#also female rage and ptsd

[pearsonspearson]

The fucking plane crash episode gets me every time man. To quote That lady who shouldn’t have won that Oscar “well it’s nostalgia but it’s nostalgia based on trauma,”

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | six

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: fighting, mentions of ptsd, just some fluff, enemies becoming friends and becoming lovers

Days and weeks passed, and Nimue found different ways to entertain herself and pass the time.

She had learned to appreciate Nesta's company, Feyre's older sister, with whom she spent long hours in silence, reading, sitting side by side in the library. She was a rough and direct person, but there was something that made them understand and fit together, like two sides of the same coin. Perhaps it was the fact that both had been inside the Cauldron that made Nimue understand her attitude, even though the others didn't.

She also spent long hours sitting with Rhysand. Sometimes Feyre, Morrigan, Amren, Cassian were present. Never Azriel.

They asked questions, and she answered the best she could: where the bulk of Hybern's forces were located, how many troops it had, who supported the King among Prythian's courts, what he was going to do with the Cauldron...

For many, she didn't have the answer, and she couldn't ignore that feeling of uselessness when she shrugged at their questions. She should have known all that. Her father didn't trust her in the slightest, not even to entrust her with the most absurd of information.

She had also started spending time with Amren, with whom she could spend hours and hours talking about the world, about magic, about how everything was related. They shared their own perspectives on the world, as Nimue found in the small female an equal: two ancient and powerful minds trapped in bodies that were too small for them.

However, the knowledge that Amren transmitted to her about Prythian's history was incredibly vast. Yes, Nimue had knowledge of the things the Cauldron had transmitted to her, but she still had so much to learn that she couldn't help but tremble with excitement.

On the other hand, Nimue also felt drawn to the fragile Elain. Like with Nesta, she felt a connection with the female, due to her relationship with the Cauldron. The Cauldron itself had said it, it had given her two sisters, and Nimue felt her chest swell just thinking about it.

According to Nesta, the Elain she saw now was a mere shadow of what she had always been in reality: a sweet and bright girl, warm like the spring sun, but extinguished by the traumatic experience of the Cauldron.

However, on rare occasions, when she and Nesta sat in silence reading in the company of the quiet and lost Elain, Nimue would look up from the book to find the middle sister smiling at her, a smile that the princess gladly returned.

On the other hand, she had begun to forge a sweet and slow friendship with Feyre: they sat together to have tea (Cassian had taught her, what a wonderful beverage), and the brunette told her story, from the harsh poverty and through Tamlin and the Spring Court, to Rhysand and the Inner Circle.

Nimue couldn't help but marvel at seeing Azriel through Feyre's eyes, as she told her what she had experienced with them.

She was gaining everyone's trust little by little, building it day by day with small demonstrations. However, Azriel kept slipping away.

Sometimes she felt a flash of something on the other end of the bond: joy, anger, disappointment, surprise. She supposed it was moments when Azriel let his guard down and his emotions escaped through the invisible thread that connected them.

When she crossed paths with him in the hallways, he simply looked away and walked past. When everyone in the house gathered for dinner and they coincided next to each other, Azriel didn't open his mouth all night or engaged in conversation with whoever was on his other side.

Nimue wanted to get closer to him. She wanted to know him, to see him with the eyes with which Feyre saw him: a loyal and good male to the core, willing to sacrifice everything for his people and with incredible insight. A trained warrior with a dark past that Feyre didn't tell her much about.

So she began to get up before the Sun shone in the sky. She dressed appropriately and cheerfully made her way to the training field that Cassian had shown her. There, every morning without fail, she found the two Illyrian males training: with swords, with spears, with daggers, with fists...

Every time Cassian saw her cross the training yard's gate, he couldn't help but burst into laughter. On the other hand, Azriel rolled his eyes and was already in a bad mood for everything he had left to do that morning.

But he couldn't help but think how funny the situation was, seeing Nimue arrive there morning after morning, sit and watch them train with a sweet smile on her face, sometimes with her gaze lost following some birds flying around her.

Azriel wanted to be angry. He wanted not to trust her, he wanted to see her as an enemy, he wanted to convince himself that she wasn't clean.

But it was so, so difficult for him.

It was so difficult for him to convince himself that she was a spy for her father. Especially when he caught her alone in the hallways of the house, asking out loud for any kind of sweet or cake and eating it as if it were the first in her life. Especially when he saw her reading silently in the library, next to Nesta and with a smile on her face for whatever she was reading.

Especially, when at dinners he caught her staring at him, with furrowed brows. Azriel pretended not to notice. But he always saw her on the other side of the table, oblivious to all the conversations around her, gripping the knife and fork and staring at him, with that expression of incomprehension that reminded him so much of a sulky child.

He wanted to maintain that facade and not give in. But it was so difficult for him to ignore that feeling, that pressure in his chest every time he saw her, every time he perceived her scent of sea salt and belladonna poison in the house's rooms.

Especially at night when he got into bed, he found it hard to ignore the emotions that slipped through the bond: half asleep and with his guard down, Nimue let out such waves of loneliness and melancholy from her end of the bond that sometimes Azriel felt like he was going to cry himself.

So, one morning, amidst the thick morning fog and the singing of the newly awakened birds, he headed towards Nimue on the training field, under Cassian's surprised gaze.

"Why don't you show us how you fight in Hybern?" he said. Nimue stood up like a spring, her face tinged with excitement. Azriel had to take several deep breaths to assimilate the amount of joy that went straight to his chest. He cleared his throat, "Just to know what to expect in case of a battle."

"Of course."

Nimue walked up to Cassian, who volunteered to fight against the princess first.

"No magic, just hand-to-hand combat. I must also add that I don't usually fight against women, but it doesn't mean I'm going to–"

Cassian hadn't finished speaking when Nimue gave him a series of blows so fast that not even Azriel could register: first stomach, then knees, neck, and finally a finishing blow that left the Illyrian lying face down on the ground and groaning.

Azriel let out a laugh almost without thinking, and when he felt Nimue's gaze on him, he did everything to hide it.

"For the Mother," Cassian coughed, getting up as best he could from the ground. "Warn before."

"If I warned you, it would lose all the fun," she said, smiling. She turned to the Shadowsinger and pointed at him with her finger, "Now you, pretty face."

Azriel felt a chill run from his heels to his crown, and swallowed to prevent his thoughts from wandering further.

Around his shoulders and wings, his shadows fluttered as they laughed softly.

How funny she is.

Yes, very funny.

And pretty.

Yes, we want to touch her and smell her. She smells really good.

Azriel clicked his tongue and shook his head, heading towards the princess. He positioned himself at a safe distance to avoid a surprise attack like the one she had used with Cassian, and in a defensive stance, he couldn't help but give her a wicked smile.

"You'll see what this pretty face is capable of."

At a speed only a fully trained soldier could move, Nimue traced a parabola towards Azriel, approaching from his left side and crouching to avoid any counterattack. He prepared to receive the blow, contracting the muscles of his abdomen.

But the blow never came.

Nimue fell to her knees, fists raised just an inch from Azriel's body.

"I can't," she whispered. She dropped her arms to her sides and stood up, face to face with Azriel. "I'm physically unable to harm you. I can't."

Azriel frowned, internalizing every feature of the female: the arch of her eyebrows, the angle of her eyes, the light of the first rays of the sun reflected in her iris, that slight tremor on the left side of her lip that he had noticed occurred when she was tense...

He never had the pleasure to be this close to her, the only times such a thing happened he was so blinded by rage that he couldn't appreciate such a raw beauty.

He snapped out of his reverie and entered back into that mental state of combat.

Taking advantage of Nimue's distraction, he prepared to aim a direct punch at her jaw.

But just an inch away, his body stopped completely, as dictated by a greater force.

Stop.

His hand immediately unclenched, and under his own gaze, he saw how his body acted alone and by instinct: as if drawn by a magnet, his own hand rested on Nimue's cheek, who buried her face further in that sudden contact.

They held each other's gaze, unable to act upon that pure and raw instinct. Azriel's hand on Nimue's face, his thumb tempting fate on the corner of the princess's lip.

Even through the leather glove, he could feel the warmth emanating from Nimue, like that of a bonfire on a cold winter night.

The princess raised her right hand, gripping the Shadowsinger's forearm and ensuring he didn't stop touching her.

She didn't want him to ever stop.

No one had ever touched her like that, with pure warmth. She felt like she was burning wherever the male touched her.

She didn't want Azriel to ever stop touching her.

But Azriel snapped out of his reverie, again, and as fast as lightning, he moved away from the female, breaking all physical contact.

At his side, the hand that had felt the sweet touch of her skin kept clenching, as if asking for more.

Such soft skin.

Let's touch it again.

He had gone too far, letting himself be carried away by the raw instinct that bond imposed on him.

Yes, it had to be that.

He definitely didn't want to get lost again in the gray eyes of that female, clear as the light of the brightest star in the sky.

Definitely not.

Feeling the heat rise to his face, he hurried to leave the training field before his own shadows came up with the Mother knows what, leaving behind a confused Nimue.

What had just happened?

What had all that been about, why had it felt so natural, so good?

Cassian had watched the whole scene, apart, with his mouth shut and thinking about who he would run to tell first: Feyre or Morrigan.

Maybe both at the same time.

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @saltedcoffeescotch @krowiathemythologynerd @donttellthecats @annblvd @annamariereads16 @crazylokonugget @smoooothoperator

[fanartist666]

Whiskey and Lead

Joseph 'Bear' Graves x Original Female Character fanfic TAGS/WARNINGS: Hurt/comfort, fix it, slow burn, angst, mentions of: PTSD, child death, canon character death, serious injury, poor mental health, divorce/separation MDNI Summary: Joe Graves is told by his wife, Lena, that maybe it's time to see other people. The biggest problem with that was the when and where, given that Joe's surrogate father figure, mentor and previous team leader, Richard Taggart, had just died, and Lena had said this at his wake. Just before things get too much, an unlikely friend of Rip's knocks him from his trance.

Part 1 wordcount: 1.6k | Part 2: will go here

A/N: just a fun little part one set up, when I started this I hadn't written anything for like two weeks, so I do apologise if this sucks lol, trying to understand writing Joe is a challenge but I like him - also if you like this version of Anubis and want more of her and also like Game of Thrones, I have a long fic called 'A Court of Dragons and Lions' on A03 where she's married to Tywin Lannister bc I'm a sucker for Charles Dance lol, anyway enjoy! Sorry for any typos too I tried but I could still have missed some

Joe’s chest heaved with rage, despair and hurt, all his emotions swirling without a way out on top of the grief he was battling through. Hadn’t he tried hard enough? Tried in enough ways? Love languages, he’d learned what they were and what they meant and fucking tried to show Lena he loved her in all of them.

“Or maybe see other people.”

Lena told him that, then of all times? At Rip’s- At Rip’s fucking funeral? Lena couldn’t have come to him with that at any other point? They were already living apart, wasn’t that enough? Apparently not.

He felt it all swell up inside him as Lena walked away and he stared, talking to this fucked up apparition of Rip telling him it was only there because he wanted it there. It was all too much, Rip had been murdered, and died alone after everything he said on that video and everything fucking else and now he was seeing shit and Joe felt like he was going to explode- suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. He flinched and turned around to see who had tapped him.

He didn’t know the woman before him, but he recognised the concern in her eyes and the posture of a soldier when he saw it. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn’t tell what she was saying.

“What’d you say?” He asked sharply, desperately shaking his head.

“I said ‘are you okay’, but I think you’ve just answered that for me.” She repeated, and somewhere in his head, Graves registered that her accent was British. “You wanna come for a walk with me?”

The woman jerked her thumb in the direction of an exit, and Joe nodded before following her dumbly. Walking helped. His blue eyes scanned his surroundings but didn’t really take anything in, to be honest, he couldn’t even remember what the woman he was walking with looked like. He could focus on her voice, though. She was well-spoken, with a sweet-sounding voice, slightly roughened by what he assumed was tobacco.

“So, you want to tell me about what’s going on?” She asked, her tone not too gentle and not too commanding, perfectly disarming. Although he couldn’t tell if that was just because he really did need to talk about it. But something stopped him. It needed to come out, but she was a stranger. He couldn’t just unload that.

In the end, Joe shook his head. “No, no you don’t need to hear that.”

“Come on now, I know a C.O. when I see one.” She nudged him in the arm gently with her elbow, and he couldn’t not smile a little and raise his hands in surrender.

“Yeah, I guess you got me there.” He chuckled softly, vision expanding from mere tunnels.

“Alright then, tell me about that instead, there’s a good lad.” Joe’s attention was slowly turning to her words.

“Okay...” he had to shrug off the flush rising in his face at how easily he’d obeyed her order, however gentle. He didn’t want to admit how much ‘there’s a good lad’ had encouraged him, either. “my name’s Joseph Graves, n’ I’m a senior chief Navy SEAL. I’ve got my team that I inherited from Rip when he got out. That’s Buddha, Fishbait, Caulder, Chase... Buck, until a little bit ago.” He felt his voice catch on Buck’s name.

“So you’re the famous Bear, eh? Good on you, Rip spoke very highly of you.” The woman said, and the warm reception to his introduction made him perk up a little. “And I was sorry to hear about Buckley. He was a good man.”

“He did?” Joe looked down at his shoes. “Yeah. Buck was the best of us. I miss him.”

“Oh god yeah, Rip loved the shit out of you. All of you guys, but he spoke about you most.” The woman told him, and he craned his neck to look at her curiously, finally taking in her features. She was pretty, by all accounts. Warm brown skin like caramel, inky black hair and startling scarlet eyes behind a pair of aviator sunglasses. She was dressed relatively normally in a green t-shirt and black jeans. The cool of the night air didn’t seem to affect her, and he could see that she was decently muscled.

“You knew him well? How come I never met you before?” Joe asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Could be any reason, knowing Rip. And with our schedules in special forces, things can be hectic.” She shrugged softly. “Would’ve liked to meet you under nicer circumstances. I’m Anubis Demonium, by the way. Teammates liked to call me Jackal, which is exceedingly clever, and the story stupidly embarrassing, drill me for details after a few pints. Rip and I go way back. Or I suppose we did, hey?” she huffed a bitter laugh. Joe was sensing a rusty command on her, just as she’d identified on him like a hound after a rabbit. “I met Rip on a co-op, SAS and SEAL. We wanted the same target, our governments wanted to get along, it’s a long story I could be put in prison for telling you.” Anubis waved a hand impatiently as they walked along together. Bear finally registered then, as she was explaining the story, just how tall she was, because there wasn’t that much difference between the two of them, she must have been six feet, easily.

“Rip was on his last mission before becoming team leader himself and I was already a Captain of my own squad. I remember him telling me about the guys he had lined up while we had downtime. He was my buddy on that trip, his own leader told him to take note from the two of us. We got to know each other, and he kept me filled in on you guys. He was proud of you, especially. In a way I was proud of you all too. Silly to admit, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t call it silly,” Joe huffed a laugh through his nose. “He always had my back, didn’t he? I’m glad to have made him proud.. he didn’t deserve to go out the way he did.”

“Nobody does.. He was a good friend to me, I can imagine he was a good leader to you guys. Everything that happened to him was an injustice.” Anubis said softly as they walked along the street.

“Yeah, he was.” Joe hesitated. “Thank you, for... Uh, walkin’ with me. There’s a lot goin’ on and it’s helped more than you’d think.”

“S’alright. Leaders have it hard, you know?” Joe raised a brow at her, and she elaborated. “Think about it, if you’re in a team, you talk to the leader about what’s troubling you. Who does the leader talk to? Can’t talk to the team, they’ll think you’re weak. Can’t talk to your civilian friends and partners, what if they think differently of you for what you do? If we’re lucky, our own mentors are still breathing, and we can talk to them. And lucky is putting it lightly.”

Joe was floored. He stared at Anubis in disbelief; it was as though she had taken all his thoughts, his fears, his loneliness as a team leader, and put them out in the air. He could hardly find the words to agree with her, just nodding dumbly at her instead.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered after a moment. “Yeah, you’re right. I appreciate it.”

“It really is no problem, I was in the same position as you not so long ago. After today if you ever want to talk to someone who... You know, gets it like you, or you want to go for a drink, give me a ring.” She put a scrap of paper with a number scrawled on it into his slowly relaxing hand.

“Thank you... I’ll try not to darken your door too often.” Joe chuckled, pocketing the paper.

“Nonsense,” Anubis snorted, waving a hand. “I’d be glad for the company too. I’m retired now, none of the action anymore.” She explained, correcting her expression into a smile.

“Retired? How come?” Joe asked, hardly watching where he was walking now, his eyes fixed on her like a vision from God. He watched her walk, finally taking in more and more detail, and noticing a subtle unevenness to her gait.

“Injury,” she gestured to her left side, where the unevenness was. “I’m covered in scars this side, took a decent hit from an Mk 46, lucky to be alive so I suppose the stiffness and scars are a decent trade for breathing. The rehab was hell, though.”

Joe’s breath caught in his throat. Buck used one of those. He’d seen people blown to pieces by it, and some not. Hearing that would be a story and a half, he thought.

