#and while luke did manage to kinda get away from his cell on his own by the time help arrived he's a bit on bad shape

[galactic-rhea]

Easy, fight Leia fight for the wip

Good choice.

she's mad and she's going to kick someone's butt defending her babybrother and her asthmatic dad

Wip title game! let people let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it

[peggyrose19]

What We’ve Taken

the vibe for this fic, if anyone was wondering

If you read my previous fic (that i posted at 1am because i’m a mess), you will notice the middle of this is eerily identical. That’s because it is! I basically took that idea and added onto both the beginning and ending. Don’t worry if you didn’t read that, it’s all in here!

characters belong to @lumosinlove, and title credit goes to @wonder-womans-ex (thank you darling)

Saint had thought nothing could truly make Luke mad.

It was easy to irritate him, sure. Steal something, tease him or call him ‘Tweedle’, those things annoyed him. But he would snark back and they’d move on with their lives. And his dad, but that didn’t make him mad. That made him sad. It made him frustrated, lonely. Hurt. He only pretended to be mad to mask that pain. That Saint had learned early on in their… whatever their ‘thing’ was. 

But making Luke mad… Saint had never truly seen him mad. Until that night.

He’d taken the necklace as a joke. Because it was valuable, because it was gold and Saint looked good in gold. (Even Luke had admitted it one night, as they lay drunk on the beach staring up at the stars. They didn’t talk about that night though.) But mostly Saint had taken it because he could. Because it had sat there on Luke’s desk, unattended and alone. 

That night Saint entered Luke’s room, through the window as always, and was met with a punch to the face. He had not been expecting that.

“What the fuck,” he finally managed and stared at Luke, glaring furiously back at him. His jaw ached.

“Where is it,” Luke demanded. He didn’t need to say what ‘it’ was, Saint already knew. But Saint being the cocky arrogant bastard he liked to pretend to be asked anyway. 

“I’m sure I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he said as sweetly as he could manage.

The necklace was simple, a thin gold chain, a small metal compass. It wasn’t a true compass, but rather a charm, always pointing north. It meant nothing to Saint, other than it was Luke’s and it was gold. Yet it still seemed to pull him in, had seemed to beckon to him before he’d ever touched it. 

Saint didn’t know what he was expecting from Luke, but he suddenly found himself being pushed backwards until his back hit the wall, and that certainly had not been it. 

With Luke’s hands on his wrists, pinning him to the wall, Saint wasn’t entirely sure what to think. Hazel eyes stared at him, blazing with fury. Something else lay behind the anger though, something Saint couldn’t quite identify. He smirked.

“Well Tweedle, if I’d have known that was all it took to get a rise out of you, I would have stolen it ages ago,” he drawled, fighting the shaking in his voice. He prayed Luke didn’t notice. Goddammit, why did he find this so attractive?

“Don’t you ever touch that again,” Luke snarled in his face, leaning even closer. Saint could feel Luke’s warm breath on his face. He was surprised to find he liked it.

Luke was truly angry, he realized in that moment. He’d noticed before, had certainly noticed when he was pushed against the wall and held there. But Luke’s voice broke at the end and that small crack in his walls sent Saint’s own tumbling down.

“Okay,” he replied simply, and Luke blinked.

“What?”

“Okay,” Saint repeated, smiling faintly. “I won’t touch it.”

“You- you won’t?”

Saint fought another smirk. Oh, it was fun to rile him up.

“Nope. But-” 

Luke groaned. “I should’ve known.”

“Aw don’t be such a downer Tweedle! You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I can guess.”

Saint leaned closer to Luke, their noses nearly touching. He stared into Luke’s face, noting the catch in his breath and the widening of his pupils. Interesting.

“Bet you can’t,” he murmured.

Luke swallowed hard. “You going to tell me then? Or just leave me in suspense.”

“Hmm. I won’t touch it, on one condition.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that.”

For a long moment, Saint could do no more than stare at Luke, watching the warring emotions pass over his face. He knew what he wanted, knew it suddenly and with such clarity, had known for a while and had pushed it down, refusing to acknowledge it. Refusing to give into the tug in his gut. He couldn’t hold out forever.

Saint had never been one to hold back. He’d always taken what he wanted and he usually got away with it. People didn’t see what they didn’t want to, was a lesson he’d learned long ago. And people never saw him, an orphaned runaway, a nobody. His parents never bothered to give a shit about him, why should anyone else? He’d gotten good at hiding the pain, the want, the emotions. Luke had always seemed to be the one person to see through that, even more so than Sirius. And Saint wanted.

“I won’t touch it. So long as you keep touching me,” Saint replied finally, barely above a whisper.

Luke stared at him. Saint fought the urge to look away or close his eyes, crack some stupid joke to ease the tension. He knew it would do no good.

But before the silence could become unbearable, before Saint cracked and said something stupid, Luke did something Saint never expected him to do. He kissed him.

Luke’s lips were chapped, Saint thought deliriously. It was the only thought seeming to pierce his consciousness, along with the realization that Luke’s hair was soft, comforting under his fingers. Saint didn’t know how they’d gotten there but he wasn’t complaining. He just kissed Luke harder, tasting salt on his lips, and the whiskey they’d stolen earlier from the kitchen.

With a gasp, Luke pulled Saint closer, releasing his grip on his wrists. Saint wrapped his free hand around his waist, holding him tight. Luke’s body was familiar to him, as familiar as the back of his hand, but there was an unknown to him, a part yet to be discovered. Saint craved it the way a sailor craved the sea.

“Saint,” Luke breathed into his mouth, not pulling away but pausing his movement.

“Yes Tweedle?” he asked breathlessly, refusing to move even an inch. But Luke pulled away, just enough to look into Saint’s eyes. And Saint, ever helpless to resist Luke Deveaux for long, let him.

But Luke didn’t say anything like Saint expected him to. He just looked at him, studying his face. One hand cradled Saint’s cheek, calloused hands rough against smooth skin. Saint just leaned into him.

When Luke leaned in again, Saint let himself be pushed back against the wall. He let Luke part his lips and lick into his mouth, kissing him sweetly. With a soft care that Saint had never known, didn’t know he craved until that very moment. He let Luke do what he wanted, gave into him wholeheartedly. 

“Hey, Luke,” he whispered some time later, when they had exhausted of kissing, instead lying side by side on Luke’s bed, smoking cigarettes and staring at the ceiling. If Luke noticed Saint had used his real name for once, he didn’t say it. 

“Yeah?” came the reply a moment later, Luke’s voice now heavy with exhaustion.

“Thank you.”

~

Saint didn’t ask about the necklace until days later.

In the days since, he had taken to hanging out in Luke’s room more often, lounging on his bed and borrowing his books, kissing him in the summer heat. Luke would join him sometimes, sweaty from work or hair still wet from the ocean. Saint liked those days best, when he tasted like salt and the outdoors. He liked being there, liked the safety Luke brought.

Saint had given the necklace back that night, slipping the delicate chain from his pocket and fastening it around Luke’s neck with a gentleness that surprised even himself. Luke had kissed him softly in thanks and pulled him onto the bed

They were in a similar position when Saint finally asked the question. He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth.

Luke was quiet for a long time, expression guarded. But he didn’t pull away, instead stayed encircled in Saint’s arms, and that eased the nerves from his heart.

“It was a gift,” he whispered finally. “From my father.”

Understanding dawned on Saint. Of course. His father. The only thing that ever managed to rile Luke up, push him to anger. Pain. 

“It reminds me of him. When he gave it to me, he promised it would always point me towards home. It seems kinda silly now. I mean, it’s not even a working compass. But it reminds me of being a kid, when he was actually my father. Not just a stranger in a prison cell.” 

“That’s why you freaked,” Saint said after a pause. It wasn’t a question, but Luke nodded all the same. “I’m sorry.”

At that Luke looked shocked. Saint frowned.

“What?”

Luke laughed. “You’re sorry? You, Saint, the bastard of Gryffindor, who wouldn’t know manners if they smacked him in the face, are sorry? Are you feeling okay?”

Saint had to laugh at that, although it didn’t stop him from pushing Luke nearly off the bed. He caught him before he could fall completely and rolled them back to the middle of the bed. 

“Yes, you fucker, I’m sorry.” Saint’s voice fell serious again. “I’m sorry. If I had known how much it means to you I wouldn’t have taken it.”

Luke smiled faintly. “Yes you would have. You’ve done it before.”

But Saint shook his head. “No. Not to you.” He meant it, meant it more than he realized until the words had left his mouth. It scared him, just how much he wanted it to be true, how far he found himself willing to go for Luke. 

With a soft exhale, Luke stared up at him. “You amaze me sometimes,” he murmured. Gentle hands found their way into Saint’s hair, and he relished in the comfort it brought. 

“Likewise, Tweedle.” Luke shook his head but he was smiling. The nickname was growing. 

“Hey, Luke?” 

“This feels familiar.”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me, you asshole.”

“I mean, if you insist.” 

Saint leaned down and their lips connected, effectively shutting the both of them up. With a soft sigh, Saint let most of his weight fall onto Luke, pushing them both into the mattress. Their bodies seemed to mold together as they kissed, quiet gasps escaping with each push and pull. It was them, in every sense of the word, and Saint wanted to get lost in it forever. But one thing poked at the back of his mind.

“For what it’s worth,” Saint murmured without pulling away. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

[helbertinelli]

How do you feel on au ideas of Jedi Padme and Senator Anakin from Tattoine

Ignoring the fact that Tatooine does not have a Senator, before people are gonna get up on this post like “But Tatooine doesn’t have a Senator...“ In this AU it does...

I like that idea. But... Anakin still has to act like Anakin and Padme still has to act like Padme. Like their personalities and most of their backstories shouldn’t change as well. Otherwise it’s just genderbent Anakin and Padme and it’s completely different. Also Anakin can’t be Force Sensitive at all or the Chosen One. Padme must be the Chosen One.

Here is my idea for an ideal AU and this is based on the events of Star Wars because their story was perfect, but with Anakin and Padme’s roles swapped.

Anakin was a former slave on Tatooine. He got released by Watto after winning that pod race and he gets to be Senator when he’s older. He’s mentored by Palpatine. He’s emotional and angry at the Republic that they’re not doing more and he’s trying to push for a lot of change. Then you have Padme, who met Anakin on Tatooine when she was a Padawan and he was a slave. She’s about justice and democracy and freedom for people and she’s very diplomatic, but she isn’t beyond throwing hands with someone as well. She was the Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn, who died on Tatooine in the duel with Maul. Then Qui-Gon’s former Padawan, Obi-Wan, who was a Jedi Knight already when he joined Qui-Gon on his mission to Tatooine, defeats Maul and agrees to finish Padme’s training. And yes, Anakin still falls completely in love with Padme when they meet on Tatooine.

Anakin is trying to change so many things so fast and he’s also against spending money on wars when there’s so many people in need, so he’s a threat for Palpatine’s plan and the separatists. Palpatine tries to get him assassinated but his attempt fails because Anakin comes to Coruscant on a different ship. He doesn’t really have handmaidens or whatever the term would be, like Padme did. Maybe he sent a cloaked droid as a decoy on the main ship that gets blown up. I don’t know.. anyway... Palpatine says he should get protection from the Jedi. Anakin is against it at first, but then Palpatine assigns Obi-Wan and his Padawan, Padme look after him. Anakin is happy to see Padme again and he’s cool with the plan. He also meets Jar Jar on Coruscant and he talks to him about his worries about Padme not remembering him and he tells Jar Jar he’s been thinking about her everyday.

Then Padme and Obi-Wan get there. Padme is like “My goodness Ani, you’ve grown.“ And he’s like “So have you... grown more beautiful... for a Jedi.“ Padme is extremely flattered by him calling her beautiful and she starts having some feelings for him, but she tries to ignore them. Then the other stuff from AOTC happens and the council decides, Anakin should be guarded off Coruscant and Obi-Wan is sent to investigate the assassination attempt.

>>> I’m putting the rest of this + Padme’s tweaked backstory + notes about the AU under a Read More, because it got super long. So if you want to read about Senator!Anakin and Jedi!Padme in AOTC/ROTS/OT keep reading...

Padme was originally from Naboo and she was found by Qui-Gon right before she had to start her training as a Queen. The Naboo didn’t like that she had to leave to join the Jedi, but they also didnt want to get in a conflict with them. So they found another Queen. So because Padme didn’t start her Jedi training right away, she knew her family and she even kept in contact secretly with her family.

She takes Anakin to Naboo and asks her parents to stay at the Lake House to protect Anakin. All the scenes at the Lake House still happen just the same, except it’s Padme playing with the Force with food. Then Anakin reveals that he’s in love with her, but she turns him down because she’s a Jedi and he’s a Senator.

Then Anakin has a dream that night about his mom needing help and Padme has the same dream. Anakin tells Padme about the dream and she tells him about hers and they decide it’s too much of a coincidence and they go to Tatooine. They find out what happened to Shmi and they both go to find her. She still dies in Anakin’s arms. Anakin gets really angry and he gets his blaster out and starts shooting at the Tuskens who attack both of them. Padme kills some of them with her lightsaber to defend both her and Anakin and to try to leave. Anakin keeps killing Tuskens well after they aren’t attacked anymore and Padme is kinda shocked by that at first.

When they get back to the Lars farm, Anakin has his breakdown and Padme consoles him. They get Obi-Wan’s message and transmit it to the Jedi temple. Padme feels guilty about bringing Anakin to Tatooine and about what they had to do. She tells Anakin she wants to go save Obi-Wan but she doesn’t know what to do. He tells her they should go. They get to Geonosis, they get captured, Padme tells Anakin that she loves him, and they kiss.

Then the fight happens with all the Jedi and the clones. Padme, Anakin, and Obi-Wan go after Dooku. Dooku attacks Anakin, leaving him unconscious and Padme gets angry and starts fighting him without Obi-Wan, she then gets knocked away by Dooku. Obi-Wan has to fight Dooku by himself and he gets knocked out. Padme then attacks Dooku again and they fight. He cuts Padme’s arm. Yoda comes in and fights Dooku. Anakin regains consciousness and her runs to Padme and hugs her.

