#I know I've already done one similar But I have this story in my head still and keep coming back to it. Might try rewrite it one day

[islandofsages]

HEYY!! I love your writing from what i've read and i was wondering if i could ask for a gn reader (yuu) teaching the housewardens about like classic fandom lore- like imagine them turning into matpat to explain fnaf and undertale!! 😭😭 feel free to not do this and have a good day!! Thanks :D

characters: housewardens x gn!yuu

tags: platonic, fluff, crack kinda, imagines format

warnings: swearing

author's notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG also all the fandoms mentioned here are all fandoms ive been in at some point :D fun times mhm

Riddle Rosehearts

He knows you’re very passionate about fandom culture but you never really had the chance to infodump about it to him

Until one day, you drop by Heartslabyul for a leisurely visit, when you see a not-so-clearly distressed Riddle sitting in the lounge

Not-so-clearly meaning he’s holding a teacup in his hand yet not drinking it, eyes closed as if he’s holding in all his emotions

You grow worried at this sight and slide next to him on the couch where he is seated, hoping you can help alleviate some of that stress

He sees you and he allows himself a sigh, then musters up a smile for you. He greets you and you cut straight to the point - can you help him with anything?

He releases a second sigh and shakes his head, telling you he only needs some sort of distraction. He just had a long day and needs to take his mind off things

You take a second to think of things that you can distract him with – that’s when a lightbulb goes off in your head. This is a prime opportunity for you

“Okay, I’m guessing you haven’t heard of Five Nights at Freddy’s since it’s a franchise from my world and all but the lore is crazy. So it starts like this…”

He wasn’t expecting to be paying much attention to the contents of what you’re saying but sooner or later, he ends up leaning towards you with his hand cupping his chin, mouth slightly agape at the story you’re telling

This inspires you to dump even more information about the media somehow at the rate that you’re going

By the end of it, he’s completely forgotten what he was so worried about. His head is full of creepy pizzerias for kids and haunted animatronics

He ends up having some trouble sleeping that night though. He’ll get you for that later.

Leona Kingscholar

He won’t lie, your interest in fandoms is too reminiscent of Idia for him – he doesn’t admit this to you obviously, since he hasn’t had the chance to

But on one particularly boring day, you decide to skip class with him and he lets you tag along for the hell of it

In the span of three seconds, he’s already off in dreamland. Sometimes you wish you had such a skill

Since you have nothing better to do and he’s way too deep in his sleep to even care anyway, you start rambling to yourself and a slumbering Leona

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about Undertale lately so I need to dump it all somewhere. So basically you play as this kid…”

Little do you know halfway through his nap, he wakes up from how much you’re talking. At first, he’s annoyed by your yapping but then he grows interest in what you’re saying

He’s almost tempted to try that game for himself and almost disappointed that it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland. Emphasis on almost.

When you’re done rambling, that’s when he stretches his arms over his head and yawn, commenting how noisy you were

You shrug it off. You're used to him complaining about you yapping instead of napping alongside him

…But then he asks you to tell him more about Undertale, if there's any more information you’re keeping from him out of the kindness of your heart

You smile smugly at this and his expression seems to say “don't make me regret asking” but oh, you definitely will make him regret even being friends with you in the first place

Needless to say, regrets were not the only thing he held at the end of that day.

Azul Ashengrotto

Similar to Leona, your fixation on fandom culture reminds him too much of Idia. not that that’s necessarily a bad thing - it’s more of an observation

And he gets more than an observation when you get the chance to show him what you’re made of: useless fandom culture and gaming knowledge

Speaking of Idia, he goes to you as a last resort to ask you to help him understand whatever the hell Idia’s talking about

You don’t know too much about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture just yet but when Azul explains the premise of a certain game and its fandom, it gives you an idea

“Sounds pretty similar to Yandere Simulator. Ooh, that one has a lot of history. Let me tell you about it…”

Unfortunately for him, he ended up unlocking your geekiness instead of having you address the things he was confused with

But at least your story makes it a bit easier to understand? He’s yet to decide that really but at least it sounds like you’re taking his lack of slang knowledge into consideration

Your infodump really gripped his attention though - it’s interesting to know another side of human culture, even if it’s not the humans of Twisted Wonderland

He would nod understandingly (or at least, politely) and thank you and your geekiness

He relays your story to Idia and finds it intriguing how similar fandom culture is in both Twisted Wonderland and your world

He would invite you to Board Game Club meetings so that you can rave and find out more about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture with Idia

He’d realize that was a big mistake and he may or may not have created the nerdiest pair in the world - but you guys are his nerdiest pair in the world.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s very curious about fandom culture - he doesn’t know too much about it nor anyone who knows a lot about it so almost all the fandom information in his head are from you

He really wants to know more!!! So of course that warrants a hangout session fabricated as a study session to get Jamil’s stamp of approval

So there you are in his room, books laid out in front of the two of you but most importantly, a laptop

You two watch about a dozen videos on Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture and as you absorb all the very-much-useful information, you sneak in tidbits from the culture of your world

“This one in particular is reminiscent of Danganronpa. Man, that one was a wild ride…”

It’s exciting to be able to talk about it with someone you trust wholeheartedly, especially Kalim, whom you know wouldn’t be so judging

He only nods in understanding at every point you made, his eyes sparkling with all the curiosity in his body

You were on your thirteenth video when you two are interrupted by a rap on the door and an unfortunately-familiar voice

So obviously you and your bestie hurriedly rush to close all the tabs on your laptop and open up something more academically-inclined

Which is obviously a…dictionary site

Jamil blinks twice at this, says nothing (but probably noting how it makes sense for you guys since you two are bumbling idiots) and walks away

If there’s any dictionary being read that day, it’d be a dictionary of fandom terminology, that’s for sure.

Vil Schoenheit

He doesn’t know too much about it - and doesn’t bother to learn much about it since he has better things to do - but since it’s you, he tries his best to be a good listener

The two of you sit down in the courtyard one day, the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves music to your ears; beauty truly is everywhere around you when you’re next to him

He’s talking about something. You’re not sure what because you’re entranced by the way his hair hangs above his eyes so elegantly. He notices this and calls you out for it

You shrug and excuse how you can’t help it - he’s like a dating simulator love interest in the real. He asks you what you mean by this. Now’s your chance to shine!

“Hmm, you know, something like Mystic Messenger? Hehe, let me tell you a bit about it…”

Unluckily for him, your “a bit” turns out to be a four-hour long ramble about the aforementioned dating simulator a little too reminiscent of Rook for his liking too

Despite his reservations, he really did enjoy hearing you talk so passionately about your interest; it’s a bonus that the topic itself is interesting

He tells you he wouldn’t mind trying out the game or at least finding out more about it though unfortunately it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland

You share his shame - until he says he’ll pitch the concept of the game to some authorities he know and perhaps make it a reality

Sorry, he’s going to what now?

You’re a little shaken. Sometimes you forget he’s a world-class model, despite his looks and mannerisms. You save your nerves for if a Twisted Wonderland version of Mystic Messenger actually ends up happening

He thanks you for enlightening him about fandom and video gaming culture. You use this as a cue to add another four hours of ranting about V’s route in the game.

Idia Shroud

You’re another victim for him to taint… or so he thought. You’re more of an ally than a victim at this point, considering how nerdy you are

He’d dump fandom lore on you and you’d reciprocate it right back. He’s genuinely so impressed with your knowledge, even if they differ by some degree due to being from different worlds

He gets more impressed when you pull up with knowledge about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture like damn, you really brushed up on your talking points already

Friendly rivalry aside, he really does enjoy talking about fandom culture with you and hearing about the things from your world - every story you tell adds a little color into his world

One day, the two of you are leaning on each other, on your phones because of course you are, even if you two are friends, talking still isn’t Idia’s strong suit

That’s when you blurt it out–

“Hey, wanna hear about this game called Persona? It’s a turn-based RPG and…”

Regardless of his response to your question, you ended up babbling away either way. It’s how conversations start between the two of you

You’re speaking so fast, he would have mistaken you for a rapper - or a doppelganger of himself even

Consider him entertained - he finds himself smiling by the end of your yapping and intrigued by your story

He then obviously starts to relate it to something from Twisted Wonderland, passing the listener baton to you

You don’t mind – you can stay there for hours and hours, just going back and forth with your fellow nerdy-ass friend.

Malleus Draconia

This man barely knows how to use a smartphone so you had to be a little patient with him when guiding him through the fandom culture trenches

He’s happy that you trust and cherish him enough to talk about your interests with no reservations or shame – and the feeling is mutual

On a certain weekend, the two of you are hanging out as usual. Chatting as friends would do

You don’t know why but the conversation reminded you of a certain fandom

“It’s kinda like Genshin’s community, I guess. They’re a riot, let me tell you that.”

Oh? What’s a Genshin and why is its community a riot?

You’re glad he asked – because you’ve prepared a 100-slide presentation on the history of the game and its fans

He asks you why and how did you find the time to make that. You tell him to shut up and that it doesn’t matter, he just needs to listen to you

You start and it feels like you’ll never stop – there’s just so much to say and Malleus has so much time in the world

Seeing his reactions to certain events makes you crack up and at times, you’d laugh at his shocked expressions (or sigh exhaustively, depending on the event you’re explaining)

When you finally stop, he gives you a one-man standing ovation. You blush a little at the attention and unexpected reaction but you appreciate his sentiment nonetheless. He tells you that your presentation has been very informative for him

You’re relieved to have been able to get that off your chest… and Malleus is more than ecstatic to relay the information to everyone he’s ever known. You obviously pretend that you had no involvement in his sudden investment of a game from another world.

[jointherebellion215]

If It's True

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: When an unexpected guest crashes your House's welcome feast for the Harkonnens, your life unknowingly becomes the start of a sad, sad song.

Word Count: 872

TW: Manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha (so Regular Feyd-Rautha), she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, songfic

A/N: Hi, it's your friendly neighborhood shitposter. I'm taking a huge leap of faith with this fic, because I truly haven't written anything in YEARS. This idea has been bouncing around in my head for days, thus "the trilogy was born". This is meant to be Part One of a three part series, based on different songs from the musical Hadestown. I've obviously written this with very very dark interpretations of the songs and the themes. If enough people like it, I'll post parts two and three. Please let me know if it's any good, I'd love some feedback :)

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories other than what I derive inspiration from are strictly coincidence.

What’s the use of his backbone

If he never stands upright?

“We welcome you to Kolhar, my lords Baron and na-Baron. Our House humbly offers our services and facilities to your use. I toast to our continued cooperation and to the strength of our Houses.”

As your father raised his cup, others of our House followed suit. The official welcome feast was well underway, though House Harkonnen had been planetside for at least a week already. The past few days had been for inspecting our mines and factories, ensuring that our production of their ships and swords were up to standard. 

Now? Pure pageantry. You found it a bit redundant, but it was necessary to ensure your good standing among the Houses of the Imperium. It was a grand occasion, in which the leaders of your father’s council were present, as well as the highest ranked mine workers. 

The doors to the large hall slam open, a familiar figure storming in. Your heart flutters at the sight of your beloved parting the crowds before him. The man who you had met by complete coincidence, one of the workers in a local steel mine, who you had spent the better part of a year meeting in secret—had crashed the court. You noticed a bruise growing on his cheek and blood trickling down his temple, indicating that his journey to enter through the doors was easier said than done. His voice soon bellowed throughout the hall. 

“My Lord Duke, I refuse to let your daughter’s hand be taken by the na-Baron. She cannot marry him.” 

The crowd gasps, as do you. You had spent the past week showing the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha around the grounds, the training of your most fierce warriors, and the best of your planet’s culture. You had shared a laugh or two and shown your prowess as a leader. Yes, you’d spent quite a bit of time with him, but marriage? This was news to you. 

You turn to your father, who gives you an apologetic grimace. Several Harkonnen guards step forward to seize the love of your life. You quickly stand to protest, but the na-Baron stops the guards in their track with a single snap of his fingers. He offers a hand to calm the crowd, an eerie stillness in his form.

“It is true, I have offered my hand to the Lady.”

I believe that with each other, 

we are stronger than we know.

“There must be a way around this. Even if this is in defiance of the court, they can’t punish all of us! We work their mines; they couldn’t truly function without us. We are the ones who truly hold the power! I implore you to stand with me, show them our strength!”

Your love stands strong, chin raised in the crowd, voice pleading with his brothers and sisters to stand beside him. He was convinced that this moment could provide a great revelation, that somehow your situation was different. That the consensus of a crowd could make the na-Baron stand down. Surely, your story could convince even the coldest of hearts that love can conquer all. He must have some sentimentality that resonates within him.

That's one of the main reasons why you fell in love with him. He's always so full of hope. Always willing to see the world as it could be, in spite of the way that it actually is.

But you knew better.