“Jesus, that sounds like a gnarly story…” he trailed off with a breath, and felt her elbow nudge him gently. Blue eyes landed on the weird blood-red ones belonging to his new acquaintance.

“Maybe I’ll tell you it sometime.” She smiled, and Joe realised they’d circled back to the gathering. “See you around, Joe.”

“See you…” He realised that he’d completely blanked what she told him her name was, only a few minutes ago, but they’d already split up, and when he looked back, she had melted into the crowd and firelight. Looking down at the number and his phone, he thought of something that would’ve made Rip laugh, and probably her, if they really had been friends.

‘Hobbles’ Joe typed, and pocketed his phone.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

What do you have in store for Ida and Rosie’s story? Because they are the only pairing who aren’t at the POW camp.

Aha!! This is gonna be a long answer, hence why I let your ask molder away as I worked on a reply, thanks for your patience.

I can’t wait to weave this whole thing, and it’s honestly the only postwar story I’m at all sure about in this universe so far. Let’s just say it’s a hella slow burn. Even after getting married. Because they do marry. Rather soon. But they are a bit of a buddy cop duo. Romantic love -at least for Ida- comes later.

I think it’s safe to assume that dear Ida was present when Rosie first introduced himself to the Bucks, told his underwear story and generally made a magnificent entry. Now, one must consider two things with this:

1. Rosie’s regret over what the hell he was thinking telling that story would be compounded by telling it in front of a female officer

2. Ida might have always been a stiff spined stickler before her trauma and the Stalag, but she did have a sense of humor. I like to think she found him funny, plus, with the Bucks beginning to fray a little in their own morale, flagging in offering encouragement to the newbies, I think Ida would be the sort to fill that role, best she can. Surprisingly, Rosenthal, Nash, Pappy, they’re not the sorta men to resent a woman giving them a pep m-up chat.

Now, keep in mind it’s three missions later and she’s been downed so there was not really a connection made there. Although I love to think that some night in the Stalag when everyone is bored and playing ask games with each other, one of the questions is:

“Who was the last person ya danced with?”

And Bucky gets to tell about Paulina and Gale gets chafed about choosing Meatball over Maureen and Brady bemoans having been so stuck on the bandstand playing sax instead of taking his chances and then when it’s Ida’s turn she’s just: “it was one of the new ones, the ‘egg frying on the instrument panel,’ guy.”

This is met with a chorus of “Rosenthal???”

“Told me to call him Rosie.” Ida shrugs. “He had some fun moves.”

Anyways. That’s a far off thing by April of ‘45.

SPOILERS ABOUT ESCAPE:

….

when Ida get away with Gale and makes it back first of anyone to England? Best believe she is beyond distracted with worry for her girls. Who’s there to meet her and welcome her and Cleven to Thorpe? Crosby of course -and Rosie. Malnourished, ptsd riddled and burdened with responsibility for her girls, Ida isn’t exactly the sparkly female Colonel that Rosenthal remembers meeting and dancing with.

In fact, that first initial interaction goes a bit sourly. She needs a nap, he awkwardly needs a deposition on her treatment. It’s a little rough, ok?

But the longer she is back at Thorpe, reunited with her few girls still there who were never downed, she learns how well their new Lt. Colonel -Rosenthal- has looked after them, fought to resend the grounding orders after Ida went down, generally been a good bean.

Also, due to being her superior now and having been given the legal burden of collecting information and evidence on the girls treatment by the Germans, Rosenthal and Ida start spending time, a lotta time, together.

There’s Jeep chauffeuring, Coffee Breaks and Mercy Runs where he goads her into buzzing the tower for the first time in her life -“of course I haven’t done it before, Rosenthal. One of you cats do it and it’s cute, I do it and I’m fired. No, I don’t mean discharged, I mean plainly fired.”

And then there’s the depositions, eventually full of her having to dictate shit that she’s never vocalized since it happened to her. Somehow, Rosie makes the whole thing easier than she ever expected. Not to say it’s easy. Although if you asked his female secretary, she’d say the one more visibly affected by it was the male lawyer, not the half catatonic victim spewing a rote litany of horror.

One time, his grip on his pencil gets so tight that it snaps. Ida replaces it. His quiet rage for her is about the best closure she’s felt so far. And that thread of such shared knowledge between them and them alone, even if it was in professional context? -That’s Intimacy. Far more than kisses or rings.

A righteous vengeance duo? Yes please, they’re a force to be reckoned with as the war winds down.

Before long Ida is asking Croz, “Was Rosenthal always that pretty?”

Harry is cackling over it, “Yeah.” He goads her, “But he is more confident now.”

“Confidence.” Ida repeats, trying to convince herself, “Yeah, that would be it.”

The thing of it is, Ida was unsure or marriage before her brutal treatment in captivity. Now? And after her military experience? She’s very sure she could never be a wife. Not even of a smart and secure man like Robert Rosenthal. Men just expect certain things and dynamics from their wives and Ida has never been sure she had that in her. Now she’s positive. And she’s too proud to marry only to then “turn a blind eye” as he finds what she lacks in women elsewhere.

Rosie? His argument is that what they’ve already built these last months, it’s what he wants. Marrying her is to keep that. If that’s all they ever have that’s enough, he couldn’t stand to lose it.

A chaste honeymoon on the way to Nuremberg to go fuck up a bunch of Nazis for the second time in their young lives? You betcha.

[steviebbboi]

Red [chapter 3]

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Original Female Character (OFC)

Summary:

Eleana Harlow (Ellie) is an Enhanced Individual turned Avenger. She's also Steve's everything. She just doesn't really know it yet.

Warnings: non-canon, slight canon divergence, sorta established relationship, OFC has powers and is POWERful, enhanced!reader, protectiveSteve!, softDom!Steve, steve and OFC are intimate, angst, eventual smut, friend(ish) to lovers, mentions of mental health issues and PTSD, mentions of dissociative episodes, mentions of violence/death but its not too explicit. (* indicates chapters containing smut)

Would love some feedback, and any reblogs and comments are appreciated! MINORS DNI - DO NOT read unless you're 18+ thank you!

DISCLAIMER NOTE:

I don't give permission for anyone to post this work on any other platform. This only exists on Ao3 AND now Tumblr (5/29/24), so pls don't copy/paste. Also, I don't own any of the Marvel universe (I wish). All of my works are also unbeta'd so please be kind, and apologies for any edit mishaps.

Chapter 03. She Needed Him

Six months ago…

“Phoenix, we need you over here!” Natasha rasped into her ear piece. There was a fire in one of the office buildings due to a bomb explosion. Tasked with evacuating any survivors, Ellie dove straight to the scene. 

“On my way, Romanoff.” Ellie affirmed. A suicide bomber that was hired by Hydra decided to interfere with their mission by literally setting off a bomb in an area further away from where the real action was. Where Steve was fighting Brock Rumlow, Sam and Wanda dealing with his bandits were going after biochemical warfare. Tony flying towards what seemed to be Hydra’s new base location. The team being split into three completely different sections, Ellie and Natasha had to do what they could on this side. 

Finally reaching the outskirts of the burning building, Ellie was breathing heavily while she saw Natasha coughing and looking rough for wear – but was still holding up a severely injured civilian. “Nat, stay back. I got this.” 

Natasha let out a muffled ‘copy’ while Ellie held out her hands with every intention of putting out these fires. She focused all of her energy on absorbing the fire’s vitality and the raging flames started slowly dissipating into steam, gradually evaporating in the air. Smoke still could be smelt heavily although the fires were no longer a pressing issue. 

The hardest part of Ellie’s powers were that as she took away the fire externally, she was also inviting it in internally. She brought it back into herself. Her forearms shined a bright blazing orange all the way up to her shoulders, as she breathed slowly through the heat. Her veins glowing something bright. Concentrating on enmeshing the fire back into her always required more effort when she took it away. The fire had to go somewhere and she could take it. That’s what her powers were meant to do. 

Shuddering at the pressure and weight of the flames, she felt the familiar sensation of an intense heat sinking into her skin. Ellie couldn’t help but let out a pained grunt. Feeling her body envelop fire was always the most painful part. But she was well-versed at handling it. 

Still processing and embracing the current heat flowing in her body, she faintly heard Steve’s aggressive questioning, “What did you just say?!” She frowned and looked towards his direction where she could faintly see his outline and his grip on Rumlow tight, pulling him close. 

“Your precious Bucky asked for you. Before they put his head back in the blender.” Rumlow revealed with a distorted grin on his face. 

Ellie was just coming back into herself when she felt her heart drop. She quickly gave a glance to Natasha who glanced back. She was still directing civilians to a safer area across the way but even the Russian spy was pausing slightly and moving slower at hearing the revelation. 

“Where is he?” Steve demanded threateningly. Rumlow merely let out a gruffled laugh and tore open his vest to further reveal grenades strapped to his chest. “Well, I guess you’ll never find out.” He pulled a pin. 

“STEVE!” Ellie bellowed. Horror filled her entire being. It was like time just slowed down, and suddenly she found herself running. Not away from the explosion. But towards it…towards Steve. 

A distance away, Steve reacted too late and was about to suffer the consequences until Rumlow was enveloped with a red glow. Steve sharply glanced over at Wanda to see her attempting to control the explosion with a grimace on her face.

“Wanda, push him up and away from us!” Ellie suddenly shouted into the ear piece and was halfway to reaching them. Wanda listened to her command and tried to wait for her to reach them but she couldn’t hold onto the power of the Rumlow’s explosion any longer. Wanda struggled and suddenly thrusted her hands upwards with a shout, catapulting Rumlow 50 feet into the air. 

Ellie’s eyes widened in panic as she knew that she wouldn’t make it in time. Stopping in place, she thrust out her own hands in Rumlow’s direction to consume the flames. Absorbing fire into her body was a practiced skill, but that still didn’t make it easy. Ellie acted on pure instinct in trying to call back the flames that were aggressively waiting to be released from Rumlow’s burned body. However, trying to absorb instantaneous flames that were in the air that came from this far of a distance was not something that she has ever done before. Ellie had also never attempted to enmesh flames for a long amount of time. Any attempt in the past has landed her either in a severe, dissociative state, or had caused her to pass out. 

At that moment though, Ellie didn’t think about what would happen to her. Loud grunts were all she could let out as she grit her teeth against the massive pressure overriding her body. Ellie’s arms were straining as she invited the flames inside. The explosive fire caught down to her shoulders and chest. She could feel her yearning for the fire to flow through her. Desperate to move the element away from Steve. Almost like trying to seduce it into a new container. 

Her eyes widened as the fire looked never-ending. The flames were complying but not fast enough. Ellie’s aptitude suddenly shifted in her pain, her eyes squinting determinedly. “Whatever it takes.” she thought. A transformative force swept through her entire body and suddenly, something else was driving her call now. It was evident that it didn't care for Ellie’s life. It was unafraid, callous, fierce, and alive.

Steve’s eyes widened in fear as he saw Ellie fall hard onto her knees, half of her body was now on fire. 

“RED, LET IT GO!” Steve shouted into his com-piece. Ellie either didn’t listen to or hear the Captain’s command as her arms shook violently. Her once hazel eyes now glowed a wild and rageful orange. Red flames were erupting all over her body. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, and let out a blood curling, pained scream. Her back bowed, her arms now outstretched away from her body, the rush of the explosion now completely enveloping her body. Flames poured out of her body simultaneously, almost flaying like wings. Her stature resembled her namesake, the Phoenix.

“Move your ass, Cap! She’s going to go into a hyper-pressurized supernova if she doesn’t let it go!” Tony warned. During Ellie’s power testing, they found that her powers allowed her to withstand intense heat. As hot as the power of the Sun…but while she can manipulate the fire, holding onto it and retaining it was something that could still kill others around her, and even herself in the process. Especially if she took on too much at one time. 

Steve’s feet moved before Tony could even finish his urgent warning. Speeding towards Ellie, still begging her to let it go in their comms, Steve also shouted at Wanda to contain her. “Wanda, can you stop her?” 

Wanda’s bright glow can be seen wrapping around Ellie’s “body.” At this point, her entire body was just a harsh emblem of fire. Her face was barely palpable. 

Struggling to contain her teammate’s power, Wanda responded through gritted teeth, “She’s starting to absorb flames from other parts of the city. I don’t think she even realizes that she’s doing it! I’m trying to reach her - she’s too strong!” Ellie was hard to see amidst the blaze, but they could all see that her body was still working on embracing the inferno of flames. Her “face” turned towards the sky and her back arched with flames entering her body without permission. 

Steve felt the ache in his legs as he pushed harder. “Cap! You need to frost her. NOW!” Tony yelled through the coms. Steve panted and slowed down his pace. He realized that even if he could reach her in time, he would be useless in stopping her. Her powers were now in control, the flames now glowing into something ethereal. The fire emoted passion and seemed threateningly lively.

His eyes sunk and filled with despair as he placed one hand to his ear and lowly said, “Wanda, slow down the fire intake as best as you can.” The StarkWatch’s interface on his cuff now glowing blue, Steve made a motion to extend the watch over his own hand. The device now resembled Iron Man’s notorious repulsor gauntlet.

Wanda’s eyes cut to him in a panic as she desperately pulled at Ellie’s prone body, doing her best to either slow down or extract the flames. “It’s no use…her powers are killing her.” she thought. Wanda knew that this was inevitable. Ellie was dying, and they had to try to save her.

An emergency‘frost’ was a last minute resort should Ellie ever be found in a compromising position where her powers were uncontrollable. The repulsors would emit nano-tech driven particles that attached to her biometric signature to shut down Ellie’s entire body, even ‘pausing’ her life functions for a period of time. 

When they all heard about the device for the first time, Steve was the first to react. “What do you mean, ‘pause’?” Steve interrupted Tony’s nonchalant explanation. Silence grew as Tony glanced at Steve with reluctance in his eyes. Steve slowly glowered in fury, no longer needing the explanation. He knew what it meant and he wanted to destroy the device at that very moment. Usually Tony was able to respond with a humored quip, or tailspin it to be not such a big deal. 

But even he couldn’t mask the fact that ‘pause’ really meant ‘to end’. 

With her body shut down, her powers would therefore become inactive. But that also translated into her being lifeless and at that moment, dead . Being vehemently met with angry protests, Tony quickly explained that the very device that could end her life also had the potential to bring her back. The nanobots would still be active in her system from the repulsor charge and would give enough time for them to activate her life functions once more and bring her back. Even after the team found out about the power of this device, they were revolted by the real, dreadful possibility of being the person to end their friend’s life. To also be the one responsible to try to bring her back.

While her friends agreed to only use it in true emergencies only, Ellie emphatically encouraged her team to use the contraption should the Phoenix ever take control. Steve stared darkly and intensely at Ellie. A wild look in his eyes ignited further once he heard her encouraging words. 

She understood that she may lose her life, but to her that didn’t matter as much, because she knew that using it would also save theirs. Steve stormed out of the room at that point. It took a while for him to even acknowledge, much more agree, to use the device in the field. Because even though Ellie felt differently about her life, Steve knew what it was like to have the power of sacrifice. He knew the regret that was left behind once a decision was made. 

To Steve, he didn’t care if the world burned. Her life was, and is, always the priority. 

But now as he outstretched his trembling arm, Steve unsteadily felt the gravity of this decision once more as he turned the repulsor in Ellie’s direction. His world slowed down and he tuned out everything else. He could barely hear Wanda and Sam’s panic, Tony shouting to activate the gauntlet, nor could he hear Nat’s calm voice reassuring him of his choice. 

All he could think of at that moment was Ellie’s smiling face, her laugh. Her stubbornness. Her endearing warmth and compassionate nature. Her soft skin grazing the back of his hand, the flushed red in her cheeks. Secret and unspoken gazes that they would share in moments where they were able to be authentic and together. Their bond. 

Steve’s eyes suddenly squinted in determination. She wasn’t going to die. He won’t let her. She’s always the priority. His arm steadied, and he fired.

“Guys, I already told you that I’m fine. You can stop hovering.” Ellie suppressed a shudder that ran through her body. She glanced up and gave her team a reassuring smile as if her body wasn’t completely on fire. Minus the pun. 

It’s been about 24 hours since they had to bring Ellie back from the brink of death. Dr. Cho and her team were at the ready and had her placed into the healing cradle straight from the quinjet. She woke up with a sharp gasp only 7 hours ago. Hearing only quiet exclamations from Wanda that she was alright and that they were now back on base. 

The cradle was able to repair any injuries that she sustained from the fight, and from the use of her powers. For the first time since she had discovered her powers, Ellie had a burn sustained on both of her shoulder blades. Dr. Cho was in noticeable disbelief when she told her that the cradle did what it could to help the burns- but what it left behind is something that the cradle couldn’t fix. 

Looking at the bathroom mirror, Ellie turned around and saw two outlines of wings on the back of her shoulders and going along the length of her spine. The marks weren’t very noticeable, but the faint lines of the wings did glisten with a red-rainbow aurora every time and again. When the subtle shine lifted around the edges of her right wing, she gasped. 