Padme and Anakin return to Naboo and they get married in secret.

>>> Now for ROTS and the OT... there will be a lot of changes!

Padme comes back from saving Palpatine and she gets reunited with Anakin. She tells him she is pregnant. She isn’t showing yet, but she’s worried about what will happen once she starts showing. Anakin reassures her and he tells her this is the happiest moment in his life. Then there’s the balcony scene where they’re super cute and romantic to each other and talk about how much they love each other. They say that they should go back to Naboo and raise the baby.

Anakin starts having dreams about Padme dying. Padme starts having the same dreams too, but also other dreams of Mustafar. Anakin becomes concerned of losing Padme.

Anakin talks to Palpatine about bringing people back after they die, and Palpatine tells him it is possible. He tries to get more information from Sheev about this and he ends up telling Palpatine about Padme. Sheev tells him that the Jedi won’t allow Padme to leave the Order and keep the baby and more stuff about how the Jedi are evil and Anakin shouldn’t trust them. He convinces Anakin, who is well-liked and respected in the Senate, to introduce and pass more legislation giving Palpatine more power so he can control the Jedi better.

Anakin figures out later on that Palpatine is also a Sith. He tries to go to the temple to talk with Padme but runs into Windu instead and he basically convinces Anakin to tell him what he wants to tell Padme. Anakin tells him about Palpatine and Windu goes to arrest Palpatine. Palpatine wins this time, though. He then uses the fact that Windu and other Jedi tried to attack him and he has Anakin backing him up (because he promised he’d save Padme if Anakin helped him), to declare the Jedi outlaws and he has the clones execute Order 66. He doesn’t make this public though and makes it seem like the clones are unstable and they should stop production. A lot of Jedi die, but some manage to escape.

Meanwhile Padme goes to Mustafar because it kept appearing in her dreams and she wants to know what’s important about it. She is attacked by the Separatist who are waiting for Palpatine there, but she defeats all of them. She is badly injured and Obi-Wan tracks her down and takes her to the medical station. He tells her that Anakin turned against the Jedi. Padme refuses to believe him and tells Obi-Wan about her marriage and about her being pregnant. Obi-Wan along with Bail, take Padme to Alderaan to recover from her injuries safely and to stay there until the twins are born. They keep telling her they’ll try to bring Anakin to her. She believes them at first, but then she gets kinda tired of waiting.

Anakin asks Palpatine to find Padme and he tells Anakin that Padme died during Order 66. Anakin is completely devastated by this. Palpatine asks him to help him rule the Empire and he uses the fact that Anakin is so popular to basically get whatever he wants from the Senate with little resistance. He gives Mustafar to Anakin as a gift for all of his help.

Padme runs away from Alderaan and tracks Anakin down to Mustafar. She’s really late in her pregnancy by this time, kinda like she was during the ending of ROTS. She’s reunited with Anakin. She tells him what Palpatine did and Anakin tells her that Palpatine said she died. Anakin leaves the Empire behind and him and Padme join the Rebellion.

The Rebels are not very happy about Anakin and they don’t trust him at first, but Padme sticks by him and Anakin proves that he’s on their side, too. Padme and Anakin have their own little Rebel cell. They have a ship, the Twilight, that they use for transportation and as a home-base basically. Padme gives birth to twins and they name the twins Luke and Leia. They raise the twins on the Twilight while they fight the Empire.

The Rebels win in the end and they make Bail chancellor of the New Republic. Padme and Anakin eventually move to the Lake House on Naboo after the war is won. The twins are about 3-4 by then.

When the twins are older, Leia trains with Bail to be a senator. Luke is more interested in the Jedi and he wants to restore the Jedi Order. He finds Obi-Wan and asks him to help. In the end, Padme and Anakin leave behind their careers and just focus on being parents and enjoying married life. They have other children too, all of them are Force sensitive as well. Luke ends up restoring the Jedi Order, but better since he takes out the rule prohibiting attachments and he makes it more of a thing to join rather than something you’re forced into. Leia ends up succeeding Bail as Chancellor of the Republic.

>>> Some notes:

- Padme and Obi-Wan don’t bicker as much as him and Anakin did. Padme is more inclined to listen to Obi-Wan. That being said, she does make her own decisions and she does goes completely against his wishes when she thinks it’s necessary. She just doesn’t try to reason with him about why her way is better.

- Palpatine tried to get Padme on her side, but she was hard to control. Anakin is much easier to manipulate since he views Palpatine as a father while he’s training with him.

- Padme’s story of joining the Jedi Order is similar to Anakin’s from the movies: Qui-Gon finds the Chosen One and asks the Jedi to train her. They’re not cool with the idea at first, but decide to let her join in the end.

[zoryany]

Luke's com crackled. "Luke, we've got two options. both of which you're not going to like."

send me things !!

Luke's com crackled. "Luke, we've got two options. both of which you're not going to like."

Over the com, Han’s voice remained steady, but Luke had been on enough missions with him to recognize when there was an edge of panic to it. Chewie’s reaction was enough to confirm as much. 

Great.  

“Let me hear ‘em,” he replied, stifling a groan. No sense in delaying the inevitable.

The mission had already gone belly-up when their contact had found a buyer that would net them a bigger profit than the Alliance could offer. They would have been forced to walk out of there empty-handed if not for some quick thinking from Han, who’d created a distraction so Luke and Chewie could swipe the supplies and they could get out of there. Doing things the honest way hadn’t worked out, so they would have to settle for doing things the smuggler’s way.

Unfortunately, it seemed, that wasn’t going to work, either. “Well, ‘m not sure if you and Chewie have made it to the warehouse yet, but you might wanna head back to The Falcon. Turns out these sleemo have some, uhh… indentured workers,” Han paused, not wanting to say slaves, “that they’re willing to sacrifice if we take any of their goods. So we either take the meds and let these people die, or we leave, and…”

Let their own people die. Blast.

“No, you’re right,” Luke said, grimacing, “I don’t like either of those options.” Their people needed that medicine, quite badly in fact, but could he really accept it at the expense of so many innocents? “What are our chances of getting those people out of here?”

The com was silent, for a moment, and Luke could almost feel Han’s disbelief. “Look, kid, I know you’ve got some kinda hero complex and all, but –”

“Please!,” he shouted, desperation finding its way into his voice. “Han, please, just – just humour me, here. These are –” his voice stuck in his throat, for a moment, before he pressed on, “these are slaves we’re talking about, here. If we can’t help them then… I get it. But… if we’ve got any chance to help…”

More silence. This time, it felt decidedly… reluctant. Chewie let out a soft, sympathetic growl. “Alright, kid, fine.” Han’s grumble through the com was grudging, but it was clear he wouldn’t have said no – didn’t want to protest in the first place. If there was one criminal activity Han refused to engage in, it was slavery. “We got ten minutes, max. I’ll keep distracting these goons as best as I can. Chewie can load up the supplies while you handle the people. But we run outta time… we gotta get the hell outta here, got it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I do, yeah.”

Luke hated it. What was meant to be a simple supply run had turned into a desperate game of life and death, where he had to gamble with the lives of people he’d sworn to protect. He would do all he could, though.

He would see this through.

***

What their contact had neglected to mention was that the higher bidder was The Empire. 

It was a scam they’d been running for some months now, drawing in some folks who were wanted by the Imps or some other crime lords, offering them these medical supplies at a price they could not refuse, then selling them out to the highest bidder. It had worked countless times before, and they’d managed to make it this far without being caught, so when they’d been contacted by Rebels – one, in particular, matching an especially high bounty – they’d taken advantage of that fact and contacted Darth Vader himself, the Imperial Enforcer.

Vader was making his way to collect these alleged rebels, and these criminals would walk away richer than ever. Little did any of them know what was to come next.

***

Darth Vader’s approach to the planet was unimpeded by any foolish Rebel counter strikes and unhindered by any awareness of his arrival. Good. Based on what little information he had on his son, the boy would make things difficult, so having the element of surprise would certainly work to his advantage.

Dealing with petty criminals was not a task he enjoyed making a habit of, but if it led to him securing his son, he would forgive it this once.

Upon entering the complex, he could sense something was amiss. Chaos was raging within, and frantic desperation seemed to be gripping all sentients inside. Beneath his mask, Vader scowled, scarred skin stretching painfully across his features.

“Lord Vader!” The criminal who greeted him appeared nonchalant and under control, but he could sense the distress roiling within him. “We’ve, er, hit a bit of a snag containing the Rebels you’ve come for, but rest assured, they’re still inside. Now that you’re here, though, should be no problem rounding them up, eh?”

For several long seconds, Vader allowed himself to loom, standing tall and silent as the wretched being before him squirmed in discomfort. “For your sake,” he rumbled, “you had better hope so.” 

Without another word, Vader stalked off, ignoring the stuttered assurances of the criminal behind him as he followed the beacon his son radiated in the Force. The boy’s presence was intoxicating, tinged as it was with triumph and urgency. No one else mattered, not the pirates, not the Wookiee, not the smuggler -- only his son.

His son, who was frantically ushering a group of haggard looking beings towards a hangar bay.

The moment he sensed Vader’s arrival, Luke froze, panic taking the place of triumph in his signature, and he turned, slowly, to fix Vader with a wide-eyed gaze. He looked even younger in person, those pale eyes even larger, and for a moment, Vader nearly forgot himself as he drank in the appearance of this boy -- of his son.

That moment was quickly interrupted by a juvenile shout followed by blaster fire, quickly drawing Vader back into the present. The boy was shouting, firing, running towards the ship on the other side of the hangar, and Vader cursed himself for allowing his victory to be put at risk. There would be plenty of time to examine the child once he was securely in his grasp.

Another shout was torn from the boy as his blaster flew from his hand and into Vader’s, but Luke wasted no time in reaching for the lightsaber hanging from his hip. “Stop! Stay back, I haven’t freed them all yet, they’re still in danger!” Reckless naivete radiated from him now, something righteous and indignant that dredged up unwanted memories in Vader.

“Who is still in danger?” Vader did not truly care, his ultimate target within reach in front of him, but he chose to humour the boy if only to help ensure his capture. “If you were wise, you would show more concern for your own wellbeing, Skywalker.”

Luke flinched slightly at the address but held himself firm. “The slaves those pirates threatened to try and get us to cooperate.” The anger that flared within him burned hot and bright, and though it was not quite dark yet, it did mirror the rage that welled in Vader as well.

“Slaves?" he hissed, not missing the shudder that wracked Luke’s form at the swell of darkness around them

“Please,” Luke said, anger giving way to desperation. “Please, you can arrest me, I’ll come quietly, just please let me finish rounding them up and let my friends take them off-world.”

This boy believed he could reason with Vader. Or, perhaps he realized how absurd his request really was, but chose to make it regardless, possibly as a way to stall. Luke was, truly, his son, since no other being in the galaxy would even think to be so bold or reckless to attempt such a thing. Which, really, was fortunate, since no other being in the galaxy could even get Vader to consider such a request.

After a moment of contemplation, Vader finally inclined his helmet, slightly, and regarded the boy. “Very well.” Shock coloured Luke’s features. “I will give you my word that the smuggler and his... passengers will be granted leave from this planet if you give me your word that you will return willingly with me to my ship.”

“I -- ” Luke visibly swallowed as the implications of his reckless offer dawned on him, but after a brief pause, he nodded grimly and sighed. “Okay. Yeah, alright. Deal.”

The boy was foolish for being so self-sacrificing, a trait that would have to be eliminated in due course, but Vader was, for the moment, grateful for it. He would work to punish the pirates accordingly for their use of slavery while Luke rounded up the rest of the unwilling workers and then, at last, he would have his son at his side.

Once he revealed the truth, they would be triumphant and face the galaxy as they were meant to -- as father and son.

[fistsofcurie]

Why is Cal the protagonist instead of Cere?

So I was replaying Jedi: Fallen Order recently, and something really stuck out to me.  This is going to be long, kinda ranty, and full of spoilers, so analysis is under the cut.

For those of you unfamiliar with the game, you play as Cal Kestis, a Padawan who survived Order 66.  For reference, Cal looks like this:

In other words, he looks like every other modern white guy video game protagonist: 

Except maybe slightly younger than average, and ginger this time (and even that was apparently one of the first things people modded out).  Oh and he has a cute droid.  This post intends no shade to BD-1, for whom I would die.  

Anyway, when we meet Cal at the beginning of the game, he’s living in hiding from the Empire, who would very much like to finish the job they started with Order 66.  When Cal’s status as an ex-Jedi is revealed, the Empire sends a couple of Inquisitors after him, and he barely manages to escape with the help of Cere Junda, who looks like this:

Over the course of the game, we learn that Cere also used to be a Jedi - a full Knight instead of a Padawan like Cal, but that she turned away from the Force in the aftermath of Order 66.  Eventually (SERIOUS SPOILER WARNING TURN BACK IF YOU CARE ABOUT THIS) it’s revealed that the Second Sister, one of the Inquisitors hunting Cal, is none other than Trilla Suduri, Cere’s former Padawan.  Cere left Trilla to care for some younglings they were guarding while Cere herself ran off to try to lead the Empire away.  Cere was caught and tortured until she gave up Trilla’s location, and then Trilla was caught and tortured until she became an Inquisitor.  When Cere saw Trilla take up that mantle, she tapped into the Dark Side, allowing her to escape, but also prompting her to give up the Force lest she fall completely.  Trilla, for reference, looks like this: 

This brings us to the main crux of this post, namely, why the hell is Cal even in this game, much less as its protagonist?  Trilla, as the main antagonist, is only after Cal because a) he’s a Jedi, so killing or capturing him is pretty much her job as an Inquisitor and b) he’s after the same MacGuffin she is.  It’s not personal, it’s business.  Any personal edge to the taunts she throws your way throughout the game only comes by way of Cal’s relationship with her former Master.  Make Cere the player character, and the conflict with the primary villain immediately becomes hugely more personal, more visceral, the reveal of Trilla’s identity has that much more impact.  