“This is treason.” Someone whispers in the room. Murmurs of assent soon follow, and your heart drops. The crowd around him quickly dissipates, as if the mere act of touching him promises death. 

And the ones who deal the cards

Are the ones who take the tricks

With their hands over their hearts

While we play the game they fix

You start to plead with your father to spare your lover. He doesn’t know any better, he wasn’t raised in the ways of politics or court. It’s purely out of his love and devotion to you, so please—

Feyd-Rautha stands up and the room is immediately devoid of sound. He cranes his neck to look at you.

“You love him?”

You swallow harshly, lifting your chin. “I do.” You went to your lover, making a bold statement in linking your fingers together. Presenting a united front. Hoping that somehow, your kind attitude the past week towards the na-Baron would allow this leniency.

A gleam flashes through his eyes, almost imperceptible. He gives a blackened smile, making show of placing his hand over his heart. Confusion fills you. He slithers down the steps towards the pair of you, boots echoing in the Feasting Hall, each step making your lover’s hand give a slight tremor. Your mind stands strong in its conviction, in the thought that you’ll have to fight for what you want. But a small tendril in the back of your mind gives the slightest hesitation. The smallest indication of hope. Maybe…

Piter leans towards his Baron, whispering concerns in his ears, but is quickly paused by the Baron’s hand. Vladimir gives a slow, menacing grin. He responds to his Mentat in a low voice,

“Don’t bother. You know that my nephew loves to play with his food.”

Is this how the world is?

[easy-there-leftovers]

Hiii can I just say I’m OBSESSED with ISY,D!! Amazing work truly the best ❤️

I saw asks are open so I thought I’d slip in a little prompt 👀

Astarion and Tav have a bit of a spat at camp. Tav is trying to convince Astarion that ascending would make him just as bad as Cazador, but Astarion craves the power and the freedom. Tav, upset and frustrated, ends up leaving for a walk through the late night streets of the gate to clear their head. One of the vampire spawn out looking for their next prey find Tav, recognizing them immediately as Astarion’s love (and one true weakness) and kidnaps them to bring to Cazador. Cazador, being the sick fuck he is, locks Tav away and sends a note to Astarion that he finds the next morning, saying that he had Tav and that if Astarion wants them back he has to surrender to Cazador and go through with the ceremony. Astarion loses his mind and races to the castle with the gang in tow, praying that Tav is unharmed. Will he be there just in time to save Tav? Or will he be too late, will Cazador have already turned them by the time he gets there?

Sorry for the paragraph but this has been in my mind for DAYS and I would cry if you could make this story come to fruition ❤️

-🌸

Hello 🌸anon!! Thank you so much for liking the series, I'm glad that it's something that you enjoy reading! Also, I've decided to include @simp-4-astarion's request as they were rather similar in nature!! Thank you so much for liking my work :,DDD

In addition!! Just a heads up for people who'd like to request or send an idea in, I don't just write for Astarion! Feel free to include your favorite romanceable pcs (and non romanceable npcs lol) into the mix!!

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

That night at camp had been fraught with tension, like a fraying rope ready to snap. The campfire crackled, the tongues of the flame dancing and flickering about, mirroring the storm within the heated pair.

Your voice, something that he's come to find solace in as of late, quivered with frustration unlike any he's heard directed at him before as you tried to reason with him.

"I don't relish it. but my," He pauses, wondering what he should call them. "--Siblings lured thousands of people to their death over the years. I doubt Baldur's Gate would miss any of them." He seems rather taken with the idea, and you worry about what this could mean for him.

"But we don't even know if it's possible, Astarion. You're hypothesizing that you become the Vampire Ascended at the expense of eradicating the other spawn." Whether or not they had done things as horrendous as your,-- gods you don't even know what you are,-- as the ex-magistrate, they did not deserve to be subjected to such a ritual.

He paces around you, ascertaining your reactions, and making quick work to think about how he could convince you

"And so what? I've obviously thought about it. If I completed the ritual, this evocation, I'd have insurmountable power. And--" He nears himself to you, practically whispering the following words into the skin of you neck. As if anything he said would etch its way into your skin and carve you anew.

"I could walk in the sun without fear of becoming a mindflayer. Don't you want that for me, darling? For us?" The question instills an indescribable fear in you. Not the same fear that's been riddling you as you wonder if you'd perish in one of your many battles, but the fear you'd witness when you lost something dear to you.

It's as if he's giving you an out.

Agree with him, and you seal his fate as the Vampire Ascendant with a sure place at his side.

Or disagree, allowing all those spawn the same chance he had been given all those tendays ago, and snuff out whatever growing relationship you had between you.

He senses your uncertainty. And he feels lost. He figured that you would be so sure to keep him at your side. Doing anything it takes to make sure it stays that way, but now you're getting cold feet with his blatant proposal of companionship because of what?

These monsters he's hunted with?

These damned spawn that represent everything you've seeked to correct about the world?

"Astarion, please, give them a chance. They were just like you once, give them that much."

At any other time, he would've admired your efforts to help them. But in this moment, he thinks you a fool who could never truly understand what it means to be a slave and to want for power.

"You did not know them. And you do not know me as well as you may think, my dear, if you think they deserve a chance more than I do."

He doesn't know why it all happened the way it did. The way that his thoughts came tumbling out of his mouth and only allowing the worst of things to escape him.

All he knows was that it had surely hurt you and that he doesn't think he's ever seen your retreating form look as small as it did as you walked towards somewhere in the city.

And that he wished he had remembered where they were. So near to where his consanguines and he used to hunt.

So when he and the others are greeted with a letter smelling of undeath, telling them that they had their precious leader imprisoned in Cazadaor's manor, he knows not to tell them about the little argument you two had.

Knows not to tell them anything to dampen their mood as they search for you.

Knows not to tell them that the likelihood he kept you alive was slim to none, now that he has Astarion's attention.

Once they had been alerted of your whereabouts, a clear ploy to lure him back to his master, there would be no use for you anymore. They don't know Cazador like he did, and he was sure that by the time they reached their destination, you would be no more.

Stil, he's willing to take any chance he can get to get you back. No use in proclaiming you dead if he hasn't seen you, and he'd be damned if he let Cazador take any more from him.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 - Self-Aware AU

Headcanons about an Alternate Universe in which everyone knows they're living inside a videogame. However, Vertin is the only one aware of the entity inhabiting her own mind, the real conductor - the "Player".

this is one of my favorite AUs to slap on whatever media I'm into so here we are <3 not sure if anyone's done this already, but PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE link me if you've seen any other ppl write for this AU! this one and any actor AUs are my absolute fave

this is just a word vomit introduction for fun, to get the basic ideas out of my head, so I can start writing for characters individually!

Okay, okay! First of all, some context for the AU before I go deranged overexplaining my HCs!

Aside from the "Storm", there is something else that haunts the people of this world: the fact that their lives are nothing but a simulacrum, part of a game.

The requirements to obtain this "self-awareness" is unknown. Those within the Foundation believe it's related to their respective "roles", that only the main and relevant characters are given the chance to fully open their eyes to the truth. Those within Manus Vindictae claim that one must be strong enough to break through the fog of complacency and their assigned scripts, to have their full potential unleashed and obtain true liberation. Either way, similar to the "Storm", this is a well-kept secret for a very good reason - everyone wants to have the upperhand.

There is one outlier to this whole system. Vertin is not only aware of the truth of this world, but also of her duty as the eyes and hands of the "Player". She must experience it all for their sake. Or rather, whatever she experiences will be the story that the Player will see.

This applies to her suitcase, the place where the Player's influence increases tenfold, bending everything and everyone to their will through her own body and voice. The longer one stays within her suitcase - or within her general vicinity - the easier it is for them to become self-aware.

How does one become "self-aware" and what does it entail?

The requirements and the catalyst for a character to become self-aware are still a mystery. But that's mostly because I specifically wanted to keep them as vague as possible, to allow some flexibility for NPCs and other characters outside of Vertin's suitcase.

The whole process of gaining sentience or self-awareness is mostly described as waking up from a nightmare, or a very, very realistic dream. It's like a switch, something that happens in a second without any warnings whatsoever.

I like to think that most of the people who wake up are easy to spot, because it's a jarring experience and panicking is the most normal reaction - but that they're often taken care of by the Foundation or recruited by Manus Vindictae.

The levels of awareness also depend heavily on each individual - some only know that nothing is truly real, that everything they've done up until that point was just a carefully scripted lie, the most basic realization. Others can understand the rules that govern this game and use them to their advantage, either through observation and study or just inherently.

Overall, the experience of being sentient varies as well, with some describing a disconnect from their body, while others feel exactly the opposite. Again, keeping it pretty vague so that people can fill in with their own ideas!

I'll talk about Vertin's case in detail when we get to her specific bullet point, but the same way the Player is able to experience the "story" through her eyes, she's able to see the same things they do - this includes the UI, the menus and everything you can interact with in-game.

Vertin as a character and a vessel for the Player.

The most common thing I've seen in self-aware AUs in my years of fandom is to turn the player stand-in (the main character that serves for the player to experience the story through and/or project onto, depending on the genre of the game) into an obstacle, one that keeps the characters from truly interacting with the Player, capital P.

The second most common thing I've seen is to simply ignore the existence of this player stand-in and replace it with the Player themself, either through isekai methods or thanks to the customization the game allows, etc etc.

When it comes to Vertin in this AU, I know I want her to retain her role as the center of everything, instead of being sidelined by the Player. She's THE Timekeeper, after all.

There's still some details I'm trying to iron out, like whether she's always been self-aware or if she became self-aware at some point during her childhood at the St. Pavlov Foundation. But I like to think that her relationship to the Player is a parallel to her immunity to the "Storm" - neither of these two things are inherently good nor bad. Surviving the "Storm" is helpful, sure, but it's painful for her. Having an entity like the "Player" haunting her is scary, sure, but it can be an advantage. It's a matter of how she utilizes the assets she was given, since her adaptability and determination are big aspects of her character. Vertin makes up for her mediocre arcane skills with unconventional plans and strategies.

But this isn't to say that Vertin isn't affected by the presence of the Player. Ironically, she's the one person whose freedom is limited. During battles, her skills and Tuning are available to you, they can also prove to be vital to win a fight, but in the end you're still the one calling the shots and choosing when her friends get to attack. You're the one choosing the layout of the Wilderness. You're the one picking which one of her friends deserves to become stronger.

In the last bullet point I mentioned that some characters can understand the rules of the game - Vertin is the most extreme case, as she can see the same UI as you do. She learns the way you like to fight your battles, your own strategies, she can see this and more.

Overall it's a very complex dynamic. It's not as easy as saying that she likes or dislikes you, that she considers you a friend or foe. You're part of her, you influence each other in many aspects and are stuck together for reasons she can't even fathom. While you may be able to read her thoughts most of the time, she becomes invisible once you enter the suitcase - the main menu of the game. Sure, the character you selected to greet you every day is actually talking to her, not you, but she's out of your view and therefore, out of our range. That's when Vertin wonders the sort of person that you are, if you care about her friends as much as she does. Are you playing just to be entertained? Are you invested in these events? Will you be there for her until the end of her story?

Another detail I like to think about is that Vertin is the only one who knows your name. Because at the very beginning, you were asked to input a name and she was there.

[screenshot was taken from this video, since it's the first one I could find that showed this specific part of the game lol]

Well, "your name" not quite right - she knows that whatever you wrote there is the name linked to your account, at least. And that's the name she knows you as.

Those who take residence in Vertin's suitcase or spend prolonged amounts of time with her, growing closer to her and all, end up becoming self-aware. This is a direct side-effect of your presence.

I like to think that characters who reach the 100% Bond can begin to sense the Player, to see the world in a similar way as Vertin does. Maybe even feel their presence EXACTLY like Vertin does whenever there's a battle. There is someone else on the other side of this screen, the fourth wall, who watches over them.

To some, it's hard to differentiate Vertin from the Player, as they just go hand in hand - but Sonetto, for example, has the easiest time telling the two apart.

On the subject of freedom and acting out of script.

The Foundation, Manus Vindictae, Laplace... It doesn't matter if they're self-aware and acting outside of what their script dictates, because they're missing one key ingredient: you. No one else but Vertin and her group knows about your existence, after all.

They don't know that the only story that matters is the one that Vertin is part of. The one that the Player gets to see and read and experience. And because the game gives you a very limited view into the lives of these characters, you don't know what neither Arcana nor Constantine do behind the scenes. You and Vertin don't see that, therefore, it never truly mattered.

Those most likely to start "acting out" are the troublemakers within Vertin's suitcase. Characters who are too curious for their own good, who are more susceptible to supernatural entities, who are just too impulsive - they would start to test the limits and see how far they can go, how much they can interact with the Player. Can the game be broken should they end up shattering the fourth wall? Is there a way for the Player to communicate with them? What will happen to Vertin?

