voice moving closer indicating to the former Imperial agent that she was crouching beside her. "Stuff's been goin' on with Fracture. I know Draven's been tryin' to keep you outta the loop, but I thought you'd wanna know. Andor's been comin' back with some pretty crazy reports."

"Crazy how?" Alix asked as she sat up, the game instantly forgotten. Draven did indeed prefer to keep her out of touch with the best Fulcrum agent she'd ever trained, but that didn't mean she was very good at following that directive. She was, after all, Cassia's mentor.

"Like...Geonosis level crazy. You'd better go see what's happenin'," Ziba said before going to retrieve Jaina from her hiding place. At first, Jaina looked angry, but she was quickly squealing in delight once Ziba started lifting her up high, flying her through the air like a little X-wing.

"Auntie Z! Auntie Z!" the youngling cheered, spreading her arms and legs as far out as they'd go.

Alix jumped up, pressing a quick kiss to the Lasat's cheek before heading out of the room, pleased to hear both Ziba and Jaina laughing.

"Yeah, you're gonna be a great pilot someday, just like your old dad."

[kaliori]

Bookends, Part 6B

The bar near Laramus didn’t live up to the picture Kanan built in his mind based on Hera’s instructions for the job. He was picturing something like the other bars he’d known in his life: a scuzzy, rundown place where a he could get himself into any degree of trouble he wished, good or bad. Heavy bass from the music inside the bar thumped at Hera and Kanan from yards away as they trudged along their path from the rendezvous point with Zeb. A black-suited besalisk bouncer held back a line of people waiting to get in at the front door. Neon signs lit up the exterior, while swirling beams of colored lights flashed from within.

“You’re taking me to a dance club,” Kanan asked. Despite his internal promise to be on his best behavior for a while, he couldn’t hold back his bemusement.

Hera could feel a headache coming on, from what she wasn’t sure: the obnoxious music, the flashing lights, or the broken assumptions they’d formed going into the mission. Maybe all three. Kanan watched her reaction through several sidelong glances as they kept moving toward the club. Her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed at different intervals during their walk. He imagined her checking off items on the mission list in her head and recalculating for the unexpected diversion in venue. As they approached the door, he spied a smile on her lips.

“What,” he asked.

“Follow my lead,” she said. She took his hand and laced their fingers together. “I hope you’re a good dancer.”

“Uhhh…” Kanan let her pull him along, striding past the lengthening queue at the door and right up to the bouncer.

“Hi.” Hera flashed a lingering flirty look at the bouncer, tracing her eyes up and down his body before fluttering her eyelashes at him. The bouncer returned her gaze with a hard and unflinching expression before he waved her in the door.

“Him too,” Hera asked, indicating Kanan as her plus one by drawing him close to her. “Please?” She made her voice syrupy sweet when the bouncer hesitated.

“Go,” he said. Hera and Kanan left the growing unrest in the line outside the club to join the chaos of neon lights and music inside. Hera kept her grip tight on Kanan’s hand as she led him to the bar in the back of the club. A throng of life forms around them made it nearly impossible to find a spot at the bar.

Kanan’s head spun from the noise and being so close to Hera. “Hey,” he managed to say. He had to strain to be heard over the music, and after a few attempts Hera finally noticed. She pointed to her ear cones to indicate she couldn’t hear him. She softened a bit when she saw him shake his head with brows furrowed. The poor guy was completely thrown for a loop; a rare occurrence for her to see.

They were forced to stand close together from the crush of the crowd, so close Kanan could feel the heat from Hera’s warmer body. She slipped her hand into his pocket and looked into his eyes.

“Here,” he asked, incredulous but not totally opposed to the idea.

She winked at him...then turned to the bar. All she had to do was lean in a little to get the bartender’s attention. She pointed to a blue bottle on the top shelf of the bar and slapped down the credits she’d retrieved from Kanan’s pocket. Drink in hand, she gave the other glass to Kanan and settled onto the only miraculously unoccupied barstool in the place.

Nothing had changed for Kanan. Still flabbergasted, he stood unsure of what Hera would do next. She put her hand on his arm and tugged him in close enough to talk right into his ear.

“Don’t go crazy tonight,” she said. “Those were all the credits we brought with us.”

“What is this,” he said.

“Blue mappa,” she said. “Weak stuff, so we can stay sharp.”

“No, I mean…” Acutely aware of how Hera positioned him between her legs as she sat on the stool and of her hand still on his arm, he asked her, “This is part the plan?” as he held up the drink at the crowd.