True, it is a big part of Cere’s character arc to show that she’s recovered enough from her trauma to be willing to trust Cal, be open with him, and train him, but the opening up and trusting parts could easily be transferred to her relationship with her friend and pilot Greez, aka Space Danny Devito.  As for being willing to take on a new Padawan, the primary MacGuffin you’re trying to recover in this game is a holocron containing a list of force sensitive children whom Cal and Cere EXPLICITLY PLAN TO TRAIN AS JEDI.  If that isn’t enough of a source of that type of angst, I hardly think Cal “Personality of Wet Tissue Paper” Kestis is going to do the job.  If it didn’t get explored thoroughly enough in this game, that’s just more sequel fodder.  Instead of (MORE BIG SPOILERS FOR THE VERY END OF THE GAME TURN BACK NOW IF YOU HAVEN’T FINISHED IT) destroying the holocron to prevent the Empire from hunting the children it identifies, Cere could use find those children.  Maybe the next game would have the children themselves as the MacGuffins you’re trying to collect, or maybe it would skip ahead in time to where Cere has already trained some of them up a bit.  They could each have their own strengths, weaknesses, and special abilities, and you could play as different characters on different levels depending on what was needed to get the job done.  

True, movie canon shows us that there isn’t a thriving Jedi Order up and running at the time of the original trilogy, just isolated hermits like Obi-Wan and Yoda, which is why it’s such a big deal when Luke becomes a Jedi and we assume that, after the fall of the Empire, he’s going to re-found the order.  That didn’t stop us from getting characters like Kanan, Ezra, and Ahsoka in Rebels though.  (Yes, I know Ahsoka’s not technically a Jedi at that point, but you get my point.)  They could easily be operating in an isolated cell somewhere on the Outer Rim or something.  Or maybe they get shut down at some point, giving us more fuel for tragedy and feels.  The point is, there are ways to handle this that both don’t conflict with canon and also don’t completely invalidate the goal you’ve been pursuing for the whole game.  Oh look, the choice of protagonist isn’t my only issue with this game’s plot.  Short detour, back to the main point.  

You wouldn’t even have to change the main story beats that much.  Cere would also have been in hiding, as demonstrated by the fact that she’s still alive, so have her huddled up in some backwater when she gets exposed and attacked like Cal was, forcing her to realize that she’ll never really be able to hide from her past and must face it.  Her cutting herself off from the Force mirrors Cal’s damaged connection to the Force, so you could have the necessary video game progression of gaining back various force powers as you move through the game.  Cere’s worry about falling to the dark side is much more in line with the traditional Star Wars theme of light vs. dark than Cal’s worry that he’s not good enough because he failed to save his master, Jaro Tapal, and is, in my opinion, more interesting as well.  

Hell, speaking of Jaro, I’d take him as a protagonist too.  So many species in the Star Wars universe, and when’s the last time we had a video game with a canon protagonist who was anything other than a human?  The physical strength and agility he’d have as a Lasat would give the designers room to give the players some cool moves to play with.  

Anyway, Cere’s light side/dark side conflict could even give you some interesting story mechanics to play with.  Maybe the game allows you to make a final choice whether to try to redeem Trilla (light side) or take revenge on her for hunting you (dark side).  Or maybe, in the final boss fight against Trilla, you could choose to tap into the dark side to get a power boost, but in exchange you get a worse ending.  

The point is, as far as I can see, there’s literally only upside from the perspectives of both story and game mechanics to making Cere the protagonist of Fallen Order instead of Cal.  Feel free to point out anything I might have missed, but that’s how I see it currently.  The only thing holding them back would have been the fear that Star Wars fanboys and hardcore gamers wouldn’t have bought the game if it had an older black woman on the box art instead of a young white guy.  The depressing part is, they’re probably right.  

I will admit, I’m being somewhat hyperbolic here.  I did still very much enjoy the game, and Cal was at least a serviceable protagonist, if not an exciting one.  He’s just everything we’re used to seeing in a player character, and nothing we’re not, and that’s always going to be disappointing and frustrating when the opportunity to have a kickass Star Wars video game centering on the conflict between two women of color was right fucking there but we didn’t get it and instead they played it safe.  

[grokebaby]

Stories of mine that I'm really diggin, but also on the fence about for various reasons

CONTAINS DISCUSSIONS OF CRIMINAL ACTS, SUCH AS MURDER. ALSO FIGHTING/WAR(??I think) ALSO SWEARING

1. Moon prison. So we have this super technologically advanced city. An empire. Magic and technology coexist here (relevant in relation to the characters). On the moon of this planet, they have the most advanced, inescapable prison where they put the absolute worst of the worst.

We have baddies like Trevor, a gangster who dominated the criminal underbelly of the city. Slum king. Mass murderer. And an absolute unit of a cat. Damon, an overprivileged asshole who, enabled by his rich parents, singlehandedly swindled the most banks out of the most money in a single day. Straight up freeloader, tax frauder who kept getting away with it for too long. Luke and Macy, agents of a secret service looking to expose the worst rot and corruption nestled in the government. Taken away after they stole a valuable magic item for research purposes, and to limit the stranglehold a well known magic user has on alot of politics behind the scenes.

One day, somebody makes the news. A new prisoner will be rocketed off to the moon again. Cue this 28yr old, frankly ordinary fella Jeremy (no relation to the demon). He's short, tubby, Jack of all traits but a master of none, and frankly, a really sweet guy. He doesn't seem to even mind being here. And he's getting housed in the same cell unit as these criminal masterminds. What'd he do? Murdered their current Supreme political leader in cold blood. Although he wouldn't snitch, people assume there must've been a few people who helped him up to the point he could do it. For the most part though, as he claims, he just did it by himself. (potential for comedy and political commentary, the latter of which I'm scared I would botch)

2. Once upon a time, there was a young demon who decided "Man, humans fucking suck, let's teach them a lesson, collectively" and managed to gather an army of demons who agreed with him. After a good while of terrorizing humans, they developed a special force team trained specifically to combat demons. There were battles and mindgames and all that stuff for a while, and then the demons disbanded and each went their separate ways because the guy who started it all decided "Fuck, they're good actually, this isn't worth all the bloodshed". His name's Riki. Two of his closest friends remained with him and now they just kinda hang out.

That was their context, now, this species of demons are all born with a special ability, or sets of abilities relating to each other. Another striking feature of them is that their skin is paper white, and with each new significant life experience, they gain bright red markings all over their body. They're humanoid, with horns. They can grow tails or wings, but might not. Mostly, they can't influence what ability they get, how it works or is triggered. It cannot be changed later on. This can be for the better, or for worse.

Riki's power is sort of like the hulk. When he gets angry, he becomes unreasonably strong and uncontainable, and it takes a while for him to come down from it all. He's always physically and mentally burnt out afterwards for days. He has a service dog for emotional support.

Himeko is the stealth. He's able to make himself nearly unperceivable to everyone else, and entirely silent. People get a tendency to ignore him because of this, causing him to easily become a shut-in and internalize things. He's also on the spectrum and struggles to open up. Anxiety causes him to go nonverbal in certain social situations. He wears a mask with red markings that are considered "respectable" and intimidating, because he's ashamed of his own.

Isaka is the Dr. He was sort of a living legend in his youth, and a skilled fighter. He got into a bad accident with the humans that disfigured him, which caused him to reconsider everything about this whole fight. During his recovery with the previous Dr at the time, he gained a more nuanced POV about the brutalities of war, and a respect for compassion. His power though, developed during his time on the battlefield, which complicates things in regards to healing.

[andromeda3116]

so, @thereigning-lorelai requested this, and i didn’t realize until, oh, thirty seconds ago, that i am not the only person who took it and ran with it and tbh, i don’t know if i should apologize? i feel bad, i don’t wanna step on any toes. but um. “jyn is in hardcore denial” is kinda my jam, so i got excited and wrote almost four thousand words about this. 

eta: ao3 link! (now with a poor title because i am poor at titles)

.

.

In spite of the knowing looks they got from most of the flagship and at least half of high command, Jyn and Cassian were not involved. They were soldiers, and professionals, and far too focused on missions, and at any rate, were friends, and entirely platonic. Jyn felt about Cassian the same way she felt about Bodhi, or maybe Han (except without the usual desire to smack him upside the head).

Everyone seemed to treat them as a unit, but they were partners. They worked together. Of course they spent a lot of time together, but it wasn’t like they shared a room — although her own roommates, three world-weary women who Jyn had thought were above such nonsense, seemed continually surprised by her presence in her own damn bed, every single night cycle that she was on base.

But it seemed like, with little else for much of the flagship to do at the moment, gossip was everyone’s favorite pastime, and there was only so much to say about Han Solo and the princess before things drifted back around to the “heroes of Rogue One”.

At first, when it had still been amusing, she had conscripted Bodhi into spreading fake rumors about them, but they had both quickly discovered that there was essentially nothing that the stir-crazy base wouldn’t accept about Jyn and Cassian’s relationship, including but not limited to:

They had gotten it on in the shuttle on the way to Scarif

They had gotten it on at Yavin IV before leaving for Scarif

They had gotten it on at Scarif, in the citadel

Jyn was secretly pregnant with his child (she had thought that one would taper off, but it instead morphed into “well, she clearly wasn’t before, but I bet she is now”)

They had shared a bed in the medical frigate after Scarif (okay, that one actually was true, but it had just been because the beds were limited and the nightmares were awful, and nothing had happened but sleep)

They were secretly married

Some of it, she felt, was at least reasonable, but mostly it seemed like the Rebellion had, collectively, decided to live out their favorite holodramas vicariously through Jyn and Cassian. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if it had at least been spread around some — but no, nobody shared the same stories about Han and Leia, or Luke and Leia, or Han and Luke, or Baze and Chirrut —

(Okay, fair enough, Chirrut would gleefully answer yes to literally any question asked about his and Baze’s relationship, up to and including whether or not the two of them had formally adopted Jyn. Baze never, ever either confirmed or denied Chirrut’s answers, which was as good as admitting that he found them amusing.)

Nobody ever just accepted the truth, which was simply that they were partners who had a totally platonic relationship.

Entirely platonic relationship. No feelings of attraction or sexual tension on either side.

Which was good, because their current situation would be embarrassing as hell otherwise.

This stupid little moon didn’t even have a name, but it did have an Imperial presence, which had struck everyone as odd — it was barely more than a stop-off with some refueling stations, the sort of place where people end up when they’re just barely not hitting rock bottom, not a place any sane sentient would bother going to. So why had the Empire built a factory here?

Jyn’s theory, which Cassian had agreed was plausible, was that they’d put a refinery here because nobody ever came here of their own volition, and the only inhabitants were people who had to keep their heads down. Nobody was likely to stumble across it by accident, and there were no rebel or Partisan cells to muck up the works. It had made sense, but it had also meant that whatever they were making or refining here was probably something important that the Alliance needed to know about.

As it happened, in parts of the moon that were entirely uninhabited for reasons that had become very suddenly clear, there was a chemical compound in the dust that could be used as a caustic agent, when collected and purified, and there were any number of reasons that the Empire would want a chemical that would strip hydrogen off of pure water.

The downside to this was that if any of the dust got on any part of a human’s (and, presumably, most other sentients’) exposed skin, it would… be very bad, and very gross. It also tended to eat through clothing, but — in a design choice that now made total sense — not the stone from which all of the structures on the moon had been built.

(It had struck Jyn as odd that, even on a featureless rock orbiting a dull-gray gas giant, there were no windows on anything, and everything was made from the same rust-colored stone, except the durasteel refinery and ships.)

Naturally, they had gotten caught by a dust storm.

Naturally, their outerwear had been contaminated, meaning that their underwear would, very rapidly if left alone, also become contaminated, and Jyn didn’t even want to think about that scenario. They’d been thankfully close to an old refueling station that had been abandoned, and so hadn’t spent very long in the dust, but getting rid of their outermost layers had been immediately necessary.

At first, it hadn’t bothered her — because the both of them had been so focused on get it off get it off get it off that it had not occurred to Jyn, at least, and probably Cassian as well, that they would be stuck in this little stone building until the dust storm passed, with no or very few clothes.

Ultimately, they’d managed to get to safety quickly enough, and get the contaminated clothing off quickly enough, that they were left in underwear and undershirts, very carefully not looking at each other.

At least, she told herself, it wasn’t cold, and they weren’t anything more than sensible friends and partners acting pragmatically in a situation that had taken both of them off-guard.

(He wore boxer-briefs. Jyn had not, as such, needed this information, but now that she had it, it wouldn’t leave her brain. She had also made the mistake of looking at him, and catching a glimpse of… well, nothing, exactly, except a… well, a bulge, and that also would not leave her brain.)

“So, we’re leaving this out of the mission report, right?” she said in a low voice, and he made a noise of agreement. She glanced at him — he was sitting, (bare) elbows on his (bare) knees, with his forehead resting in one hand — and then quickly back away, determinedly ignoring the heat rising up the back of her neck.

In the back of her mind, she considered what would this be like if they had been a little slower, and he’d had to take off his shirt and maybe —

She coughed, and ran a hand over her face.

Even though he probably didn’t know anything more about it than she did, she still asked, “How long do these storms last?” with some desperation, and her voice came out at an embarrassingly-high pitch. She was glad he wasn’t looking at her, and couldn’t see her cringe at herself.

“The storm came on quickly,” he replied, and she told herself that she was imagining the strain in his voice. “The atmosphere is… thick, and cycles rapidly. It shouldn’t last too long.”

That was… a comfort.

(He was wearing an athletic undershirt, not a tee like she’d sort of expected, and so part of his chest was exposed, and —)

She stifled another cough.