I like to think that Vertin probably supports this, as she's rather curious herself, prone to questioning everything. She would also like to learn more about the Player, to truly tear into the game and see the full extent of your influence and her freedom.

Sometimes, Regulus and X will change their usual voicelines, just enough to be noticeable if one pays enough attention. Characters like Sotheby or Leilani might slip up and address the Player, rather than Vertin. Lilya, Pavia, Bkornblume have new animations and different expressions, ones you've never seen before - they stare ahead, as if searching for something, and then smirk or hum to themselves, deep in thought, like they realized something you're not privy of.

Sometimes, if you leave them as your selected assistant on the main menu, you can catch them muttering to themselves - idle quotes you never heard enough, about the outside world. Diggers does this the most, it's almost embarassing how easy it is to catch him talking nonsense, followed by Sonetto. If you leave Medicine Pocket alone for too long, you might come back to a screen covered in weird scratch marks.

On the subject of these characters being curious about the outside world and all, I think that a good chunk of them are generally content with the way things are?

We have to remember that in-universe, they're arcanists displaced from their respective eras. Their best chance at surviving is siding with Vertin, and if Vertin is content with the way things are, then there's no point in trying to disrupt what they have right now. They're curious enough to prod, but only as far as Vertin allows it.

And I think that's it for the word vomit!

There are some details I didn't know where to fit in, like the possibility of the fourth wall slowly dissipating the more time the Player invests in the game, leading to some characters being able to directly hear you if you talk while playing and whatnot. Or what would happen should someone outside of Vertin's suitcase figure out the existence of the Player, let alone interact with you in some way.

Or the concept of death being meaningless, unless it was pre-established by the game itself.

In Borderlands, there's this game mechanic where you can just be revived over and over and pay a percentage of your money as a fee, even though the canon that's established is that you play through the whole story without dying a SINGLE time - because the revival mechanics aren't canon. There's the divide between story and gameplay. That's pretty much the standard. But what about the deaths in battles in R1999? The amount of times I died to 1.3's UTTU's Flash Gathering is insane. How do self-aware characters feel about this, now that they know that they're bound to die over and over and be brought back because you have to do your Pneuma Analysis or reach the final stage of Limbo?

But that's pretty much it for now, I think I got most thoughts out of my system! Thank you for reading!

[thankskenpenders]

And now for something new

So, here's something I was never planning on doing, but I just couldn't shake the idea... Thanks Ken Penders is gaining a sister blog featuring an entirely different comic franchise!

Introducing... Thanks Steve Ditko, a blog where I read the Earth-616 Spider-Man comics, starting all the way back in the '60s! It's gonna be much more casual and less thorough than how I run things here on TKP, though, which I'll explain in a sec.

If seeing me post weird bits from old Spider-Man comics sounds fun and you need no further info, then just head right on over to Thanks Steve Ditko. But for longtime TKP readers, I know you probably have questions...

Number one: Why?

Spider-Man's always been my favorite superhero, and with the Spider-Verse movies kicking ass and my excitement building for the new Insomniac game, I've been in a Spidey mood. Inevitably, a thought occurred to me: Maybe I should actually read the comics that everything else is built off of and see the wildly varying contributions of all the original creators, rather than filtering them through big budget adaptations. If I can power through One Piece and all these other manga with hundreds of chapters, it can't be that hard... right?

And, well, after a few issues I quickly realized that my options were to either clog up my other accounts with random Spider-Man panels for years, or to just make a side blog. And so the side blog was born.

Two: Will this blog replace Thanks Ken Penders?

NO!!!!!!!!!

Okay but prove it

To allow the two to exist side-by-side, Thanks Steve Ditko will have a different format than what Thanks Ken Penders developed. Rather than an in-depth guided tour that critically analyzes every story beat of every issue, TSD will just be a place for amusing panels and brief thoughts as I casually read the comics at my own pace.

If you've seen me make a few tweets about reading Spider-Man recently, I'm basically just moving that to a dedicated Tumblr. It's a place for me to dump these things so that it doesn't fill up my media tab on Twitter for the next decade. (You know, assuming Twitter is still around in a decade.) There will be many issues where I only post two panels that I thought were funny. There will be issues where I don't have anything to say at all. Maybe I'll reach a run that I just cannot get into, and I start skipping around more. Who knows!

This may sound similar to what I thought this blog would be before it blew up. Aside from the simple fact that there's already mountains of Spider-Man commentary out there and therefore less of a void for me to fill, one of the main steps I'll be taking to avoid repeating the past is not enabling an ask box on TSD. I do not need people to ask me to go into ten times more detail on everything. I do not need to write seven essay-length responses to questions about Spider-Man minutiae every day. I do not need a place for people to chide me for not covering certain scenes, issues, or ancillary series.

It also won't have any kind of update schedule. I'm trying to keep it very casual. I'm reading these comics at my own pace, and if I feel like sharing a moment or commenting on something while doing so? It goes there. That's it.

(On the subject of format changes, I'm also listing the issue, writer, and penciller in the body of every post. This is a thing I wish I'd done on TKP so that people didn't misattribute every weird Archie Sonic panel I post to Penders.)

Three: So when will TKP come back from hiatus? You said it'd come back after you finished SLARPG!

I don't know! Sorry. I have a couple things on the backburner right now for TKP, but I'm not sure when I'll get back to proper updates where I read more comics.

I wanted to bring TKP back this year, and that's still possible. The main hurdle is that I want to reread my own archive (again) as a refresher, which is, uh. A lot of posts. I've developed a high standard for myself on here, and I feel like I wouldn't be doing my job right if I forgot half the ongoing subplots and character arcs and didn't bring them up in my analysis. Especially when I'm discussing the work of an author as obsessed with continuity as Ian Flynn. Unfortunately, the nature of this blog means that every time I go on another long hiatus for Life Reasons I have even more comic continuity to catch up on than last time.

(This is a big part of why I'm making Thanks Steve Ditko an extremely casual blog instead of promising to become a Lore Expert on 60+ years of Marvel.)

Mostly I've just been very burnt out this year after having finally finished a video game that took almost eight years to make. I haven't really had the energy for any creative projects, including TKP. But I feel a little bit of a spark here with Spider-Man, so I'm chasing that feeling to try to get back into the swing of blogging about comics - no pun intended.

So, basically, bear with me on this as I start this low-energy side project. But hopefully folks will enjoy Thanks Steve Ditko as its own thing, too.

Look forward to goofy shit like this

[bread-tab]

okay random 4am rant time, don't take it too seriously, but: people need to recognize there's a difference between "bad worldbuilding" and "worldbuilding styles you personally don't like."

bad worldbuilding is, for example: internally inconsistent, bigoted, or something else that messes up the plot or characterization of the story itself. sloppy. careless.

things that are *not* bad worldbuilding:

minimalism.

i've been thinking about this in the first place because i saw a post about the Murderbot Diaries a while back (don't know who made it, don't care; this ain't personal) saying the worldbuilding in those books is bad and lazy. to me, as an avid sci-fi reader and writer, that is clearly not true. but i understood why they thought this. the series uses extremely minimalist worldbuilding which intentionally withholds a lot of detail, in a way that is consistent with the (nonhuman, robot, depressed robot) first-person POV. this could also be a feature of the author's writing style in general—i haven't read her other works—but i wouldn't bet too much on it.

the signature of intentional minimalism is that there *are* details about the speculative setting—they're just doled out very thoughtfully and sparingly. the intent is to leave you a little hungry for more. it's to make you think very carefully about the details you do have. this is best suited to stories that already have elements of psychological and/or mystery plot types. the worldbuilding you do see should still be believable, internally consistent, and have interesting implications if you think about it a bit. but you are for sure going to have to think harder to get it.

if you're not in the mood, i will concede, a minimalist style definitely comes off as a bit dry. if you are in the mood, it's relaxing.

whimsy.

this is a big one for sci-fi fans in particular. see: the constant debate about whether any particular story is "hard" or "soft" sci-fi, and whether soft sci-fi is bad, etc etc. but worldbuilding doesn't have to be realistic to be good. you're allowed to have Jedi and humanoid aliens and time travel in your sci-fi. you're allowed to have historical anachronisms and astrology and po-ta-toes in your fantasy. whether or not they're silly isn't the deciding factor on how "good" these worldbuilding elements really are.

the key thing is tonal consistency. you've got a serious high-fantasy setting with its own strict, un-Earth-like theology and magic system, and you throw Santa Claus in there? yeah, that's not gonna land well. but C.S. Lewis can get away with that in Narnia just fine. why? because the Chronicles of Narnia are whimsical children's stories with a strong Christian/Western mythological influence already, and their central conceit is a crossover between the mundane world and the magical world. of course Santa can cross over too. it's whimsical, but it's not actually random. (and if you ventured into straight-up comedy, you could get away with random too. as long as it's funny.)

the unreliable narrator.

i don't have a good example for this off the top of my head (maybe Murderbot again? idk, i'm sleepy, fill in your own) but i'll tell you how to recognize when this is done well.

by definition, an unreliable narrator has some key misconceptions about their own world. so how do you tell what's going on as a reader? how do you know the writer isn't equally confused?

you connect the dots. solve the puzzle. in practice this is similar to reading a minimalist setting—but instead of just sparse clues, you also have a boatload of red herrings. you can catch some of these misleading details by comparing them to your real-world knowledge and saying "wait, this doesn't add up." other times, the false clues intentionally trick you by subverting those real world expectations.

the trick is in the consequences. regardless of what the narrator says, their actions should still have logical consequences. there should be things going on that the POV character doesn't know about. the character will be forced to learn and adapt their narrative because of these shifting circumstances. you can catch them in a lie. the inconsistencies themselves tell a story.

...

i'm gonna stop myself there because this post is long and i oughtta be sleeping. just. this is a distinction worth making. is it really bad worldbuilding, or is it simply not the genre you're craving today? learn the difference for your own sake. you'll have an easier time realizing if a story is something you'll find enjoyable to read, regardless of its actual quality.

[runnning-outof-time]

What Do You Regret? | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @cillmequick

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy and (Y/N) talk about some regrets in life over a drink and a quiet moment at the Garrison. When (Y/N) suddenly brings up the topic of 'them’, she gets a pretty interesting response.

Warnings: language, smoking, drinking

Word Count: 2252

A/N: well I surprised myself with this one by writing it in one day after not writing for a few days…I hope it makes sense. The prompt I was given by the lovely Alex is italicized in the story. I have to say that I had a bunch of fun writing it. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"I figured you'd be here," (Y/N) said as she walked through the main doors of the Garrison. She immediately found Tommy, sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the empty room.

"Is someone looking for me?" Tommy asked, his eyebrows raised as he held his glass in his hand. It looked to be that he was about to take a drink from it, but stopped to talk instead.

"No," (Y/N) shook her head as she sat in the chair across from him, "I was just wondering where you'd gone off to...and took a lucky guess that you were here," she explained then.

"Someone's always been looking for me these past few weeks," he mumbled, still stuck on his previous train of thought as he finally took a drink from his glass.

"Well fear not...I was only wondering if you were ok..." she trailed off as she grabbed the bottle that he'd been drinking from and and the other empty glass on the table so that she could pour a drink for herself, "...if you were safe..." she continued, raising her eyebrows slightly as she looked over at him; bringing her glass up to her lips so that she could take a sip. "You had a second glass here...you weren't expecting someone, were you?" she decided to ask him.

"No. It's a habit," he brushed her off, shaking his head slightly as he set his glass down, exchanging it for the cigarette that had been smoldering in the ashtray. "What did you want, love?" he asked her after he exhaled a line of smoke.

"Nothing," (Y/N) answered simply, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

"Nothing?" Tommy checked, his eyebrows raised. There was always something.

"Nothing at all," she doubled down on her answer, smiling over at him.

Tommy hummed in response, nodding his head as he took another drink from his glass. He kept his eyes on her, not saying anything as silence fell in the room.

"What, is it so unusual for me to wonder where the person I've been seeing is?" (Y/N) then bursted out with a question, unable to take the silence mixed with his gaze on her.

"I didn't say anything," he said to her, holding his hands up as he bit back a grin.

"Your eyes were saying it," she told him, trying, and failing, to keep a glare on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest. He chuckled at her statement, shaking his head slightly as he took another drag from his cigarette before stamping it out in the ashtray.

Silence fell between them again. It was comfortable this time, and it made (Y/N) tip her head back to rest against the chair, allowing her to stare up at the ornate ceiling.

They sat like this for a few minutes until she spoke again, "what do you regret?" she asked as she lifted her head from the chair to look at him once more.

"What?" he asked, not because he hadn't heard her question, but rather because it had come out of nowhere.