“I didn’t expect any of this either,” she said. “But we have to make it work.” She sipped the blue mappa and swept glances over his shoulder as she looked for the Avoni targets. Sitting on the high barstool put her right at Kanan’s level. Every so often she would take a break from scouting and catch the rainbow lights reflecting in Kanan’s eyes.

“What’s wrong,” she said, leaning in even closer this time. She nodded to his still almost full glass; hers was more than half gone.

“I guess I lost my taste for it,” he said. Her lekku nudged his arm as she nodded. He let her believe he was talking about the alcohol. Their night in the club raised questions about his past life, in addition to hers.

“How did you know any of this would work,” he asked.

“I knew the bouncer would let us in if I acted like that,” she said. “Everyone likes a flirty hot girl in the club. I knew he’d let you in because it’ll help drink sales. You can always count on males buying drinks, especially if a female shows up with a date. It’s all a big pissing contest.” She gave him a skeptical look. “You were a bartender. I thought you knew all this stuff.”

“There’s a lot about you I don’t know,” he said pointedly as he started nursing the drink.

“What do you think you know about me?” Purple neon lights overhead cast her in a serene violet glow, but under the artificial light Kanan knew her hackles were already up again. She gripped his arm a little tighter. “I do what I have to,” she said. “We only have an hour to get what we need here, before we have to get back to the Phantom. We couldn’t exactly show up with blasters and start throwing down. These people already see me only one way, so I’ll play that card when I need to.”

Briefly, she had the sad and bitter look in her eyes from earlier in the day when she mentioned her father’s connection to the Avoni. She buried it under the last swig of her alcohol. “Let’s dance.” She slid off the stool and took Kanan by the hips.

He shook his head at her, more confused than a flat out refusal. She stood on her tiptoes to reach him with her rationale.

“I think we’ll get a better look out there.”

There wasn’t much room to dance among the crowd, so it didn’t matter that Kanan’s nervousness and confusion prevented him from moving to the music in any coordinated kind of way. Not that there was much to see from him; he couldn’t recall a time when he ever danced. All he had to do was wrap his arms around Hera’s shoulders and hold her close.

The music reverberated around them in waves of sound, pulsing into their bodies. Kanan felt as though the vibrations were at war with his own heartbeat for control over his body. He’d do anything to avoid the DJ’s assault on his ears, even keep fighting with Hera.

“Why did you come down on this mission,” he asked.

“Remember,” she asked him. “My intel? The Avoni?”

“You led me into a dance club, unarmed, to find some possibly dangerous guys that your dad once peripherally knew. Zeb’s a much better fighter than I am. Doesn’t seem like something you’d sign off on.”

“Why do you and Zeb get to have all the fun?”

“What are you talking about? You’re the one at the helm for everything we do. Flying and giving orders.”

“I’m still confused as to where you come off as you know me well enough to get on my case about my orders.”

“I have to remind you that I have no idea what these guys even look like,” he said. “You gave me next to nothing about this mission. Just grabbed me and told me where to go and what to do.” “I didn’t know you had a problem with that.”

A Twi’lek and her date engaged in a heated argument on the dance floor was part of just another night in the club. Most beings wouldn’t give them a second glance. One large man took interest in the proceedings as he stood on the edge of the dance floor, sipping from a gigantic stein with his eyes fixed on Hera. Illuminated in brief beams of multicolored light, she stood out above everyone else in the house.

“Forget it,” Hera said. “We’re almost out of time. I haven’t seen anyone. We need to get out of here.” She broke away from his embrace to push through the crowd. Kanan caught her hand and the two snaked a winding path to leave.

She was able to get through all the roadblocks except for one; the large man who watched her from afar stood in front of her, unmoving. She waved him aside, but he wouldn’t budge. He mimed a drinking motion to her, to which she shook her head. They screamed at each other, unable to hear over the blasting music. Hera pushed Kanan back but his iron clad grip never left her hand. As she tried to sidestep the large man, he grabbed one of her lek and pulled hard.

That did it. The pain that coursed through her would have paralyzed most others, but it added fuel to her fire. She spun around and kneed him solidly between the legs. He folded over, splashing alcohol on her from his tipped stein. She pulled the stein from his hand and clocked him across the face with it. He went down, taking a few club patrons with him.

The fight brought the party to a screeching halt. Literally, the DJ’s track skidded into silence with a high pitched scraping noise. Everyone in the club around them froze in shock. With the thumping music finally quiet, Hera could hear her heart pound in her ear cones. “Let’s go,” she said to Kanan, dragging him along behind her.

[thedemonconstantine]

adventurepunks​:

Roy was standing on top of a desk when Tim gained his attention again.