“They’re beautiful…” she wondered out loud as she lightly traced the outlines of the markings. Ellie couldn’t really comprehend nor could she wrap her mind around the fact that she had quite literally died in the past 24 hours, came back to life, found literal glowing tattoos branded onto her body, and most importantly… that Steve hadn’t once come by to check on her since they put her into the cradle. 

When she woke up from her “slumber of death” (Tony was already cracking jokes that the rest of the team were not laughing at, but she knew it was his way of caring and coping), Wanda was already sitting next to her, reassuring her, and letting her know that she and everyone else is safe. When she left to go get the others, it was Tony, Bruce and Natasha coming by to check in. Bruce naturally went into doctor mode to check on her stabilizing vitals and asked her how she was feeling. Meanwhile, Tony clapped her on the shoulder awkwardly while giving a short smile. Natasha welcomed her back and gave her forearm an affectionate squeeze with her signature smirk on her face. 

But no Steve. 

When Ellie muttered his name quietly, the team went eerily silent. A glance between Nat and Tony, and a wavering, guilty sigh from Wanda, Nat took the lead. With her classic nonchalant tone, she replied, “He’s debriefing with Sam to Fury and the council. Some things happened while you were out that have to be parsed through.” 

Now back in bed, Ellie blinked sleepily. Her eyes felt so tired. “What things?” 

The rest of the room’s occupants were still quiet. Ellie felt awake once more at the team’s silence. Her brain was slower than usual, but it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce what must have happened. 

“...I died, didn’t I?” Ellie warily asked. 

Wanda and Tony were quiet but fidgety, looking down at the floor with angst. Bruce was pretending to look at her chart but his eyes perked up every now and then. Natasha’s expression was unwavering and she moved to squeeze her shoulder. “You were gone for longer than we would have appreciated. But, we brought you back with Stark’s nanotech.”

Ellie merely blinked once, “How long?” 

Natasha’s expression did change this time, only slightly, coming from her place of nonchalance to forming a mild frown. “You were clinically considered dead for 7 minutes. By the time that we got back to base, you were down for another 5 until we got you into the cradle. Once you were in, you were already starting to stabilize.” 

Ellie couldn’t hold back her panic. “11 minutes?!” her thoughts went wild. It wasn’t even completely because of the fact that she had died and needed to be resuscitated. Her thoughts went wild because she knew that during those 11 minutes, Steve thought that she was dead. 

Steve, strong, charismatic, and powerful Steve, had thought that he had lost her forever for those 11 minutes. For 11 minutes, she didn’t have the opportunity to tell him that she was going to be okay. Or tell him that even if she did die, he would be okay. She cared about him…she loved him. Faintly, she could hear an increased ‘beeping’ noise but thought nothing of it. She could only think about seeing Steve. And yet, she came back, and he wasn’t there. 

Ellie felt another hand on her shoulder, “Sestra, you need to calm down. Relax.” Wanda gave her an affectionate rub while pouring calm into her thoughts. At Wanda’s words, she took a deep breath and exhaled. The beeping that she heard was slowing steadily. She couldn’t see it but Bruce was on standby with a sedative just in case. If her heart rate increased, her core temperature would heighten and they couldn’t risk her body being placed into that position again so soon. 

Ellie took another breath and on her exhale said, “Does he know that I’m back?” 

It was Tony who responded this time, “FRIDAY just let him know two minutes ago, Dante.” 

Before she could ask another question, Natasha interrupted her, “We’ll let you know when he gets here, okay? Until then, you need to rest, ptichka.” She gestured to Bruce and all of a sudden, Ellie felt a small prick on her arm. She frowned and let out an exhausted sigh. Everything floated back to black.

With Ellie now out for the count, Wanda looked back at her two mentors with a contemplative look. “Should we have told her that it was him that activated the repulsor?” 

“No,” Natasha said resolutely. Her voice carried into a soft whisper, “We all saw him on the jet. Let them talk it through when he gets here.” 

“I’ll have FRIDAY redirect Cap to the lab. I’m sure they’ll need all the space that they can get.” Tony mentioned out loud. “Us too, when you think about it.” Tony’s quip had the two women direct annoyed glances over his way. 

“I think what you meant to say, Stark, was that you’ll need space away from Rogers.” Natasha repurposed with a smirk on her face. Bruce, who was still looking at Ellie’s charts, let out a small chuckle, “It was that bad, huh?”

Tony rolled his eyes at that, “Yeah, well, I can’t fault him too much for it, can I? I, technically, was the one who told him to use it on his dear little ‘Red.’ But look at her now, all spry, a little pale, but alive!” He sprung out his arms in accomplishment. 

Natasha ignored his comments and replied to Bruce, “Let’s just say that Stark was lucky that he was in the suit.” One last glance over at Ellie’s resting form, she turned to walk back to the conference room that she was in with Steve and Sam. Hearing from afar, Tony was still ranting about how he saved Ellie’s life, and Wanda’s admonishment for the creation of the device – Natasha went onto the elevator. When the doors closed, she allowed her mask to fall and her eyes to close in her own exhaustion. 

They also didn’t manage to tell Ellie that Steve already knew that she was awake by the time that they got to the lab. They didn’t tell her that Steve merely glanced down with his jaw clenched. A dreaded look in his eyes. Recognizing the look of inner turmoil when she saw it, Nat offered to go check in on her in place of him. 

Exiting the elevator, she could see that their debrief was wrapping up. She entered the glass room and sneaked a glance at Steve. Sam looked at her curiously as she entered while Steve visibly froze and slowly turned his head to acknowledge her presence. One look into his eyes confirmed a sense of worry and desperation. Although his stiff body looked ready to run out of the room, Natasha knew that his brooding moment was over since she had left. If he had to run, he would run to her.

Fury’s holographic figure was seen in front of them, the world security council directly behind him. Their expressions tense, Fury directed his question at Natasha, “Status report on Harlow?” 

Natasha’s face didn’t expose any vulnerabilities. “Agent Harlow is now stable but sedated. She was notified of the mission debrief during her moment of consciousness, and had expressed that she would report in to debrief personally as soon as she was able.”

Fury knew that more had happened than she was letting on. Of course he does, he’s Fury. But everyone in that room understood that the World Security Council didn’t need to know anything other than the fact that she’s alive. Last thing that they need is to send Ellie to the Raft and claim her to be government property. For them to use as they please.

Steve wasn’t quelled by her response. He initially chose to debrief for the team because he just couldn’t see Ellie, look at her still and quiet body any longer. His eyes briefly closed as he reflected on what he witnessed in the jet. Ellie was just lying there. Her face devoid of any emotion, any expressiveness of her being alive. No pain, nothing. The nanotech was meant to instantly revive her once they called back the ‘frost’ command, but after what felt like hours (which was more like a long two minutes), she still wouldn’t wake up.

On his knees, all he could do was stare at her limp hand that dangled across the table while the others frantically started to do what they could to revive her. He briefly recalled Stark talking to FRIDAY about the repulsors’ status of the nanotech now existing in her lifeless body, and could see Sam hurriedly administering CPR. Wanda silently cried and held her other hand with a red glow, trying to reach into some level of her consciousness. Natasha had one hand on his shoulder that he could barely feel, asking him if he was okay. 

Steve was silent, growing more and more despondent. All he thought was, “Was he okay? He just killed Ellie, his Red. His best friend. The person that he swore to protect. A person that he loved and didn’t get the chance to tell her before she died. She wasn’t waking up. No. he was not okay.”

At that point, he did remember something feral overcoming his shock as he noticed Tony struggling with his holographic interface. All he could think of was that Stark and his stupid gadgets had just jeopardized everything that he held dear to him. He wasn't able to stop himself from throwing Tony to the side of the quinjet. He could still barely feel Natasha's and Wanda's hands trying to get him off of Stark's metal frame.

“The Phoenix was a trial period for the Avengers Initiative. Our concern still stands. What if another incident like this happens again?” A voice filled with suspicion and fear filled the space, suddenly snapping Steve out of his disturbing reverie. 

“Agent Harlow is an experienced, classified SHIELD agent and has demonstrated her place with the Avengers. She has helped save the world and the seats that you are currently sitting on. Are you going to keep insisting that she is still apart of a “trial period”, Councilwoman?” Fury directed back to the council member. 

“Her efforts in preserving the world are not going unnoticed, Director. Nor is it under-appreciated. It doesn’t change the fact that The Phoenix is an enhanced individual that is still progressing in power as we know it. As we have evidently seen today, she is dangerous. Her powers grow, and your team has yet to uncover the maximum potential that she holds. Much more, a level of containment. How can we have faith in your capabilities to determine the world’s safety upon a high-risked enhanced?” Another councilman shot back.

From behind Fury, a scoff can be heard by Sam. “This is ridiculous. That ‘enhanced’ had saved our lives. Without her, we would all be fried meat by now with a lot more casualties reported in Lagos.” Sam expressed his anger unashamedly.

The same councilman huffed in response, “That may be so, Mr. Wilson. It again doesn’t change the fact that she may better serve the people under more… structured systems. Systems in place that will enable a safer environment for the AI team to move freely. Without hazardous material on board.”

Steve could feel his ire raging hearing the council member’s words. How dehumanizing they are in treating Ellie’s life as dispensable.

“Perhaps we need to re-evaluate the AI team in accordance with the Accords once more. If the UN finds that the Phoenix was non compliant with the agreements, we will need to revisit this conversation.” Underneath these thin words was the threat of dividing the team. Laced with the exposure of the Phoenix being arrested and determined government property in a floating base in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. The image of Ellie disposed away, away from the team, and from him broke him.

“That’s enough.” The room went quiet under the command from the otherwise silent Captain America. 

Steve glared at the holographic forms with a rage that even the council members could palpably see. “The Avengers Initiative is still upholding the agreements with the Accords. Under any investigation, you would be violating the safeguards set in place to protect our team. As you know, we are still free agents and are in our rights to protect the wellbeing of any and all members of the initiative. If there were any suspicions of our effectiveness, you can bring them to Director Fury or to me with the appropriate ethical standings within your limitations. Not during a debriefing meeting in which we recap how a member of our team has saved a significant amount of lives. We don’t trade lives, Councilman. You’ll do well to remember your own place in your own sector.” 

“Is that a threat, Captain?” A council member prompted. 

“Yes, it is.” Steve immediately answered with an unapologetic tilt to his head. Nothing more could be spoken after the captain’s blunt honesty. The council members shifted angrily, the other Avengers in the room failed to hide their growing smirks. Even Fury couldn’t hold his slight smile.

“We appreciate your cooperation, Council. At this time, we will proceed with all debriefing processes and have them evaluated through AI.” With a wave, Fury dismissed the council members and the holograms disappeared.

Fury turned towards the three Avengers silently. Steve still held his belt resolutely, holding absolutely no regrets. The power in his stance was unwavering. Fury merely smirked, “Well said, Captain.”

Steve allowed a small smirk to form on his face and gave a dismissive nod, “Director.”

Fury nodded back and glanced at them. “Romanoff, I expect a full internal report.” Natasha echoed Steve’s sentiment, and the man’s image disappeared. 

Sam turned to Steve with a full grin, “Captain America saves the girl. Saves the day.” Steve allowed a full grin too at that, and Sam clapped him on the shoulder before leaving the room. He knew that this didn’t change the fact that the said ‘saved girl’ was downstairs recovering from a harrowing day. He understood that Steve still needed time to prepare himself for that visit. 

At Sam’s departure, Steve’s face fell into a grim expression once more. “How is she, really, Nat?”

Natasha sighed and granted a small smile, “She’s okay. She was tired. Confused. But she understood what had happened during the mission.”

Steve let out a small sigh, “What else does she remember?”

Natasha crossed her arms and ducked down to capture his conflicted gaze. “She doesn’t seem to recall specifics about the mission, as far as we know. She doesn’t know that it was you.”

At his exhale, Natasha knew that this was the answer that Steve needed to hear. Ellie didn’t know that it was Steve who pulled out the device. That it was him who ended her life. 

“Are you going to tell her?” she asked. Steve looked to the floor, “I don’t know. I’m not sure if it's best that she does know.”

Natasha let out a disbelieving scoff, “Steve, El asked for you when she woke up.” Steve looked up quickly with a yearning glance. His eyes softened at the image of Ellie asking for him, and the confusion of why he wasn’t there. 

“You underestimate her too often. Harlow knows the risks. We all do. I think it's about time that you respect her enough to do the same.” Natasha laid out. Steve looked to the side at that. He would never be comfortable with this option, ever. 

She continued, “The Council wasn’t wrong about her powers growing. The Phoenix is expanding in strength, and it isn’t going unnoticed by the team.” 

Steve interrupted, “So you think that she deserves to be pathologized? Clinically exposed to scientists drunk on power and greed of taking away her will to choose? To exist in the Raft?” His eyes now hardened, expecting to hear an affirmative response.

“What? No– ” Natasha visibly frowned and shook her head. She felt offended by the accusation. “Steve, I’m just…reading the terrain. We know how much you care about Ellie. We care about Ellie. That’s why we keep one hand on the steering wheel, and the other working to earn their trust back. You’re not the only one who wants to protect her. Each other.”

Steve heard her but still shook his head. “What I do know is that I’m not going to let anything else happen to her. We keep her close. While Stark and Banner reconfigure another way to help Red manage her powers, we do whatever it takes to protect her. Their eyes were always on her, and you know that. Now, agendas are shifting.” 

Natasha could only nod in agreement, “We’ll protect her, Steve. You’re not alone.” She did her best to convey the sincerity behind her words, and Steve heard it. An exhausted sigh was released as Natasha squeezed his arm affectionately.

Steve turned to leave, determined now to see Ellie. Before he could go, Natasha called out to him once more. “What about Barnes, Steve?” 

He stiffened at the door and stopped in place. After some silence, he turned to her and replied, “I don’t know. Rumlow could have been lying. Last time that I saw Bucky, he was pulling me out of the river. Sam’s leads are all cold.”

Natasha looked down and suggested, “At this point, we can assume to not know anything, that’s for sure. I can look into Sam’s leads again and see if there are any merits worth pursuing.”

Steve frowned, “I thought you didn’t want to pull on that thread.”

She smirked back at him and said, “You focus on our ptichka. She needs you right now more than us.” 

Steve smirked in response too and nodded a quiet thanks. Exiting the room, Steve put all thoughts of Bucky, the panic of hearing his name in that moment, and his own morbid feelings about the repulsors to the side. 

Red needed him.

*sestra= sister in the Russian language (I couldn’t find any sense of Sokovian language. I know it’s fictional but but if anyone knows how to find that fictional language lore, feel free to lmk)!

*ptichka= little bird in the Russian language

Next Part [coming soon]

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[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 2, Poll 16

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Wayne Terrisborn-Mistborn

Qualifications:

He's canonically disabled in that he has PTSD and kleptomania, which are quite evident in the text and confirmed by word-of-god anyway. He's also very neurodivergent coded in other ways--headcanons for autism, ADHD, and BPD would all have lots of supporting evidence. He isn't canonically queer in a cut-and-dry sense, but saying he's queer wouldn't just be fanon either (though it generally is that); basically, he's canonically gnc and likes to crossdress sometimes, and for various reasons the way he thinks and talks about that is more 'I decide to be a woman sometimes' than 'I decide to dress as a woman sometimes'. Also, in fanon he's bi/pan, on the canon basis that he loves his ambiguously gendered girlfriend however she's presenting at the moment. Long story short--I wouldn't submit someone as queer if it were simply fanon, regardless of the rules, but I think what he's got going on is quantifiably queer enough that it doesn't matter if there's concrete confirmation of it or not.

Propaganda:

In addition to the above, I would like to note that he's chaos incarnate.

Amaya-The Dragon Prince

Qualifications:

1- Deaf, uses sign language 2- Sapphic, married to a female elf

Deaf and not straight (I don't know if they've mentioned her suxuality in canon, but she's dating a woman)

She is in an explicit relationship with Janai (also female, very very gay) and is deaf.

Amaya is a general of the Katolis army. She is deaf since birth and communicates in sign language. She's the best warrior in the human lands and she is a raging lesbian.

She's Deaf and a lesbian Canonically deaf and engaged to a woman

Propaganda:

Amaya is so cool. This is the only time I have ever seen a memorable Deaf/HOH person on a children's tv show. Her disability is dealt with really well. She isn't pitied for it. On the contrary, she's a fricking general! Did I mention she's cool? In terms of queer stuff, she's married to a literal queen (actually I haven't seen the show in a while, so its at the very least a queen-adjacent figure), and they're so cute together and every time I see them it makes me stim. Also she's just a really great character in general (no pun intended). Like, she will hunt you down and kill you if you so much as give her nephew a papercut. She's such a badass like genuinely.

She's a knight and a cool aunt and I love her!

Amaya and her partner, Janai, are the classic enemies-to-lovers couple. Amaya, although deaf, does not let her disability stop her from being the best soldier of her kingdom and has rightfully taken the position of general. She's so badass, but also kind and loving. She's just amazing.

As I said before, she is a raging badass lesbian who is engaged to the queen of Sunfire Elves, who is also the best warrior in this elven nation. Her fiancee is learning sign language for her. They are so in love it physically hurts!!!!

