#it's complicated for both of them

[sorormaior]

Especially would go insane to get to see what went through Corax's head when Cary starts bleeding from the eyes and (presumably?) Collapsed. Putting these primarchs in Tupperware and violently shaking them.

Hehe Hoho

He had kept his face blank all throughout the blessings and the journey back to Dark Sister. His countenance could not possibly betray the turmoil inside him. 

The Captain had gone to the Night Lords, gone to the ship to find their dead and had returned as if nothing was amiss. They had lied, repeatedly, to his face. He stepped off of the Shadowhawk and saw that they had opened a vox with him. 

“Do you need me for anything or can I go lie face down somewhere?” Their tone was light, if tired. 

“I’d like to debrief you on the Echo first,” he said, unable to keep the ice from his voice. “Would you mind disarming yourself and then taking yourself very calmly to my office?” 

Corvus didn’t even look at them when he spoke. The Captain didn’t reply, walked past him in a stilted march. 

He in turn also went to his arming chambers, and had his own armour removed. The process gave Corvus a little more time to think. Personal hurt shouldn’t have any bearing on what actions he should take. The facts were thus: Cary Kulikov had been contacted by members of their own (traitorous) Legion, they had not reported this and had in fact allowed themselves to be teleported to the Night Lords’ vessel. They had also abandoned a mission in order to do this. By all counts it was desertion, if not outright betrayal. 

But they had not gone with the Night Lords, a small portion of him argued, they didn’t leave you. The thought pulled something sharp inside his chest. The mission. They didn’t leave the mission. They came back because they knew it was their duty. They had left because they wanted to see their sons. 

When he entered his office they were already there, in a seat in front of the desk he was supposed to be using to sign reports and orders. The Captain was looking out of the window, at the void, at Hagiogra. He couldn’t read their reflection’s expression, and they seemed not to notice he had entered until he sat at his desk. 

When Cary did look at him they did so with a drawn, exhausted face. It was the face of someone who had been running for a long time.

“Are you going to kill me?” They asked. 

“No,” he replied. 

He didn’t know how he felt about that assumption. It was perhaps logical of them to assume that their desertion would lead to an execution, as the Primarch he would have been expected to deliver it. It was logical. It wasn’t personal. It was not about how Cary viewed him. 

They looked out of the window again, black eyes reflecting pinprick lights of distant stars. 

“How did you follow me?” They asked. 

“I intended to make my presence known to you at the chapel by the aqueduct and followed you. As Primarchs, we have certain privileges when it comes to unnoticeable vox channels.”

“You were listening in,” Cary said. 

“Yes,” he said.

It was hard to tell if the notion unsettled them or not. But soon they started talking. 

“I wanted to see them. I wanted to know who was dead, who I had to mourn. Do you wonder? What happened to those you left when you went into the warp? Have you tried to find out yet? Guilliman has, I’ve seen some of his books, some of the records. He has sons he has no idea what happened to, and no way of knowing. Sorry. I don’t mean to be unkind,” they paused and swallowed, though their voice continued at the same strength. “You never went to Nostramo. You were too young. You never saw it. Never lived it. Don’t get me wrong, prison moon sounds bad. Sounds like a real shitter of a situation and you have my sympathy. But people loved you, Corax. People fed you. Clothed you. Taught you. Curze ate rats and dogs in the street, ate his kills because he was programmed too strongly to even think of stealing food.”

They turned to face him, expression hardened. 

“By the time I got to him the damage was done. Fate’s die was cast. I don’t even think he knew how to use a spoon the first time I fed him. Is it any wonder that he resented the sons foisted upon him? He was barely a man and he needed help. Instead we were sent to do the bloody work no one else could do. The bloody work we were admonished for, but I bet I could say his hands were drenched in less blood than yours.”

The statement drew his ire, if only briefly. It was not the number of bodies produced that should have mattered, it was the way they were produced. 