"Do you regret anything you've done in the past?" she rephrased it for him, "like I regret the one time that I snuck out of my house at night to go and meet a boy that promised he'd meet me in the park, but when I got to the park I found him already with another girl. My parents found out about me not being in bed and when they asked, I told them that our elderly neighbor, Eloise, had needed me to help her with some stupid task," she then recounted a time that she regretted.

"Which part of it do you regret more?" Tommy was curious now.

"The boy...the lie didn't hurt anyone, and it was the only one that I'd ever told them. That boy though...it was hard going to school for a handful of days after it happened," she frowned at the memory before her eyes found his again, "so is there anything that you regret?" she then turned the question onto him.

There was a pause in the conversation as Tommy pursed his lips, making it look like he was thinking of any possible stories to share. "No," he said finally, the grin spreading across his lips being an almost dead giveaway that he wasn't being honest.

Seeing it made (Y/N)'s eyes widen, "Tommy!" she exclaimed as she sat forward in her chair, "you are lying right now!" she accused him, pointing to him then as she continued, "it's clear on your face!"

Caught in the act, he held his hands up in surrender, glancing over at her to see that she'd been trying to hold back her giggles. "Of course there's stuff that I regret," he said to her once their laughter had died down.

"Like what?" Now it was her turn to be curious, and she leant forward to prop her chin up on her hand as she waited for him to, hopefully, tell a story.

He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, thinking of where to start as he busied himself with pulling another cigarette out of its tin. "I regret telling off my teacher," he started.

"You told off your teacher?" (Y/N) made him stop as she asked in shock, her eyes wide in surprise. She was a good student all throughout her schooling years, so it shocked her that anyone would do such a thing.

"Yeah," Tommy nodded before continuing, "she'd looked over my work and told me that it wasn't good enough; that I needed to add more substance to it, and I told her that maybe if she'd of been a 'better fucking teacher' that I would have been able to write more. She wrote me up and told me to go to the headmaster's office, and I ripped that up as well and told her to go to hell, so she kicked me out of the class."

"Tommy!" she exclaimed much like she had earlier, "that's terrible! What year were you in?"

"It was in primary school," he admitted.

"That's even worse!" she exclaimed, her jaw going slack as surprise overcame her. She couldn't stop the smile from forming on her lips and the giggles from bubbling up though. It was hard not to as she pictured a young Tommy doing this to the poor woman who had been tasked to teach him.

"I know..." he agreed with her, trying to hold back his smile as well, "that's why I regret it," he paused for a moment, placing the unlit cigarette he'd been holding between his lips before he made a motion with his hands. He grabbed his lighter and flicked it to life so that he could light the cigarette before continuing, "she'd only been trying to get something more out of me. I told her she was a shit teacher and then disregarded her authority when she was disciplining me. I fucking deserved all of it," he ended his statement by shaking his head as he laughed softly at the memory. He glanced over at (Y/N) then as he took a drag from his cigarette, seeing that she pursing her lips together tightly. "What?" he asked her, his eyebrows raised.

"Nothing," she brushed him off with a slight shake of her head.

"Nothing?" he asked, much like he did when she'd first come into the tavern.

"Nothing at all," she repeated the exact phrase she'd said to him earlier, the callback to it making him smirk as he shook his head softly. Silence fell between them for a moment then before (Y/N) decided to continue the conversation. "Is there anything else?" she asked him, looping them back around to their initial topic.

Tommy took a drag from his cigarette as he contemplated how to answer her. Of course there were things that he regretted doing...he just wasn't sure if he wanted to elaborate on them to her. "I've done a lot of shit over these past years...some things maybe I should have handled differently..."

"Like me?" (Y/N) asked a little too eagerly before he was able to finish his statement.

"What?" he asked her, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Like your relationship with me...like how you're going to go back to your estate once everything blows over with the vendetta here and I'm just going to be left here in Small Heath," she elaborated on her previous statement, her composure now more solemn in nature compared to what it was moments ago.

"(Y/N)..." was all Tommy was able to get out before she cut him off again.

"I'm sorry, I...I don't know why I just said any of that," she said, her words coming out in a frantically mumbled mess as she averted her eyes from his.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop the blood from rushing to her face as she began feeling sheepish for even steering the conversation in that direction. She'd finally got him smiling; surely for the first time since he'd been back in Small Heath, where he's been stuck while he and his family fought out the vendetta between the Changrettas.

They found each other by happenstance - the details didn't matter - and they'd entered into a sort of a situationship rather quickly. Despite the nature of how they began seeing each other, (Y/N) felt closer to Tommy than she was anyone else, and Tommy had found that he could confide in (Y/N). For him, she was someone that he could see and talk to that was removed from the fighting going on all around him. And (Y/N) liked that he let his walls down around her.

But now things had gone to shit....all because she'd decided to ask an unneeded question. She couldn't even look at him because she was worried about what he'd say.

Tommy noticed this rather quickly. "Hey, look at me love," he said to her, his words prompting her to do as she was told. He held their gaze and took a deep breath, a serious expression forming on his face as he got ready to speak. "Nothing about any moment I've ever spent with you will ever be a regret, do you understand that?" He looked at her with raised eyebrows as he paused. (Y/N) was only able to nod her head, but it was enough of a response for Tommy to keep talking, "spending time with you has made being back here worth it. It's helped me so fucking much; having someone to confide in like I do with you. And I'm never going to regret it, so don't ever think that I will, eh?"

(Y/N) nodded again as she swallowed the lump in her throat. "I...I just thought that since being back here has brought on all of this other stuff, you'd hate every part of it," she told him her worries, her voice sounding much smaller now than it did before.

"You've thought wrong then, love...very wrong," he continued to dispel her thoughts. He glanced down at the glass that he'd been spinning with his fingers for a moment then, pursing his lips as he thought of how to say what he wanted to. "If anything, you should be regretting the time you've been spending with me," he finally said after a few moments passed, looking back at her once he was done speaking.

(Y/N)'s eyebrows furrowed together as she heard his statement, "now why would I do that?" she asked him, "I've enjoyed every second I've spent with you," she then concluded, speaking definitively now.

The left side of Tommy's lips quirked upwards in a smirk as he heard what she had to say. He brought his cigarette up and took one last drag from it before stamping it out in the ashtray. He then nodded his head at (Y/N) before mumbling "c'mere." She heard him loud and clear, and a smile formed on her face as she stood from her chair and moved over to where he was sitting. He waited until she was sitting comfortably on his lap before he spoke again, "y'know, maybe there is something I regret about you and I..." he trailed off, looking into her eyes as she sat inches away from him.

A slight expression of surprise formed on her face as she processed his words, and she searched his eyes for a moment before asking, "what?" She waited on bated breath for his answer, worried that this was where the other shoe was going to drop, and he was actually going to say that he did regret the two of them ever getting together. But then logic came back and she wondered why he'd admit this when they were sitting so close that they were able to feel each other's breath.

Tommy looked at her for a moment before answering, "I regret not meeting you sooner."

(Y/N)'s worries were quelled instantly with those six words, and she let out a shaky laugh before she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face close enough so that the tips of their noses were touching. "I think that's something I regret too," she admitted to him, a grin forming on her face before she closed the space between them and matched her lips with his.

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

[number-onekidqueen]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞

Luke Castellan x Poseidon!fem!reader

hi i have no idea if you take requests but if you do could you write for Luke x daughter of poseidon? I’ve been thinking about someone who’s similar to Luke who’s felt neglected by their God parent and when their half brother Percy comes and gets claimed within a week, she’s angry and jealous bc hers took almost a year. An angel in disguise, evil lovers trope 🥹🎀🫶 just wanted to share this concept that’s been itching my brain

comfort fluff

warnings: crying, gods being bad parents, jealousy, insecurity

The new blond kid furrowed his brow again, and you groaned internally.

“So we’re supposed to love them but they don’t even come and see us?”

The arrival of another kid was always exciting. They’d stumble over the border, scared out of their mind, and once they calmed down, you’d get to hear their story. They all had such different ones and all the details and quirks in them fascinated you to no end.

The less fun part was answering all the questions they had, and trying to make camp seem fun and exciting, when they were usually so broken. It never seemed right to you to talk about rowing races, as if they were antidotes for leaving your old life behind.

Percy Jackson, however, was proving to be more curious and.... confident than new demigods were typically.

You exchanged a look with Luke at Percy's comment, wondering how to answer this curveball of a question. You noticed his jaw was clenched, and he seemed to be making no kind of attempt at responding.

“Well, uh, yeah, more or less.” You replied lamely.

“I don’t get it. If we’re their kids why don’t they come down and visit us? Get to know us?”

“My question exactly,” Luke murmured bitterly to you, but then he grinned, clapping Percy on the shoulder. 

“Eh, the gods they’re busy and all. But you don’t have to worry about them. Burn a bit of your food, pray sorta regularly and they’ll be happy. And just enjoy-"

“Who's my dad?”

Another difficult question.

"Sorry Percy, we don't know," you replied softly. "you'll know when you get claimed."

"Claimed?"

You explained the claiming process, and your unease grew as Percy frowned more and more as you continued. It was obvious he was against claiming.

"So let me get this straight," Percy paused, his expression one of utter distaste. "I've gotta do something cool - something amazing - in my first few days at camp to make my dad notice me?"

You winced. "Yeah, something like that."

"He doesn't just come down, and recognise me?" He asked in disbelief.

"The gods don't really... come down, Percy," Luke corrected, also wincing.

"So, what, they-"

"Don't stress too much about it, Percy. I'm sure your dad will claim you soon, and then we can all celebrate." You reassured with a grin.

If only that had been right.

---------

And you had won! You whooped, joining the cacophony of victory that was the Hermes cabin, all gazing triumphantly at the flag Luke had captured and was brandishing with pride. 

When your eyes met Luke’s, your head spun. He had really done it! Your best friend, your amazing, brave best friend had won it again! He grinned at you, and your heart seemed to jump towards him erratically. Before you could think straight, you were running closer, and-

“Y/N! I think you have a brother?”

Huh?

Brother?

You noticed the atmosphere had changed drastically, and the campers had become hushed around you, whispering and pointing. And they were all… kneeling?

“Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon!”

At Chiron's call, you turned to where they faced and saw a dumbstruck Percy, thigh-high in water, squinting above him. 

At a massive, glowing green trident. 

Poseidon. He was your brother. 

What?!

After the initial tidal wave of shock, and even joy for Percy wore off, you were outraged. Percy had been at camp for what couldn’t have been two days. And he was already claimed? When it took you nearly a year of hoping and crying and praying to do so? 

What in the Gods did this mean? Were you not as special as Percy? Did your dad hate you? What in the- what- he- you- he-

You couldn’t think about it anymore, your thoughts incoherent and speeding through your mind. Your chest tightened, and you couldn't breathe, your lungs still and your eyes heavy with tears.

No, no, no, no. You wouldn’t ruin your brother’s claiming. 

Even though your father ruined everything-

You began stumbling back, walking between rows of kneeling campers, as quietly as you could. It still seemed thunderous to your ears. You could feel the stares, but you tried not to think about that either. Judgement was at the bottom of your stress agenda.

Once the forest obscured your form, you began sprinting, dodging trees and shrubbery as you made a rapid escape to your cabin. The anxious thoughts didn't stop, even as the world rushed past you.

Breathe in, breathe- my dad hates me- out.

Breathe- he loves my brother more- in.

bre- he'll never love me as much- out.

b- you weren’t good enough, and you never have been- r-e-a-t-h-e

Once inside, you collapsed against the cool door. Your breathing finally slowed, as your eyes travelled over the familiar blue scenery. Felt the slightly chipped paint beneath your fingerprints. Inhaled the salty, sandy smell. This was your home. You could safely cry in here, feel comfortable, do anything you wanted-

Until Percy came.

You wouldn’t even have five minutes in here before everyone came back, and swung the doors wide for Percy. And you would be forgotten, shoved into a lesser position to make room for your shiny, new brother.

Stop! It wasn't Percy's fault that Poseidon was a terrible father. Percy was innocent. He was just a little boy, wanting to be accepted. It wasn't fair to feel bitter towards Percy.

But you couldn't help it.

Either way, you wouldn't let the first sight to his new home be his crying, jealous sister. You didn't want him to feel guilty for belonging.

But where else could you go?

The beach?

No. The water was once a comfort, but it seemed a hellish sight in your mind now. You didn't want to go anywhere near anything that reminded you of Poseidon. Absolutely not.

The forest?...

That was perfect.

Steeling yourself for the outside world, you inhaled shakily before rushing out of the safety of your door. Thankfully, camp was still quiet, although you weren't going to wait around for it to become full and rowdy.

Taking off at a jog, you made your way into the forest surrounding camp, in the opposite direction than the one campers would make coming back. Sure, monsters could attack you, but at this point you were certain you were angry enough to wield your dagger with lethal accuracy.