I'm bad at the propaganda thing but I'll give it a try She uses ASL and has an interpreter she's close to. She's also a General of her home kingdom... up until she gets captured by an enemy princess and falls in love. Now that princess is a queen, and as of the last episode they're engaged to be married. Also they share a bed and multiple kisses onscreen.

Is a badass fighter, determined, fiercely protects those she loves

Anything Else?:

I LOVE HER SO MUCH

The qualifications and propaganda paragraphs correspond, @yurayuramiharin is the fourth submitter, the anything else section is the first submitter.

[strawberryonfire]

Hazbin Hotel Sin Headcanons

This is basically what I think the sins of the Hazbin characters were (for now) and what made them go to Hell

TW: Mentions of murder drugs, s**ual assault, and homiphobic people (Katie Killjoy)

Before this starts, (you can skip this if you want) in s1 ep4 of Helluva Boss, it was estaished that the Cherubs couldn't go back to Heavan because their mission ended up with the death of a human, even if they didn't actually kill him. So, like many other people theorize, it's probably much harder to get into Heavan than hell, and if you kill someone, directly, indirectly, or by acident, you might go to Hell or just have to prove yourself to be worthy of going to hevan. I think some of the characters probably killed someone and that's part of the reason they were dammed.

...

Vaggie: I have two theories for her. The first one is that she went to Hell for her anger; maybe she killed someone in a rage? My second theory, and the one I like the most, is that she accidentally killed someone, most likely a man, while defending herself. Vaggie was walking alone at night and some man tried to have his way with her, and she fought back. She probably stabbed him or something and ran away, and accidentally killed him. I like the idea of Vaggie losing her eye after she came into Hell.

Angel Dust: I do think lust and drugs were a reason he went to Hell, but not the main reasons. He was an Italian mobster when alive, and probably killed quite a few people in his time. So I think his actions in the mob is a large reason why he's in Hell.

Alastor: I'm pretty sure it's canon that Alastor was a cannibal and still is, and I also think he was a serial killer who ate his victim's.

Niffty: I feel like Niffty was a bit boy-obsessed when she was a human, and probably got her heart broken by one. Maybe she was dumped or a guy she liked had a girlfriend, so she killed him. I also kind of like the idea of her being a bit of a pyromaniac.

Husk: He was probably an alcoholic and most definitely a gambler, so that's two factors. A lot of people think Husk was a soldier in the Vietnam War, but I'm pretty sure he was an old ass man when he died, so he would have been a bit too old to serve in that war. If he was a soldier at one point in his life, I think he would have served in WW2, and he probably did kill people while serving. Husk probably got PTSD from the war, and to cope, he turned to alcohol and became an alcoholic.

Sir Pentious: I don’t have too many thoughts about what landed Pentious in Hell, but I have a feeling child labor was involved.

Baxter: I also don't have too many thought on Baxter either, but I feel like he was a mad scientist or something like that, and one of his experiments ended the life of someone, or he did messed up experiments on people or maybe animals.

Cherri Bomb: I feel like Cherri probably made/sold bombs or fireworks, or anything illigal like that, for money, or she was a protester of some kind. She was probably a violent one too, in my mind.

Valentino: I think Val was a pimp who mistreated his workers and possibly s**ually abused them in some way. Soft of like what he does with Angel.

Vox: I feel like Vox was a greedy and unfair T.V salesman, but that's all I have for him right now.

Velvette: She was probably a social media influencer and did some illegal stuff on the side.

Katie Kljoy: Katie is obviously homiphobic, but I have another thought in mind for her. In the pilot, after Charlie calls her a bitch, she turns into a more demonic form, which reminds me of a prey mantis. If you don't know, female prey mantisis eat the male (after mating I think) so this got me thinking that Katie might have killed her husband (if she had one).

Katie: Looks like they're fighting tooth and nail for that Hotspot!

Tom Trench: I've said this in my hazbin hotel death headcanons that Tom Trench probably died in the trenches In WW1, so he most likely killed others if he was a soldier. Also, based on some things he said during the pilot, I feel like he was a bit of a pervert when he was alive. ( an example down below if you wanna know)

...

Tom: And I'd sure Luke to nail her Hotspot! (referring to Cherri Bomb)

[ovwechoes]

DPS Boys & Headcanons!

It's finally arrived; each of the OVW DPS girls have plans to attend a concert, but who would they each go see? These are my personal headcanons (SFW)!

My post with my DPS female headcanons can be found on my profile! Any and all thoughts are welcome, and because this post is a littleee lengthy I've put it under the cut <3

Bastion: Bastion enjoys music, but not enough to bring him to a concert. He doesn't mind if Torbjorn or Brigitte invites him along, but he's too afraid of how busy concerts can be to attend incase it triggers his PTSD.

Cole Cassidy / Cassidy: Similarly to Ashe, he enjoys country music and would love to see artists such as Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and Chris Stapleton. He would do anything to attend one of their concerts, even build his own time machine. He's not too picky though, and he's happy to see whatever band or whoever he can live as it's something he's always enjoyed (and probably always will, even if it's not with the deadlock gang anymore).

Genji Shimada / Genji: I can imagine Genji loves to indulge in music that blends classic japanese styles with pop, hip hop and jazz. He's an introvert by nature though, so it would have to take a lot for him to go to a concert and bring himself to see them with so many people around. Artists like Nujabes, Kitaro and Bonobo would most likely be at the top of his list for who he wants to see live. He appreciates artists who blend Japanese instruments with soothing rhythms and technological beats, it makes him feel as though he's seen through the music and it's something he values.

Hanzo Shimada / Hanzo: Alongside Genji, I can imagine he appreciates artists who are developing the sound of Japanese instruments and blending them with pop and other genres. However, I think he would lean more so towards traditional Japanese performances; it would bring him back to a time when he was younger and more innocent, and it would remind him of his life before the mistakes and choices he made changed everything. He would do what he could to watch Taiko Drumming performances live and to feel the music pound through his feet. I can imagine that he would also aim to go to musical adaptations of Japanese movies, like studio ghibli ones, to enjoy the musical aspect in person. It's something that would calm him and quiet the thoughts that plague his mind and remind him of his guilt.

Jamison Fawkes / Junkrat: I can imagine Junkrat is the type to listen to every genre; if something tickles his brain in the right way, he loves it. He especially would love punk rock, like The Offspring and System of a Down, but also anarchist artists who have politically charged lyrics like Rage Against The Machine. He'd do anything to see them live, and would probably pickpocket everyone there with him.

Gabriel Reyes / Reaper: Reaper is old school, he's an old man. He likes his metal music and his dark, moodly classics, such as Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails, Slipknot, Korn and Tool. He would be the type to stand in the crowd and watch the mosh pits happening, without really doing anything other than tapping his foot and drinking. He appreciates the music of course but in his own way that scares everyone off around him.

John Francis "Jack" Morrison / Soldier: 76: Jack's taste in music is definitely influenced by his upbringing in Minnesota; he loves blues, jazz and gospel music despite not being entirely religious (or as religious as he used to be, before the soldier program). As such, he would definitely try to see Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk, and Count Basie at least one last time before anything happened to him and prevented him from doing so, even just for old time's sake and for nostalgia. He views them as traditional American musicians, and would do what he could to see them live (if he has the chance to of course).

Torbjörn Lindholm / Torbjörn: Torb would be the type to enjoy classic rock and alternative folk music; it's something you'd hear in his home constantly while he works. He's at an age where he's been to enough concerts, and doesn't feel the need to anymore especially when he has more work to complete with undoing the harm he believes he's caused (via the omnic wars). If he was asked if he could see anyone in an alternate universe without any limits, he would struggle to pick between Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Sabaton and Buddy Guy.

I hope these are accurate and if you have any opinions, please send them my way! My asks are open to anything and everything overwatch related <3

[fanfic-lover-girl]

How Harmione Parallels Kataang

So I was reading snippets from Deathly Hallows, including the Harry & Harmione scenes after Ron left, and I noticed how much this non-canon ship is similar to the travesty that is Kataang.

It wasn't going to be as detailed or long as my Makorra vs Kataang post above but the thoughts just flowed.

Unequal Give and Take in the Relationship

Like Katara, Hermione gives way more than Harry to their friendship. Harry and Aang are the receivers usually. We never see Aang truly empathize with Katara when it comes to her mother and her darker side. When Harry sees Hermione breaking down in tears in DH, he literally just looks at her or ignores her crying when they sleep at night. Hermione on the other hand gives Harry hugs and pep talks whenever he is raging or sad. Harry is the exact same way with Ginny, by the way, his one true love (roll my eyes).

The instant they arrived Hermione dropped Harry’s hand and walked away from him, finally sitting down on a large rock, her face on her knees, shaking with what he knew were sobs. He watched her, supposing that he ought to go and comfort her, but something kept him rooted to the spot.

Motherly Vibes in the Relationship

ATLA literally had an episode where Katara pretended to be Aang's mom. Katara acts as the motherly figure in the group. In the Runaway episode, Katara acts like a nagging, mood-killer and Aang reacts to her like a mom when she scolds his posture. I recently posted about Aang's first earthbending lessons and how Katara was acting like a helicopter mom in those scenes. Hermione is not as motherly, thank goodness, but Hermione, like Katara, is posed as the boring, nagging friend. Harry does not enjoy her company as much as Ron's due to this nagging. He lies to her and avoids her due to her nagging. Whenever Harry is confused or emotional about something, I notice JKR usually uses the word "gently" to describe how she speaks to Harry. I notice Hermione is a lot more gentle and caring towards Harry compared to Ron a lot. She gives Harry tips on how to date Cho and coaches him on female nature. Like Katara, Hermione is the one who cooks and does the food shopping/stealing (well she did leave money at the coop and the muggle store so it is still stealing??) in their glorified camping trip. Even though Harry should know how to cook.

Threat of Violence/Intimidation

Katara is always the one who has to bear the danger of Aang's avatar state to calm him down. While Sokka and Toph run away in the desert episode, Katara is the only one left to approach Aang in this volatile state. It's not fair that Katara is forced to shoulder this burden alone. Also, I saw an avatar comic where Aang literally lavabends right in front of Katara in a tantrum when she tells him to practice firebending (it could be earthbending instead but the point stands). As for Hermione, Harry is not much better. You see this behaviour especially when it comes to Hagrid. Whenever Hermione has common sense and expresses annoyance about Hagrid, Harry often intimidates her to comply with his beliefs. I recall Hermione being frightened by Harry a lot. What a great friend. Not to mention when Harry went on his rage rampage in book 5, terrorizing Ron and Hermione. I don't care how much supposed PTSD Harry has. I understand things are rough for him, but that gives him no right to bully his friends and unleash his rage on them, especially Hermione.

Emotional Manipulation

For Katara, Aang was emotionally manipulative in Southern Raiders. He unfairly compares Katara's want for justice to Jet who tried to murder innocent people. He compares losing his pet to Katara losing her mother. Anyone who compares an animal to a human being is an idiot. Not sorry. Even at the end of the episode, he is still pushing forgiveness on her. As a Christian, I believe in forgiveness but someone should not force or guilt you into forgiveness. Harry is a bit more...messy to explain. He has used his parents' murder to guilt trip Hermione and Ron. For example, in book 1 when they were doing the magical puzzles to catch up to Moldy Voldy. The reason why I label this as emotional manipulation is because unless the plot calls for it, Harry does not care about his parents. Unless he wants something from someone. He is perfectly willing to use his dead parents to try to get Slughorne to give him the memory for Dumbles in book 6. He has a photo album he almost never looks at. He never talks much to Remus and Sirius about his parents. He never visits their grave until freaking book 7! So yeah, him using his dead parents to guilt trip Hermione, and Ron too, is 100% emotional manipulation. Also, Harry regularly uses the silent treatment or ostracization to guilt-trip people into apologizing to him. Even when he bears responsibility for the conflict. We see this with Ron, Seamus and yes Hermione. Hermione tries to protect Harry in book 3 when Sirius sends Harry that broom, and Harry, and Ron, punish her for this by ignoring her. For how long? At least a few weeks. How anyone sees the golden trio as a good friend group is a total mystery.

Selfishness / Lack of Empathy

This is kind of related to the first and fourth sections. For Aang, he is selfish when it comes to Katara. In season 3, he does not respect Katara's boundaries and gives her non-consensual kisses twice. In Ember Island Players, he nods along at the dialogue about Katara being the "avatar's girl" indicating that he is possessive of her. All he cares about is his crush and he does not care about Katara's feelings about her confusion and her desire to wait after the war to deal with romance. Aang never tries to appreciate her water tribe culture beyond the pilot episode. To the point where Tenzin completely ignores his water tribe heritage. Unlike Katara's other love interests (Jet and Haru), when Katara tries to empathize with Aang about the death of the airbenders, he never offers any recognition of Katara's loss and instead just tries to deny the airbenders are gone. Even in the northern water tribe, Aang makes Katara's anger at Pakku about HIM. Aang fails to recognize that she is fighting because of the injustice and sexism being done to HER and she's fighting for HERSELF. Aang sees how his friends lost their father figures in the invasion and in the next episode he does not care. Or at least he does not care enough to take their concerns about the next steps in the war seriously and goofs off instead. Enough of about Kataang, how does Harmione measure up?

Like Aang, Harry is very self-centered. Every time his birthday comes around he expects to be treated like a king and have his birthday be acknowledged by everyone. When he believes people have forgotten, he gets upset and pouty. Ron and Hermione's birthdays are mentioned only once I believe. Ron in book 6 and Harmione in book 5 or 6. He gives Ron a present for his bday. But what about Hermione? Zilch, nada. Hermione explicitly mentions her birthday in the text and I can't recall him giving her anything. I did a quick google search and I can't find squat! The dude makes a big stink about his birthday every year and can't even have the decency to reciprocate. I mention Harry's lack of empathy already in section 1. And it not only applies to Hermione but everyone. Including Ginny. If you really look at Harry, everything revolves around him. Harry shows very little appreciation for Hermione practically doing his homework for him. There is also a weird thing where Harry thinks to himself that he acts as a mediator for Romione but his actions show the opposite. When Ron and Hermione fight, he stays out of it and finds the whole thing annoying. Or even worse, when Hermione is feeling affectionate with Ron, Harry has a 'what about me' attitude.

Hermione was watching Ron fret over the fate of the Cattermoles, and there was such tenderness in her expression that Harry felt almost as if he had surprised her in the act of kissing him. ‘So, have you got it?’ Harry asked her, partly to remind her that he was there.

Secrecy

Both Aang and Harry hide things from their "love interest". Harry hides the fact that he was not practising his occlumency. Not only that, he actively tries to probe his connection with Moldy Voldy against Hermione's warnings. Several times he purposely hides house elf matters from Hermione, despite knowing how much she allegedly cares about the elves. For example, when he learns Slughorne is using elves to test his drinks for poison one of his first thoughts is to not tell Hermione. I don't even think Harry has a once of empathy or concern for the elves being abused like this. When Harry is fighting in the triward tournament, Hermione constantly nags him to prepare for his tasks and asks about his progress. If Harry was not such a nitwit, he would have asked Hermione for her help and she would have offered it. But instead, he lies to her and brushes her off. Aang hides Bato's map so that Katara and Sokka will not leave him for their father. At least Aang owns up to his lies. However, I do not believe Aang is fully honest about his avatar state situation after season 2. I think he tells them that he can't go into the state but I do not recall him ever revealing WHY. This inability could have cost them the war. What if there were no conveniently placed rock in the finale? Would Aang's avatar state be locked forever??

Conclusion

That's it from me. Both Kataang and Harmione are ships that lack proper respect, chemistry, maturity and trust. The girls give more to the relationship than the guys and the guys don't have any appreciation or care for their interests. Both these relationships are better off staying platonic. And even as a platonic relationship, they are still problematic. None of these kids are evil (not even horrid Harry) but these people need to either date other people and/or have some more emotional development.

Harmione is not a good ship. Harmione fans can claim how much better Harmione is than Romione and act superior all they want in the Romione vs Dramione war (all three ships are trash), but as far as I am concerned, both Hermione and Harry need serious help before they can date anyone. It's ironic really. Hermione mistreats towards Ron but then Harry turns around and mistreats her AND Ron. Harry makes it clear who's king in the golden trio. What karma. Poor Hermione.

If you want a better, more comprehensive meta on why Harmione does not work as a ship, check out this lovely gem of an essay. Have a great day!

[aftonfamilyvalues]

I am terrified if men.

I mean my father did everything to me but rape me. And he’d assert dominance over me /threaten me because he didn’t want other guys to sleep with me, date me, didn’t want me to get married, etc.

I’m no contact and he knows better than to contact me because if he does I’ll take legal action. My mom died and she was the one protecting him.

I seek therapy because I want to heal and am repeatedly invalidated about my trauma and about the reality that most men are abusive, sexual predators.

I’ve expressed that I’m sad I didn’t experience ge t romantic love..

Which is only to say that I’m all about separatism and even though I’m not dating men cause I’m traumatized by them, I have this regret over not having been able to explore a healthy sexuality, and a fear of missing out.