“And you don’t even know the worst part. No one knows, aside from me- Damn his eyes! You don’t even know that when he left Nostramo, when the greedy, silver-sucking bastards realised they had nothing to fear anymore- they poured their criminals, their murderers, their rapists into our ranks. That was the last thing I did as a Night Lord, true and proper. As a Captain of the Kyroptera I went to Nostramo and I saw what they were doing to us. I knew we needed help. I knew anything done internally would end up as butchery. I was going to ask for help. I was going to ask you for help.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Cary continued. Their expression had turned from solemn acceptance to sharp anger, deep anger. 

“They fed a sick dog bad meat and were surprised when it turned rabid, when it turned upon their clutching hands. Sin upon sin, body upon body. Skraivok’s personal army inside the Legion- a cancer upon all of us. I know what happened to him, Corax. I know that he turned to Fulgrim in fear, seeking some kind of comfort from that which haunted him, and that compassionate Rogal Dorn confronted him. As if it was his fault, what he saw. As if he had any level of control over his visions. You called him a monster, but you- his brothers, you’re the ones who left him in the dark. Who left us to die.”

The resentment was clear, it punctuated every word. Corvus would have liked to have responded calmly, evenly. But Cary’s statements felt more like an attack than an admission of guilt. 

“You think his actions are excusable because he was infirm?” Corvus asked, voice strained. 

“None of our actions are excusable,” Cary retorted. “The Imperium stands on a trillion graves, and for what? For this? For vile zealotry? For the same prejudices we’ve been carrying for ten thousand years?”

They were correct, Throne damn them for it but they were right. The Imperium was just as sick as when he had left it, Roboute was trying, he was trying- even Cary was trying! Yet none of their efforts were enough. Nothing was enough. 

“I am beginning to question your loyalty, Kulikov.” 

“I was loyal, truly loyal, in the beginning. Loyal to your father’s dream, which lies decaying all around us. I am loyal to what your brother sees, his vision of what the Imperium could become. I am loyal to those who call on me as a brother. I am not loyal to terror. I am not loyal to bloody violence. I have no loyalty for chaos, which has warped so many of those whom I love and have loved. I have only disgust for those of my Legion who are currently squabbling over the possessions of a man long dead. I want you to tell me something honestly, Corvus,” they leaned forward as they spoke, desperately searching his face for something. 

The use of his first name took him off guard, it took him a fraction of a second to recover and he nodded. 

“If your sons had been declared Excommunicate Traitoris, could you truly turn your back on them? All of them? If they had called for you, like scared children in the dark?”

His anger rose steadily as he absorbed their words, even if in the back of his mind- Cary didn’t know. His eyes dropped to the desk in front of him and his hands shook. Cary was ignorant of the Raptors.They did not know what they were saying, what it meant to him. 

But he remembered his sons in pain. He remembered them as they lay twisted and broken and mutated and howling. Screaming. 

He looked up at them. Cary was almost bent double, bowed head and clasped hands like a dedicant. 

“I always knew you’d see through me, eventually,” Cary said. “That you’d see what I really was. I am a Night Lord. I will always be a Night Lord. My sins are indelible. Hála az ezüstnek… it’s you, in the end.” 

And then, to his horror, they started to pray.

“Hála az… égnek és az… ezüst ereknek,” they whispered between short, gasping breaths. 

He stood abruptly, cold shame crawling up his spine. He had lost control, the warp-thing that he truly was rising to the surface once more. 

Corvus came around the desk, intending to pull the Captain upright but he caught something- the sound of blood drops hitting the floor, and the iron smell of it. The Captain had pulled their hands away from their face, the fingertips of their gloves coming away dark red. 

He retrieved the medi-kit from the wall, opening it to find the saline solution and pushed Cary’s forehead upwards. Blood seeped from their eyes like tears and pores like sweat. Corvus tipped the bottle over their eyes and face, wiping away the worst of it with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to…” 

Cary reached up and patted his forearm with the weariness of someone who had heard it before.

“It’s okay,” they said. “You can’t help it, I know.” 

He clenched his jaw, but turned his face away from them so they wouldn’t see. Corvus could help it. He was a Primarch in charge of his own faculties and he should have been able to control his emotions. 