“Good,” she choked, and vaguely wished for the ground to swallow her whole.

He probably wasn’t having the same trouble she was. He was more professional than she was, and he’d kept his eyes respectfully down the whole time. He was probably just embarrassed at being caught by the storm in the first place.

Jyn, on the other hand, was struggling.

It didn’t help that there was nothing to do in this Force-forsaken little hut except dwell on the fact that her (totally platonic) partner was half-naked ten feet away from her. She didn’t even have a pack of cards with which to play sab-- solitaire, not sabacc, just… something alone and engrossing that she could look at and occupy her mind with.

(The only thing worse than the awkward silence would have been to be playing a game opposite him and his… well, opposite him.)

She closed her eyes, and tried to summon any of Chirrut’s lessons on meditation. They’d been intended to help her center herself and channel her energy more efficiently (whatever that meant), but her concern right now was dousing the heat that rose in her belly every time her brain offered up that stupid image of his —

(It had just… been a while. That was all this was. Just… plain old sexual frustration, and hey, Cassian was a good-looking guy, there was nothing wrong with finding his half-naked body easy on the eyes. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t.)

There were few things she could think of that would better dampen her stupid imagination than the memory of Chirrut’s guided meditation, but it wasn’t really helping.

Right, okay. 

Time to get drastic.

Jabba the Hutt. Picture the gummy eyes, and the slug-shape, and the tongue, and the rubbery texture of his flesh, and the slime, and the…

It worked, right up until she opened her eyes again and saw that Cassian had been running his hand through his hair, and now it was all mussed and messy like he’d been in bed, and —

Shit.

Dammit.

Okay.

That weird noise Jabba made when he moved, the guttural grunting — ugh, gross, just picture that happening in a bedroom, she wanted to vomit — the unwashed and vaguely-cheesy smell he gave off, that indulgent laugh like the worst slimy uncle imaginable. The casual cruelty, the greed. The way he kept attractive female slaves, forced them to dance for his amusement.

She let out a long, slow breath, and decided not to open her eyes again.

.

(Cassian could not stop seeing her legs. Even with his eyes closed and his head bowed, trying to mentally catalogue every single weapon he’d ever heard of just to spare his dignity, all he could see were long legs and the shape of her body in a skintight undershirt.

He wanted to die.)

.

It took three hours of horrid silence and even more horrid mental images, but finally, the dust storm passed, and shortly after, the locals’ droids — apparently programmed for immediate response in this situation, which made sense in retrospect — had swept the ground clean of the dust, so it was safe to walk outside again, even in sock-feet like Jyn and Cassian were.

Once back on their ship, they were able to put on spare sets of clothing — although at this point, Jyn would have made a toga out of a blanket, anything would do, just to not see this much of him anymore — and, still uncomfortably silent, get out of atmo.

The entire trip back was spent in the same awkward silence, carefully avoiding each other’s eyes and watching hyperspace pass by as though it was deeply fascinating. Luckily, they arrived back on the flagship halfway through the night cycle, and were able to return to their respective rooms without having to be seen, a) wearing different clothes than they’d left in, or b) desperately keeping a ten-foot space between them.

(Also, the showers were empty, which was good for Jyn to, ahem, work some things out.)

Cassian wrote and submitted the report, and Jyn signed off on it — no mention of the agonizing three hours spent in a stone hell-room, thank the Force — and between the report being finished and the, ah, showers, she figured that that was that.

Until the rumor mill started up again.

Someone — she wasn’t sure who, but was, on principle, going to blame Han Solo — had read between the lines of the mission report, and started asking, so, like, did they actually get caught in one of these dust storms? Or else the imagination-zeitgeist of the Rebellion had just decided that it would be great if that was the case.

And Jyn could not quite play it off like she had all the other rumors. Usually, she would roll her eyes and stalk off, but she found herself desperately denying them this time, even as every cell in her brain was screaming shut up shut up shut up!

As such, she had not… exactly… convinced anyone, even herself.

They were friends, good friends, the sort that she’d never really had before, and she wasn’t supposed to be feeling this… attraction to him. Wasn’t supposed to be imagining running her hands through his hair or his hips bucking against hers or waking up cradled in his arms or —

The snickers were almost as bad as the knowing glances, but not half as bad as the clawing discomfort that rose in her every time they were in the same room. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t obvious to anyone else, that it was just her own heightened awareness, but Chirrut disabused her of that happy notion a few days after they got back:

“If your intention is to convince everyone that you and the Captain are not together,” he said lightly, voice carefully plucked clean of amusement, “you are not succeeding.”

“We aren’t,” she snapped, and his expression didn’t change.

“Of course not,” he replied. She watched him carefully, waiting for the other shoe to drop, which it did only moments later. “Yet.”

“We are friends,” she said through clenched teeth, and he smiled.

“Ah, I recall that tone of voice,” he sighed fondly. “Baze said the same words, in the same tone, many times in our youth.”

She had no adequate response to that, so she’d settled for stalking off, telling herself that she wasn’t skulking away like a dog with its tail between its legs, that she was a dignified adult who was walking away for good reasons, to do a better thing somewhere else.

Still, she could avoid him, more or less — or at least keep to only interacting with him in public — until the next mission they were sent on, which was only a week after returning from the one she was now thinking of as the hell-mission.

And they had not actually spoken to each other since the… situation.

Which, in retrospect, was a huge mistake.

None of it had been dealt with, it had only been given time to fester and linger in (at least) Jyn’s brain, and the more she thought of it — and the more she heard and remembered the rumors — the more tangled up her stomach got at the thought of being alone with him again, even as she really wanted to be alone with him again.

She was a big enough person to admit to herself that she was attracted to him. That was… not strange, even for platonic comrades in a time of war; in fact, she had it on good authority that no less than the princess herself had a crush on him, which she very definitely found amusing and which did not in any way inspire any kind of possessive or jealous feelings in her, because it didn’t.

Jyn had decided that avoidance was the solution, which she was now regretting, but committed to nonetheless. If she just... focused on the mission at hand, got through it, eventually things would just sort of... stop being this way, right? Her general philosophy with interpersonal issues was to ignore them until they went away, and this was no different.

It worked beautifully until they were all alone in hyperspace again and her thoughts… drifted.

He seemed agitated, eyes locked on the controls even though there was nothing new or unexpected there; even when he looked up, he wouldn’t look at her. He also seemed tense, shoulders slightly hunched, jaw clenched. The air between them was thick and heavy like cotton, almost unbreathable, and — Force be with her — they would be in hyperspace for eighteen standard hours.

There was no way they could do this. It had been bad enough when she had other things to do and focus on, but eighteen hours alone in hyperspace like this was going to drive her absolutely insane.

“All right, something has to give,” she snapped finally, and he half-glanced at her, as though afraid to actually look her in the face.

“Oh?” he replied, in a hoarsely-neutral tone, and didn’t elaborate. Of course, the bloody spy wasn’t going to give any ground on this. Half of what he did to get information was let other people fill in the blanks, he never offered up anything unless he had to (or, she recalled, very angry).

“Yeah,” she said, standing up and stalking away from the cockpit, to put some space between them so maybe she could breathe. It didn’t help. His presence still filled the room. “This is all… we’re being stupid, aren’t we?”

By the time she turned back to face him, he was standing, leaning against the armrest of the pilot’s chair, expression neutral. “Define stupid,” he said finally, and she growled in frustration.

“We’re partners,” she snapped. “We have to work together, we can’t be sitting here, all…” no adequate word would come to her, so she finished, a bit lamely, and with a shrug, “stupid. About this.”

Cassian blinked, opened his mouth to says something, then closed it again and ran a hand over his face. “That… did not answer my question,” he said, in a strained voice.

“You know good and damn well what I mean,” she snarled, the tension and rising embarrassment making her angry. He seemed to be biting his tongue, now looking away.

“This is about the last mission,” he said, with no question. “The dust storm.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, the dust storm,” she replied, annoyed. “You know, when we had to get almost naked and sit with each other for hours. And everybody’s talking about it back on the flagship. I bet that’s why Mothma sent us on this mission,” she added, and although she hadn’t thought of it before the words had been coming out of her mouth, they suddenly made a disturbing amount of sense. It didn’t have to be them, and they didn’t have to do it alone. But, oh, for whatever reason, Command thought it was best to send Jyn and Cassian, and only Jyn and Cassian, and (like the eager idiot she was) she had not questioned it.

Finally, there was a crack in his armor — rising color in his face, eyes now directed upward.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admitted, after a long and uncomfortable moment.

If she was being honest, she wasn’t sure of that, herself. That she wasn’t the only one about to burn up from the inside-out with sexual frustration? That he’d been checking her out the same way she’d been checking him out? That she was being stupid and they were just platonic partners, obviously?

No — if that had been the case, if they were really both just platonic friends, he would have been genuinely confused by this conversation, not hedging his bets and holding back and refusing to show any emotion.

If he hadn’t been at least sort of thinking about it, he would have been a totally different kind of uncomfortable, squirming and trying to escape the situation, embarrassed and uneasy. It wouldn’t be the same kind of tension.

Maybe it was just her whimpering libido that was telling her that, but it made sense.

“I want the truth,” she said slowly, taking a step closer. He didn’t look at her.

“What do you want the truth to be?” he countered, still dangerously neutral, still watching the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. Of course he still wouldn’t give any information.

Cassian had survived all his years in Intelligence by not giving. Jyn was gonna have to take this jump, and hope that he’d meet her halfway once he saw for sure where she was going.

It took a moment to steel up her resolve, which she spent by walking up to him with every ounce of purpose and anger she could muster. He still wouldn’t look at her, eyes fixed on the ceiling, jaw clenched, whole body vibrating with tension.

She took a deep breath, and the words she had rehearsed — something self-assured, like I want to at least give them something real to gossip about, I want to touch you, I want you to touch me — died on her lips.

Instead, what came out was a slightly-wavering, much-quieter-than-intended, “That you want me.”

Abruptly, his eyes were locked on hers, neutral expression becoming calculating, guarded. Searching for a lie, maybe, or any indication that she was joking.

He didn’t respond, or at least not in the amount of time that she was willing to wait (which was… not much).

Closing her eyes (so she didn’t have to see anything in his face she might not want to), she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

It was… not exactly the romantic moment she had hoped for. He was still frozen, all that tension stretched thin between them, rigid and unmoving, and -- shit. Shit.

Fuck.

She started to pull back, but then the tension snapped and he responded, moving in, hand catching the back of her neck and pulling her back to him; she was taken a little off-guard, and had to catch herself against his chest, whole body pressed against his as her arms snaked around his neck and his other arm wrapped around her waist.

Cassian stumbled against the pilot’s seat, but didn’t break the kiss until she pushed him down into it and, in the same motion, straddled his hips. He looked… a little dazed, pupils dilated, face flushed. She doubted she looked any better (or, since he actually looked pretty fucking good like this, from this angle, any worse).

“Like I said,” she breathed, with more composure than she felt, “we’re being stupid.”

His lips curved into a smile, and he murmured, “I guess so,” before pulling her back into another searing kiss.

.

.

(coda—

“So,” Han said, drawing out the syllable suggestively, “what I’m hearing is, the trick is to go to an awful moon with murderous dust-storms.”

“I think Leia would just let you die,” Jyn replied blandly, without looking up from the datapad where she was trying to write a coherent report that left out all the details nobody else actually needed to know, and Han appeared to think about it for a moment, then scowled.

“Who said anything about Leia?” he grumbled. “I could’ve been talking about… Amilyn. Or, hell, Luke. Or —”

Jyn sorted and walked away, leaving him still spluttering and coming up with increasingly-ridiculous names.)

[snarktheater]

Shadowhunters — Episode 2x12

You know, the more I delve into this show, the less I feel like it even deserves the snark treatment. I mean, look at this episode. It's…okay. Spoiler warning? Nah, it's just a statement of my opinion, I guess it's fine.

But yeah. This episode…it's fine. And in hindsight, while the show is flawed, it's…fine. It's not great, but definitely not bad enough to be worth this. So sometimes I'm like…why even bother? I mean, I can't even claim that snarking it is the only way I'll take the time to watch, since…you know. It's been a few months and season 3 is almost upon us. Again. Oops.

Existential crisis in the intro of my own posts aside, I'm going to finish this season at least, but I will have to do some soul searching eventually regarding season 3. And maybe it's just because this episode was all right and I'm just second-guessing myself for no good reason. That is very possible.

We left off our heroes with Magnus and Valentine having been body-swapped by the Greater Demon Azazel. That's not just to fuck with the heroes, mind you: Azazel wants the Mortal Cup too, and he wants Valentine to get it for him, which he can't do from a cell at the Institute.

Valentine, meanwhile, is freaking out about being in the body of a warlock, because racism, and if you think this won't actually impact the plot beyond one scene at the start…well, you're right. I guess hypocrisy is already part of his character, since he uses demons and magic even as he despises them, but this is on a whole new level, considering he's flinging spells like he's been doing it his whole life by the end of the episode. As you do, I guess.

But for now he's struggling to even Portal, let alone get the Cup. I mean, he also says the Cup is protected and he couldn't get to it as a Downworlder, but I'm not sure if he's lying to Azazel or genuine about that. Mostly because it never comes to that.

That's enough about Valentine for now. Let's check on our heroes. By which I mean Clary and Simon in bed, which is totally a visual I needed. Thanks, show. I'll skip over the banter and cut to the chase: Clary hasn't told Simon that Jace isn't her brother, while Simon hasn't told her that Raphael is blackmailing him for being a Daylighter. So, you know, healthy relationship stuff right there!

Clary's called away to deal with Azazel, and Simon…well, he's mostly stuck in his subplot this episode, as he tends to do for a surprisingly huge part of this show, now that I think about it. I wonder if someone, somewhere, is making a Simon-less cut of this show, and how much of the central plot would actually change, but I'd wager it's not that much.