The last therapist I had was malicious/emotional abusive. Would read and be on the computer during sessions and deny doing it. Claimed I talked to much, (bad luck with this super narcissistic, very misogynistic old woman, grandmother /in her 60’s,) she ignored me /was very devaluing, then perked up “it can happen at any age!” She either thought I was lying or l exaggerating about being abused, or/and definitely not listening because I’ve never expressed wanting a bf or a husband, ever. Of course I did as a teenager/child. It’s honestly so demoralizing when even a therapist views you as inferior and like your being single is a problem and thinks you’re talking too much and attention seeking.

I’ve never not had a female therapist downplay or invalidate my trauma and male violence. I wish there were more feminist based pyschotherapists / bare minimum, therapists who do not project their family values Bullshit. I’ve never not have had a therapist view me as the problem to all my experiences. I’ve therapists judge me and treat me as subhuman for being childfree and single.

I def need therapy as I’m so traumatized that I’m scared to sleep and not sleeping anymore and it’s impacting my health. I also can’t regulate my emotions well and I’m a fearful avoidant with ptsd, some folks say therapist isn’t necessary because most are bad. I’d honestly argue most therapists have very misogynistic beliefs…

Is there any way to ver that out. I get so gaslight I lost my sense of self/ I’ve had to recover from bad therapy but once out of therapy I start feeling less crazy… I do we’ll months on my own without talking to someone but then need therapi.

I’m legitimently scared of them at this point. I did give my last therapist feed back about her behavior, when I told her “I’m a person, and I don’t deserve this treatment” and then responded with “I don’t believe you” she raged and yelled at me, blaming me for her being distracted, telling me I talked too much.

I’m started to lose hope however that there are therapists who recognize patriarchy and oppression as a root cause to mental illness, rather than a partner as a cure for mental illness 🙄without claiming I’m the problem when I’m the one showing up to therapy for what happened to me. Therapists all just think their patients are mentally I’ll crazy women who can’t get a man. I feel insane when I go to therapy. Because I’m terrified of men and the focus is never on me as an individual, but (I shit you not, and tbh I even told her she was giving me harmful advice,) but tk shift the focus on my “distortion” of why I think I “can’t have that now.”

(I actually believe there are good therapists in just scared to open up now /be devalued/have a therapist not even treat seperatism as viable or even suggest it to me as an option. I don’t need a therapist to suggest it to me but I’d trust one much better who did. It sucks leaving a therapy session feeling worse because you don’t feel good enough.)

I really think most therapists are sexists because they have male bias

i think ive mentioned it before but therapy is more of a business nowadays. all these therapists arent people that actually want to help, very few of them do, most of them saw a growing industry and decided they could bank on it. they dont care to help and heal, they view therapy as a way to make someone (women) "normal" and fit in to society rather than working through trauma and have a healthy life, even if that life isnt the typical one. ive also seen a lot of therapists feed into bad behavior, validating the emotions and victim complexes of abusers all while teaching them a new progressive language to wield against their victims. i still think about how my friend went to therapy and the entire time going culminated into the conclusion of "your life sucks and theres nothing you can do about it" like what???? it seems like traumatized people come out of these sessions worse and i have no doubt that abusers are going into this field to extend their reach. i feel like the more people glamorize therapy the more this is going to happen.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Exploring Adaptation and Bridgerton

There comes a point where a girl can't deny she has engaged in a fandom. It probably is well before you start writing fic (you can find The Polin Fic on Ao3), but y'know, here we are. Let's talk Bridgerton.

Ok, couple things right off the top.

We are not dealing with either The Duke and I or S1 of Bridgerton on Netflix. We are not dealing with *THAT* scene and it's complete disregard for consent. Find that somewhere else on the internet, it's a big place.

We are literally only talking about The Viscount Who Loved Me and Romancing Mr. Bridgerton. They're the only books I've read, and at this point they're the only books in this series I care to read. That means we'll also chat about S2 of Netflix's Bridgerton.

Ok, with the ground rules established, let's jump on in!

I think the reasonable place to start here is with Kate. I watched Bridgerton the Netflix series before reading The Viscount Who Loved Me, and Kates Sheffield and Sharma are objectively not the same woman. They wouldn't even LIKE each other. Kate Sharma is self-assured, confident, driven, and quite frankly, a force of nature when she wants to be. Kate Sharma understands that not only is she a grown ass woman but also that if she does not get in gear and go for her goals, they ain't happening. You guys, I freaking love Kate Sharma.

By contrast, Kate Sheffield is a blond, blue-eyed, infantilized debutante with some serious unresolved PTSD. I was not at all sorry to see that Shondaland did away with THAT library scene and THAT bee sting scene. I think that the show did both of them way better, and I will never be mad when an adaptation takes an adult female character and lets her ACT like an adult. I also appreciated the shift from creepy Anthony trying to *checks notes* suck the venom out of the bee sting to a full-blown panic attack. It subverted a highly gendered trope and put both Kate and Anthony on a much more even and human footing. It was also--and I cannot stress this enough--so much LESS CREEPY than the book scene. Anthony describing what he was doing in detail while the reader is told but not shown that he's panicky left several different flavors of bad taste in my mouth. Kate Sharma showing actual dimensionality in her strength in the show in this scene as Anthony goes fully nonverbal is objectively a stronger scene that does far more to develop the characters.

Generally speaking, Anthony Bridgerton is Anthony Bridgerton in both the show and the book, with maybe some of the high-and-mighty, self-righteous edges sanded off for the show. He's a regency era Viscount, there's not a whole lot you can do with him in adaptation. Show Anthony is my preference because he has some of the high-handedness sanded off, and because Jonathan Bailey is extremely nice to look at. I don't even hate the S1 (*gasp* she mentioned Bruno!) sideburns and hair, they had a very 1995 Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy vibe that I was willing to lean into. I honestly don't have a whole lot else to say about Anthony, so let's move on and hope that maybe we get an S3 release date before I get to the end of this post.

I actually thoroughly enjoyed the fluffy confection that is Romancing Mr. Bridgerton, which makes it much harder to talk about than The Viscount Who Loved Me. I suppose the biggest difference between the book and what the show is setting up for Polin is in the stakes. The book stakes are arguably extremely low; the consequences for being Lady Whistledown in the book are essentially a round of polite applause and some deep-seated rage that Cressida freaking Cowper would dare to take credit for Penelope's work. And frankly, I was 100% with Penelope on that one. The show cannot possibly roll with that ending (or if they do, they're going to disappoint everyone) because Penelope has pissed off a reigning monarch, and that has, historically, gone poorly. So I think the show is setting up to give Colin real, concrete reasons to be pissed as hell when it comes out that Penelope is Whistledown, and to actually make the pair work for their romance. And for all I enjoyed the fluff in the book, I am a sucker for multiple layers of increasingly high stakes and I hope the show really goes ham on the payoff for this setup. Frankly, I want Colin to be absolutely furious with Penelope and still ready to sneak her out of England if the Queen decides that Lady Whistledown is too dangerous to leave at liberty.

In terms of how Colin himself changes in the show, I'm fairly cool with the "I am a bottomless pit where is the food" aspect of Colin's character being quietly left behind. I think we can do more interesting things with our male characters than that. However, like many of the people who have both read the book and kept up with the show, I am WORRIED about how much Colin's writing has been downplayed. Yes, he and Penelope have a correspondence, and clearly they mean a lot to each other, but writing letters does not necissarily set up Colin's journals and the writing relationship that the two develop in the book. It's so, so wildly uncommon for game to recognize game and form a partnership of equals in skill in regency romance novels, and that was one of the things I loved about Romancing Mr. Bridgerton. I also loved that Colin, not Penelope, was the less experienced newbie of the writing partnership.

Not that the book didn't complicate this issue, because Julia Quinn didn't hesitate for a millisecond to slot Penelope into the historical role of "uncredited, unpaid, and historically unknown editor and 80% of the reason that history remembers the husband who's name is on the cover of the book." And that SUCKS for Penelope.

That takes me really smoothly into the thing that I love most about what Nicola Coughlan brings to Penelope in the show. She has an edge, a little more willingness to take risks, and that really makes me believe that the Penelope of the show could be behind the edgier, sharper, WAY riskier Whistledown. I am excited to see what they do with Polin in S3!

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 13

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 3066

Warnings: None

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks. Also, sorry it's taken so long - life has gotten in the way and I haven't had a chance to write as much :(

Chapter Songs: My Tears Ricochet Hits Different

****

Ghost

The storm raged through most of the night, and Ghost watched it for hours, unable to sleep. Despite her steady voice and relatively calm demeanor, Juliette's fainting freaked her out, and her anxiety took its time going down. It didn't help to have Hangman in the room next to her, so close yet so far, nor the knowledge that he still recognized her tells, although the chamomile had helped calm her nerves. 

Finally, around three a.m., Ghost fell into a light sleep, but nightmares plagued her dreams. Her conscience found particular pleasure in making her relive the accident over and over again. Ghost woke up from them each time, paralyzed in grief and with pain shooting throughout her limbs. The PTSD had lessened significantly since the accident, but certain events and people triggered small recurrences, and Jake 'Hangman' Seresin was a major factor. 

After a fitful night's sleep, Ghost forced herself up at eight and decided to head home. Switching out of the pajamas Juliette so kindly lent to her and back into her own clothes, Ghost shuffled into the hallway and down to the kitchen. Rooster moved surprisingly quietly, considering he'd received his callsign because of the God-awful hour he woke up at and his uncanny ability to make noise no matter how hard he tried not to.

"What are you going to make?" Ghost queried, peering over the counter. 

Rooster jumped, the pan he held flying out of his hand. He flailed about trying to catch it, but it ended up clattering loudly to the floor. He stared in dismay at the pan. "Well, so much for not waking anyone."

"Sorry, I thought you heard me come in," Ghost said sheepishly, picking up the cookware and handing it to him. 

Rooster snorted. "Please. No one hears you coming."

"Then you're not doing it right," Hangman's husky voice remarked. Despite the evident fact he'd literally rolled out of bed (or the couch) moments ago- judging by his annoyingly sexy bedhead and sleepy expression- he still managed to smirk cheekily at them. Ghost grabbed the pan from Rooster and bonked Hangman on the head. He rubbed it ruefully. "Joking, joking."

"No, you weren't," Rooster replied, taking the pan back from Ghost and setting it on the stove. "You two want breakfast?"

Ghost shook her head. "No, but thank you. I need to hurry home and shower before heading back out. Jackie's getting into town this morning for business, and I promised to meet her for a late breakfast before she has to go to her first meeting."

"Send Jackie my regards," Juliette said, waddling into the kitchen. "How is she?"

"Good. Looking forward to whatever deal she's trying to close this week. I'll drop in later to see how you're doing if you're free?"

"Of course. I'm not going anywhere today. I don't want Rooster prepping the nursery unsupervised-"

"I spilled paint one time," he protested, pointing firmly at her with the spatula. "And you're not helping me. Not with the pregnancy complications."

"We can debate this later. Ghost-" Juliette turned to her friend- "like I said, you're welcome to come by later."

"I appreciate it. I'll see you later then. Bye, y'all!" Waving at the group, Ghost hurried outside and hopped on her motorcycle. She sped toward her apartment, miraculously not coming across any cops. Otherwise, she certainly would've been pulled over for speeding. Taking a quick shower, drying her hair, and throwing on enough makeup to make herself presentable, Ghost darted back out the door and hopped onto her motorcycle, speeding like the Devil himself was after her and narrowly arriving at the coffee shop on time. Jackie strutted in hardly a minute later and hugged her little sister tightly, exclaiming quietly, "Oh, it's so good to see you!"

"You too! Good flight?"

"Yeah, yeah, long but good," Jackie said, pulling away and moving to the line to order coffee. "Were you waiting long for me?"

"Oh yeah, I got here ten minutes ago," Ghost lied, unable to help herself from an opportunity to mess with her big sister.

Jackie didn't fall for it. "Really? Because I swear I saw your motorcycle go blasting past me, like, a minute before I got here."

"Don't know what you're talking about. You must've imagined it."

"Uh-huh, yeah, that's what happened," Jackie replied, clearly not believing Ghost. The cheeky grin on her face probably gave it away. "So, what do you want? It's on me."

Knowing better than to argue, nor was she willing to pass up a free drink, Ghost answered. The sisters waited for their orders and, once received, maneuvered to a booth. Jackie faced the door, one of the few people Ghost trusted to do so. Their mother had taught them to always sit facing the door so they knew when and if danger approached.

"How have you been? What's been going on?" Ghost inquired, taking a sip of her tea.

Jackie shrugged. "Mainly work. Heath and I are going to Spain in a few months for our five-year anniversary. He's been dying to go back since college," she said. "What about you? How have you been now that Jake's back in the picture?"

"He's only back temporarily, and I try to avoid him as much as possible, which has turned out to be pretty difficult," Ghost replied in annoyance, going into detail about all the instances she had to be around him, including crashing at the Bradshaw's last night. "He's super close to Juliette, which I never knew. She hardly spoke about him last time we talked, so while I knew they were friendly, I didn't know they were best friends."

"You okay with it?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, that used to be you, and you still love him. Don't-" Jackie pointed a firm finger at her sister- "try to convince me otherwise."

"Even if you're wrong?"

"You mean right?"

"I said what I said, and for the record, I'm okay with it as long as he doesn't hurt her like he did me. I doubt Rooster would let him get away with it if he did, though. I don't know what to think of Jake anymore because he clearly cares for Juliette, but when she passed out yesterday, I offered to Jake to come with us to the hospital because I figured he'd want to be there for her, but no, he declined and offered to watch the dogs instead. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad someone watched Raptor and Lightning because they're Juliette's kids, canine or not, but still, I find it weird he didn't want to be with her when for all we knew, she was in critical condition."

"Why did she pass out?!"

"Something called preeclampsia. They're monitoring it to make sure it doesn't get worse, but she's okay for now. Scared the hell out of us when it happened."

"I'm glad she's okay. Send her my regards next time you see her. Do you think Jake has something against hospitals? First, he didn't see you when you were in it, now Jules."

"No. I mean, he saw Ghoul before she passed, so I don't know what the hell his problem is. He never told me."

Jackie raised an eyebrow. "Did you give him a chance to?"

"He had multiple opportunities to reach out, and he didn't until after the hearing when he knew I didn't blame him for the accident. So, no, I don't think he has a problem with hospitals."

"Have you talked to him at all since you've been here? And I'm talking civilly, not giving him sarcasm."

"A couple of times, and very briefly." Ghost dove into the story of Jake's dad's failing health, his brother being on the lam for the embezzlement, the concern of Kyle joining him, and Kyle's refusal to stop calling her. "I haven't blocked his number, so if he leaves an incriminating voicemail, I can get a restraining order if need be."

"Be careful with him," Jackie warned, eyes narrowing. "I don't like his obsession with you."

"Don't worry. California may have strict gun laws, but I always have some sort of weapon on me, and if I can't have my gun on me, then I have my knives. And yes, that's plural."

Jackie's expression contorted into confusion. "Why do you carry multiple knives?"

"Because if I'm ever attacked, and they disarm me with the first one, the last thing they're going to expect is for me to whip out a second one."

"You know what, good point. I might start doing that." Her gaze flickered over Ghost's shoulder. "Did you tell Hangman where you were going this morning?"

"I said I was getting coffee with you, but not where." Ghost narrowed her eyes at her sister. "Why?"

"You still apparently think alike because he just walked in."

Ghost whirled around, hoping it would be a lookalike of Hangman, but no, it was most definitely him. She faced her sister. "Why? Why is my life like this? This only happens in love stories, which is so not what this is."

"Or maybe it's God telling you it is, and you're refusing to see the signs. Maybe I'll help God out."

"Don you da-"

"Jake!" Jackie hollered out. Judging by the bright smile on her face, he must've heard her. She waved him over.

Ghost groaned and hissed, "I'm going to kill you."

"You can thank me at your wedding when you marry him. Here he comes. Look alive."

"If that's a pun on my callsign-"

"Hello, ladies," Hangman greeted with his signature smirk, his eyes flitting over to Ghost. She noticed a flicker of hesitance in them, along with an unspoken apology, as if he understood this was all Jackie's doing and none of hers.

Jackie stood up and hugged him. "It's so good to see you! If I didn't have to leave soon, I'd invite you to join us."

"I know better than to intrude on girl time," Hangman said, holding his hands up. "Juliette, Penny, and Phoenix taught me that."

"It's not a problem if we invite you to join us."

"I have a feeling it's more like you're inviting me. Don't think Ghost is keen to have her sister-time interrupted," Hangman said, shooting the younger Blackwood a small understanding smile.

"Well, too bad because it's been years since I've seen you. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"The Daggers and I have an air demonstration show, and then we're hanging out at the Hard Deck."

"Oh, shit, I completely forgot about that!" Ghost exclaimed, squeezing her eyes shut. "What time is it?"

"It starts at ten." An unidentified emotion flashed in his eyes. "You participating?"

"Only as a spectator."

"Ah. Jackie, you're welcome to watch the show. I can get you tickets. You can join us at the bar afterward, too, if you're not busy."

"Oh, count me in. I love hanging out with the pilots."

"That why you married one?"

Jackie chuckled. "He knows I married him for his plane."