Corvus looked down, their robe was soaked with saline and blood. He swiftly removed his own.

“You robe is- you can have mine,” he said, awkwardly shoving the garment at them.

Cary vanished in the fabric and struggled with their own robe, he almost reached out to help them. Almost. But that would mean touching them, and Corvus knew he could not do that. 

They retrieved something from the pocket of their sodden robe, a pouch. Ah, yes. The other matter. 

“I’d like to see the datachip,” he said, as carefully as possible. 

They hesitated briefly, expression untrusting. He supposed he deserved that. But they tipped two small items from the pouch into their palm and handed over the datachip. Corvus looked at the other item, a jagged blackened thing, as large as the tip of a baseline finger. 

“Is that a tooth?” He asked, only able to identify it through the shape of the root. 

“Yes,” Cary said. 

He paused.

“Who’s tooth is that?”

Cary looked at him as if he was being purposefully dense. 

“I think you know.” 

He was unable to keep his expression neutral and Cary clicked their tongue at him. 

“In your father’s name, I can’t believe I’m being judged for this. Konrad walked around with a whole damn mortuary stapled to his armour and I’m getting mean-mugged by Corvus Corax for stealing a tooth,” Cary lamented, exaggerating their dismay. 

Their voice caught on the name, he had noticed that. They avoided using that name, the name their father had given the Night Haunter. A discomfort that made him curious. 

Cary dragged on his robes, which swallowed them. He ignored the small, almost smug feeling that curled in his chest that seeing Cary in his robes. Now was not the time for personal matters. There would likely never be a time for personal matters. 

He took the datachip to his desk, finding a dataslate in one of the drawers. Corvus sat in his desk chair and plugged in the chip, watching as strings of Nostraman runes filled the screen. He could have sat there and waited until his mind simply comprehended the language, as it had done to so many spoken languages before. Instead, Corvus spoke.

“I’ve come across an issue,” he said, looking at Cary. 

The Captain frowned at him, confused. 

“I never learned to read Nostraman,” he admitted. 

“Are you shitting me,” Cary replied, fixing him with a flat, disappointed look Corvus suspected they reserved for unruly neophytes. 

“It will take me a few minutes to properly work out and translate,” he admitted, Cary clicked their tongue again derisively. “However I happen to be sitting in front of a literal Nostraman.”

He turned the dataslate towards them, and Cary pulled their chair forward, eyes already scanning the screen. 

“And now you ask me to sell out my own?” They asked, hollowly. 

The question itself was painful, as was the guilt. They believed he was asking them to tell him so that he could use it against the ones who had found them at great personal risk- Cary’s sons. Their tone was that of one ordered to betray their own. 

“I’m asking you to trust me that I won’t,” Corax said, swallowing his duty. “I’m trusting you to tell me what it says.” 

Cary glanced up at him, the action only noticeable for the movement of the muscles around their eyes. Their shoulders lost some of the tension they had been holding. 

“They’re personal vox codes, comms codes for a couple of ships. The Echo’s are on there, along with a couple others. It’s all communication related, basically. I think that there might be the Atramentar’s teleportation frequency. That’s an emergency beacon signal,” they said, pointing to the various long strings of Nostraman runes. 

“They want you to be in touch with them,” he thought, aloud. 

“I don’t think they’re expecting me to spy for them, if that’s what you’re thinking,” they said. 

He hadn’t, another pang of guilt. Cary expected him to have lost all faith in them. 

“I think they just… Want me to call them if I need them,” Cary said, voice tinged with sad affection. 

“They don’t trust the company you’re in now?” He asked, in mock offence. 

Cary laughed a little. It was dry and tired, but genuine at least. 

“I won’t keep you much longer, there’s only one more thing I wanted to ask about,” he continued. 

Cary looked at him, eyebrows raised and expression open. The lone Atramentar, the one Cary had named. 

“Grisha,” he said. 

Cary crumpled forward and for a split second he panicked, a jolt of adrenaline almost making him rise. They leaned on the desk heavily, carded a hand through their short hair. 