Regardless, I'll get to his subplot first, because it's shorter that way. Isabelle's come back from the depths of addiction with Sebastian's help (of course), and so he asks her for help dealing with Raphael.

"I heard you guys were kinda seeing each other and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me out doing that thing you're really good at, you know, making a man bend to your every will."

One: that's a really fucked-up thing to say. I mean, it's horribly reductive of Isabelle's character and strength, especially since she hasn't really manipulated many people with sex in the show, all things considered. Plus, it erases Raphael's asexuality, which I'll remind you is textual in the show. I guess you could say Simon doesn't know, but Isabelle does and doesn't react.

Two: that also sounds like Simon wants to use sex to manipulate Raphael himself, and you know what? Why not.

Anyway, Isabelle tells him about the venom addiction, but she has another plan: to go visit Rosa Santiago, Raphael's sister (and therefore an old lady in a retirement home). Isabelle has Simon take a picture of her as counter-blackmail, because here's no way this could go wrong, right?

So it goes wrong, and Raphael Portals to the Jade Wolf (where Simon and Isabelle are celebrating victory) in the middle of the day to kill him. Because Raphael's also incredibly stupid, I guess. Sure, Luke's pack is a little understaffed right now, but again: broad daylight, and Raphael came with two vampires and a warlock. So he's easily chased off, but not before the other vampires see Simon in sunlight and figure out he's a Daylighter. On the plus side, that means things are actually moving there, so…yay?

Oh, also, before the attack, Isabelle told Simon about Jace and Clary not being related, so of course, at the end of the episode he confronts her. It doesn't go anywhere, but it does give us a moment of Simon being pissy about the whole thing (and I don't mean about her hiding it, that's a legit problem; I mean he's instantly jealous again), in case I'd forgotten why I don't like Simon.

I will also mention that Isabelle and Simon get another scene, where they're out at night after the whole debacle. And if you thought they'd run into vampires and we'd find out word has already spread about Simon…well, no, it's here mostly for ship tease, because Rosa thought they were a couple.

"Hey don't worry about Jace not being Clary's brother. Rosa's right, you're a catch."

Subtle.

But I still like this scene, because Simon tells her his mom's also recovering from addiction (I think alcoholism?) and tells her she should go to meetings, and she agrees to do it. I mean, this addiction subplot has been…a problem, but I'll take the silver lining. And the acknowledgment that she's not 100% back to normal.

Okay, with that bit of pointlessness out of the way, back to the actual plot. For once in their lives, our heroes did the right thing and warned everyone that Azazel was loose, and Imogen Herondale is even smart enough to wait until the crisis is over before considering punishment for even summoning him in the first place.

"To catch the Greater Demon you summoned to the Institute, defying all protocol—and common sense?"

I mean, she does get a rightful amount of sass, but still. I like her much better than her season 1 incarnation—or her book counterpart. If/when she dies I might feel sad about it, too.

Isabelle, who as I already mentioned is much better regarding her addiction, convinced Sebastian to come along to the Institute (or…"convinced", I guess I should say, because…come on, of course he wanted to become part of the group). And since he just so happens to be an expert in Greater Demons, he provides them with all the information they need on Azazel's weakpoint. Which is just…a spot on his spine, while in human form. If you think this is boring, you're right. If you think this means the show's already tired of Azazel, you're also right.

See, Alec doesn't fully trust Sebastian (and rightfully so, but we're not supposed to know that, guys). So he goes to Magnus for help tracking down Azazel. Of course, it's actually Valentine, and also, Azazel's actually there to force Valentine to give him the Cup, so Alec shoots him…right in the weak spot, banishing him back to whatever Hell dimension he's from. That's…maybe ten minutes into the episode, by the way.

So what's the rest of our plot about? Well, the body-swapping issue. See, Valentine did apparently trust Azazel to return him to his body (or at least a Shadowhunter body, Azazel's wording seemed to hint at the latter) and even tried to stop Alec from banishing him. But now that he's gone…well, we gotta find another solution. And to compound the whole issue, Magnus (in Valentine's body) is being tortured for information he doesn't have, no one believes his claim to be Magnus Bane, and Imogen decides partway through the episode to have him executed because she'll never manage to get the Cup's location out of him.

And I don't know how I feel about that last part. I mean, it's probably her prerogative as Inquisitor, but you'd think the Clave would want someone as high profile as Valentine to at least show up in Alicante as a prisoner, if only for the optics of it? Plus, it seems she acknowledges that torture won't work (and therefore, that she's aware it doesn't always work), but then…why torture him at all? And why skip straight to execution? If you know torture is unreliable, why not use other methods?

Sadly, these are all ethical issues the show will not address today.

Well, anyway. Magnus does manage to tell Alec stuff about their offscreen relationship history that makes Alec wonder if he might be telling the truth. If you think this will matter, you are wrong, by the way.

Because meanwhile, Valentine has Dorothea teach him magic, claiming to have lost his memories during the fight with Azazel. Dorothea sounds dubious of it, and even notices that he sounds and acts like Valentine, but she still teaches him, so…chuck that up as another weird point that won't be addressed, I guess.

With magic, Valentine takes Jace hostage, and offers to trade him for his freedom (and his body back). So, as I said, Alec realizing Magnus is really Valentine and vice versa goes nowhere, because he plays along the Inquisitor's plan until the very last minute, and even then, he only changes his mind because Valentine makes his move, not…you know, because of love or trust in Magnus or anything silly like that.

Before I proceed, I guess I should mention the other subplot in this episode. Remember how Clary's sun rune failed against Azazel? Yeah, apparently this is a thing and she can't use her fancy special runes anymore. So when, post-Alec banishing Azazel, Imogen asks to test Jace and Clary's abilities, she agrees, going against Jace's advice to never trust the Clace. That test, by the way, is pointless, safe for this eventually-ironic exchange between Jace and Clary:

"Can't be easy being a Herondale." "Oh, yeah. Must be tough being like Shadowhunter royalty. All this power, prestige."

What is relevant is that after that (and Clary still failing to use her runes), Sebastian comes for a one-on-one with Clary, telling her her problem might be emotional, since she lost her mother and then "lost" her brother when it turned out Jace isn't her brother, and therefore she has no family left. It's…a weird statement, but it's made by a villain, so I'm going to assume he's correct and manipulating Clary.

Okay, now that you're caught up on that, back to our hostage situation. One, Imogen agrees to a rescue, because Valentine reveals that Jace is her grandson, which he proves by…showing her he took the Herondale family ring off of Céline Herondale's corpse. Who was…only a Herondale by marriage, and doesn't really prove that Jace is her son, but whatever, we'll roll with it because we all know he's telling the truth, for a change.

So they let Magnus (in Valentine's body) go to Magnus's flat, where the real Valentine is waiting with Jace. Alec, Clary and Sebastian are secretly following—Sebastian being there at Clary's insistance, because I guess the Institute had no other Shadowhunter to spare and all these extras we keep seeing are just the maintenance crew or something.

Anyway, Valentine (still in Magnus's body and with Magnus's magic) turns on the wards that protect Magnus's flat, so they can't get in to capture him / prevent him to escape / get Magnus and Jace back. So it's up to Clary and her special runes to break through…which she only manages after Sebastian pushes her to embrace her feeling of grief over her mom's death and "losing" Jace. Which…I guess is something she really did feel grief over? She literally starts crying, then angry-drawing her rune, and it works.

And it's…a weird moment. What is Sebastian's point here? Is this some kind of Dark Side of the Force, "embrace your emotions to be stronger" deal? Is there some other plan going on, like he's trying to make her feel grief over having no family left so that she'll love him more once he reveals he's her brother? I don't know.

Meanwhile, Magnus and Valentine trade bodies again with a spell in Latin that's…close, but still wrong.

"Relite animus nostrus in earum corpora."

"animus nostrus" is singular, and I'm not entirely sure how Latin handles the distributive, but I would have used he plural. And even if the singular is correct here, then "corpora" is plural and you need to change that. Either way, one of them is wrong.

"Relite" feels like it should be a verb based on "ire" to mean "to go back", but…no, you were thinking of redire, which in the imperative should be "redite". Of course the imperative is also wrong, since imperative doesn't work with the third person, so you should have gone with the subjunctive (this is even what happens in English, by the way, you wouldn't say "our souls, go back to our own bodies", you'd say "let our souls go back to our own bodies"), so…redeat/redeant? Depending on whether it is singular or plural.

"Earum" means, literally "of these [people, feminine]". So for starters, you wanted to go "eorum" since they're men. Unless Harry Shum was botching the pronunciation, I mean. Then there's the fact that it's badly used. Yes, using the demonstrative in the genitive case as a third person possessive is, when the possessor is not the subject of the sentence, is the right way to go (so instead of saying "his/her/their", you say "of him/her/them"). The problem here is that…the possessor is not third person. I mean, it's right there, two words earlier: "nostrus". Our. Because you're the ones speaking this, and also the ones who own the bodies. Now, I guess they were going for something along the lines of "our own", which I'm honestly not sure how to express in Latin, but am certain this isn't it.

Yes, I just did that. I'm that petty. And bored. Cut me some slack. You should know what to expect on this blog by now.

Anyway, they get their bodies back, the gang comes in before Valentine can escape, and Valentine is locked up again. This episode does feel pretty pointless when you look at it like that: all it did was undo the cliffhanger from the last episode. And get Sebastian into the Institute, which is non-negligible.

I will say that I appreciate the wrap-up this episode features, though. Alec apologizes to Magnus for the torture he underwent. I don't think Alec did any of it himself—the worst he got was yelling at Magnus for…saying he was Magnus—but since Alec did almost stand by while he was executed, an apology is the least Magnus deserves.

And I've gotta wonder why it is that this season keeps putting Alec in the bad spot here. Because it does. And I guess it's progress to making Magnus do tons of shitty things to Alec, but this…isn't really an improvement for their relationship as a singular entity.

Speaking of apologies, Sebastian also apologizes if he upset Clary by making her embrace grief and whatnot. She's fine with it, because it restored her rune ability and she was feeling pointless without it. No, really, she said that earlier. He also asks her out to dinner, and so for the first time in my life, I'm glad that Clary is currently dating Simon, because that means she turns him down. Dodged that bullet. For now.

And finally, we end the episode on Imogen accepting Jace as her grandson.

"Now I know where that bold defiance of yours comes from. You're just like your father."

The guy who betrayed everything you and your family stood for and joined an extremist cult where he was killed? Yeah, that's not as big a compliment as the show seems to think.

But yeah, she tells him he has a family now, and a pretty noble one at that. So, again, we'll ignore Stephen and also Imogen herself, who I'm pretty sure tried to kill Isabelle last season and now almost killed Magnus. Not to mention, wanted to kill Valentine, because fuck due process or even letting others try to get valuable intelligence out of him.

"Now, my boy, you are about to find out what it means to be a Herondale."

Well, when you put it like that, it almost sounds ominous.

And that's the episode. And yeah, I've ranted a lot more than I thought myself capable, but I still stand by my stance from earlier.

Sure, it didn't accomplish much, although we did get progress on the Simon front. And it didn't fall for obvious pitfalls with the bodyswapping plot (I was especially worried they'd have some kind of sexual interaction between Alec and not-Magnus, which thankfully didn't happen), so I'll call that a win? Or at least, not a loss.

Also: special shout-out to Harry Shum Jr, who was absolutely spectacular as Valentine in Magnus's body. Because I'm sure my opinion matters a lot to him.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Frank Castle/Matt Murdock meet Coldwave fic

Set in @jewishfrankcastle​'s domestic AU where Mick and Len have retired to a farm and are villainously herding a small armada of children and animals - all details come from that. For their birthday, @jewishfrankcastle requested Frank Castle and Matt Murdock meeting Len and Mick.

Happy birthday! I hope you like it!

link to ao3

---------------------------

They meet, perhaps unsurprisingly, at the dog park.

Frank's never been to Central before - his work tends a bit more towards exotic or politically influential locations, but there are corrupt cops and murderers everywhere, and that means he goes everywhere.

He's been mostly focusing on corrupt cops and politicians lately, rather than run-of-the-mill murderers - Matt'd made a good point in their last dust-up about how people abusing the levers of powers were full on destroying the systems that most normal people relied on, while random murderers sometimes had reasons.

Never excuses, but reasons.

And, well, in the heat of the moment Frank'd had some sort of pithy remark about how vigilantes weren't really part of the system either, so there Murdock, but after the adrenaline faded, Frank had to give him the point. Frank's always focused mostly on gangs for a reason - institutional power's a bitch - and it seems wrong not to go after the biggest blue-clad gang of them all.

Especially given how often corrupt cop seemed to be synonymous with murderer nowadays.

Anyway, he and Matt ended up settling their differences the way they usually did these days - talking shit at each other till their voices start getting hoarse, then one of 'em making a final call. If Frank thought there was something particularly vile about 'em, he'd end them his way; if Matt was dead on convinced that they were innocent or something, Frank'd let Matt rescue the scumsucker.

And then they'd go off their separate ways, of course, and bicker about it some more over a few cups of hot cocoa back at home.

It is, no two ways about it, the weirdest relationship Frank's ever been in, but what the hell, it makes them both happy. Frank likes things that make him happy, and nowadays he tries to keep life simple.

Unfortunately, simple doesn’t always agree with him about that.

Take this trip to Central, for instance. Frank'd gotten a tip-off about the organized crime in Central (they called them Families here, with chewed off syllables and a grimace of distaste), some offshoot of which was forcing kids to traffic their drugs with their families at gun point, with corrupt cops on the payroll ready to bury any confession by any kid dumb enough to try to turn on them.

Ready to bury any kid, too, and call it self-defense.

So Frank'd packed up his shit (Matt likes to tease him about how many suitcases he packs, but he has no room to talk; Frank's been on vacation with him before and he doesn't even bring guns!) and planned on heading out the way he always did, except Matt ended up being asked to join one of his weird slumber parties ("Defenders team-ups are not slumber parties!" yeah they are) and all their friends were out of town, and that meant there was no one to watch Max.