“How good of a shot? Try one of the best with a 99% marksmanship and before you bitches say but it’s not 100 % you try and shoot a zombie dog in a sandstorm and then come ride my ass about it”  Roy warned lest anyone said a word when they all seemed more interested in dealing with the nightmare.

-Come on man just quit your whining-  Cyborg groaned clinging to the light fixture of the ceiling with legs dangling.

-Hera will have no wrath compared to me if-

“If you don’t pull your head out of your ass gotcha  Donnie” With a kissy face he tried to soothe the amazon standing on the window ledge.

“It would be easier if you pointed the trajectory but yeah tell me where you want me to shoot” Roy remarked and would oblige the first arrow hit the imp’s shoulder the second the belly and made the creature mad.

Mad enough for the dream to change…and for it to no longer be just Wonder Woman’s dream.

It wasn’t anyone’s really.

Or rather it was…a small redheaded child held on to the lifeless body of a woman crying…although the woman in question was Dinah Lance…

Simply because Roy no matter how hard he would have tried could not remember his birth mother. Someone ought to warn him not to touch ‘dream Dinah’ or his mind too would be the Imp’s play thing.

“I know this isn’t real.” Roy spoke ever so softly before anyone could affirm it.

Dinah was fine. She was fine last he spoke to her a few weeks ago. So he would focus, think of her. The dream shifted to a flower shop, a blond woman arguing in the distance about begonias and a teenage Roy being made to do math homework sat on the counter with a glass of cola.

No no no he was no fun!!NO FUN AT ALL HURUMPF HURUMPFFF

And this dream too would dissipate to give way to another nightmare.

Their time was running short, the more Diana was made to stay here the less chance she had of waking.

“A zombie dog in a sandstorm,” Tim repeated though nothing would ever come close to fazing him anymore, after all the different flavours of chaos and madness that Existence had thrown at him. 

“Why not.”

Zombie dogs, vampire cheerleaders, talking bears in a tutu skirt. Dragons and unicorns and naughty little dream imps were nothing.

“If I point, the creature will know it’s being targeted and the entire dreamscape will change.

Bow to your 2 o’clock, 35 degrees above eye level. Shoot twice, aim 1 degree higher for your second shot.”

The moment the imp’s agitation arose, everyone faded away but Tim remained throughout the multiple splices of the Dreaming, there as he always was in every individual’s Dream pocket. He saw Donna running through the forests being chased by men. Cyborg’s accident going in a loop. The Flying Graysons’ murder in a circus tent. 

A little boy crying over his mother.

If he hadn’t been so desensitised to the world and its cruelty, Tim might have wept.

Tim grew from the dream pockets, larger and larger he became until none of their spaces could contain him. He gathered every Titan into his hands and turned each dreamscape into a pure white egg.

"𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓽,"

Said Tim with his clutch of Titan eggs.

"𝓡𝓾𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮."

He would pluck Diana from this corrupted story and have her begin again. With a sweep of his long fingers the Dreaming melted into white, leaving a few remnants of pieces of clothing, a deep fryer basket, a tightrope, some vines, party favours and auto parts which would knot together in a mish-mash, twisting into a net that would scoop the imp from this white space and leaving Diana to crumple into nothingness.

"𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓶 𝓘 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓸 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾?"

[legend-waitforit-harry]

The Only One part 6

I DID IT! Quick thanks to @twistofpayne for the editing and everyone who has stick around. Thanks a lot, you’ve motivated me to go on. I’m sorry it took so long, it’s not even worth it. And I’m even more sorry ‘cause I can’t promise the next part will come any time soon. But I hope you like it anyway. Here are the rest. Happy reading!

Disclaimer:This has little to no relevance with the mythology so please don’t use it for educational purposes.

Also as I said, I have not done an in depth research so if I’m making a major mistake feel free to point out.

“Will you believe if I said no?”

Will you?….Will I?

The words haunted you. The green dull eyes coupled with the sad drooping smile ghosted in front of your eyes.

Lying down is of no avail, as sleep has betrayed you. You have washed away the sadness of the souls from your tour but couldn’t drain out the heaviness settling in your chest. It feels like knots, a certain uneasiness. Your mind blank but running wild. This isn’t sadness you know, neither is it anger. This is… This is… You don’t know. But what you know is, it’s not any good.

“Are you asleep?”

You blink to adjust to the light as you sit up, “Not anymore.” Your eyes fall on the pale face, always adorned with that gracious smile, even when tired. Her face framed with stray hairs but that doesn’t change just how beautiful Nyx looks.

“Where have you been?” You don’t mean to sound so cold, but you surely do sound so. And she immediately drops her head at that, like she would to him, and in the back of your mind you think, maybe she didn’t really get over the whole status thing.