“My brother,” they said. “My little brother. I- I didn’t know he had been taken. I thought he died, he was always so sick. I have to believe they didn’t know- Curze and Sevatar. Didn’t know he was taken.” 

Cary’s sorrows went far beyond their Primarch and their Night Lords- they had human ties. There was a whole life he wasn’t privy to, no matter that he had listened to their account. Once again he was confronted with the fact that he didn’t really know Cary as well as he thought he did. 

“Cary, I am so sorry,” he said, gently. 

He meant to stand, to offer them comfort. But they looked up and looked decades older. 

“Can I go?” They asked, quietly. “Today has been a trial.” 

He nodded.

“Yes, Theodanius mentioned something about the sorcerer,” he started, but Cary shook their head, already starting to stand.

“I’m haunted by enough ghosts as it is, and I’d rather not wake them,” the upward tilt at the corners of their mouth suggested that this was supposed to be a dry observation, but their tone made it more of a solemn statement. 

He wondered what he could say, what comfort could he possibly offer them? Corvus had no idea. He had also lost sons, he had also lost brothers, but Cary looked exhausted. Drained. Their eyes had dropped to the floor again, unable to meet his. 

“Go rest,” he said. 

Cary nodded and left without another word or look. Once they had left, he rubbed his face with both hands. Cary’s sons had died, and they had not been permitted to mourn them. That was why they had gone, to find out which child lived and which child had died and which child had become something monstrous. 

They had assumed he would kill them, and he admonished himself for even thinking they would suspect otherwise. Of course Cary thought he would kill them. He was a Primarch and they were an Astartes who had abandoned a mission to treat with traitors. Marines had been executed for less. They had accepted their death so calmly, so easily. It was a far cry from the Captain who had fought so hard their whole damn life to survive. 

Thank the silver it’s you, in the end. A Nostraman oath. In their delirium they had returned to comforting beliefs, that was how far their acceptance stretched. They believed they were going to die in that room, and had prayed for themselves. 

He looked down at the dataslate again, the Nostraman already becoming clear to him. Cary had spoken the truth, communication codes, squad tags. He had not yet alerted his men to the Echo of Damnation, though he knew where it was hiding. 

Corvus remembered them kneeling, the oversized skull in their hands and how they had wept. Cary’s sons had died, and so had their Primarch. They had not been able to mourn either of them. 

He would not give them more names to mourn.

[lobeliamaximoff]

this is such an accurate description of Brady's feelings for Mikayla I wanna cry

[productofaritual]

"We need more morally grey characters in complicated morally grey situations" Y'ALL CAN'T EVEN HANDLE THEM

[melenthropy]

mzmf fakemons unearthed by me cleaning my files for the first time in years

[pvtpunsart]

happy pride they are bi thank you for coming to my ted talk

[centaurianthropology]

I love how much the show has leaned into the two-sides-of-the-same-traumatized-coin with Murderbot and Gurathin. They are both part human and part machine, both a product of an end-stage capitalist hellscape that treats bots and humans and augmented humans as just different flavors of the same object. Both made to be cogs in the system for so long, until both of them broke free.

And neither of them have come out clean. MB is filled with anger and resentment, its main comfort is in escapism and silly tv shows. Gurathin is paranoid and self-sabotaging, forcing the world into an order around him that he clings to by his fingernails. They are both attached to Mensah, the first person who treated them as a person, and they don’t want to have to share her with the other. They both have this group of people they will both love, but both forever feel slightly outside of. They are both almost certainly drowning in loneliness, but far too cagey to actually express that loneliness or reach out to those around them for validation (who would gladly provide it!). Their senses of self-worth are through the floor, covered up with avoidance on MB’s part and arrogance on Gurathin’s.

It’s just really fun to see each scene with them, to see how much their mutual trauma makes them oil and water with one another. They can’t stand to look into that mirror.