Which, fine. Frank's used to taking Max with him when he goes out - poor dog's a sweetheart and perfectly happy to stay in a safe place while Frank does what needs to be done, but Frank's starts feeling bad if he doesn't let Max stretch his legs a bit.

Thus the dog park.

Most people there have these dumb little city dogs that they try to keep away from Max, probably because they're bigoted assholes that buy into the whole 'pit bulls are evil' crap, and Frank's just about to drop his disguise sunglasses (Matt thinks they're hilarious, but seriously, the red-glasses-wearing kettle can stop calling the pot black any day now) to glare at the fuckers keeping Max from having a good time when some big ol' fucker walks into the park with two pits and a mutt, none of which he's keeping leashed, and everyone just -

Relaxes?

Seriously, they stop clutching at their Pekingese and Bichon Frises and shit and let 'em go to scamper around smelling each other’s butts, and Max is in doggie seventh heaven or some shit.

The tough guy - six-foot-something with a bull's worth of muscle on him, shaved bald and looking dangerous - looks around the park, spots Frank, and comes over.

Doesn't sit right next to him, no intimidation shit or anything that Frank might be inclined to take issue with, but close enough that having a chat's not a big deal.

If anything, the rest of the park gets even more relaxed.

Guy don't say nothing for a couple of minutes, so Frank decides to start up this ballgame.

"People here sure are friendly," he says.

The big guy snorts. "Sure they are," he says, voice halfway between ironic and fond. "Once they know you ain't Family or a pig of the human variety."

Frank straightens up, kinda insulted. They thought he was a mobster? Or a cop? Him?

"Easy now," the guy laughs. "They know you ain't one anymore, now that I'm here, but you can't blame 'em for being wary."

"Now that you're here?" Frank echoes.

"I hate Family," the guy says. "A lot. And my partner hates corrupt cops - most cops, not gonna lie, but corrupt ones worst of all - and we ain't shy about chasing them outta our parts of the city."

"Your parts of the city?"

"The slums," the guy clarifies. "Where half the population or more's taken a swing by our resident jail cells - that's Iron Heights, here, and I'd avoid it if at all possible if I were you."

"And here I heard the thing to avoid was the Flash," Frank says, unable to keep from commenting on the superhero-shaped elephant in the room. He'd started seeing the memorabilia nearly a hundred miles away, and in Central proper it gets positively overwhelming.

And a little concerning, Frank's not gonna lie. He's used to superheroes like Matt, like Matt's friends - some powers, yeah, but kinda down to earth like. People he could stop with a bullet (or, in Luke's case, a bunch of nets or superglue or something; he's still working on that). He's not quite sure what to do with someone who can purportedly catch a bullet in midair and have Frank on the ground before he's had time to fire the next one.

He's planning on getting his business in town done quick and quiet and hopefully over before he has to make the guy's acquaintance.

"He's easy enough to avoid," the guy says with a shrug. "Especially this time of year; it's gorilla season."

Frank pauses, because he's gotta have heard that wrong.

"Yeah, gorillas," the guy confirms. He sounds tired out just thinking about 'em. "Some lab cooked up a super intelligent gorilla with telepathic powers -"

"What the fuck."

"I know right? Anyway, the Flash ended up tossing that gorilla somewhere in another universe or some bullshit like that - don't ask, you don't want to know -"

Guy's right. Frank really, really doesn't.

"- and it turns out that universe has its own gangs of super-intelligent gorillas, and once a year they manage to open a portal back to our earth to try to invade. That's how you get -"

"-gorilla season," Frank finishes. "Jesus."

"Yeah."

They sit in companionable silence for a while.

"Your big pit's got a lot of scars," Frank eventually observes. The big one's all scarred, while the smaller one's a bit roughed up but no more than a bit of tough living would get him. The last one, the mutt, he's just a goddamn lazy shit, rolling around on the grass and barely getting up to prance around, but he seems fine. "That something we should be talking about?"

The guy shoots Frank an approving look, of all things. "Nah," he says. "We rescued Tony from a Family dogfighting operation that we were shutting down with prejudice, if you know what I mean."

Well, shucks. Look at that. Frank thinks he may have made a friend.

Matt is never gonna believe him.

"Got my Max much the same way," Frank says. "New York gang."

"Fuckers," the guy says agreeably. "The smaller one, Poppy, we got her the same way, but she was new, y'know? Hadn't gotten to too much fighting yet. Well. She fights with the goats - my partner and I own a farm outside of town," he adds, seeing Frank's raised eyebrows. "That's where she gets all those band-aids from."

Frank buys it. Those band-aids are cute enough, but also located just where an exasperated goat might decide to butt an irritating dog away.

"And the mutt?" he asks, nodding at the dog, which seems to have decided to take a nap.

"Turtle."

Frank snorts.

"Yeah, he's always like that," the guy laughs, and that’s that. They sit around, don’t talk, and it’s all nice and domestic and shit until it’s time for Frank to collect Max and go.

Of course, next time they run into each other, Frank’s in the middle of a warehouse with a bunch of screaming children and a lot of dead mobsters, splattered all over in blood and trying to figure out if he should’ve worn gloves because he can’t exactly go on picking up kids with bloody hands, now can he?

Big guy – Frank never got his name – walks through the door, holding some weird sort of reddish gun.

Frank blinks at him.

Guy blinks back.

“Well, that saves me some trouble,” the guy says. “How’d you get tipped off about this before I did? You’re not even local.”

“They picked a kid whose parents kicked her out for being trans,” Frank says. “After all the work she’d been putting in to save their asses from these assholes, too. No idea how she got my number.”

“Guess she was really pissed,” the guy says. He’s as agreeable as ever, even though they’re surrounded in a sea of blood and bunch of dead mobsters. “I probably would’ve just scared the shit outta ‘em for the first offense.”

“I don’t really believe in first offences when kids are involved,” Frank says.

Said kids have also stopped crying and screaming, actually, even though they're still just as traumatized. If anything, though, they're looking at big guy like he's come to rescue them - which, hey! Frank did all the hard work here! One of the kids actually pipes up and goes, “Can you get us home, Heatwave?”

That's the most coherent thing any of 'em have said since Frank arrived, guns blazing. He'd been trying to get words outta them for ten minutes before this.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” the big guy (Heatwave?) says, then looks at Frank. “You need a place to crash while the heat dies down on you for this?”

Frank makes a face. He’d been planning on getting bloody, of course, but maybe not quite this bloody, and a classic Punisher attack will bring the Feds down like nothing else. And Feds mean road blockades, and he’s got Max to think about.

Aw, what the hell. This guy seems pretty cool. Even the kids seem to trust him, and the kids don't trust Frank even after he's rescued 'em, which is clearly a sign of good discernment and excellent survival skills.

“Sure,” he says. Then, awkwardly, he sticks out a hand and says, “Frank Castle.”

The guy shakes (ignoring the blood) and says, “Mick Rory.”

The name pings something familiar, but Frank can’t recall what. His memory’s not the best nowadays.

Rory ushers everyone outside and does a quick check of the area to make sure nobody’s still in there, just in case, and then he takes that dinky little water-gun-looking red thing in his hand and lights the whole goddamn place on fire.

“What the hell,” Frank says. That gun should not be able to make a flame that large. “You know that won’t cover my tracks, right?”

The Feds have gotten to tracking Frank's bullets. Frank doesn't mind - he likes getting credit for what he's done.

“It’s not for that,” Rory says.

Then he stops and waits for something, Frank’s not sure what.

And then Frank does know what, because there’s a goddamn burst of yellow lightning and suddenly there’s a kid in a red suit standing there where he definitely wasn’t standing before. The rumors were not kidding about the Flash’s speed.

“Mick, what are you doing?” the kid says, hands on hips, frowning a little. “It’s not like you to go off without warning anymore. Aren’t you retired?”

Retired? Retired from what, arson?

No, wait. Heatwave. That was one of the Flash’s supervillains, part of that gang, whatever they’re called. Heat-themed guy, cold-themed guy, weather-themed guy…the Rogues or something like that. Frank’d heard decent things about them – rules about no killing women or kids or capes, no casualties at all when possible, focus on the money and even that aim at those that can afford to lose it – so he’d never really investigated.

He had heard that they were in semi-retirement or something, though; they only came out once or twice a year.

“Some Family offshoot got the big idea of getting kids to traffic for ‘em,” Mick tells the Flash, gesturing at the kids all huddled up by the wall.

The Flash looks stricken. “That’s awful,” he says, looking at them. “You guys okay?”

The kids nod. Their faces are all shining bright and cheerful now that a proper superhero’s here.

Typical.

“Any of you undocumented?” the Flash then asks, which Frank is about to take exception to, except the Flash continues, “If you are, or any of your families are, I’ll get the police to sign off on a U-visa for helping stop a crime; maybe get that rushed through for you, make sure you get safe. If you don’t want to come forward, that’s okay too.”

Okay, fine, maybe this superhero kid doesn’t seem so bad.

“I’ll get them home,” the Flash tells Rory, who nods, satisfied. “Was there anyone, uh, inside the warehouse?”

“Not anymore,” Frank says.

The Flash squints at him, then his eyes go down to the skull on his vest and his eyes go a little wide.

“I’m letting him crash at the farm,” Rory says before the kid can say anything.

The kid just sighs, all the steam let out of him. “Of course you are.”

“He’s got a dog.”

“Of course he does.”

With that, the kid rolls his eyes and zips back into lightning speed, taking the kids away one by one.

Rory catches Frank’s eye and jerks his head to the side. Frank follows him, feeling kinda out of his element on this one. He’s not really used to superheroes and villains hanging out all peaceful-like this way.

“We’re retired,” Rory says, seeing his expression. “Mostly only do jobs on birthdays and anniversaries. Rest of the time, we’ve got a deal going that we’ll only act when people are being really awful, like here, and the Flash’ll just handle mop up.”

“That’s an interesting approach.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rory says, waving a hand. “Oh, hey, I’m gonna guess from your comments earlier about the trans kid that any of that stuff ain’t gonna be an issue?”

“Nope,” Frank says. “My, uh –” How does he even define Matt? His boyfriend? His superhero? His nemesis-with-benefits? His person-I’m-in-a-relationship-with-that-neither-of-us-are-characterizing-because-we-are-manly-men-incapable-of-properly-articulating-emotions? The last one’s probably the most accurate, let’s be real, but it’s a bit of a mouthful, and no one deserves to have a shit ton of Frank’s issues dumped on them at first meeting. “I’m seeing a trans guy,” he finally settles on, because, sure, he’s definitely seeing Matt. At least once a day, if he’s lucky. Of course, Matt isn’t ‘seeing’ him, if you want to get technical about it… “And I’m, uh. Nonbinary. Sometimes.”

“Fair,” Rory says, and Frank feels that moment of relief he always gets when he finds out he won’t have to shoot someone who helped him out for being a transphobic dickwad. “Same here, ‘cept my partner and I are married now. Do you mind being around kids? Living space-wise, not rescuing-wise.”

Frank gets that awful feeling in his gut that he gets every time he thinks about his own kids, his Lisa and his Frank Junior, and how they’re not here anymore, but he’s been trying to think of them as good things, trying to remember them as the bundles of light and joy that they were, as more than just the pile of blood and bone they ended up as, and even though that ain’t easy with the way his brain is wired now, he’s gotta try. So he says, “I like kids.”

“Good, ‘cause we’ve got a whole heap of ‘em,” Rory says. “Some of ‘em have moved out, and some of ‘em are shy as anything, so you’ll probably only see a few of ‘em, but, y’know, just fair warning.” He pauses, considering. “Also, my partner Len? He’s got the worst damn sense of humor you’ll ever meet. Want to warn you about that, too.”

“I can handle a sense of humor,” Frank says, and he goes on believing that right up until he follows Rory onto a nice little farm outside of Central and the guy standing in the kitchen – curvy guy, wearing a long-sleeved shirt, a skirt, skinny jeans and socks all together, despite the blisteringly hot weather – turns around and says, “I see you two have been having a bloody good time.”

“Len,” Rory says, sounding long-suffering.

“You know, when you said you were planning on painting the town red, I figured you meant metaphorically.”

“Len.”

“Though, given your company, I guess it’s no surprise you decided to put your clothing through some serious punishment.”

Frank just starts laughing, because that’s the first time he’s ever been compared to Tide With Bleach, and he thinks to himself that he’s going to like Central more than he thought he would.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear you’re gonna like ‘em,” Frank says encouragingly.

Matt just shoots him a seriously skeptical look, like he still thinks Frank is making the whole thing up. And, sure, Frank going on a job and ending up becoming besties with two retired supervillains who live on a farm with a bunch of animals and an even larger gaggle of kids, kids that Frank likes, yeah, Frank can see that being a bit hard to swallow.

But it’s true.

Len even used the words ‘besties’. He’d been dripping with sarcasm and doing air-quotes at the time, but Frank’d figured out pretty quick that the only way to put up with Len’s trolling was to go in with it, full-hog, and after one thing led to another, they were scheduled to have a frilly dolly tea party with Enku and Opan and baby Coral the afternoon after Frank arrives. Having met said kids, Frank figures there’s about a 90% chance of Enku getting bored and walking away after ten minutes (probably after having said something characteristically tactless to Matt; he’s already warned him), while little seven-year-old Opal and four-year-old Coral just watch in fascination as Frank and Len try to one-up each other in increasingly absurd levels of fake-niceness.

Frank’s been brushing up on his sign language just to make sure that Coral feels included in the battle royale. She might be little more than a toddler, but she is vicious, and Frank wants her on his side, hearing or no hearing.

He figures Matt will be too busy having fun with the older kids to mock him for going to a four-year-old for help. Between Basi’s tendency to start fights and Tahmid’s tendency to get into them, there is zero chance that Matt won’t find some way to sneak out to go a-vigilantism-ing with them.