"I can feel the love. Well, listen, I'll leave you be. Jackie, hope to see you tomorrow night. Ghost, I'll see you around." Hugging the elder Blackwood goodbye and rubbing Ghost's shoulder affectionately after a moment's hesitation, Hangman exited the coffee shop. Jackie sat down with a triumphant smile on her face, causing her sister to ask about it.

"Because I learned something in those few minutes," Jackie said. 

"Which was?" Ghost prodded.

"That he is one-hundred percent, prime time, still in love with you." She took a big swig of her coffee. "Just like I've always believed."

"Can I see your drink for a second?" Ghost asked, reaching over and taking it from her sister before she could respond. She took a sniff and swiftly handed it back.

Jackie stared at her sister in annoyance. "What the hell was that for?"

"I was trying to smell if there was alcohol in your drink because that's the only plausible explanation for your outlandish and downright absurd opinion."

"Jake was never shy around girls. The only time I've ever seen him get flustered is around you."

"I'm calling bullshit, and if you didn't have to leave, I'd go through the list of why," Ghost said, standing up and throwing on her jacket. She watched Jackie finish her drink and toss it in the trash can. "I'm going to assume you're coming tomorrow?"

"Like you even have to ask that. Are we good for dinner tonight? I was going to invite Jake but thought you might actually strangle me for that."

"You're not wrong." Ghost walked outside with Jackie, stopping at her sister's rental car. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. Jackie noticed and asked what was wrong in genuine concern. In a moment of weakness, Ghost confessed, "You were right about me still loving Jake. I do. I always have and probably always will, and honestly? It hurts to be around him because all I want to do is go back to being the friends we were, and I can tell he wants that too, but then I think of how he treated me and behaved after the accident, and it just brings back the pain, and I don't want to go through that again. I lost two friends that day."

Jackie hugged her sister sympathetically. "I understand it's hard, especially because you've never been an open person, but-" Jackie pulled away- "I mean this as gently as possible, you can't wholly blame him for the situation you two are in. You could've confronted him sooner, but you didn't. Maybe now is the time to figure it out."

"Why are you suddenly being logical?" Ghost asked with a defeated pout.

"I have my moments. I want you to be happy, and I noticed you've never been as happy without Jake in your life. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, see you at home." Ghost watched her sister pull out of the parking lot before straddling her motorcycle and driving back to her apartment. Once there, she headed to the living room, where all her guitars hung on display. Ghost beelined for the oldest one on there; it had sat on its wall perch for years, only touched when she had to pack it to move, but something about it called to her at the moment. Grabbing it, she headed to her armchair and set up her phone, purposefully moving the camera down so her face wasn't visible and using a filter to blur the background. Ghost played a few chords, deciding what to play first, but one song kept coming back to her. It deviated from her typical taste of upbeat country, being more indie than anything else, but it came closest to how she felt. Ghost started strumming the chords to "My Tears Ricochet" and pouring all her bottled emotions into it. Singing had become her escape, her way of releasing her feelings because she'd never been good at expressing them. She'd always viewed emotions as a way to be exploited and only allowed a handful of people to see her as anything other than calm and happy. Her parents, sister, Juliette, and Rooster were those people. Hangman used to be one of those, and then the accident happened, and they handled it differently. Ghost spiraled into a depression over losing Ghoul, blaming herself for the accident, and Hangman was nowhere to be seen to help her through the grief like she thought he would. Maybe Ghost should've given him a chance to explain all those years ago? But why did she have to be the one to initiate it? 

Knots formed in her throat during multiple parts of the song, but she pushed through, believing she could get through it without her voice breaking even a little. That was true until she sang: And I can go anywhere I want. Anywhere I want, just not home. 

That's what hurt the most when her friendship ended with Hangman; he'd been her go-to person, the friend she called up first whenever something good or bad happened, the friend that she could always count on during the good and the bad; losing him left a gaping, ragged hole in her heart when it all ended, a hole she'd never been able to fill. It'd been years, and Hangman was still the first person Ghost thought of calling whenever something happened- good or bad- and it took over two years for her to realize why: he'd been her home. She never had trouble leaving anywhere or anyone, only him. Even now, although Ghost hated being around Jake, she didn't want him to go, maybe because she foolishly thought they could work all this out, make it water under the bridge. She'd have to face him for that, though, and Ghost wasn't ready for that. Truthfully, she feared his answer to her question, no matter how many people told her that he loved her. If he had or did love her, why did he leave her alone like he did?

When Ghost finished the song, she stopped the recording and went on Instagram, but her thumb hovered over the post button. What if Hangman saw it? What if he realized she had sung the song about him?

"How would he know?" Ghost mumbled to herself, shaking her head. "It's not like he can see my face or any distinguishing features, and this isn't the only blue guitar in existence. Besides, he doesn't know this account exists. It'll be fine..."

Convincing herself otherwise, Ghost hit the 'post' button and tossed her phone haphazardly onto the couch, as many girls did when they texted or posted something they considered risky. She stood to hang her guitar back on the wall only to be stopped by the incessant buzzing of her phone, alerting her to an incoming call. 

Shit, shit, shit... Scrunching her face up into one of pure reluctance, Ghost carefully flipped her phone over and sighed in relief when she saw the name on the screen. Picking up, Ghost answered, "Morning, Cyclone, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I have a mission for you. How soon can you meet me at my office?"

"Give me fifteen minutes. I'll see you shortly, sir." Ghost hung up and grabbed her keys, wondering what this so-called mission could be.

****

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[galacticwildfire]

found.

Twenty Three

Pairing: Kenobi!oc x Din Djarin

Summary: Satine and Obi-wan’s daughter fought in the war against the Empire and lost her faith when she lost Mandalore. Until she found him. A lone Mandalorian searching for a Jedi.

Warnings: TW for torture, severe ptsd, mention of past miscarriage and intimate violence in the flashback. This one gets pretty dark in places and will for the next few chapters. But there is fluff and some smut amongst the angst.

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N: okay this was originally 10k words so I cut it off at the start of the interaction which means next chapter is going to be the definition of female rage and is already half written. My apologies for making everyone wait so long but it is back and next chapter will follow soon where shit will truly hit the fan.

ALSO I have gone back and rewritten from chapter 20 onwards, everything is the same but just fleshed out with more smut so enjoy

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~

I was heaving on the floor of the cell on Cloud City, blood surrounding me, screaming into oblivion as if the pain in my heart was enough to kill me, to spare me. Screaming in rage in the slightest chance he could hear me. My bloodstained hand hovered over the burning brand on my ribs, heat pulsing from it but my mind, it was my mind Vader had picked apart.

Desperately I threw myself against the door of the cell as if I could break it down, as if my pain alone could give me the strength of Vader but I was no Skywalker. I was a broken girl with a planet of glass for a home and no one to protect me. 

In my fit of madness it felt as if the world was ending and with each slam of my body against the metal I heard the bombs dropping over Mandalore, felt them shake the ground beneath me and waited for the burning world to collapse down upon me and this time finally end me so I could die with my people. 

After what could have been minutes or hours I finally heard the door's seal break from the outside and raised a bruised and broken hand, reaching for what I thought would be Vader's saber to die if only to lay one strike down upon him, but instead I found her.

"Leia?" I gasped out and collapsed then and there as she took me in her arms. There was one person left to protect me after all."I didn't know- I didn't-"

What part I meant, I didn't know. All I knew was I'd been betrayed.

"Kyra?" she whispered in horror clutching me to her until I cried out from the contact to the burning brand, blood from my hands now staining her white suit. "What did Vader do to you?"

I'm gasping as I wake, struggling against the weight of Din in the tiny sleeping compartment, not realising where I am as I break it open and throw myself down onto the floor of the ship, looking up at the lights but no shocks rack my body and no blows come. Terrified tears stain my cheeks as he gets on his knees in front of me, repeating my name cautiously until he reaches for my face to bring me back to where we truly are.

"Kyra?" his voice quakes as I struggle for breath, hand reaching for my throat still gasping for breath and he pulls me into his arms, my head in the crook of his neck as I grasp his cloak for something to hold onto, to convince my mind and body that I'm safe. "You're safe, you're safe cyar'ika."

His voice trembles and I'm shaking violently as he rocks me in his arms and I don't know how long we're there on the floor until I can bear to look at him and he holds my face in his hands, not needing to ask, knowing enough by now to know what haunts me.

"You're safe," he tells me again, thumb caressing my cheek as I look down at my hands, finding them clean of blood even if I can still feel its warmth. "Kyra?" I shake my head, inching away from his touch. "Kyra, it's me, you're safe."

And yet my mind is twisted and its wires damaged enough I still sit there for moments more trying to connect what I see with the fear in my mind, trying to rationalise it, trying to tell myself there is no danger and therefore I should not be afraid.

On undamaged minds that may work, but not mine.

"Din?" I finally whisper, my mind finally equating his touch with calm, with safety, and I let him take me back into his arms as slowly I ground myself in him. 

"I've got you cyar'ika," he promises me, trying to hide how deeply I've scared him. "I've got you. I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

I wish I could believe that, for just a moment I almost do.

"The Empire," I begin as he takes my shaking hands in his own. "They aren't gone."

He slowly shakes his head. "No, they aren't."

I nod numbly and tell him "I want them gone, for good, no matter the cost."

A cost the Republic is not prepared to face, the cost of mercy.

But they never showed me mercy.

"We will start with Moff Gideon," he tells me, giving me something to hold onto as he rests his forehead on mine. "We'll kill anyone we have to. We'll do whatever it takes no matter the cost to keep you and the child safe."

His promise echoes through the empty chambers of my broken mind, reminding me of my purpose. To keep the child safe. Exhausted and wanting to forget everything but his touch I shut my eyes and do what I've always done, what I did when I was just a child captured by the empire, tell myself it was just a bad dream, a bad dream that never happened.

But it did.

~

I wake to the child nuzzling into me, still resting in Din's arms in the middle of the ship with a blanket wrapped over me, everything numb. But for the child's sake I take him in my arms and try to smile, and feel in the child a pain not so dissimilar to my own, a dark pain, a fear. But even more blinding is his compassion as he reaches out to try to ease my own pain, the compassion that makes a Jedi.

I close my eyes and feel flashes of sabers and blasters and hold the child a little tighter, feeling something is terribly wrong, or will be. Something more immediate than the nightmares that haunt us both.

"Kyra?" I hear Din ask, more than in tune with my expressions by now. "What is it?"

"Can you take the kid up to the cockpit, I need to meditate," I tell him and feel surprise at my own words, despite being a Jedi I could count the number of times I've meditated in the last year on one hand despite how devoted I once was to it.

"Alright," he says uncomfortably, not wanting to leave me alone, but somehow pulls me out of that darkness with one silly question "Is that a Jedi thing?"

"Yeah," I say, laughing softly as I wipe tears from the corners of my eyes. "Yeah it is."

Before he lets me go he squeezes my hand tight and says "If you need me, get me."

He has never treated me like glass, and now is no exception despite how badly I know he doesn't want to let me out of his sight. I'm thankful for it.

"I will," I tell him and watch as he lifts the kid up, able to find some joy in the sight before they disappear up into the cockpit and I'm left to contemplate what these dreams coming back mean.

I cannot remember the last time my nightmares had me in such a state. I remember Lando's concern when I'd wake in similar states not knowing where I was and trying to escape, how he'd call Leia trying to get me help with little luck. It is the first time Din has truly seen it, I know it's left him more shaken than he'd admit.

The closer we get to the planet the worse this feeling of doom is, perhaps it's being in close proximity to a place the force is so strong while in such a state, perhaps it's a warning.

Either way, there is a nagging paranoia in me that from experience can only be two things. The Empire and Boba Fett and so I try to rationalise before I jump to conclusions.

If Boba's been living in poverty on Tatooine as all but a ghost for this many years it is safe to say he wouldn't even have the capabilities to follow us, but still, I'm remembering parts of dreams I thought I'd long blacked out and so I force myself to sit in a meditative state to uncover what they are trying to tell me. Luke would probably drop dead from shock if he could actually see me meditating to work through my problems. I hardly remember the girl who managed to train Luke to be the Jedi he is, it's past time I found her again.

Yet my subconscious forces me to remember many events I'd rather not touch until it takes me to those early days with Boba, back before I ever feared him. When I'd found him weeks after my parents deaths, a man who captivated me as no other had, hired help I was stupid enough to not let go. I was one of the only people to ever tell him no when he refused my offer to join me, and most certainly the only one to live, and sure enough we found a price he accepted. 

In the early days there was little fighting between us, it was something built on mystery and a curiosity to learn more of one another, and then a deep respect. Captivating by this stranger in a time when I found myself growing ever more estranged from my aunt for my methods that she found either too pacifist or too extreme, her faith in me was little despite the strong front we put on. I found myself leaning on him as a trusted advisor to guide me through troubles with Mandalorians who resembled him more than myself, even if he was a clone to all others he still upheld our creed and significantly more credits than he did before he met me.

Long days on Mandalore fighting and mourning, days when I found myself struggling to hold what power I could and was somehow under the illusion I had power over this deadly man and mistakenly thought I was the one to seduce him in the dangerous game we played. I don't know how many times he asked me if it was what I wanted that very first time, leaving no room for me to regret it when he warned me of exactly what he was before he ever touched me. I all but begged him too, wanting to feel like a woman instead of a broken child, but I was too young to even begin to comprehend what I was getting myself into. 

But at nineteen you truly do believe you are sure of what you want, and he knew he was the only man I trusted. At some point before it fell apart that very first time he truly respected me when he watched me wield the Darksaber to defeat men twice my age and size who challenged me for it. Like that one of Vizsla who I sent back into exile after I defeated him in combat before all the clans for the crimes he had committed against my mother alongside Death Watch that final time when I was sixteen and struck Maul down.

That was the moment I gained the respect of the people, a respect Boba told me I'd thrown away by leaving Bo-Katan as regent to return to the Rebellion. 

Little did I know it was that very moment I returned to the Rebellion I'd lost whatever real love was between us. That was the moment we found ourselves on opposite sides of the war as he turned to the Empire to fill his pockets.

Every dark thing inside of me he brought out, and I was powerless to stop him as he turned my rage into something that haunts me to this day. It haunts me when I know at some point Vader put credits in his hand to bring me to him and I wonder for just how long before Cloud City he was trying to seduce me to the Empire's side so I'd go willingly. 

To this day I still don't know what were lies, all I knew was that despite everyone he'd done, he loved me and I him.

"You can claim you're better than me, doing what you do for the greater good, except you're lying," Boba told me that last night together. "You don't care about the greater good or honour, you do what you do because you want revenge. You kill because you like it. You have a cruel streak in you, princess. Deep down you are just as ruthless as I am."

I hated how safe I always felt with him even though I should have been terrified, because he was the only person in the galaxy who I could show the worst of me and he wouldn't even blink an eye. Even on Tatooine when I was Jabba's prisoner. Because the worst of me was only a fraction of the worst of him. "If I'm a killer then what are you? A masochist? A traitor? You are a man without honour Boba Fett."

Those last words struck a nerve. "You can pretend all you want. But you aren't a good person. You aren't a hero." He had me backed up against the wall of his room that Jabba's guards had thrown me into as a personal thank you for giving him Han. Jabba's gift to Boba. "Do you really think they'll love you once they know everything you've done?" His hand was around my throat as burning tears slipped down my cheeks. Not to choke me, but to keep me still as he revealed "Do they know you're the one who led me straight to Solo? That I incinerated your friend Skywalkers aunt and uncle?" I shook beneath his touch. "That you knew all along he was Vaders and lied to him, to everyone." But it was when his blaster pressed against my exposed stomach I knew that he knew. "To me."

"I lied to you?" I repeated dangerously, now in pure disbelief at the words I heard. "I?" I pushed him off of me then, my voice raising to a scream of pure rage as I shoved him again into the opposite wall. "I lied to you? All you ever did was lie!" 

"I never lied to you princess, I told you exactly what I was," he said as my hand itched for a blade. "You just never wanted to hear the truth." He stepped back towards me, telling me the words that were the truth. "You are not an innocent, you are not a victim, you are the one who never listened when I warned you of what I was and what would happen."

It was the truth, and yet it didn't make him an innocent either.

"Look at it," I told and slapped him across the face before I grabbed it and pulled his eyes down to the brand Vader left on me. "He left it just for you." He shut his eyed like a coward as I hissed. "Turns out he doesn't like his little bitch fucking his targets."

He pulls my hand back, and I'm smiling knowing I've hit him where it hurts. "I'm no one's bitch."

"You were mine," I remind him, knowing he was once my hired blaster. "A shiny bar of beskar and you're owned by anyone."

He grabbed me by the chain around my throat. "And you're the one in chains now princess so tell me how that's worked out for you? No home, no family, no one to love you that won't soon be dead. No one but me."

I slammed him back into the wall, reaching for any weapon within reach I could get my hands on "You fuck-"

"Hate me all you want princess, you love me."

"No," I lied, hating myself because it was true. "How can I after you fucking left me to Vader, after you betrayed me!"