Come get me, bitch, and you'll find out just how I feel, you thought to yourself.

You moved through the forest until the dappled light on your tanned skin, became dimmer, almost dark. It was then you stopped, hunched over, breathing deeply, stepped backward to slump against a firm pine tree.

You let yourself cry, as loudly as you needed. The ocean never hushed her screams, and now that you were alone, neither would you. It was cathartic in a way, screaming as loud as you could, sobbing as hard as you needed, draining your body of all its sadness, jealousy, insecurity.

No one would ever hear you. It would be a secret between you and this little green glade.

And then you could return to camp, fake all the smiles you needed. You would be happy for Percy. You would be grateful to your father for allowing you to have a brother. You would be faithful and in admiration of the Gods.

You felt sick at those thoughts, a pit growing in your stomach at having to betray yourself for others.

Why did it have to be this way? Why?

The pit in your stomach only grew as you heard fast-paced approaching footsteps. Your sobs immediately halted, and you stilled against the tree, wiping your tears and drawing your dagger.

"Y/n?"

It was Luke.

You exhaled shakily, debating whether to respond. But it was Luke, and surely he would understand.

"Yeah?"

His approaching footsteps resumed, and you caught a glimpse of his face, splashed with relief. Immediately, he sat beside you, and wrapped a tentative arm around your shoulders.

It was so comforting, and you began to cry once more, this time into his shoulder. His fingers tangled in your hair, and they were so soothing, your cries became even deeper and cracked.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been held and comforted.

"What's wrong?" he muttered softly.

"My-my dad," you replied croakily.

"Oh," you knew he understood, because he tugged you closer and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You shuddered at the contact, flustered despite your current emotions.

"Your dad is an idiot for making you feel like this."

"You-you can't say that," you said nervously, shifting in his arms as you glanced around, anticipating a megatsunami or hailstorm.

"I don't care, y/n, let me drown the next time I swim. You need to hear it. You're one of the best campers there is, and all you do is love him, and he treats you like this! He's an idiot!" He said earnestly, laughing a little.

"I just can't believe he'd claim him so soon," you whispered, and the tears began again, "I just-- it's like slapping it in my face that he loves him more. That Percy did enough for him and I didn't."

"No, don't you dare think like that." He tilted your chin up with his fingers. His eyes were strong, angry. But his fingers were gentle, and they caressed your jawline with care. "You've done more than enough for him. You've done more than enough for anyone, don't ever make yourself feel like this."

"But-"

"No. No. Never." And he drew you back into a tight embrace as the last of your tears flowed.

You stayed like that for what could've been minutes or decades, the both of you breathing in sync, against the rough bark of the tree and warm heat of your camp tees. You began to grow sleepy, your eyes drifting closed, and that's when Luke shifted.

"Hey," he murmured, his arms still wrapped around you as he pulled the both of you to your feet, "let's get you home."

Off you walked into the dusky evening, your words and secrets left embedded in the canopy and grass of that glade and deep in your hearts.

For while you now knew there were two children of Poseidon, and you were most certainly the second choice - you knew you were the favourite to Luke.

And maybe that was what mattered.

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results -- Hreksong

Slightly awkward timing on this one: the animal in question happened to come up on a recent episode of our podcast (We literally quoted a line from the Bodley MS 764 entry, because it was relevant to the story we were reading). So any of the artists who listen may have gotten spoilers. (I say "may", but I've already seen one art post that references the episode.) Sorry about that, artists. Kind of a bizarre coincidence, actually -- it's pretty rare that we happen across bestiary material in a narrative text, and the fact that we did so shortly before the relevant entry came up in the rotation... well, the odds are against it.

Anyway, anyone who doesn't know what this is about should check out https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting. You can also check the "maniculum bestiaryposting" tag to see what beast is the current prompt. The entry for this week's drawings can be found here:

Art below the cut, roughly chronological, as always.

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) decided that the best interpretation of the information given was that this was a sort of arboreal mongoose that practiced mouthbrooding. If you want to know what the reasoning was there, you should read the linked post -- it all makes sense there. I absolutely love that the one in the picture is opening its mouth to show the baby riding inside. Silverhart indicates that this is a quicker sketch than usual, but frankly their animal-drawing skills are so good that even a quick sketch is impressive from my perspective.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) did separate drawings for the large outdoor version (upper image, carrying its young) and the small indoor version (lower image, stealing someone's food). The linked post, which explains the design in some detail, indicates that CheapSweets was thinking along similar lines as Silverhart -- i.e., what kind of animal is known for hunting snakes? I like the pose in the first image, and I really like the scene depicted in the second one. On one hand, I'm sure having little creatures live in your roof and steal food literally out of your hands is quite frustrating, but on the other hand, it's very funny. Look at that little guy just brazenly stealing some chicken (or whatever type of bird). The idea of them using their back legs to grip rafters for exactly this purpose is excellent.

@strixcattus (link to post here) decided these could be birds, and has drawn these owl-like creatures for us. They look a bit surly, but that could just be the feather pattern on their faces. As always, I strongly recommend checking out that linked post, as Strixcattus writes brilliant interpretations of these entries in the register of a modern naturalist to accompany the illustrations.

@pomrania (link to post here) has noted that cats live in houses and eat mice, and given us this charming domestic scene. They also note the issues with this interpretation in the linked post, which of course you should read. I think the poses of the cats are very well done here; one of those kittens looks like it wants to paw at the monk's belt but can very much not reach.

And now for the Aberdeen Bestiary:

I'm not sure about the head proportions -- I'd suggest that the flattened snout is because the artist ran out of space, if it weren't for the fact that they were fine letting the back foot extend into the border -- but that is recognizably a weasel.

A few things to note from this:

1. Medieval people apparently had not only mice in their homes, but weasels, which I'd never really thought about. I'm not sure what the distinction they're drawing between the type you find in your home and the type you find in the woods is about, though.

2. The weasel's healing magic crops up in multiple texts, including the Lais of Marie de France and Volsungasaga. It's less common than you might think to find overlap between bestiary-weirdness and narrative-weirdness, so that's pretty notable.

3. I have no friggin' idea why anyone thought they gave birth through their ears. Baffling.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

If the Sky Comes Falling Down (For You)

First posted: January 25, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd and his various siblings

Favorite bookmark: "A variety of permutations and flavors of Robin h/c featuring Jason! The Baskin Robins of BatFam h/c, if you will."

Second favorite bookmark: "and so, step by step, the prodigal stray coaxes himself home."

Tier: #3 in hits & kudos & subscriptions, #4 in comment threads, #2 in bookmarks

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Individual chapter notations below the cuts.

Chapter One

First, to note, the title came last and is from "Hey Brother" by Avicii because it was already on my BatFam playlist and gave me strong sibling feels, so it worked!

Okay if I remember correctly, this fic came about because 1) I had jotted down story ideas, all surrounding Jason, that were all just a bit too similar for me to feel comfortable doing them as one-offs, and 2) it was late 2018 when I start writing so I was deep in 5+1 IronDad fics.

This fic was so deeply indulgent from start to finish, which I think might be why people liked it so much? Like, if you're into the tropes into this fic, you're really into them. It scratches the itch just right, because it's my itch and I wrote it for me.

The plan was to do like I did for my other multi-chapter fics (except Nature and Nurture, RIP me) and write it all out before posting anything, so I could be sure that I would actually finish. I don't have that kind of self-restraint anymore. But it was a fun challenge to figure out what should happen to whom and in what order.

Jason didn’t sleep much anymore. He’d always been a rough sleeper, his years spent in low-security public housing and then on the street grinding away at his ability to rest with ease. He slept lightly, his consciousness skimming just below the surface, ready to spring awake at the softest noise.

As I've said before, sometimes I have an idea for a fic but then, when trying to start it, a sentence pops up immediately as my opener. That's always a wild ride because sometimes it seems to have nothing at all to do with where I want to go, so then I have to backtrack and figure out but why tho????

Moving to the Manor had helped some, after he’d assured himself that no one was going to scratch at his door or steal his shoes. The cold mornings had been the best, spent curled under a mound of the softest blankets imaginable atop a mattress so perfectly contoured to his bones that it’d felt like floating on the surface of a pool. He’d slept, truly slept, at the Manor.

I like the idea of, even at Jason's most toxic and vitriolic, the Manor itself still representing safety and comfort. Maybe sometimes he would twist it into stifling or grossly indulgent, but I think deep in his stomach he would know that distortion was a lie. The Manor was safer than anywhere else, even with his mom.

Those days of rest were long gone. The Pit had done a number on his brain—intensifying and altering his emotions, erasing some old habits and dialing up others, leaving dark chasms where memories should be.

I've seen other fics play with the idea of the trauma of Jason's injuries, death, resurrection, and the Pit all combining to some degree or another to swiss-cheese his brain (a phrase I lovingly borrow from Quantum Leap.) And that of course leaves a bunch of really fun room to play with—how much does Jason know he's missing vs. how much is gone or totally distorted without him even being aware? (Again, another thing I tease out in various fics like N&N.)

It was like someone had jammed a stick in his skull and given his brain a good stir. Or maybe that was just the crowbar. Ha.

I made myself snicker with that one. It's so voiceily Jason but also that ha is so guttural and specific in my head, you all will never know.

He was making progress with his budding criminal empire—splashy progress, as displayed on the crusting cuffs of his sleeves and the splattered toes of his boots, but also more subtle progress, too. The subtle form was harder, so much harder, but he knew its changes would be more permanent, in the long run. Splashy got people talking. Subtle got them bowing.

Jason! Todd! Is! No! Thug! He is smart and cunning and uses violence to make an impact and that's that on that.

And though he’d heard her speak before in the careful neutral of the middle-class, the sounds being beat out of her now were Crime Alley crooked.

I like the idea of Steph and Jason growing up in the same neighborhood. It's not a hill I'd die on, but it makes for some interesting fic.

The girl put up a good fight. She was rough, no finesse, no real training. All knuckles and elbows and feet and knees. He spotted some of the Bat basics pop up in the way she ducked and spun, but she wasn’t lithe like Nightwing or crafty like the Replacement. She was a brawler. And she was losing.

She is who he might have been, without Bruce and Alfred and Dick. A decent fighter, stubborn, willing to brawl it out, but ultimately destined to lose.

It sucked in an abstract way, the way it sucked that someone was going hungry halfway around the world, the way it sucked when a stranger missed his bus. It sucked, but it wasn’t Jason’s problem, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care. B needed to learn to pick up his toys.

Starting with Steph made the most sense to me. She wasn't (and isn't) a member I know super well, with so much of her canon backstory being things I have no interest in, and she's part of the Family but in that awkward "we're maybe siblings but also I have a mom and also I dated one of you too??" ways, so she's got a little bit of distance, for me as a writer and also Jason. She doesn't have the emotional heat of the others. He doesn't hate her, just what she represents. He also doesn't care what happens to her, except—

The knife glinted in the amber streetlight and cast a shadow across the yellow emblem on her chest.

She's not Batman. She's not a Robin. She's Batgirl. And that's a different thing entirely.

Jason knew what they saw when they looked at him. He was big now, broad-shouldered and massive in a way he had only ever dreamed of being as a scrawny, malnourished street kid. His helmet was blood-red and gleaming, its angles sculpted to subtly suggest a skull. And his clothes were still stained with actual blood. He was an Alley myth, a nightmare with more bite than the Bat, because he wasn’t afraid to do real damage. He was death.

Jason Peter Todd is scary smart, and he knows how to make the exact impact he wants.

“I don’t know you, but I know your colors. You’re Ibanescu’s boys.”

I had to google Gotham crime families. I know literally nothing other than the name.

It was one thing to let her get the snot beat out of her. And even if someone else had taken a shot at her, he wouldn’t have minded. But he couldn’t. Not in that suit.

:3

“It’s not about you,” Jason repeated, his voice gravelly and rough. He pointed toward the yellow symbol on her chest, the symbol that, in the world he’d left, the world he remembered, belonged to someone else. “I owe her a debt. And now it’s paid.” Jason was a murderer. A thief. A criminal. A drug lord. He had no illusions as to his own goodness anymore, no hope for redemption or grace. But he had his values, the few precious things that he would not allow. One of those, it seemed, was watch a man restrain and stab a Batgirl while he did nothing.

Someday I'll write more about that. The partner and friend and maybe mentor who was still reeling from trauma and hadn't yet found her way when Jason was snuffed out of existence.

Jason was tired, but the night was just beginning.

So that's where it starts. Jason tired, literally caked with dried blood, stepping in not because of love or hate or curiosity or concern but because he felt he owed a debt to someone else and that debt instead landed on the person in front of him.

[simplydannie]

I know I've already brought something similar up, but I can just imagine a beaten and bruised Troll!Veneer (who's vulnerable from Floyd abandoning him, getting beaten within an inch of his life, and being separated from Velvet, and emotionally overwhelmed from seeing Floyd again) calling Floyd "dad". And to top it all off, I imagine Troll!Veneer would still be wearing the bracelet Floyd made for him.