“I apologize. Work has kept me up.” You frown at the near submissive behavior. You were angry, sure, but you’d rather scold her as a friend than as a superior.

“That’s two times you ditched me. Don’t you have any pity on a cripple?” You smile lifting your leg trying to break the tension. But when you look at her face she frowns, looking at you with confusion for a second before realisation washes over her face, cracking a smile.

You sigh seeing her ease again but curiosity gets to you when you ask, “What’s with the nights getting longer anyway?”

She waves her hand trying to dismiss the subject, too quickly for your liking. “Nothing. Just Helios can’t do his work without me babysitting him. That’s all.”

You feel a suspicious tinge though you let it pass for another time as you plan on your next move.

“I want to know something.”

Her face crumbles ready to defend like always. “Kore, don’t start on that again. You know I can’t tell you anything about why you’re he-”

“No. Not that.” You interrupt her rant making her look at you with a questioning gaze, nodding for you to proceed.

“I want to know about him. I want to know Harry.”

***

After a lot of persuasion, when she at last narrated the story of the Unseen, the restlessness, contrary to your believe, amplified. She was quick to excuse herself after finishing, leaving you to your thoughts. Which strangely carried you into the dark hallways.

Her words are playing in your head in loops, the images floating in your head. You were still stuck in the moment when she licked her lips and cleared her throat before starting quitely-

“You know about Titanomachy, the War of the Titans, right?… It was fought against the Titans and the Olympians and…” You shake your head interrupting her with your hand squeezing her knee, making her look at you.

“I know that story. What after that?” You asked restlessly. But soon realise you’re being rash and remove your hand with a quite “I’m sorry”

She nods and continues, “Then you must know it was Zeus who defeated the Titan, Kronos. But he wasn’t alone at that. All the children were fighting against the Titan. And although it was Zeus who hit the last strike, everyone’s hands were drenched with their father’s blood. His blood and sins.” She stopped and looked at you. You didn’t even notice how intently you were listening, with mouth agape and breathe held in.

“Like any war, this too had its repercussions. All involved were deeply affected. Her Majesty couldn’t look at her children without feeling the guilt of letting them go through whatever they had to, combined with the sorrow of losing her husband in the hands of her own children. And the children… They just had their own way to cope up with it.

The war tore them inside out. Poseidon shielded himself with his rage, Hera, her insecurities. Your mother devoted her life to right her father’s wrong doings and serve the humanity where Zeus just became… Well, Zeus. And then, the eldest one. No one remembers how he used to be, though some say he was this funny cheeky boy, who loved his siblings and mother to the world’s end. A bit scatterbrained but had a good head on his shoulders.

But nobody ever knew him to be that way because everyone only got to see the one who rose out of the war, the cold one, the feared one. And that’s how Harry became Hades, the Lord of the Dead.”

You find yourself at the threshold of the familiar golden door, staring up at it’s carvings as the knots in your belly tightens. You don’t even know why you’re here. You turn around walk a few steps before turning around and storming to the door again. The door stared down at you, mocking you as you turn to walk away again before looking back, staring at the door. This is not happening.

You stand there looking at the door and then the hallway, back at the door and then the hallway. Thoughts running wild with a fluttering heart as you indecisively stand there looking both ways trying to sort out your needs. But when again you turn back to walk away, you are met with a wall as you tumble back, your limbs falling into a pile with the shooting pain spreading from your wounded leg.

“You’re really clumsy to be a God. How will you survive eternity?”

You look up at the source, knowing well what you’re about to see. You turn your contorted face, moaning in pain to meet the hooded green eyes staring down at you. “What are you, made of brick?” You scowl at him.

He rolls his eyes but offers you a hand, which you obviously do not take. Though standing up turns out to be more pain staking than you assumed and fall back on your bottom howling in pain. Two arms scoops you up before you can protest and you are met with the soft material of his robe brushing against your side as your arm loops over his neck.

Looking up, you expect to meet a smug grin and sharp eyes, though all you get are lips pressed in a tight line and soft eyes grazing over your face gauging your expression. You don’t know if you are relieved for the change or disappointed, but those thoughts leaves your mind soon when you start registering the warm huge hands splayed on your skin, holding you close to his warm hard chest. And if your hands couldn’t feel it for themselves, you’d have never believed that his heart was beating as fast as yours do in his presence.

He starts moving but you don’t mind to look where, eyes flitting over the perfect face which you’ve come to learn so well, the sharp jawline inches from your eyes, the smooth skin stretching over the curve of his neck taunting you. You’ve never been this close to him and you think you can get used to this.