"No more than you betrayed me," he said as if I had a choice, as if I wasn't screaming on the floor of that cell on Cloud City and it was then as I reached for his blaster he grabbed me again, throwing me back and pinning my wrists to the wall. "You took my chance to be a good man from me, to be a father-"

Tears burned in my eyes and I realised the greatest cruelty I could inflict upon him was to let him believe whatever Vader told him and I stopped fighting then as I looked him in the eye. "And I would do it again."

He held me by the throat and I watched seething as he dragged his blaster along my exposed body, the same blaster he'd used countless times to do such unholy things to me, and I didn't look away as he pressed it into my stomach.

He was deadly silent, finger over the trigger as I searched his cold eyes and felt the things he never learned to hide from a person like me. 

"I know you Boba Fett," I told him, I might have been the only person in the galaxy who did. "I know you love me." Finally his fist closed around my throat to prove to both of us that he didn't but I hardly blinked as he held it tight, enough to constrict my airways but still unable to bring himself to truly hurt me and somehow that made it worse. "Don't be a coward now, you could choke me to death and still would never come close to inflicting the pain Vader did."

"You were my target," he told me, digging the knife deeper with his words since he couldn't bring himself to do it physically. "From the moment you returned to the rebellion. You were my target when I dug you out of the rubble on Mandalore, every night together was all to get the information I was paid to bring to Vader, but you knew that didn't you?" I didn't give him an answer, I couldn't even give myself one as he tapped his blaster against my cheek. "And you let me do it because you loved me."

I could have used the force to pull the trigger, to end this as I begged him to do half a year before. For my blood to be on his hands, the blood of the woman he loved. It would have been cruelly poetic, but I was too bitter to die before seeing the end of the empire.

"How?" I finally asked him as I searched his heart and mind, finding such strong love twisted with darkness, finding the same in mine own heart and that darkness was what I could not forgive. "How could you do this to someone you love?"

"This was never love," he told me, seeing what I couldn't but his heart- he could not hide it from me, not from a Jedi.

"Liar," I breathed, smiling at the hate in his eyes, his lips hovering just above mine. "If it wasn't we would have killed each other a hundred times over by now."

"Kyra."

I jump at the sound Din's voice, pulled from the meditative state that's reminded me of why I don't meditate. I wanted clarity not pain, and I certainly don't have the time to unravel years of torture before I can figure out what the immediate danger at hand is.

"Are you alright?"

I nod stiffly, composing myself but still Boba's words haunt me amongst much else. 

"I'm just thinking, that's all."

"About the nightmare?" he asks and comes over to me, sitting down in front of where I am and takes my hands in his. "We're raising a child together ner karta, there isn't anything you can't tell me."

But there is. There is so much I haven't been able to speak a word of to anyone. Not even Leia after she found me there a bleeding mess on the floor but she knew. Her and Lando both saw me there, Lando in all these years has never once dared to mention what he saw and Leia... we held each other all through that night, not having to speak a word of what we'd both lost.

"Sometimes I dream of the war," I tell him, not going into detail. "More often than not they turn into nightmares." 

"But not like that," he says and gently presses "All these nights we've spent in the same room, I've never seen you like that."

I swallow hard and tell him just enough "In my nightmare I was trying to break out of a cell and when I woke I didn't know where I was."

He nods slowly, thumb running over the side of my hand, gently calming me but the only interpretation I can find of those dreams is that something is coming and I can't afford to let myself end up trapped and helpless again. I need to heed Boba's words instead of pretending I am not what he knows me to be. I never fought out of the goodness of my heart as a Jedi should, it was a search for justice that quickly turned to revenge. 

The time of pretending I am a peaceful person is over, I've trained Luke and Leia, I did my duty to them in resisting those violent urges to keep them from being tempted by darkness. I will fight darkness until the day I die instead of surrendering to it, but I can't deny my Mandalorian nature.

"My mother Satine, she was the most staunch pacifist in the galaxy," I tell him and realise how little I've told him of her. "She watched Mandalore be destroyed by civil wars before either of us were born, her father was killed during the last of them. I never knew him but he was a follower of the old ways, a warrior. It was him who taught Bo-Katan the way, and her who taught me. It was at the end of these wars your people were exiled to the moons of Mandalore."

"Concordia," he reveals and suddenly it all makes sense. "My people were of Concordia, it was there we lived before the purge."

"And that was the divide that almost got her killed more times than I can count," I tell him while he listens carefully. "She believed that the moment we commit to fighting we've already lost and that was the ideology that kept Mandalore neutral until the Empire decided otherwise and she did her part, playing along in order to protect her people until she couldn't." It's then an old guilt surfaces, a wound Boba would always tear open to be cruel. "All because her daughter was a Jedi. I had worked with the Rebellion for three years at that point, since the last time Death Watch tried to kill her, and so when she surrendered and was taken to Vader Leia and I tried to rescue her. By the time I found her Vader had tortured her to the point her body had all but given out, and her last words to me, the greatest pacifist to ever live, were that Mandalore's fate was in my hands now and to never stop fighting."

He's silent in contemplation of my words until he says "And you've never stopped. Even now you're still fighting the Empire."

"But what if I'm fighting the wrong battle?" I ask him finally, trying to find some meaning in these nightmares. "What if running around the outer rims fighting Imperial remnants is the wrong battle, one I've been fighting since the moment the war ended. What if the battle I should be fighting right now is for Mandalore? What if fighting the Empire to keep ourselves safe isn't enough?"

"Then I'll stand behind you," he swears to me but cautiously asks "What's brought this on?"

"I want Moff Gideon dead, I want my enemies to burn," I confess to him, that violent streak I've tried to hide baring itself. "I don't want to just hide away with Grogu living the reclusive life of a Jedi. I want justice, I want the one thing a Jedi shouldn't which is revenge."

He tilts his head towards me and I can feel the concern as he takes my hand "Then when we kill Moff Gideon we will find other Mandalorians, the fight for Mandalore is not lost unless you say it is."

I look at him and ask a careful question "I know you have the same ruthless streak that I do Din. You're a bounty hunter, I'm a soldier. We're both killers." He's quiet, not knowing where I'm going with this but all I know is that I need him to see the parts of myself I don't know how to love myself, to prove to myself Boba's words aren't true, that there will be no one to love me but him. "We might fight for peace, but that doesn't mean we aren't killers all the same."

"I know what I am," he tells me, voice rough. "Before the child, I was a cold-blooded killer, a bounty hunter, but I thought you hated that."

"No," I say quickly, immediately separating what Din is from what Boba was and realise "I'd be lying to you if I said I ever did. You said that you were never a hero like I was but I was never a hero Din, I never did the things I did for the greater good. I did them because like Ahsoka said, I had my mothers passion for justice but more than that I wanted revenge for the things the Empire had taken for me and to protect what I feared losing. I could never admit it because that is not the way of the Jedi."

"But it is the way of the Mandalorian," he says and I look down at our joined hands. "If you think that for even a moment that seeing that side of you would make me love you less then you're wrong." He lifts my chin back up as he tells me "I only love you more."

And with those words he makes me realise something no one else could in almost ten years, that I don't need a bloody and violent love that leaves me in agony. Not when I have him, a man who knows my past and what comes with it and yet loves me unconditionally. Who has taught me I can love without pain. 

The next thing I know I'm in his arms and he's holding me tight, the cold beskar feeling like home as I tell him "I love you Din Djarin. When I'm with you, somehow everything makes sense."

He chuckles lightly as he tells me "I wish I could say the same but I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this Jedi stuff."

I laugh with him now, the darkness forgotten as I tell him "This is what I mean, you can always pull me out of anything, no matter how caught up I get in my own head."

"Well it's hardly like you don't have anything to worry about," he tells me, always practical in his reasoning and admits to me "Sometimes I swear all I do is worry. Is this what it's like being a parent?"

My smile turns a little sad. "I wouldn't know, but I'm learning." My fingertips run along the edge of his helmet. "And I'm glad to be doing it with you, with a man who understands what it's like to be willing to do anything for those we love, no matter how violent."

He tugs me close as he tells me "Do you really think I fell in love with a peace loving Jedi? I fell in love with a Mandalorian woman who could hand my ass to me on a silver platter."

I laugh against his helmet "You've barely even seen me in a fight yet."

His voice is deep as says "The day I see you in beskar fighting is the day I'll be on my knees begging to make you mine."

My chest tightens at what he's suggesting and I play coy "I'm already yours."

He pulls me into his lap, squeezing my waist as he tells me "Not until I can call you my wife you aren't."

"Din-" I breathe, my hands on his chest plate as he pulls me flush to him and my forehead touches his, wanting it, wanting something I swore to myself I'd never want again but here I am. 

And I'm not afraid anymore.

"I want to kiss you," he murmurs, taking my hand and holding it to his beskar cheek.

"Then kiss me," I say, pressing my lips to the beskar, quite comfortable with the circumstances that come with it "I can-"

"I don't want you to close your eyes," he tells me quickly, and he nervously lifts up his helmet as he would if he was drinking and I gently put a cautious hand on his before I can see anything.

"Are you sure?"

"I am," he says and lifts his helmet enough that I can see the patchiness of his beard, his lips. I take his shaking hand in mine as I bring my lips to his, tracing the outline of his jaw with them, leaving soft kisses in my path.

"I love you," I breathe, letting him feel my words as I kiss him. "All of you, helmet and all."

"And I love you," he says, his voice raw and unmodulated and beautiful.

"I know I'd love to hear more of that voice," I say, running my thumb over his lips.

I can feel his smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," I smile back, kissing him softly before pulling his helmet back down. "But only what you're ready to give."

"I want you to see me," he says, but I can feel the conflict behind those words. "The creed I- I know it isn't what I was raised to believe but-"

"You don't have to explain my love," I tell him gently. "I understand, and I love you. You don't need to force yourself to abandon the beliefs you hold or make any decisions until you're sure of them."

"Thank you," he breathes, hands heavy on my body, showing me his love and need for me in the way he knows how since words don't always come easy to him, but he does better than he thinks he does. "I love you Kyra, more than anything." 

Except for the child but we both know that.

"I know," I promise him and he grips my waist just right and I have to bite back a moan as he begins tugging my dress up and I gasp out as he lifts me up, my back slamming into the wall as he pulls my legs around his waist, his strength always stunning me.

I'm breathless as he asks "How do you want it?"

"Rough," I answer, needing the release, needing the feeling of him inside of me that clears my mind better than any amount of meditation could and he holds me up with ease as he unzips himself and tugs my dress up to my waist, finding nothing beneath.

"Ever practical," he teases, wasting little time as I feel him line up with me, always ready for him.

"Always," I smile only to find myself choking out his name as he enters me. "Din-"

"That's it," he says soothing me through it, this being one sensation I don't think I will ever get used to. "Say my name."

~

By the time we're approaching Tython we're in the cockpit with Grogu, dressed now for combat in case it finds us as it so often does. Grogu's in my lap while Din's doting over him from the pilots seat.

"Grogu." The kid looks up from his ball in surprise at hearing his name and Din chuckles lightly while Grogu goes back to his ball but he can't resist. "Grogu?"

Grogu looks back up at him and Din makes a sound of astonishment that leaves me sitting there drowning in adoration for this man but remember I'm still responsible for training the little green rascal. "Din, cyare, try the trick you did with Ahsoka, the one with the ball."

He nods and holds his hand out, voice gentle "Give me the ball."

Grogu leans away, not wanting to give up his precious ball and looks up at me as if asking if I'm really going to let him take it and I chuckle "It's okay Grogu."

"Grogu," Din says again. "Give me the ball." Grogu resists, and I begin to wonder if I should be more concerned over his attachment to that ball than to us. "Come on."

He hands it over and I do find it interesting he does understand us almost completely when we speak with him even if he can't talk back, not yet at least but considering all the poor thing's gone through I wouldn't be surprised if he was selectively quiet and that it's delayed his speech. One of the many things we will work on together.

Din holds the ball up between his fingers and Grogu leans forward on my lap "Okay, here we go. You can have it, just like before." Grogu reaches out but not with the force and Din tilts his helmet towards him "Grogu come on, you can have it."

And then I feel it, the focus and nod approvingly as he uses the force to reach out and bring the ball to him and as he catches it Din proudly exclaims "Dank Farrik!" Grogu quickly drops the ball and I kiss his little head as Din quickly backtracks "Hey no, I'm not mad at you, you did good."

"You did Grogu," I affirm gently as he coos "So good."

Grogu listens to Din as he says "When the nice lady said you had training I just-" for a moment I remember my own father training me, how excited he'd get when he saw the progress I'd made and Din reaches forward to put the ball in his hands "You're very special kid."

"You are," I say cuddling him in my lap. "And I'm going to train you just as my dad trained me. " He coos up at me and I smile "I'll teach you to use the force and to speak, to read." Din's watching as I lift him up and he squeals happily. "I dare say your dad will teach you to use a blaster."

"Not a proper blaster yet, but a training one," Din says and I laugh as he makes the motion with his hand. "He won't be able to pull a trigger so it will be one of the ones you squeeze."

"Oh maker I love you Din Djarin," I tell him in pure adoration and feel the warmth beneath that beskar. "And I love you too Grogu."

The kid's smiling as he reaches out, dropping the ball to touch my face and I kiss his forehead, holding him as Din reaches over to squeeze my knee before lowering us into Tythons atmosphere.

I'm absentmindedly humming to Grogu as we enter and look about realising we have absolutely no idea where to find this singular rock on a planet that's no doubt filled with old Jedi relics but thankfully it finds us as we lay eyes on what looks to be a type of temple with a stone in the centre.

"That the one?" Din asks me as if I know anymore than he does but remember I am meant to be the Jedi after all.

"That's the one."

"Alright kid," Din says. "Let's take you to the magic rock."

I shake my head at him while smiling, it's hard not to love him when he views the force with more wonder and mysticism than anyone I've ever met, it makes me see it through new eyes.

He circles it looking for a place to land while I hold Grogu up so he can see and Din says "I can't land on top, we'll have to travel the last stretch with the windows down."

"That's fine," I tell him but can't help the anxiety that comes as we land, that nagging feeling still there. "I just don't want to be too far from the ship."

He nods and he has a hand on my back as we walk out, I sigh when I see the distance we have to walk "Well, we'll be stretching our legs at least."

Din just tilts his head down towards me "Do you really think I'd make you walk?"

And so moments later we're flying to the top, Din holding the kid and I, and it makes me begin to reconsider the issue of my own armour. I discarded it out of shame but now... now it feels as if I'm starting to atone for my defeats.

Perhaps it's time I pick up my armour again, if not for myself then to better protect the child and Din's words are certainly a contributing factor. 

We land at the seeing stone and I take in the geometry of the temple, hesitant at what exactly this seeing stone entails but the force's presence here is undeniable. I'd heard stories but feeling it is something else entirely.

"Well, I guess this is it," Din says but still I look back towards the ship, not denying the feeling in my gut but try to not let it show for Grogu's sake.

"The legends say this planet is where the call of the force was heard by the first Jedi," I say to Grogu, the recognition of the name having come to me in the ship. "I remember the stories my father would tell me of the wars here between the light and the dark." I look around, having found the stone but know there should be far more ruins scattered across the planet Luke would find interest in and tell Din. "I want to stay and look about but I've got a bad feeling."

"A bad feeling?" he repeats, trusting my instincts by now.

"I can't pinpoint it, but I want to leave as soon as we're finished at the stone," I answer and he looks about confused since it seems we're the only people on this planet and decide. "After this we're going to Kalevala."

"Kalevala?" he repeats back to me, no doubt knowing the planet since it's in the Mandalore sector but in confusion as to why I'd want to go there

I've come to the place the Jedi originated from, but something is calling me back home and being here, it's as if the force itself is telling me to return.

"To my family's castle," I say and he tilts his helmet towards me in disbelief.

"Your family's castle?" he exclaims. "You have a castle?"

"I'm royalty Din," I remind him and that seems to shock him more than anything else I've ever revealed to him. "You know this."

"I know but there's a difference between saying you're a princess and having a castle."

I look at him incredulously. "Din, I literally ruled Mandalore."

"I know, I know" he assures me but still asks "You have an actual castle and you're living in an apartment on Chandrila?"

I blink at him in offence before confirming "Yes, I have a castle."

"Here that kid?" Din says to Grogu as we walk towards the stone. "You're gonna get a castle."

I laugh as we reach it and remind him "You know for him to inherit we have to take the proper adoption vows."

He stops for a second as if he hadn't even realised he hasn't yet. "You're right, we haven't." His voice is heavy as he tells me "Before you came along I- I could never bring myself to call myself his father. He was always a foundling in my care I thought I would have to give up, but now-"

"Now things are different," I say and hold him as I tell him "He's your son, your foundling, no one's going to take him away from you." I rub Grogu's head as I say "Isn't that right Grogu?"

He smiles and I take him from Din to place him on the rock "Okay now, I don't know what's going to happen but you're going to do what uncle Luke, and no doubt many other Jedi have taught you, and meditate." He makes an annoyed sound as I put him down and sigh "I understand, but you've got to do it, okay?"

He makes a sound resembling an okay and that's good enough for me. Din and I stand back waiting for something to happen and he asks me "Do you feel anything?"