[syluses]

big girls dont cry QNA

i know you guys have lots of curiosities about this fic lolll so i’ll try to answer some of the questions i received (∗ᵕ̴᷄◡ᵕ̴᷅∗) 💕 if u still have some, just shoot me an ask!! :] also im really bad at explaining so i apologize 🤦🏻‍♀️ i have the plot nailed in my head but its tricky to articulate it in a clear, linear way for yall considering all the little nuances i added lol. i’ll try my best tho hehe :,)

Okay so there’s a whole ‘nother plot that exists in the background of this fic- which was super fun for me to write, but im sure from a reader standpoint it’s also kinda thrilling to try to connect the dots i left lol. thats why theres so many interpretations for this story (which i love!! i loved reading all yall’s theories)! 💕 BUT. that being said, the ‘canon’ goes like this:

SPOILERS BELOW read it first then come back! ( ⸍ɞ̴̶̷ ·̫ ɞ̴̶̷⸌ )

was caleb really dead?

No. Caleb staged his own death and then, similar to the main story homecoming wings, didnt tell mc :,) for his own reasons, for a time, he decides he’ll let her go on believing he’s truly gone…

why did he stage his death?

I dropped little crumbs of it in the fic, but it’s hinted that mc, on top of all her grief, feels a bit bitter over the whole shebang and also blames herself for it. hmm… why would that be? 🤔 well because their final moments together (or so she THOUGHT) were emotionally charged and volatile.

the foundation of their sibling relationship was growing weaker and weaker before the explosion. arguments are forming out of nowhere- things are becoming more tense and mc, for the life of her, can’t understand why her gege is always pulling her into a heated debate about safety, danger, blahblahblah, this that and the third, every time they interact. He’s being wildly unreasonable, which she knows, and protective- a trait that has snowballed as they entered their adulthood- but what she doesn’t know is the why behind it. she tells herself she just has a super protective older brother who views her as a little baby in need of his guidance- which isn’t entirely wrong… but she doesn’t see the full picture. His true feelings. All this tension eventually climbs to its peak. Caleb just gets worse and worse. He needs to do something before the world collapses on them both.

Now, in this au, he works at EVER, a somewhat shady but lucrative company- which dabbles in robotics amongst other things. I imagine they have abundant resources and wealth- and what with his promotions, it’s safe to say caleb is making a LOT. So, the delusional guy he is, he buys a big fancy suite with the idea in mind of two eventually living in it ;) but mc doesn’t want to- she has her own life in linkon!! She wants to spread her wings and separate from the nest anyway. Partly to start her own life; partly to prove to her gege that she can take care of herself. The argument that unfolds over this is the last they have before the big tragic explosion 😭 caleb, putting on a show with his beaten puppy eyes, leaves and then that’s the last time she sees him.

Caleb meticulously plans his ‘death’ out (with some help from his wingman ofc) and then eventually the robot is introduced to mc. It serves as a trojan horse. He’ll finally conquer her heart with it and win full autonomy over her. THIS IS HIS MAIN GOAL WITH THE ROBOT. WHY HE EVEN DOES ANY OF THIS TO BEGIN WITH.

Caleb gets to spy on mc with it and also slowly reshape her to accept his feelings; his ‘death’ has left her in a fragile state of mourning and he knows, after she warms up a bit to not-Caleb, he can more or less get away with anything- bc she will claw for whatever’s left of her family member. He can make her finally reciprocate and understand him— whether that be his feelings or fear or love. He tried to be patient, to be good, but obviously he had to travel a new route. He’s thinking of her 24/7. He’s obsessive, longing, protective, you name it- and all of this just worsens the more she denies him. When push comes to shove… well, caleb will do whatever it takes to win her :] He knows it’s unconventional and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt him too- monitoring his endearingly stubborn, but sweet meimei and the shattered pieces he left of her through his android’s eyes— but it’s all temporary, and he truly believes it’s for the better.

did gideon know?