The abrupt stop and landing on the hard table jolts you out of your thought, accompanied with a whine as you hit your leg on the table. The pain has evidently reduced but you don’t have the heart to say it out loud. Looking around, you find yourself hoisted on his table, surrounded by scrolls and fat black books which you don’t have to open to know are death records.

“May I know why you were guarding my study?” He interrupts your observations. His back facing you as he was looking over some shelves full of similar books.

With wide eyes and open mouth you stare at his back before dropping your eyes on the ground looking for an answer, only if you knew why were here. “Um… I… Never thanked you”

There is only a hum resounding as a response from him. You feel disheartened at his ignorance but sigh in relief. “You know, for letting me go outside.” You continue, half believing that he isn’t even listening to you. “It was good to be out there, you know. Seeing around the place I’ve been in for so long.”

He turns suddenly facing you at the last words, his brow raised on his forehead. You realise what you must have sounded like. In no way did you mean to bring up the part where you were locked, you’ve come a long way from that. But your tone and words said otherwise. Green eyes gaze at your face, picking on your nervousness, only making you more fidgety.

“Then thank me.” A tone of authority reflects in his voice. You look up at him, your eyes searching for any traces of anger though he didn’t give away anything. “Huh?” You asked confused.

“You came here to thank me, so thank me.” He stated in his phlegmatic tone, leaning in to you, his breathe fanning your face as you look at your hand resting on your lap.

Clearing your throat, you make a crown of small campanullas. He looks down at your lap, his curls tickling your forehead from the closeness before he pulls away, his eyes fixed at the floral crown in your hands. You lift it up hesitantly, looking at him with timid eyes.

To your surprise he bows in front of you without a word, letting you place it. You cannot help but smile, seeing him with a floral crown instead of his helm of darkness, the two extreme ends of the spectrum. “Pretty”

He frowns but you can see the mischievous glint in his eyes, though you don’t know if you should be happy or worried. “I’d expect something more along the line of handsome, but oh well” he shrugs.

A smile stretches on your lips,the knots in your belly unknotting as the tension in the room evaporates. You didn’t know that you wanted for things to get better with him. But now you know you didn’t want that, you needed that.

“ ’S pretty. Deal with it.” You retort making his smile drop and there is a flash of fear running through you.

“Then I’ll have to make sure not to step out with this.”

Despite yourself, you burst out laughing at the picture of the Lord of Underworld walking around like that. Yeah, maybe that won’t really be the best idea.

You swing your legs hanging off the table as you watch Harry assort through his collection. Seeing the muscles at his back flex under his robe as he runs a hand down his face before pulling on his bottom lip. You can clearly picture the frown settling on his brows though he is not facing you, and the thought that you know it so well warms you up.

“Are yeh done ogling me?” His voice startles you, making you aware of your surroundings, from which you were apparently slipping away.

“I’m not-” you’re about to yell in offense but sigh calming yourself, “I’m not ogling. I was just thinking.”

This piques his interest as he turns around leaning on the shelf behind him. There is a smirk playing on his lips and you know he doesn’t believe you a bit, but this time you do have a proper answer.

“I want to believe you, Harry.”

The smirk falls from his face, his eyes locking in yours. You know that he understood what you meant but you don’t wait for him to say anything.

“I want to trust you, but I can’t. Not with all the secrets and games.” You stare at him but he doesn’t flinch. His face only hardens as he looks down at you. “I want answers” the last part merely above a whisper.

Silence envelopes you and again the uneasiness burdening in your chest. You doubt if this was the right time, but you know there is no good time for this.

“What do you want to know?” The reluctance in his voice is clear but that doesn’t keep you from rejoicing.

“Everything!”

He looks at you for a while. His face illegible, eyes studying yours. You try hard to maintain your demeanor though you don’t know how long you can hold your ground.

“Alright then.” He says before turning back to his work. You feel like the air from your lungs has been sucked out. Alright then? Didn’t you just ask him the answer to all the mystery and he didn’t even question you?

“Harry, are you listening?” You inquire, your voice distant, laced with shock.

“Yeah, I am”

“And you agree? You’ll answer me?”

“Why not?” You can feel your heart stop. The thought of this being another trick crosses your mind though you cannot apprehend that right now.

“You’ll let me in?”

“You’ll let me in?” He repeats your question to you and you freeze. He turns around, his green eyes gives a cold look. You didn’t expect this.

“I will let you in if you let me in, yeah?”

You shake your head. Another trick it is, then. Everything in you screams for you to reject it. You know you should run out of here right now, look away and cover your ears. Just get away from him.

“Deal” you nod as the all too familiar smirk makes its appearance.

“Deal.”