Nothing overly strange aside from the impending doom and overwhelming concentration of the force and ask him curiously "Why, do you feel something?"

He looks around before answering "I feel the wind." He takes a glove off and holds his hand up. "Kind of."

Definitely not force sensitive then.

I take his hand and squeeze it, bringing his attention back to Grogu who sits on the stone watching us instead of connecting to the force.

"Grogu, concentrate," I lecture him. "I know you can feel it."

Din tries to help as he says to Grogu "This is the seeing stone, are you seeing anything?" Grogu just coos and he looks at me and asks "Can you?"

"I will" I answer, knowing if I sat on that stone and meditated I could certainly see many things, but it is Grogu who first needs to. "You see he and I always feel the force but because of how strong it is here it is easier for us to channel it and to have visions."

"Visions of what?" he asks me and I swallow.

"I dare say nothing happy," I tell him stiffly. "But we need Grogu to reconnect with the force without fear and for me to be able to use it to communicate with him as Ahsoka did."

He turns his head towards me and quietly asks "Why can't you?"

A question I've been asking myself for a while but the answer is simple, a combination of my own neglect in connecting with the force and the fact the only force sensitives I ever knew were my father, Luke and Leia. It's out of my expertise.

"You see Din, some people are naturally stronger with the force than others, they would be taken to the Jedi temple to be trained but there are those who are stronger than others. Grogu is one of the strongest to live, as was his father or rather sperm doner," I find myself muttering. "My father was never exceptionally strong and neither am I, he was only a few years younger than myself when he finished his training. It was his devotion and discipline to the force and to his training that made him strong in comparison to his apprentice who was much like Grogu, all raw strength but little discipline."

Grogu makes an offended sound and Din assures him "We know you're trying hard Grogu, it's okay. You're doing great kid."

"He is, compared to myself which has been a reasonable enough amount of raw strength but little discipline these past years. Meanwhile Ahsoka was likely one of the stronger Jedi if she was given to Anakin to train," I explain to Din. "And she's still had more training than I, proper training in the temple by many masters which is something I've never had. My father taught me well, but our time together was cut short. Despite training Luke I still have much to learn, and if Grogu can remember his training and I can see those memories it can help both of us."

"So you'll sit on the stone after him?" Din asks and I nod, turning my attention back to getting the kid to concentrate.

"Feel the force Grogu," I instruct him. "I know you can. It's strong isn't it?" He nods and I prompt "Now close your eyes and let yourself feel it, you don't have to be afraid, we're here, you're safe."

Sometimes I still find it strange, the jump from training a nineteen year old grown boy just older than myself to a child. Although it isn't that different really, Luke may be all serious now but maker knows he wasn't when I was training him.

Din looks around and asks me "Is he supposed to see something or is something supposed to see him?"

I actually stop for a moment at that question and wonder "Both could be possible."

Still Din walks around the stone as Grogu tries to concentrate wondering "Maybe there's a control or something."

I watch as he uses the settings of his visor to search for any mechanics in the rock until I have to interrupt.

"Din, ner cyare," I say, finding his effort to be involved in his training truly endearing, I really can't help but adore it, but have to inform him"That's not how the force works. Let the kid concentrate."

But just as the kid looks as if he's gotten into that meditative state his eyes open up and he reaches for a butterfly. 

Din sighs and tells me "I'll never understand the force."

"You will," I assure him and squeeze his hand. "The first thing is to remember it is not physical or literal, it is a sense as much as hearing or seeing, or rather feeling like you'd feel an emotion, but it takes effort to connect with." I look at Grogu and tell him "Effort Grogu, now close your eyes and focus."

I use the force to non fatally flick the butterfly away and after a sound of protest he closes his eyes and finally settles into a meditative state leaving Din and I in a state of awe as the inscriptions around the stone come alight and a force shield emerges around Grogu.

"Holy-" I hear Din begin and nod in agreement, not having seen anything quite like this before but our awe is interrupted by the sound of something entering the atmosphere.

Slowly I turn to see the ship entering the atmosphere and the very blood is drained from my veins at the sight of it, a ship I know far too well. 

My eyes fall shut, everything making sense now.

"Is it a Jedi?" Din asks in confusion and slowly I shake my head. "Kyra?"

I can feel him so strongly, that whisper that's haunted me right here, right now.

This can only end bloody.

"Get the kid," I order, drawing my saber. "Now!"

But as he goes to grab the child the forceshield blasts him back onto the ground and with wide eyes I help him up, anxiously looking up at Slave I and back to the kid.

"Is it the Empire?" Din asks me but I can't even bring myself to speak his name as I grab Din's blaster and he yells out as I fire five shots right into the forceshield only for each one to be reflected. "Kyra!"

"The kid's safe here but we need to get to your ship and get weapons," I order him, the forceshield being enough protection for me. "Get ready for a fight."

"What-"

"Ship, now!" I order and he yells out after me as I run down the mountain, keeping low as I make my way through the scrub, his voice fading out as he runs after me and I don't stop until I'm met with blaster fire and he quickly takes cover as I reflect the shots with ease and stand out in the open, unafraid and perhaps already a little mad.

"Kyra!" I hear Din barking out, trying to get me to take cover but I am not hiding.

"Come out Boba," I call and feel the pure panic from Din as he finally realises who we are facing, realises why my first instinct was to draw my weapon. "You hunted me down on Tatooine, don't run away now!"

I should be terrified but I'm not. He has haunted me for half a decade now, ten years since I first laid eyes on him. I know him too well to fear him.

But it's as he emerges cloaked in black a different horror has me in its grasp and I look upon the man I once loved as he stands before me, scared and deformed, as if he's aged twenty years from the damage done to him. 

The damage I did to him.

I draw a sharp breath and he sees it, he sees the horror in my eyes as I whisper his name.

"Boba."

[robotslenderman]

So, for DA fans who haven't been following me long enough to know Liriel Lavellan's story -

Liriel Lavellan was originally a Fenhawke baby, that's why she looks so much like Fenris. She's from an AU where a Magehawke got pregnant and Fenris Didn't Take It Well and decided that it was too dangerous for a mage to raise a baby and betrayed Hawke to the Templars.

("But Fenris wouldn't do that!" I don't care I did this for fun it's an AU go away, I will not be taking discourse at this time, we do not apologise for the inconvenience.)

Hawke ran and went back to Lothering, then into the Wilds she grew up in. She had twins - twins run in her family, and the female twin is always a mage - and Fenris continued to pursue her. "Leandra Hawke" grew up befriending the various denizens of the Wilds and hiding from the Templars. She learned to shapeshift, but she couldn't quite get it right - the mabari form she took, its fur was the same colour as her hair, and her eyes also remained the same.

Eventually Fenris came up with the idea of using an assassin to draw Hawke's blood to make a phylactery. The assassin got Liriel instead, tossed the bloodstained dagger into the grass, and then gave Hawke a small injury when she killed him.

Fenris caught up and used the blood on the dagger to make a phylactery. Unfortunately Hawke's very survivable wound got infected because she and the children could no longer catch enough of a break to stop and rest, so she ended up sending her children away. She told Leandra that mages were free in Tevinter and that Fenris would never follow them there. Leandra never saw her mother alive again.

Her mother was wrong. Fenris followed them there and they had many near misses with him. Then slavers showed up, captured her brother Leto, and in the ensuing rescue attempt he died. Fenris never figured out that there were two children and was so full of rage he wanted nothing to do with "Hawke" ever again. All Fenris knew was that Hawke had a son who died, and she had a white mabarj.

I wanted to play her in DAI so obviously I changed the backstory a bit to make sure she wasn't, you know, three years old. I did okay her as Inquisitor but ultimately decided to make her a companion, along with @orodrethsgeek's OCs Lahariel and Mahanon. Her father is still a former Tevinter slave and her mother is still a human mage with ties to nobility.

After her brother's death when she was seventeen, Sehris (as her birth name now is) remained in dog form for two years as she was too scared to ever take her real form again, afraid that one day her father would find her and haul her to the Circle. She basically scavenged in the wilderness to survive, gradually making her way south to Nevarra and then the Free Marches. Eventually she caught the tail of Clan Lavellan, where she started stealing from them in the night and scavenging their kills.

At first she didn't let them approach her. Lahariel, who grew up with clan Sabrae and was one of its few survivors, felt an affinity with the apparent mabari as a Fereldan and basically started making sure they left more scraps for her. Eventually he managed to entice her to sit next to him at night while he fed her. He named her Liriel, after an old Elvhen war hero.

When Lavellan eventually discovered she was a mage Lahariel didn't take it well due to his phobia of mages (due to the trauma of losing his clan; for a long time he thought that the mages of the clan fell to demons by mistake and after that believed any mage could be possessed at any moment whether they wanted to or not) and had a full PTSD episode. After he calmed down he and Liriel were always at each other's throats - Liriel was terrified he'd kill her on purpose, and he was terrified she'd kill him and everyone he cared about by accident. Basically they both pushed each other's PTSD buttons big time.

Clan Lavellan did accept her as one of theirs, though she was pretty damn feral and traumatised. The Second of Lavellan, Deshanna, took her under her wing. The "ha ha ha imagine if Liriel was Keeper" jokes got a whole lot less funny when both the Keeper and First died in very close proximity and Liriel ended up First.

When the Conclave (can't remember if that's the right term or not) happened Liriel asked Deshanna's blessing to attend - she had vallaslin now but she'd never consider herself free until the Circle as a compulsory institution was abolished, and she wanted justice for her mother and father. Deshanna said no. Liriel went anyway.

After the explosion she was hanging around being a cute mabari and caught sight of this absolute fucking idiot of a mage who just TURNED HIMSELF IN TO THE TEMPLARS, LIKE A FUCKING I D I O T, in order to help. Liriel followed him around as he treated the unconscious Sable Trevelyan and found his knowledge of the Fade and Veil interesting so decided to continue tagging along, still playing the "cute innocent doggus" schtick she did with Lavellan.

Solas was initially very suspicious of her obvious intelligence but the Fereldans told him that it was normal for mabari so he eventually let down his guard.

But Deshanna didn't let Liriel go easily. When Sable and company were in Val Royeaux, Mahanon and Lahariel caught up to her and outed her as a mage. Liriel was pretty pissed off about this and was like "WHY DID YOU BLOW MY COVER THIS GUY IS DODGY AS FUCK." Meanwhile Solas was absolutely screaming internally that he'd been outwitted by this little shit.

Liriel was suspicious. She was SO fucking suspicious. Like throughout my first playthrough she was constantly picking holes in the stuff he said and did and I kept waiting for it to pay off but it never did. Then almost yeeted my computer through the window when that fucking epilogue happened because I FUCKING KNEW HE WAS DODGY.

I decided that Liriel eventually figured out there was a link between the orb and Fen'Harel based on what Solas let slip, and his obvious connection to wolves. Until the Temple of Mythal she thought he was some kind of leader of a subversive, anti-Dalish cult that worshipped the Dread Wolf instead of the Creators. But that didn't feel quite right because Fen'Harel, by his nature, was a loner - and so was Solas. She spent the entire game crawling up Solas's ass, calling out his contradictions and slip ups. He was both impressed and very annoyed about this.

When she found out that the Creators her adopted clan worshipped were actually REAL... that was when the penny dropped.

She told Lahariel and Mahanon only. Mahanon didn't believe her, but Lahariel did. The three of them kept it quiet; they'd decided by then that Solas was clearly harmless, that there was more to what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes than they knew (all three of them agreed he was involved, but sincerely believed that he was either not ultimately at fault or that he was and regretted it and was trying to fix it) and there was probably more to the story of him betraying the Creators than they knew about.

At the end of Inquisition Liriel determined to find the truth of history, and left clan Lavellan to seek out ancient Elvhen ruins and find the history nobody else had before. Mahanon and Lahariel went with her, inspired by the way she fought for the Dalish against Abelas in Mythal's Temple and her open defiance against Mythal herself. She resolved that the gods were never coming to save the Dalish, and Solas clearly wasn't going to assist at all, so they had to save themselves - and she'd do her part to help.

In my personal canon Mahanon stopped him from leaving, and Solas gave in to his desire to stay and help raise Celysel, his daughter by Liriel (they constantly argued but not so much they didn't fuck when bored; their relationship was nothing like the canon Solavellan relationship, though there was genuine fondness there. Solas never told her about the vallaslin and never "left" her either). What happened afterwards is a whole TLDR of its own, but the short version is he eventually came to trust the three of them and they worked to help him deal with whatever he was trying to do without killing everyone in the process.

In the game's canon, obviously he left. When Trespasser happened Liriel went to Halam'shiral with Mahanon, Lahariel and a toddler Cel. When it became obvious that Solas was involved, Liriel went to Sable and Leliana and told them the truth about Solas.

When Sable confronted Solas, he told Solas that Liriel had figured it out. Solas was genuinely, wistfully proud of her, and told Sable that her favourite Dalish legend was the one where the Dalish hunter's dog caught Fen'Harel by the tail.

I'm still deciding whether or not I'll play her for DA4.

[boredferret23]

sad headcanons I have of the seed family:

Joesph: selfs harms but tries to make it normal in the cult, secretly hates him self but tries to make a father figure to everyone because he never got that.

Jacob: when he has bad ptsd he tends to occupie his time by punching a wall or something that could damage him in a way but not leave a big mark, he tends to have a strong look when in public or with people but onces he's by himself he breaks down and has small panic attacks and tries to tell himself he can't act like this ever (tries to manipulate himself into having a barrier between him and his emotions)

Faith: since her drug addiction isn't really over since she tends to use bliss as a way to get out of the real world, she also tries to help everyone else before helping herself, she tries to act nice and sweet but she can have female rage when isolated.

John: always puts his frustration on himself, tends to always question himself about different things, overthinks A LOT, wishes his life could be normal but he knows it can't, possibly selfs harm by giving himself tattoos because he loves the pain it gives him.

[dogmetaph0r]

❤️ and 💚 for ask game (i’d actually love to hear your opinion about like the whole ass ask list but i hope two is alright)

why of COURSE........i love this list

putting my answers under the cut because this got long as HELL

❤️: I think the most egregiously mischaracterized character in the fandom is Grace. lil gracie-poo. gracie face. Can you tell I adore her?? I understand why the fandom is divided about her, but I think there can and should be a difference between a character's personality and a character being poorly written. I think they really dropped the ball on Grace since she returned. I have always seen her as a complicated woman. On the one hand, she's very smart. She's capable. She has her shit moooostly together, but at the same time she's a bit of a wildcard and prepared to use her FUCKING GUN to say no means fucking no, you son of a bitch. She can be snarky, bitter, and vengeful. She's quick-witted and can push back at Tommy when he's being.....well, Tommy. On the OTHER hand, she is also so, so sweet. Grace prefers peace and love and family. She likes to be surrounded by good. She likes to DO good. She likes order and has a tendency to follow the rules, both social and according to her job. I think because she's a female character, this comes across as boring and unimaginative because that's what's expected of women (and I don't blame anyone for thinking this, but realistically we ALL know a pretty girl who's a total sweetheart). But I think she had a lot of potential as the lawful good reluctantly drawn into Tommy's chaos after her return, and unfortunately she was fridged because that moved the plot along. I do think it was the right decision for Tommy's resulting breakdown, but not giving us the time to remake that connection with her and learn what she's all about now that she has it all??? and then violently rip her away before many people have the chance to form an emotional attachment???? mannnn cmon. Overall I understand the criticism, because I too didn't really like her at first, but I honestly do think she gets the short end of the stick from the fandom because she's a woman. If we saw a male character doing the same thing (or, hell, also doing what society expects of him. cough cough) I can almost guarantee you that the reaction would not be the same.

💚: AUGH anyway. next one. My favorite character is Alfieee. I already had a bit of a ramble on TGoAS earlier and the details I wanted to analyze more from there, but besides that trauma, I think people honestly give him too much credit for thinking ahead. He is SUCH a good bullshitter. He schemes, yes, but many of those agreements with enemies and planned betrayals are kinda spur of the moment, entirely based on whether or not someone offers him something he likes more. I think the most planning we've seen him do to my memory has been getting Arthur arrested, and it really was mostly Alfie's love for theatrics and excitement that pulled it all together. Tommy figures him out quick as hell, but sees him as an equal. In my mind that means yes, he is incredibly smart and ambitious and a stellar leader, but he's a habitual enough liar that it's not hard to figure him out. Plus, as cute and ursine as his little quirks are, he's no teddy bear. That man is a serious danger and is more than ready to go grizzly mode at a moment's notice (i have thoughts on c-ptsd there too but that's for another time). I love the way people interpret him, because he IS silly and sassy and fun, but he also is kind of a motherfucker and more than a little recklessly impulsive. It's what "kills" him, after all! I've read some really good fics that tap into his rage and impulsivity while also giving him the room to feel disgust at his actions and experience the brutal gift of hindsight (as much as he hides the human part of himself, the section in TGoAS about his nightmares was impactful), but I can't remember which ones they were atm. Also, this is so niche, but I don't know how good of a dad he really would be. I think he'd be FUN, but I don't know about "good at parenting". But I'm gonna ignore that because it's the less fun hypothetical and I like to have fun sglkjslkgjsdl