Yes, Gideon knew all along. He’s Caleb’s best buddy after all. To be matter of fact- Gideon didn’t just know, he quite literally ‘herded’ mc into the lion’s den in a way. Mc knew vaguely of their work at EVER, but not too much; so Gideon was the one who shined that light on their robotics and really introduced her to the concept of not-Caleb. Now, i wouldnt say Gideon is exactly comfortable with his involvement, but he actually really does care for mc and thinks she needs that help- as dubious as the means are. Anyway, it’s almost impossible to shut out all of his buddy’s demands: the brunet is nothing if not insistent on getting what he wants. In his own whacky way, Gideon thinks what he did- playing into Caleb’s plan- was for the better as well. I mean, Mc clearly wasnt doing good before not-Caleb came along,… but with the few visits he managed before the android got a little too stingy and sent him off, Gideon actually managed to catch a smile or two from her! So clearly he did the right thing 👀 not to mention… the real caleb seems very pleased with the progress, too. besides- the whole robot situation is temporary anyway :] She’ll be reuniting with the beloved gege she misses so much sooner rather than later.

how accurate was not-caleb?

His programming is like 100% accurate. Mc, for a mix of both naiveity and delusion, thinks not-Caleb is flawed when he starts to show signs of amorous/romantic feelings for her. Really, though, after she tells him to stay the night with her (innocently; and after years of having not shared the same childhood twin bed), it triggers a part of his ‘brain’ that undoes all real caleb’s self restraint thus far :] If the same exact situation happened with the real caleb, his reaction would’ve more or less been the same. Homeboy can only keep his feelings in check for so long

who programmed not-caleb?

Real Caleb

how is mc pregnant?

Because the robot’s creator wanted to add his own special touch to his work if you know what i mean :) yeah he’s a freak like that. Dont think he WOULDNT install in his robot the ability to indirectly knock his ‘meimei’ up. I will say though, that while caleb wants to get mc pregnant, its not fully bc he wants to start a family- at least not right away- but because he wants to emotionally and legally trap her with him. Besides monitoring her/wearing down her walls while she thought he was ‘dead’, this was actually one of caleb’s biggest goals with sending not-caleb into her home.

is not-caleb self-aware?

Yes

what’s real caleb been doing all this time?

Basically climbing the ranks of EVER from his lil perch somewhere in skyhaven. all the while, of course, spying on mc like a hawk. Biding his time & waiting for the right moment when she’s at her weakest, most codependent state to replace his carbon copy :)

was caleb controlling his robot?

No. But he essentially created its whole program. And there are cameras inside its eyes in which he watches mc from :) and cant help but snap pics with sometimes: she’s just so pretty— and endlessly sexy when he finally, in a vicarious way, gets to lie her back and make love to her <3

what is real caleb’s motive/ultimate goal?

1. to control/protect/‘tame’ mc through the robot; get her to see things from his point of view (which means realizing she belongs with him- where it’s safe and he can protect & love her)

2. to knock her up (hence the. ahem. reproductive abilities of the robot) so that he can trap her with a baby on top of all the other emotional strings he’s hogtied her with.

does gideon want mc too?

the question is not would gideon smash her. the question is would caleb LET him…. 👀

also, below i just attached a screenie from some of the notes i took. theyre ofc a little disjointed but i think it might clarify things too :] im so bad at answering questions esp for a plot this spiraling but i really tried my best guys my brain is tired forgive me :,)

[timethehobo]

Psst, new drops coming soon. 🤲

[astralleywright]

spent like an hour trying to find a post abt the disparity of origin companion's content in bg3 and couldn't so, hey, this fucking sucks

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

can I humbly request.... some Gavv art of the guys?

I missed them last weekend... I've started to look forward to our weekly sugar high!

[milktrician]

Gods I need the shen cupids to kiss

love bullet au post

some other forms of affection

love bullet au tag

[sthilarions]

During a case many years ago, a witch made a poppet (roughly equivalent to the popular conception of a “voodoo doll”) of Edwin. They defeated the witch soundly and got the poppet, but there’s no safe way to destroy it. The only place Edwin and Charles trust as safe enough to keep it is inside Charles’s backpack, where no one but Charles could possibly get to it.