After all is said and done and Troll!Velvet is rescued, I'm imagining the group in Rhonda on the way back to Pop Village at night, Troll!Veneer lying on the couch patched up and covered with a blanket, Floyd in the kitchen with Bruce making soup for dinner while talking about himself and the twins, and Floyd standing up for the twins and having a spat with JD about them.

Happy ending! That would be entire separate story in itself of Veneer calling Floyd dad, I can try doing the last bit lol

Velvet took her place by her brother’s side as he lay down. She secured the blankets around him as if still trying to shield him. Looking at him and his wounds, she couldn’t help be feel a sense of guilt… this was her doing. Veneer had tried stopping her, but she was persistent and too darn stubborn. Instead of having her go alone, he did everything by her side.

“I don’t get it.” JD broke the silence between him and Floyd as he made something to eat for the twins.

“What?” Floyd asked with a concussion on his face.

“They betrayed you. Why do you still care? We should turn them in. The other Trolls will take care of them for you.”

“John, I’m not doing that.” Floyd responded.

“What do you owe them Floyd? We came out here to save you because of them.”

Floyd pursed his lips. How could he make his brother understand what those kids meant to him.

“… Parenting is hard. You think you know everything a kid is going through, but you have no idea. I wasn’t careful, I wasn’t paying attention to how Velvet was really feeling…I pushed both of them away…” Floyd stated.

Parenting? So Floyd really did see these two brats as his own kids.

“Where are there parents?” John asked.

“There was an accident….Really great couple….They loved their kids very much. It really change the twins when they died… I tried my best, but I don’t think I tried hard enough.”

John Dory stole another glance toward the twins direction. He noticed their wrists.

“Are those…. The bracelets?” He asked. Floyd was confused. He turned to look at the small piece of jewelry they each wore… he never noticed… all this time, they kept the bracelets he made for them. His heart melted as he smiled to the twins. John Dory sighed as he looked between Floyd and the twins.

“…. I think I get it now.” He admitted. Floyd looked to him curiously. “Hey, we’re not so perfect a family either.” He shrugged.

“Thanks John.” Floyd grabbed soup bowels of soup and made his way towards the twin trolls. He offered a bowel to Velvet. She shook her head.

“You have to eat.”

“Ven, isn’t eating.”

“He’s resting. Which he needs a lot of. There will be some ready when he wakes up.”

Hesitantly, but surely, Velvet took the bowel from his hands and began eating. Floyd sat next to her… they were safe, they were ALL safe. They could finally try to be a family again.

“Where are we going…” she asked softly.

“Pop Troll village…. your new home.”

A quiver came to Velvets lips….home. Something they hadn’t had in a while. She set the bowel down and hugged Floyd tightly, still having one hand over her brother.

“….thanks dad.” She murmured.

Floyd smile…. No one would hurt them ever again.

[boytumms]

Okay don't mind me, I've just been reading too much about various sorts of mythology stuff and... old myths genuinely have a lot more weird pregnancy things than you'd expect (I still find the fact that Odin's eight-legged horse in Norse mytholohy is the son of Loki - whom Loki was pregnant wirh anf gave birth to, mind - way too funny, although that's completely beside the point), so... this isn't inspired directly by a specific myth, but reading random mythology stuff is kinda what put this into my mind

Anyway, I've been thinking of a boy who somehow manages to royally piss off a fertility god. Perhaps he defiles their shrine, or steal some sacred item or mess with their priest - or maybe him just refuses to do something the god wants him to do. And because gods are so well-known for never being spiteful and always giving proportionate and reasonable punishments (extreme sarcasm), the god curses the boy to become pregnant, but unable to give birth unless some extremely specific conditions are met. Maybe he can only give birth at one specific location, or has to eat some specific hard-to-aquire thing to induce labor, or it's one of those seemingly impossible and contradictory "neither at sea nor on land, neither at day nor at night, neither alone nor with other people" kind of conditions (i pulled that specific one out of my ass but you can find similar kind of contradictory and stupidly specific shit in mythology sometimes, you get my point), or some combination of the above, or some other stupidly specific and unintuitive condition, idk.

And the boy doesn't know the condition, of course. The first nine months he simply waits for the pregnancy to run its course, but as the months stretch on past the ninth, past the tenth, with no sign of the pregnancy coming to an end, he realizes he's not getting off the hook that easily. By then, of course, he's so heavily pregnant that everything is difficult - he can't walk very far at once at all, he needs ridiculous amounts of fabric to have clothes that fit, the baby - or babies, rather; he can't tell but he thinks he must have two or three in there - are restless and kick and writhe so he hardly has a moment's peace from them...

So he becomes searching for some solution, some way to birth the babies. First whatever conventional ways there are to induce labor. None of them do anything. He prays and makes sacrifices to the god, groveling and apologizing and begging for relief. No response. Then, he begins to seek out wise people, priests and oracles and shamans, first close by, then traveling further and further away to find someone who could tell him what to do.

It takes years, years of incredibly difficult travel, of weird looks from others and humiliation and yet often having to rely on the aid of other people to get to wherever he's going this time, because really he's in no state to travel except he doesn't have a choice. After the initial nine months, the babies do seem to grow slower than before that, but they do still grow little by little, making the burden quite literally heavier to bear, and they are restless in his womb, as though they too would know it is well past their time to be born already.

But finally, after years of searching, years of torment, the boy finds out the condition, and figures out a way to fulfill it. Once that is done, though, there's still the incredibly long and painful process of labor and giving birth to the babies, now much larger than his body ever was designed to give birth to...

I loooove perpetual pregnancies like this!!! It could even be similar to the Greek story abt Leto, so he’s in labor as he tries to figure out how to break his curse. Imagine him having to suffer through contractions, feeling his baby’s head sooo painfully low in his hips as he tries to push but the curse prevents it from coming out all while he’s in search of a way to give birth.

After years and years of searching, his babies become massive. Even with the slowed growth, they’d be the size of 2-3 year olds by the time he finally manages to fill the conditions to progress his labor. Maybe as he’s finally giving birth to his first baby, the god that cursed him decides to come down, just to torment him one last time before his punishment is over. There’s nothing the boy can do to get way from the god, belly pinning him to the ground with the weight of his writhing babies, unable to escape the wrathful god. Each time his baby comes to a crown, the god pushes it back in, making his scream is sob in agony, begging to be let go as it makes his tummy twist and writhe. He tries to kick and push the god away, but he’s too weak after carrying such a burden with him for so many years, completely helpless in the hands of his tormentor.

It goes on for days, weeks even, the god switching between pushing his babies back into his belly, then and painfully squeezing the swell to watch him thrash. Once they’re sure he’s learned his lesson, they let the last baby slip out between his trembling legs, leaving him exhausted, alone, surrounded by half a dozen massive babies as he’s finally allowed to pass out

[fortisfilia]

Promised Part 2 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, sickness, bullying

Word count: 1.7k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

Part 2 - Back in Hogwarts

Being back at Hogwarts felt strange. Usually, it was like coming home, where the old stone walls kept you warm even when they were so cold. But this time, having left your sick little sister behind and after practically selling your soul to the devil, you felt as if everyone already knew. Every time someone looked at you, underlying judgement was inherent in their gaze.

How could she do this? How could she agree to marry someone she didn’t love? She probably did it for the money. Or for his reputation. Both perhaps.

No one had said anything to your face yet, but the nasty expressions they wore gave them away. Girls from year five had always greeted you, had looked up to you, trying to impress older students and wanting to be noticed. Now they didn’t look you in the eyes, even though their stares bore holes into the back of your head and when they thought you were out of earshot, they would group up in the hallways and whisper to each other.

Camille Kegley was the only person you trusted enough to talk to. She was your best friend since your first year in Hogwarts and being with her had always been easy. She was a breath of fresh air - humble, fun and a loyal friend. A true Hufflepuff. So you had told her every little detail. How your sister got cursed, that the Gaunts visited, what they offered and what they asked for in return. Camille’s mouth hung open by the end, but she understood.

“I would have done the same thing for my brother,” she said. “I’m so sorry all of this happened though. If I can do anything to help you out, just let me know.”

“Thank you. Really. The only thing I want right now is for everyone to stop looking at me like I murdered someone.”

“You think they know already?”

“‘I’m not sure,” you sighed. “Seems like it.”

“Have you told anybody?”

“Just you. And please. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want Elsie to be the girl who’s been cursed when she starts school next year and I won’t be here to help her.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry. But how would anyone know it then, by now?”

“I have a feeling the Gaunts want as many people to know as possible. To make it harder for me to back out.”

“You think Tom-”

“No,” you said and shook your head. “It seemed he was even more against it than I was. His grandfather, Marvolo. I think it’s him who’s eager for everyone to know.”

“Wanker,” Camille said.

“Tosser,” you added.

“Merlin’s saggy left bollock,” Camille went one better and you both laughed. “And what about Tom?”

“What about him?”

“Well, if they’re going through with the pact like you said, you’re going to marry him. Do you like him at least? In any way?”

“I… don’t know. I hardly know him. Though he seems to take after his grandfather, unfortunately.”

“Saggy bollock,” Camille whispered.

“I guess I’ll try to get to know him. We’ll have to get along someday after all.”

“Good idea,” Camille nodded. “You should do that.”

“He’s so distant. Cold. I don’t know how to approach him.”

“Oh, that shouldn’t be too hard. He’s just a man. They're all quite similar if we're honest.”

“I’m not sure he’s similar to most men we know, Camille,” you said and she laughed.

“You’ll have to find out, then. Maybe, deep down, he’s quite nice.”

“Maybe.”

Maybe not. Tom acted like nothing had happened for the first week of school. Either Morfin had slipped some Forgetfulness Potion into Tom’s tea, or he actually detested you that much, because it felt as if he didn’t even know who you were. He didn’t greet you in the hallway, hell, he didn’t even glance at you in class. Nothing. How was this supposed to work if he didn’t try at all? It was unfathomable.

The only person who talked normally to you, besides Camille, was Benjamin Hilt, a Gryffindor boy from year six. He was annoying, to put it mildly. Perhaps he just tried to be nice, but it seemed he wanted to know a lot about Tom and you. And, to be fair, you didn’t even know much about Tom and you.

Ben acted like Hogwarts’ very own private investigator, trying to elicit as much information as possible from you. He had you wondering if he was working for the Daily Prophet. 

How did the engagement happen? Weren’t you still too young? Did your parents agree immediately? Was it possible that you didn’t do it willingly? Was it forced? 

“Merlin, Ben!” you shouted. “Stop asking all those questions. What are you trying to get out of this?”

“I don’t know,” he said and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s just so strange, you know. I’ve never seen you two together. Seems off.”

“Well, mind your own business then. Git,” you said and rushed out of the great hall. 

Even though Tom avoided you magnificently, his friends, or rather his followers, seemed very much interested in you. And not in a positive way. They looked you up and down in class, followed you in the hallways and you could only guess what they were mumbling to each other. Certainly not compliments.

Emlyn Avery and Tiernan Lestrange were the worst of them. The two boys were on you all the time. You tried to act as if you didn’t notice, but it got more concerning each day. Every time you looked over your shoulder, those two were standing close. And they smiled so spitefully, it was clear how much they enjoyed freaking you out. Bastards.

It had become a habit not to walk the corridors alone. Camille was with you most of the time and if she couldn’t be there, you followed random groups of people until you found one of your friends. This technique, as humiliating as it was, worked well. Until that one day, when Professor Binns asked you to stay for a moment, after your History Of Magic lesson. Not only did he take ages to get his point across, but made you more nervous each second, when your classmates’ voices faded until you couldn’t hear a single sound from the hallway.

Your heart was beating in your throat when you left the classroom. Of course. Avery and Lestrange had waited for you. With their stupid grins on their faces. They didn’t even act as if they were there for something else.

You pondered where to go. The great hall was always busy and also quite near, so you turned right. They were following you. You heard their footsteps behind you and they were coming closer. 

Whenever you went a little faster, the two of them did too. You thought about running away but didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. 

Eventually, they caught up. Avery walked to your left, Lestrange to your right until they had you cornered.

“What do you want?” you asked and tried your best to control your voice. 

“Just wanted to say hello,” Avery said.

“Hello,” you said and tried to push through them, but they didn’t let you.

“No,” Lestrange smirked. “We’re not done yet.”

“Did Riddle send you?” you asked. “To scare me?”

“Why would he do that? To his future wife.”

“You tell me.”

“We’re here to clear some things up,” Avery said. “That you might not know.”

“And what’s that?” you asked.

“You see, we don’t know how you did it. How your family pulled that trick to make Tom agree to marry you. It can only mean that you’re plotting something. And -”

“Wait, he didn’t tell you?” you asked.