Of course, Matt doesn’t actually have to sneak out – Len and Mick believe firmly in teaching their kids the meaning of the word ‘justice’ and the concept that when the law doesn’t do it, someone else has to make up the slack, but not too much because that'd interfere with the thieving they all like to do – but Matt will enjoy trying anyway. He won’t succeed. Nothing gets past the goats’ notice. Frank tried.

Matt, meanwhile, is looking ahead to where the farm has just barely come into view. “Do they have cows?” he says dubiously.

“And pigs,” Frank says. “And horses, goats, dogs, cats, rats, and chickens. Avoid the chickens.”

“…why?”

“Chickens are dinosaurs, Red,” Frank says solemnly. “Just smaller.”

Matt shoots him a Look.

“Relax, city boy,” Frank says, cracking a smile. “You’ve got superpowers. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t making me more comfortable with this,” Matt says dryly. “Tell me again how we’re going to go visit criminals?”

“Retired supervillains.”

“Which you bonded with over rescuing kids from organized crime.”

“And then we went out and hunted down a dog-fighting ring,” Frank says. He’d been very satisfied with how that visit had turned out.

Matt is rolling his eyes. The glasses don’t hide it as well as he thinks they do.

“And the local superhero may or may not be swinging by,” he says.

“Running by,” Frank says. “I keep telling you, keep the swinging metaphors for the kid up in Queens.”

Frank likes the kid in Queens. He's an asshole. Sure, he agrees more with Matt than with Frank about how to deal with bad guys, but he’d made some snarky comments to Matt about the fatality rates of people with severe head trauma that endeared him to Frank forever. Matt's still sulking.

“Fine. The local superhero may be running by. And – not arresting anyone?”

“They’re very nice supervillains.”

“Why is the superhero running by again, then?”

“Because he’s worried we might start some shit,” Frank explains, very patiently. He’s said it before, but he gets how it could sound weird. “He wants to make sure we ain't messing with his precious supervillains, and it only takes the kid something like three minutes, tops, to run from the city to the farm, check up on us, and head back, and that’s when he’s going at a casual speed."

Matt frowns.

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird. Don’t over-think it.”

“It’s too late,” Matt says, frown deepening. “I’m over-thinking it. Just mechanically, how does that work? What does he wear?”

“Low friction spaceman suits.”

“But the effect of his feet on the streets…”

“Don’t think about it,” Frank advises again. “Just…don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“I’m a lawyer. Overthinking things is what I do…how do they even determine the mens rae/actus reus division for someone moving at that speed?”

“Red. Please.”

“But –“

“Hey, look at that!” Frank announces. “We’re here!”

He makes enough of a show of scrambling hastily out of the car that Matt’s laughing quietly to himself.

Lapis, one of the teens, is on the porch, reading something; she looks up with the resigned world-weariness of goths and teenagers, the pinnacle of which can really only be reached by teenagers who are goths (like Lapis).

"Nice to see you, ma'am," Frank says with his absolute best aw-shucks New York military kid attitude.

There's only the slightest flicker of amusement on her lips - like all teens, she enjoys getting 'ma'am'ed in a way that she really won't in about five years - but Frank's pretty sure he can wear her down to in actual smile. Maybe even a laugh; he's feeling ambitious.

Sure, she's probably too cool to go outside the monotone even when she laughs, but a man's gotta try.

"Where're your parents?"

There's a definitely flicker of amusement this time.

"Watering the backyard," she says. "Pleased to meet you," she adds to Matt, then back into her book she goes.

Matt arches his eyebrows a bit, but he takes Frank's arm and lets himself be led in the direction of the backyard. He doesn't need leading, and Frank's already explained that Mick's ridiculously on-point ability to read people will mean that Matt's secret is a sooner rather than later reveal, but Matt insisted.

Sometimes Frank thinks the whole blind lawyer disguise is like a security blanket for Matt. If only Matt would just admit that's the case, Frank would be a whole lot more understanding, but as it is, Matt likes to pretend he's doing it for increasingly dumb reasons that Frank can barely bring himself to pretend he believes and he already knows Matt knows he doesn't.

Eh, they'll get over it. They wouldn't be them if they weren't squabbling over something stupid.

In the backyard, Len and Mick are, in fact, watering the backyard.

"Frank," Matt says, very calmly. "Is it raining?"

"Just part of it. Over the yard," Frank says, watching - no small bit impressed - as some asshole waves his hands at the heat and cold guns Len and Mick are currently wielding and turns them somehow into rain.

"I need another cold front," the guy shouts. It's hard to hear over the miniature sized storm hovering over the lawn.

"I'll give you a goddamn cold front, Mardon," Len shouts back. "You want your torso or your legs to get it?"

"I'm doing you a goddamn favor, Snart!"

"And here I thought you were paying me back for all the times I broke you out of the Heights!"

"I think we've got enough water," Mick bellows from his side of the field.

"Thank God," the guy in the middle, Mardon, says, waving his hands again and making the whole cloud break into pieces until the sky above the fields is as bright and clear as the rest of it. "That’s it; I'm out."

And he goes.

"Come back next week, asshole!" Len shouts after him.

"Frank," Matt says, very quietly.

"Yeah, babe," Frank says, staring. "It’s not just you. He really did just up and fly away."

"...do they grow any form of hallucinogenic narcotics on this farm?" Matt asks suspiciously.

"Nah," Len says, holstering his gun. "Don't need the heat."

"Don't you dare start with those cold jokes again," Frank warns.

"So you're the guy who's been leaving those awful voicemails," Matt says, smiling suddenly. "You're my best friend's new favorite person, just so you know."

Len preens. "And you must be Murdock," Len says. "Frank says good things."

"Call me Matt, please."

"Leonard Snart, but you can call me Len," Len says agreeably. "Want to get the city kid guide to animals tour? Raised in the slums myself, so I know all the highlights."

"I'd be delighted," Matt - who as of literally five minutes and the whole last three weeks had been protesting how much he didn't care about farm animals - says with, as far as Frank can tell, all apparent sincerity.

Len proceeds to swan off, Matt in tow.

"What just happened?" Frank asks the air, absolutely bewildered. He'd kind of figured on Matt and Mick being the ones to get on, given how prickly both Matt and Len could be.

"That, my friend, was a prime example of two world class asshole trolls recognizing a kindred spirit," Mick says, coming up behind him. "Be afraid. Be very afraid."

Yeah, Frank reflects, that sounds about right.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time they go home, the Flash has an invite to the Defenders if he ever wants one, Frank and Mick went after another dog-fighting kennel, Frank and Matt are leaving with one more dog than they arrived with, Matt may or may not be helping one of the kids write their law school admissions essay, and they've already arranged for Len and Mick and some of the kids to come visit them in New York in a few months.

"I can't believe I made new friends," Matt says blankly. "Foggy and Claire are never going to believe me."

"I know, right?" Frank says.

[wreathedinscales]

Basically, Jessica gets an abortion and Matt’s there for her. Also there’s mentions of Defenders OT4, which is somehow @prouvairablehulk​‘s fault even though we’ve never discussed them

Trying a new thing! This story’s also under the cut.

She goes to Matt because the bastard probably knows. He's weird like that.

He knows she's following him. She knows he knows she's following him. But aside from a side look―as much a side look as Matt Murdock can give―he doesn't say anything.

He definitely knows.

When they reach his building, he holds the door for her. She grunts when she passes him, since he won't see her nod. (Maybe he'd hear the wind or something if she did, though. 'Cause he's weird.)

"So," he says when they're inside, "to what do I owe the pleasure, Jessica?"

Without really meaning to, Jessica crosses her arms and curls her shoulders in. Bending around her stomach.

"Cut the crap, Murdock. You know why I'm here."

Matt's sardonic smile fades. He's still for a second. Jessica almost reconsiders. When he finally nods, she blows out a long breath. Because this has made her weird too.

"Did you smell it or something?" she drawls.

The smile twitches back. She prefers that instead of―whatever else. "The way you walk changed too."

"But you still smelled it."

His smile grows. Asshole. "Yes."

Jessica scoffs. "Weirdo."

He tilts his head towards her. "I can't hear a heartbeat, though. Still early."

She didn't know she'd been worried about that until he said it and strings cut in her shoulders. 22 days until the heart beats. That's what she'd read. But to hear it confirmed―fuck.

"Yeah, well. Only been a few days."

Matt inclines his head. But he keeps his trap shut. Leaving it to Jessica to steer the conversation. Fuck him and his thoughtful bullshit.

Jessica purses her lips, fingers clenching on her arms. Then it comes out in a rush: "Claire gave me a list of abortion clinics. I made an appointment for tomorrow." As an afterthought, she murmurs, "And I―don't know which one of you's the dad."

Even though she knows him, she expects disappointment. Or, considering it's Matt, some kind of rage, if not now, then when some fuck in an alley makes a wrong move. But instead of going tight-lipped or white-knuckling his cane, he remains as relaxed as can be.

As if he'd expected this.

And is okay with it.

He even asks, "Do you want me to come with you?" all calm and sweet, like he fucking cares, and that shouldn't be a surprise but―but it really fucking is.

"This could be your kid!" Jessica snaps, uncrossing her arms at last.

"Technically, it's nothing but a batch of cells right now," Matt replies, "And it's not my decision to make."

"You say that like you're―like it doesn't matter!"

Matt takes a couple steps to her. "Of course it matters. It's your body, Jessica. I care more about your feelings and what you want. And to be honest," smiling wryly, "I don't think any of us are equipped to handle a child."

Fuck. Fucking―fuck.

Jessica swallows hard. "Are you really leaving this all to me? I―I can't even keep my damn phone on the charger."

"And I'm a blind lawyer with anger management issues. Like I said: not equipped. But if you decide when you get there that you want to keep it, then we'll try our best. I'm sure Luke and Danny will feel the same."

Jessica snorts, glancing at the ugly ass billboard outside. "Danny'll freak. He'll probably decorate a nursery and. Buy flowers or some shit."

Her insides mesh. She can almost feel―she takes a sharp breath and flexes her fingers. This whole thing's got her fucked up. Even more fucked up. Whatever.

Matt telegraphs his movements. She lets him touch her arm.

"Danny lets his emotions run away with him―"

"Look who's talking."

Matt huffs but doesn't deny it. "He just needs to talk it out. Luke and I can handle that if you want."

Jessica clenches her jaw. "No. I'll do it." She looks at his tie. Red, of course, the asshole.

"They've noticed something's been going on with you. But it's still your decision. I won't tell them if you don't want me to."

Why does her throat hurt? Fucking hormones. "How the fuck are you making this so easy?"

Matt briefly ducks his head. "I'm learning that when you have the right people in your life―when you let them, rely on them...things don't have to be as much of a mess."

Jessica rolls her eyes. "Still a mess, though."

Matt squeezes her shoulder. "But doable."

It's quiet for a second. Their city yammers outside.

"It's probably Luke's," Jessica mumbles, idly bouncing her hand on her side, "His jizz is probably superpowered too."

Matt chuckles. "Very likely. But it's yours too."

Jessica stares at his glasses. "Yeah."

"...do you want me to come with you?" he asks again.

Jessica braces her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She can handle this on her own. Was handling it until she realized five days after the damn test that her blind weirdo lawyer could sense shit like a whale. Doesn't matter though, 'cause she can still do this alone. It's what she does best, what she knows, and right now, she could do with some familiarity.

But Matt's also familiar. Somehow, she's let him, Danny, and Luke become familiar. Well, more like they've been so stubborn with trusting her that she's been worn down through sheer exposure. Still. Only Danny says the L word, but there's no expectation, there's no―it's just. It's good. Jessica doesn't just have good in her life. She wasn't built for it, literally. Her whole life's one ongoing earthquake and shitstorm at once.

Matt's tilting his head again. Is he listening to her heartbeat? Fucker.

Jessica inevitably looks at her stomach. She's amazed she hasn't done it yet, considering she's been doing it ever since a shithole convenience store bathroom gave her the worst news she's had in a while. Since she's her, that's saying something.

Matt's hand is still on her shoulder. He's not bad at his job, at least to the extent that he knows when to be patient. Let the case simmer. Though he doesn't see Jessica as a case, none of them do, and ain't that a fucking miracle.

Fuck. Just. For once in her damn lonely life, she―she just doesn't want to be alone. Sure, she shares a bed with three men and has her back covered in a fight, but in this. In this kinda stuff...

Jessica straightens her shoulders and gives Matt an address. Matt's smile warms, and for the first time in a really fucking long time, Jessica might be able to think it'll be okay.

Clinic's small and poor as shit, but Claire's nothing if not reliable, and the receptionist hands Jessica paperwork without a hint of judgment. Matt follows Jessica to a set of cracking plastic green chairs, faded like the off-white walls. A couple fake plants are shoved in corners, and two pictures of flowers make up the rest of the decorations. Classy.

Jessica fills out the paperwork and tries not to be sick. "Don't hold my hand."

Matt's lip quirks. "I've just recovered from broken bones."

Luke and Danny won't know until after. Not that Jessica could ever be swayed to keep it. It's just better this way.

"Your freaky ears listening in?"

"They're kind," Matt murmurs, "Professional, understanding. One woman is crying, and the doctor is tired with her. Brooklyn accent."

Jessica wants that doctor. She'd rather have that than kind and professional.

"Dr. Nunez," Matt says after a beat. "That's what the patient's calling her. Patient's apparently still on the fence."

Jessica scoffs, flipping to the next page. "Why did she come here then?"

"That's what Nunez is asking. Demanding, really."

Jessica definitely wants this doctor. In Other Comments/Concerns, she jots that down.

"The place next door is actually full of prostitutes," Matt remarks, "Very convenient, I suppose."

"Sex workers know what they're about. Shit, what is this, a novel?"

"From what I've seen of medical documents, yes."

"Don't be a smartass, Murdock."

Matt smiles.