Charles largely forgets about it, buried deep deep down in the bag, until Edwin is held captive, less than a year after their jaunt to Hell, and there’s absolutely no way to get to him until the portal opens again at the next full moon, and he’s going crazy with worry, imagining Edwin in all sorts of misery without Charles not even able to so much as comfort him. He’s digging mindlessly through the bag when he gets to the poppet, and, he realizes, there is this one thing he can do.

He pulls it out with a care he wouldn’t give to a Faberge egg, because this is the most precious thing in the world, in any world, and looks at it for a moment. Then he reaches out ever so gently and strokes its hair. He murmurs reassurances to it - it’s alright, I’m sorry, I love you. He sings lullabies, curls around it and hugs it against him so, so carefully, tilts his head down and presses kisses to its soft curl-covered head.

He doesn’t let the poppet go for even a moment on all the days until the full moon returns, even as he’s preparing for battle, preparing to absolutely fucking obliterate the bastards that are holding Edwin.

Just as the portal opens, he finally places the poppet back in his bag, in the safest, warmest corner. He hefts the arsenal in his arms and strapped to his back and floating around him and charges through.

He tears through the stronghold in minutes, and he does literally mean through - he’s left a trail of smoking rubble behind him where ghost-proof walls used to be - and finally, finally gets to Edwin, and -

“Ah, Charles, there you are. Not to worry, I’m quite alright. There has been some sort of force - “

Charles doesn’t even hear him as he wraps himself around Edwin, and his body follows the same motions it has for weeks now, stroking hair, pressing kisses, murmuring muffled you’re alright I love you you’re alright I’m sorry I love you I’m sorrys into Edwin’s hair, which is even softer in reality than on the poppet, and Edwin says -

“Ah. That was you.”

Charles can’t see or hear anything other than Edwin, at the moment, but he can’t not see Edwin, so he has a very clear view as Edwin reaches his arms out and, with a few words, takes control of all the magical weapons and orbs and so forth that have been trailing after Charles.

And he hears when Edwin says “Well, then, Charles, shall we depart?”

And he feels it when Edwin lifts him as effortlessly as he lifted the poppet, holding him so he can keep his nose buried against Edwin’s neck as Edwin blasts his way out.

And he definitely feels it when, a few very loud minutes later, they’re back in their office, and Edwin’s head turns to meet one of his kisses.

“It’s alright, Charles. I’m sorry I left you alone. I love you.”

[nibbelraz]

I love grief-stricken men they should kiss to feel better

[chimerafeathers]

i love that isafrin can be the most straightforwardly romancey, wholesome pairing on a surface level and then you go one (1) level deeper and run into siffrin’s seething guilt and convoluted feelings around touch and intimacy and the extent to which they want or don’t want those things in a specifically romantic way or if he was trying to seek connection and love in any way he could once he knew that Isabeau wanted those things from him in that context, and the combined power trip/self disgust at “manipulating” Isabeau’s desires without his knowledge to make themself feel wanted and in control. and then you keep going and there’s also Isabeau’s own warped self image (still, in spite of all his changes, fearing that he’s someone that would be shameful to know), his “emotionally stable pillar” role and self-taught therapy talk masking his deep fears of real confrontation (struggling loop after loop to confess, not wanting Odile to confront Siffrin about their weird behavior in the sus quest bathroom talk) and how Siffrin’s fear of vulnerability and Isabeau’s fear of Pushing Too Hard allow both of their issues to fester unspoken long after it’s clear that the problems exist.

all this to say. duality of isafrin. makes my heart full and warm and happy to see the sweet, fluffy, silly love and connection between them (mutually romantic or otherwise). and then also. the delicious, delicious complications. gnawing on them like a dog with a beloved bone

[telebeast]

guess what's been on my mind [ID in ALT]

[skywalkr-nberrie]

On the topic of Anidala as parents, I think the best and only way we’re supposed to imagine them was that they would’ve been the most loving and doting parents ever. They were so happy and excited upon the news of their pregnancy and were already making plans to raise them away from all the chaos and danger, discussing the gender, and Anakin being protective as he is would never let the Jedi take their babies way from them and of course neither would Padmé. They truly would’ve been the most wholesome family if they had the chance.