They didn’t answer right away but exchanged an involuntary glance with each other. A sore point. Interesting.

“We know enough, okay?” Avery hissed. “Tom has a great future ahead of him. And I swear, if you get in the way, you’re going to regret it.”

“I’m not -”

“Shut up,” Lestrange interrupted you with his wand close to your face. “I don’t know what you’re after. Money, fame, whatever it is. You might want to think about it again and I’ll have you know it’s not worth it.”

“I don’t care for any of that.”

“Come on, what other reason could you have to pull off something like that?”

There was no way you were telling them about Elsie. Every student would know by next year and she was far too sensitive to handle that. “None of your business.”

“That just proves you’re not trustworthy,” Avery said.

“Because I’m not telling you two my reasons?” you almost laughed. “Give me a break. Why didn’t you ask Tom? Your good friend who confides everything to you.”

Their faces turned red, their embarrassment obvious. Even if everyone knew how much power Riddle had over his friends, they didn’t like to be reminded of it.

“Listen here, you little -” Avery stopped talking when a hand touched his shoulder and pulled him and Lestrange away from you.

Tom stood there, looking at them rigidly. “What are you doing?”

“We’re… Just…”

“Talking to her. Trying to get to know her better,” Avery mumbled.

Tom looked at you for a second, then back at his friends. “Doesn’t seem like you were having a nice chat.”

“Oh it was very nice,” Avery said. “Making friends.”

“Was it a nice chat?” Tom asked you.

You were still so tense from them threatening you and hadn’t expected Tom to talk to you directly after days of silence, so you just stammered, “I… They -”

“Shut up you,” Lestrange took a step in your direction until Tom pressed his wand against Lestrange’s chest.

“Don’t,” Tom said through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t -”

“I don’t care Tiernan. Let’s go.”

Without another word, the three boys walked away towards the Slytherin common room. You were still glued to the spot when Tom turned around and glanced at you.

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 3

[nocreativityfornames]

The timing and occasion on which MC made the pacts with Lucifer and Belphegor should've been switched and here's why:

SPOILERS FROM LESSON 16 TO 20-14!!

I don't know if anyone has ever posted something similar to this but it's something I've been thinking about it for a while. I've never quite liked the way these two pacts were formed and to me, they were both timed weirdly and overall had little to no weight on the story, which sort of irritates me in a way.

I think our pact with Lucifer should've taken place at the party where MC was celebrated instead of the end of the season, it would've been much more meaningful that way and left way more impact than the disaster of a scene that lesson 20-14 was in my opinion. Because here's the thing:

Lucifer is the Avatar of Pride, one of the most powerful beings in all three realms, someone who's led an entire army through war and was maybe the first of his kind to rebel against its own creator. It's not easy to gain his respect, much less his trust, so for him to put his pride aside and offer a human the power to control his entire being, it's much more than a simple "possessive and horny confession", t's him placing his ultimate trust in someone, it's him showing just how much he's grown to care for you.

Because you deserve it. You were the human who put his dear family back together, who willingly ran head first into danger more than once just for the sake of protecting his brothers, who gave your life trying to help fix what he broke. You were much more than a simple exchange student, you were someone he had slowly come to cherish, who so gradually approached his heart that he didn't even notice you come in and before he knew it, all the irritation and distrust he felt towards you had turned into love and admiration. You were a precious presence in his life that he felt the need to protect but failed to do so.

So Lucifer offering to make a pact with you just shortly after all you had gone through was a way to let you know just how immensely grateful he was for all you had done for him and his family, to show you that you had not only earned his respect and trust but also his love. It was an apology for every time he had put you in harm's way and for not being there for you when you needed him the most. Lucifer offering you a pact it's him letting you know that he will never ever let anyone hurt you again and that he'll always be there for you from now on, it's him saying that you can lean on him as much as you need because you're now part of his family — the one thing he puts above all others and will do anything for.

Lucifer asking to make a pact with you it's him showing you mean the world to him while having no qualms about letting the whole three realms know you were remarkable enough to make the prideful Morning Star let go of his sin and give you all of him.

-

Now, let's talk about Belphegor. As I've seen many point out, the reaction to MC's death after lesson 16 as whole was terrible. There was barely any acknowledgment of what happened, no apology coming from Belphegor, and the weirdest thing of all: MC was not only completely okay with being close to Belphegor but also the only one trying to help him when all the brothers were more than rightfully being awkward around him. So let's just put it this way: the whole situation was beyond bizarre and we all like to pretend it wasn't canon.

But back to the matter at hand: Canonically, MC's pact with Belphegor is formed at Diavolo's birthday party. After he disappears from the main hall where everyone is and MC goes to find him on their own. That itself already seems wrong, I mean, I don't know about you personally but if I had just been murdered by someone a few days/weeks ago, I definitely wouldn't want to leave the side of those I'm safe with to go find that person alone. But Canon!MC is very dumb and we can't do anything about it so our only choice is to follow him.

We are also not given the choice to refuse the pact when it's proposed nor MC has the chance to speak a word about it. Now the way I see this, it's a clear sign that MC doesn't want a pact with him. They are scared and pressured into making a pact with Belphegor because they're not sure what could happen if they refused. Because then again, this is the guy that murdered them not that long ago and laughed at their dead body like he was having the time of his life. And the last time MC refused to make a pact didn't exactly go well either, with Satan shoving them into a bookshelf and threatening the hell out of them.

And if Satan reacted like that, imagine Belphegor. And there was no one around either, Canon!MC had made the stupid decision to go find Belphegor on their own and had no one to protect them at the moment. So they have no choice, they are frozen with fear and are ""forced"" to make a pact with him even though they dread the idea. It's just awful and I hate that scene so much I can't even put it into words.

MC's pact with Belphegor shouldn't have been formed so early. They should've had the time to heal from all the trauma, time to distance themselves from Belphegor, and to process everything they had been through. And then only later they would slowly start to warm up to him again, after they know for a fact he's truly sorry for what he did and deeply regrets it. After they are ready to face him.

And for Belphegor's pact with MC to be formed on their last day in the Devildom, it would've simply been beautiful. Because then Belphegor would've also had the time to learn to appreciate MC, to realize how special they truly were, for what he did to become one of the biggest regrets he's ever carried. Belphegor would've had the time to see right in front of him how you treated those you had a pact with, time to realize that to you, a pact wasn't about gaining power and status, but about forming a deeper connection with someone.

The pacts you shared were proof of your strong bond with his brothers and all the love you had for them. And honestly, it broke his heart to be the only one in the family who didn't have that kind of connection with you. But he wouldn't dare ask for it, he couldn't ask for it. He didn't have the right, not after what he did to you that day. You were nice enough to forgive him, to treat him with kindness when all he deserved was your hate and loathing. He couldn't ask for more, no matter much he wished to.

So when you come around and ask him for a pact on your last night in the Devildom, he couldn't have felt happier. To know that you had come to trust him like that again even after all he did, for you to love him enough to want his pact mark on you for the rest of your life, it felt nothing short of incredible. He wondered what he had done to deserve you, because someone as caring and sweet as you should have no business staying close to someone as rotten as him. But he gladly accepts the pact after you confirm to him that's truly what you want. Belphegor then hugs you as tight as he can, sobbing in your embrace as he is filled with both the happiness of your newly formed pact and the sadness that you have to leave.

MC being the one to ask for a pact with Belphegor shows that they've come to trust him just as much as his brothers. And the pact itself is a sign that they've both come to overcome their past traumas and now feel more than comfortable with each other. It's proof of the strong and unbreakable bond they have.

[bluebugjay]

so I've had this little not too serious theory in my head that the couple from Wild Blue Yonder and That Unwanted Animal are the same couple just in two separate time lines.

So to me it seems like the wby couple has realised they should break up (Seen that wild blue yonder and said, "Let's end this, too"), that if they don't their relationship will only grow toxic and hold them back. They're both scared of moving on (let's hide under the covers, we don't know what's out there) and being alone in the world again but they know its for the better (Don't you ever wonder what could have been? All those wonders sit in wait for us, we tried ) and plan to use everything they've learnt in this relationship on their next (Every brick you hurled, I'll use to build this world) I like to think they mutually break up in this time line and manage to move on happily.

However in tua it seems like it's telling the story of if the couple didn't break up at that point and allowed their relationship to rot and grew bitter with each other, they let their fear of moving on and the unknown keep them chained down and together so they never got that freedom they do in the wby time line. (You try so loud to love me, I cannot seem to hear.) They're trying to force themselves to continue on as a couple and not communicate how its not really what either of them want (And on the creature scratches, it doesn't know how to get out (let me out!)). To the point they're both stuck in an unhealthy relationship, resenting and possibly hating each other. (Be good to me, I beg of him, Be good, be good, be good, be good, be good, be good, be good. And he replies (oh), "No, no, not I") It's also possibly hinted at that they have a child / children in this time line that otherwise they wouldn't have, and now that they see their relationship is crumbling, regret having (And I make sure the bairns are fed // Hold the hand of the god-child, they said, as he falls from the sky)

More under the cut

They both also reference sex in two completely different ways. Wby seems to reference some kind of last goodbye, break up sex for fun like a celebration of their relationship. (So one last time, love, come and rip my clothes off // Come and rip off my socks like you're blasting the locks off of a bank vault (halt) This time we're done for.) Whereas tua's reference to sex is so much more forced and kind of unsettling because it doesn't seem much fun for either party and almost like they're just performing as a happy couple. ('Cause you, you touch, my skin peels off like paint, but beneath all of our panting, there's this noise I cannot shake // And we fall into each other, the scratching grows so loud // And our screaming joins in unison, I cry out to the Lord.) It's two completely different perspectives of the same thing.

There's also a few parallels in the lyrics such as:

Hide under the covers, We don't know what's out there // There's a second wind coming as we lie here in our bed

Try, please, try for me (Tried my best to get thinner) // And as the belt from your buckle is tightening

And the candle we lit. Well, we'll use it to burn this whole place to the ground // And you, you, you light a candle. And I make sure the bairns are fed

I've got something in my eye (I surrender what was) // "And can't you hear that scratching?" I ask your eyes

We don't know what's out there. Can't you hear that scratching? // Well, can't you hear that scratching? There's something at the door

That last one being the most obvious and telling because it's the same exact wording with probably a similar meaning but completely different presentation. In wby they're wondering what's out there whereas in tua the 'creature' is already at the door and they know it. The 'creature' could be a couple things, it could be a personification of their toxic relationship itself, the fact its seemingly not arrived in wby because they break up before it turns toxic whereas its right at their door in tua because they're living the toxic relationship. It could be yearning for freedom from the relationship, both versions of the couple are hearing it and want it but the wby couple break up and let the 'creature' in before it turns against them compared to the tua couple who leave it locked out until 'the door below, it splinters, and the creature creeps inside.' The creature could be them as a couple trying to escape the relationship (And on the creature scratches, it doesn't know how to get out (let me out!)) because being in the relationship has turned them into each other 'unwanted animals' and the scratching they hear in wby is just a warning of what could come.

Other than that the whole energy of the songs are almost opposites, wby is so full of life and hopeful and light hearted whereas tua is unsettling and concerning and makes a point to add a joke in the lyrics that flies over the other partner's head because all fun and ease has abandoned that version of the relationship. ("Well, hello, my hollow Holofernes" I wink, but you don't get the joke)

I know there's a few different parallels between a couple of their songs so this is probably just one of them and might even be able to be expanded on using more songs but either way I think it's pretty interesting and very cleverly done

[kanerallels]

My story for @sw-olives-and-grapes, which I finished JUST in time last night! It's a little messy and I'm not totally satisfied with the ending, but I hope you guys like it nonetheless!

Read on AO3!

(note for those who don't follow the link: Hera and Kanan's outfits are inspired by pictures I've seen of the Chinese hanfu! Also there are no real content warnings here)

“COME ON GUYS WE’RE GONNA BE LATE!”

“Since when is Ezra the one who wants to be on time?” Caleb Dume muttered, tugging at the collar of his tunic for the thousandth time. His formal Jedi robes might have been right for the occasion, but that didn’t stop them from being more uncomfortable than his usual attire.

Hera’s voice was muffled by the closed door of her room, where she was changing. “Probably since Sabine’s the one doing the fireworks after the ceremony. And he’s grown up more than we give him credit for, dear.”

“Don’t remind me,” Caleb said, sighing and letting the back of his head thump against the wall he was leaning against. “Seems like just yesterday he was falling off of roofs and causing international incidents with Mandalorians. Now he’s well on his way to becoming a Knight.”

As painful as it was to see his Padawan growing up, he was also proud. Ezra had become much wiser and more powerful since Caleb had first met him, and he was growing into a fine Jedi.

“You’ve done a good job of teaching him,” Hera pointed out, her tone knowing— as it always was. It sharpened into something a little more amused as she added, “And as I recall, you had a little something to do with that particular international incident.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” Caleb grumbled as Hera’s bedroom door hissed open. “Just leave you and Sabine to— wow.”

Hera lifted an eyebrow at him as she stepped out of the room. “You’re staring, Caleb.”

“I’m not,” Caleb said, staring. “You just… you look really nice.”

Nice didn’t quite sum it up. She was wearing a dress— a simple dark blue undertunic, with a full, fluttering skirt over it. It shaded from blue to a pale silver towards the hem, as did the light blue edged robe she wore over it. The upper half of the tunic had a blue panel, embroidered with silver and darker blue. Similar embroidery marked the hem of the robe.

The colors shimmered against her skin, and the flowing fabric made her look elegant and beautiful and Caleb felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of her, like it so often did. 

Judging by the half amused, half embarrassed smile Hera was giving him, he was still staring. Clearing his throat, Caleb said, “I, uh, I assumed you’d be wearing your dress uniform.”

“I was going to,” Hera said wryly. “But somehow, there was a mishap in the laundry, and Ezra turned it an unflattering shade of pink. And then it happened to be out when Sabine was working on getting the fireworks ready, and she set it partially on fire.”

Caleb snorted. “Wow. You’d almost think they were planning something like this.” Knowing Sabine and Ezra’s propensity for mischief, he wasn’t exactly surprised. Especially when he noted how similar the color of his blue and gray robes were to Hera’s dress.

Rolling her eyes, Hera said, “Oh, yeah. That would be such a shock, knowing these two.”

“HERA, CALEB, ZEB’S HERE AND HE’S IMPATIENT TOO,” Ezra yelled from down at the entry bay. “CAN WE JUST GO ALREADY?”

Exchanging an amused look with Hera, Caleb said, “We should probably get going.” Offering her his arm, he asked, “Are you ready?”

Looping her arm through his, Hera replied, “Always, dear.”

Together, they headed down to the entry bay. Ezra was waiting, wearing his own set of formal robes and bouncing up and down on his heels with impatience. Zeb was with him, looking bored and slightly fancier than usual in his Lasat Honor Guard uniform. Chopper was, for once, waiting near them without making trouble, although Kanan had a feeling that wouldn’t last long.

“Finally,” Ezra said, spotting them. “Let’s go! You look really nice, Hera. Uh, sorry about your uniform.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ezra,” Hera assured him. “And you’re right, we should get going. We don’t want to miss Caleb’s ceremony, after all.”

Letting out a groan as they headed down the ramp, Caleb said, “Don’t remind me.”

“What, you’re not looking forward to getting up in front of all those people?” Zeb asked, his grin just a little too wicked. “Getting that award and whatnot?”

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Caleb told him. “And it’s not an award, it’s just a ceremony honoring some of the people who fought in the last battles of the war here on Coruscant—”

“Like you,” Ezra said cheerfully. “And Rex— he’s gonna be there, right?”

“I think so— Ahsoka said she wanted someone there to distract her from being bored out of her mind,” Hera said, and Caleb snorted.

“Skywalker’s gonna be there. None of us are going to be bored.”

Together, they made their way to the speeder parked at the edge of the landing platform. As Zeb, Ezra, and Chopper slid into the back seat, Caleb took the front passenger seat, and Hera arranged her skirts neatly around her as she sat in the driver’s seat. Bringing the speeder to life, she moved them forward and into the flow of Coruscanti traffic.

Despite the general nature of traffic on Coruscant, especially in the evening, it wasn’t long before they arrived. Their goal, a small meeting hall in the upper levels, was lit up for the occasion, and surrounded by speeders— most of them piloted by droids dropping off their occupants.

As Hera brought their speeder to a stop nearby, switching it off, Caleb vaulted out and headed around to her side. Offering her a hand, he said, “Can I give you a hand?”

Accepting it, Hera let him help her out of the speeder, remarking, “Such a gentleman.”

“Well, I was raised right,” Caleb said, and behind them, Ezra groaned.

“If you guys are just going to flirt all night, I’m leaving.”

“Come on, Ezra,” came a familiar voice, and Caleb turned to see Ahsoka Tano heading towards them, grinning. She wore a sleeveless black dress with a high collar and a long skirt, her sabers hanging from a belt on either hip. “If you say that, you’ll be gone before they serve the food. Let alone the fireworks.”

“Fair enough,” Ezra said, heaving a long, dramatic sigh. “Guess I’ll just suffer.”

Rolling his eyes, Caleb turned to Ahsoka. “Good to see you— have you seen any of the others, yet?”

“Rex is inside,” she replied. “I came out here to look for you, and the Skywalker-Amidala brood.”

“I have a feeling we’ll hear him coming,” Hera said wryly. “Ezra, Zeb, Chopper, we should probably find our seats. I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

Ezra didn’t protest— another sign of how much he’d grown over the years, Caleb mused— just nodded and headed towards the hall, Zeb and Chopper on his heels.

Turning to him, Hera studied him for a moment. “Are you nervous?” she asked, moving forward to smooth down the front of his robes and straighten the sleeves.

Caleb let her. He’d be lying if he said he minded.”Not really,” he said. “Mostly it seems like a big deal over nothing. I didn’t even do that much, and it was years ago.”

“You and I both know it was more than nothing,” Hera pointed out. “There are people here today— Jedi especially, who wouldn’t be here without you.” Checking him over one last time, she added, “If it helps, I’m sure this is far from the only thing you’ll be remembered for.”

“As long as you remember me, that’s all that really mattered,” Caleb told her, which drew a smile across her face. Stepping a little closer, she pressed a kiss against his cheek, and Caleb had to resist the urge to turn it into a proper kiss, to pull her closer still.

Drawing back, Hera smiled at him in the way that said she knew exactly what he was thinking. And I’m supposed to be the Jedi around here. “I’ll be watching in the crowd. Good luck, love.”

And with that, she turned and headed inside, taking most of Caleb’s concentration with her. It was more than a few seconds before he registered Ahsoka calling his name. Glancing at her, startled, he saw her grinning at him. “Way to be subtle, Dume. You’d put Skyguy to shame.”

“Okay, that’s just mean,” Caleb told her as a speeder zipped out of the traffic towards them, coming to a sharp stop that nearly slammed into the side of the landing platform. Caleb was not remotely surprised to recognize Anakin Skywalker in the driver’s seat. He was steering with one hand, smiling easily as he hopped out and moved to assist his wife, Senator Amidala. The senator wore a dress of satiny, dark purple fabric, simply and elegantly cut. The bishop sleeves were a sheer, paler purple, beaded in sparkling patterns. Her hair was twisted up in a mass of braids around her head, strands of gems shimmering in the braids. This provided a sharp contrast to Skywalker himself, who wore simple dark brown and black robes and had his hair cut short.

Two of their children, Luke and Leia, were with them. Leia was dressed in simple but elegant white with her hair pulled back in braids twisted with silver, and Luke wore black, like his father. The blonde boy caught sight of Ahsoka and Caleb and waved as he followed his mother and sister inside. Anakin headed in as well, but not before stopping to chat with a group of men clad in blue and white armor.

“It’ll be good to see Anakin again,” Ahsoka remarked. “He gets so busy with his… mechanic shop that isn’t a front for any kind of vigilante activity.”

“I always forget how subtle your lineage is,” Caleb quipped, lifting an eyebrow at the Togruta Jedi, who rolled her eyes at him.

“You’re not much better yourself. How are you feeling about the ceremony?”

Caleb took a minute before shrugging. “Fine. It seems a little unnecessary to invite me— I mean, I barely did anything. Everyone handling the Chancellor were Jedi Knights at the very least. All I did was talk to one clone trooper at the exact right time.”

“You saved his life, and the lives of others,” Ahsoka pointed out quietly. “Don’t underestimate that.”

“Hm. And then there’s you, who—”

“Showed up fifteen minutes late with Spacebucks?”

“I was going to say who took out a former Sith lord, crashed her ship, and showed up here in time to help me,” Caleb said wryly. “But sure, that too.”

Ahsoka laughed. “Come on, let’s get in there before we get wrangled by some poor event organizer. The sooner it’s done, the sooner we eat.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

They headed into the hall, following Skywalker and a few others who were chatting quietly. The antechamber they entered into still held a few people, but Caleb could see most of them had moved into the main body of the hall. It was filling up quickly, and he felt his first twinge of nervousness.

“You’re feeling nervous now, aren’t you?” Ahsoka asked, sounding amused. “I’ve seen you wrangle bloodthirsty mobs— all you have to do now is stand there.”

“I know, I know,” Caleb grumbled. “Unlike you, however, I’ve never done one of these things before. Since, you know, I didn’t actually do all that much.”

“We can have this debate later. Come on, we’re supposed to be backstage.”

Heaving a long sigh, Caleb followed her down a side hall and into a back room, where there were a handful of others. Among them were Skywalker, Masters Tapal, Junda, Fisto, and Windu. The latter of which looked up at their entry, and gave Caleb one of his non-smiles. “Caleb.”

“Master Windu,” Caleb said, smiling at him and giving a respectful bow. “Good to see you.”

Ahsoka gave a brief nod, muttering under her breath, “I still can’t believe you two get along so well.”

“He’s my grand-master, Ahsoka. Besides, the only reason you don’t really get along is because your lineage is full of lunatics.”

“Okay that is not why AT ALL—”

The sound of applause from onstage cut Ahsoka off, and Master Junda said, “That’s our cue. Skywalker, Windu, take the lead?”

The duo exchanged a slightly amused look, and headed out onto the stage together. Caleb, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair, followed the rest of the Jedi, Ahsoka right behind him.

The stage held only a podium, where Senator Bail Organa stood. Caleb knew the man— not well, but he liked him. Senator Organa gave them an encouraging nod and smile as they lined up behind him on the stage, along with a small crowd of clones. Caleb recognized Rex and Commander Fox, and gave them a quick nod as Senator Organa started speaking.

“Welcome, everyone,” he said, his voice amplified by the microphone. The murmuring crowds quieted down anyway, turning their attention to him. Caleb started looking for Hera as the senator continued.

“I’m glad to see you all here. Today we celebrate the twenty year anniversary of the end of the Clone War. While there were still battles fought with the Separatist remnants after this point, this was the day, twenty years ago, that the Jedi engaged and defeated the Sith Lord who had taken over our Senate, and, with the help of some of our noblest members of the Grand Army of the Republic, retook the Senate building from the troopers under his control.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb saw Fox shift fractionally, and he held back a wince of sympathy. The commander had been one of the ones Palpatine had been controlling, along with most of his men. He’d nearly been responsible for a lot of lives lost.

“When the Jedi’s valor is mentioned, I find that, far too often, we gloss over the role of the GAR,” Senator Organa continued. “Both those who arrived on site with their generals and those who, once freed from the Chancellor’s control, joined our side. Without the help of men like Commander Fox, our Republic would not be where it is today.”

Caleb couldn’t hold back a grin as he heard raucous cheers coming from the audience, where several armored troopers were pounding their feet against the ground in approval. Senator Organa smiled as well, and waited for silence until he continued.

“The revelation of the Chancellor’s deception and his intention to tear down the Republic, replacing it with his dictatorial Empire, was a shock to everyone. Our trust was shaken, but we kept moving. Life as we knew it was suspended, an interim chancellor was put in place. We turned to the Jedi for help, and they came through as they often do, as did the warriors of the GAR, to whom we owe so much.”

The senator paused, looking somber. “There is much that could be said about this time. About how we finally righted some great wrongs against certain citizens of our Republic, or how we managed to bring the Separatists back. About how we managed to bring a time of peace. That last part is what I would like to focus on tonight, though. 

“Our time of peace was only brought about by working together, by setting aside differences for the greater good. And that, my friends, is something I would like all of you to remember.” Leaning forward, Senator Organa said, “Our greatest times will come when we work together. Not when we are divided by strife or arguments.”

He paused, letting the words sink in, then smiled. “But we didn’t gather here tonight so I could lecture you. We’re here to celebrate— to celebrate those who sacrificed their lives for us and those who are still here. And to celebrate the victory we achieved together. Because together, we’re better.”

As Senator Organa spoke the last words, Caleb finally found Hera in the crowd. She caught his gaze and smiled, and it was like she was the only thing in the galaxy that existed. Together, we’re better, he thought. I’ve never heard something more true in my life. A smile crossed his face.

He barely heard the applause as the senator ended his speech and the crowd rose to their feet. All that mattered was the moment when they moved off the stage, and Hera was with him, catching hold of his hand and giving it a quick squeeze.

Later would come dinner and reuniting with old friends, speeches from other veterans and Jedi and the most incredible fireworks in the galaxy. But all that really mattered were the people at his side now.