A few minutes later, the crying woman hurries out. Jessica finally signs the form and hands it over. The receptionist reviews it, raises an eyebrow at the request, but shrugs under Jessica's own eyebrow.

"That the dad?" she asks instead.

Jessica jerks her chin at the forms. "When's the doc available?"

"Should be a couple minutes at most. With all the shit goin' on at the White House, this is a slow day."

Jessica nods curtly and returns to her seat. She sits a little closer to Matt. He doesn't comment.

She tells Matt to wait there when it's her turn.

"Good luck," he whispers.

"Shut up," she grumbles.

Afterwards, Jessica heads to the nearest bar to get shit-faced. If she doesn't, she might throw up. Better to vomit from alcohol.

She tells Matt to fuck off. He says, "I've never tried this bar."

"You're not trying it with me."

Then she sighs and mutters, "Thanks."

Matt smiles. "I was wrong. That is the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Jessica flips him off. Makes sure to smack it against his chest so he can feel it. He grunts from the impact.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Jessica."

"Come between me and my drinks any longer, Murdock, and I'm gonna break the wall with your face."

"Thank you for letting me come with you."

Jessica nearly rears back. "What?"

Matt carefully holds his cane with two hands. "It must've been hard for you to accept me coming along. Thank you for letting me be there anyway. You deserved to have someone there." A small, self-deprecating smile crosses his face. "Even though you didn't have a choice in telling me."

Oh, fuck this guy.

"I could've ignored you," Jessica snaps, "I could've told somebody else." She probably wouldn't've. "I didn't. Cut the shit so I can get my booze."

Matt kisses her cheek like they're in a fucking movie. "Feel free to drunk call me. Chances are I'll be in the neighborhood."

Jessica rolls her eyes. "When are you not? I swear if you took a step outta Hell's Kitchen you'd combust."

He neither confirms nor denies.

She drags him into an alley and kisses him properly. He knows better than to put his hands on her neck the way he does for the others, opting to grasp her upper arm and keep his free hand on his cane. She digs her nails into his sleeves. The clinic still drenches them, but Matt feels the same, just shy of too hot with some maneuvering so his glasses don't slip between them.

She's torn his jacket.

"You've got a million others just like it," Jessica says as he takes it off.

Matt pats it on his elbow and says, "It's not as if I'm able to tell."

"Fuck. Off."

She feels. Okay? Something close to okay. And really, that's enough.

[cvntianad]

September .1

"Oh my god! What were you thinking?" a feminine voice screeched. I cautiously pushed my car door open, stepping onto the road with shaking legs. I turned to face the blonde and rolled my eyes. "I wasn't on my cell phone unlike you. I had the green light as well. Maybe stop trying to send your nudes and watch the road?" I snapped, gesturing to her dress that was barely covering her bottom region. "Just you wait Lucian, one day that mouth is gonna get your ass beat." she sneered, kicking a broken side mirror on the ground.  "How do you know my name?" I asked, causing her to laugh. "Who doesn't? Your family is the second richest in this state. Reality check honey, your story is everyone's business now." ----  "Miss, are you sure  that you're okay?" a woman, holding a small yappy dog, asked for the thousandth time. "I'm fine. See? No scratches or bruises." I smiled weakly, holding out my arms and legs. She glanced at them briefly, before nodding and scurrying away. The paramedics had gone by now, and I was waiting for my father to pick me up.  A loud honk made my head shoot up to see my father smiling at me from his pick-up truck. "Hiya Kay." he laughed as I clambered into the truck. "How much trouble am I in?" I groaned as we peeled away. "None. You just have to use Claire." he smirked, changing lanes. "No. I'd rather die than use that busted up junk."  Claire was my mom's first car, and the one thing she loved more than my father and I. Built in 1984, the baby blue cutlass had taken a beating and was on the verge of retirement. "Oh come on Kay. A cutlass is a classic. If you don't want Claire, you'll have to ride the bus until you can scrape up enough money for a new car. Mom and I agreed to pay for one-third. The rest is your part, including any modifications you want. You'll still be on our insurance plan, and until then, Claire will be added."  "I'll take Claire. A slight less of an embarrassment than taking a smelly bus." I mumbled. "Cool beans." my father stifled a laugh. "Okay Mr. Sixties. Do you need some hairspray while you do the mashed potato too?" I giggled as we entered the drive. I hopped out and ran up to the door, waltzing into the kitchen.  "Claire or bus?" mom called from the living room. Taking a bowl of fruit salad, I walked up to my room. "Claire." I answered before shutting the door.  *** "What in God's green Earth is that?" my friend Maddie scoffed as I tore Claire's suffocating seatbelt from my torso. "Got in a crash last night. My car was totaled. I was lucky enough to get out of the mess with nothing." I sighed, grabbing my bookbag. As I went to shut the door, it popped right back open, the edge bumping my chin. "Damn it." I hissed, swinging it hard, only for it to come right back. "Need some help?" a voice laughed. I glanced over my shoulder to see my friend Calum, trying to keep from laughing. "Please." I begged desperately. With all three of us working together, we managed to shut Claire with enough time to scramble into first period.  "So Kay, have a nice car ride last night?" a voice sneered. Michael Clifford stood in front of my desk, gripping the edge tightly. "I'm sorry, when did this concern you?" Maddie sneered, prying his fingers off the desk with a pencil. He snatched it from her, breaking it in half and throwing it into the bin. "Nice shot Clifford." a boy yelled from the other side of the class. "Alright settle down kids. Clifford, back to your spot." our teacher coaxed. Michael muttered something under his breath before slamming down in his seat next to his friend Luke Hemmings.  ---- About halfway into the lesson, the door swung open and a student rushed to the teacher's desk and threw a tardy slip on it. "Mr. Irwin, late again?" the teacher sneered. I glanced at the boy, expecting some load of crap. "Sorry sir. Was helping down at the garage again. Lost track of time." he apologized, pulling out a ratty spiral notebook.  "That's the, what, fifth time? Ashton you gotta keep up with this. You're a senior, this isn't your first rodeo." he sighed. "You'd think he would get the meaning of being on time, especially after the funeral." Michael laughed wickedly, kicking the back of Ashton's chair. Ashton didn't say anything, just scribbled down the notes from the board.  I had never talked to Ashton before. Not that I had a reason to do so. Ashton was an outcast, a boy in ripped jeans and leather jackets, who spent his days at a car garage. He was never a very social person, purely for the fact he looked like he was straight out of a gang movie, so everyone stayed away. I continued to stare at the back of his head, until the dismissal bell pulled me from my thoughts. *** "No, no, no! Oh God please not now!" I cried, banging my fist on the Claire's dashboard. She let out one last sputter before dying completely. I slammed my head back against the headrest, letting out a loud groan. I was on the dirt road, just a few minutes away from the house, when Claire finally took her toll. I grabbed my phone from the console and dialed for a tow truck.  "Out of all the days, it had to be today." I muttered as a tow came by within minutes. I gave the tow man a weak smile as I climbed into the passenger side. "Don't worry darlin'." he coughed as he began driving, "We'll have the ol' gal fixed before you know it."  ---- There was no way they would be able to fix the burden I drove. I chewed on my nail as I sat on a wooden bench in the waiting room. A man with grease marks on his face walked into the room, shaking his head. "Sorry. We don't have the correct parts to fix 'er." he sighed, shuffling through some papers on his desk. "It's fine. I'll just grab a ride to school." I grimaced, picking up my bag. "Well, a boy in the back could give you a ride. You go to Oakens high school, correct?"  I nodded, and he held up a finger, briskly walking to the back. He popped back out, with another person. My eyes widened in shock at the sight of a sweaty Ashton. "Hi." he breathed, wiping sweat and dirt from his forehead.  "This is Ashton. He goes to the same school. Ash, do ya think you could give her a ride to school until we can get some new parts?" Ashton quirked an eyebrow at me, before laughing. "Her? You want me to give little miss princess a ride? She won't last one second in my truck. Not pink enough for her." I scoffed "Piss off. You don't know me." The man who brought Ashton out slapped him upside the head, before exiting the room. "Figure something out you two." he grumbled. "Awe I'm sorry. Did I upset you? Go run home to daddy, maybe he'll buy you a new car to cheer you up. Or maybe four fancy sports cars. After-all you do get everything handed to you." he sneered, whisking a rag off the counter and drying his face off. "He won't. I have to get a new one myself."  "Man, I'd thought I'd never see the day when the Kay Lucian did something herself."  "It's not like you ever would with your head shoved so far up you own ass." Ashton let out a chuckle, tossing the rag back. "Get over yourself sweetie." He turned to walk back to the workroom. "Blue." I called, making me stop in his tracks. "What?" he asked, turning to look at me curiously. "I hate pink, I've never liked it. My favorite color is blue. See? You don't know me." I reached for the door. "Wait." he groaned, walking into the back.  He came back a moment later, a plastic bag and books in hand. "I'll give you a ride home. And even though I was a dick, if you want, the offer is still on the table. I'll even drop you off a block before school so you can keep your reputation." I smiled, nodding my head as he lead me over to his car. An chipped navy blue Chevy truck sat in the parking lot. "After you." he smiled, opening the door for me.  I gave him my address and soon we were on the road. Ashton pulled a pack of cigarettes out from the console, carefully lighting it while driving. "I didn't know you smoked." I blurted, not trying to offend him. "I don't." he said, taking a drag. "But you are." I pressed, trying to make conversation. "Some people smoke, I simply use it to quicken the process of dying." Ashton blew the smoke out of the window. I didn't think it was my business to ask why he wanted to die, so I kept quiet.  We turned onto my road when he decided to speak again. "I know you're still thinking about it. So to answer your question; I've done somethings I'm not proud of. Maybe death isn't the best solution, but smoking lets me forget my problems. Kinda relieves the pain I caused myself."  "Oh." I whispered. I felt the car halt, and I looked up to see my house in front of us. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked, closing the door. "Bright and early!" he yelled out the window, giving me a lopsided grin. I gave him a measly thumbs up and walked inside.  "Where the hell have you been?" my mother called, running down the stairs. "Let's just say Claire is at a shop until she can be driven. A boy who goes to my school offered me a ride home." I stated, grabbing a cup of water. "She died?" my father asked, scrunching his face up. I nodded giving them a hug before heading upstairs. "We'll talk about it in the morning. I'm gonna cry if I can't sleep."  The conversation with Ashton kept me up most of the night, and replayed in my dreams.  What made him think he was a bad person? ..... Well, it's been far too long since I've wrote anything. Unlike my other books, I'm actually excited for this one. Hopefully this will go smoothly.  Side note, I have a key for what some symbols throughout the book mean: ----: Small time jumps ***: Larger time jumps/ changing into a new day .....: End of chapters  Xx~ Dorothy  Find my story on Wattpad http://my.w.tt/UiNb/UamGhfuL9E

[frazzledsoul]

So I recently had an unofficial binge watch of most of the third season of Gilmore Girls and

Why did I suddenly stop watching this show in late 2002 for no apparent reason? I mean, it was made for me. There is an episode with dueling Edgar Allen Poe impersonators and a magic cat! If that isn’t my type of show, I don’t know what is.

As much as I love season 5 and the better moments during season 6, there’s definitely value to watching this show before my ship set sail and everything got so complicated. The show was sweeter and more innocent then and it was easier to appreciate it as a whole. It was also a lot easier to like Rory when she was in high school.

Various thoughts on this mini binge:

The technology gap isn’t as obvious to me as it was a few years ago when I sat down with my DVD copies of the first two seasons, but I do have to chuckle at everyone running around with pagers when they already have cell phones. It’s so quaint.

Lorelai’s drama about which Ivy League school Rory is going to be manipulated into attending is so silly. There will come a time in the near future when she’s going to be grateful this is the biggest drama she has to deal with in her child’s life.

There are two major, major continuity gaps that popped up in the revival that are glaringly apparent in 3.18 (the episode with the inn fire, the dueling Edgar Allen Poes, and the magic cat). ASP wrote this episode, so she can’t blame it on any of the other writers. One of them involves Luke meeting Nicole’s parents and witnessing an extended conversation about yup, surrogacy contracts. Luke is distracted by his current parenting (via Jess) woes and it’s been twelve years so we’ll let that one pass, but it really makes no sense that he would remain totally clueless about how that kind of thing works years later. 

The second one involves how long Michel has known Lorelai. He clearly states in this episode that it’s only been five years (which is two years before the series began, when Lorelai was 30). However, in the revival Lorelai clearly details that they first met when she began working at the front desk and he told her she shouldn’t wear a Thompson Twins T shirt to work. The scene Lorelai recalls had to take place when she was in her late teens/early 20s, as it makes no sense that it would take her 13 years to work up to the front desk and become manager 2 years later or that she would be able to buy her house 3 years before she made it to the front desk (and the Thompson Twins T shirt is obviously a tip off that this event happened long before then, as Lorelai would have been 30 in in 1998). I know I’m probably the only one who noticed this, but would it have killed ASP to hire any continuity experts to check for this stuff? The loss of Michel is pretty key to Lorelai’s plot in the revival and even if they stuck with the correct timeline, they still would have been working together for close to two decades.

When Lorelai was talking to Rory about having a few “three night stands” in the revival, she was totally referring to Alex, wasn’t she? The dude just disappears and no one seems to care.

That said, romantically Lorelai is all over the place this season. Christopher, Max, Alex, Luke. She’s got all of her bases covered and yet at this point her story’s mostly about Rory and Rory’s man drama and college choices. The show wasn’t at the point where it could really be about something else yet. So let’s take the guys one at a time, shall we:

Christopher.  Lorelai spends the earlier part of the season distraught over Christopher and the fact that they missed their one big chance to have a relationship again. I’m only mentioning this because I think after this incident it was never really the same with him for Rory or Lorelai again. Rory could never really forgive him for showing up to be Gigi’s dad when he failed her in so many ways. Lorelai could never really be as starry-eyed about him after this: yes, she does give him another chance eventually, and commits to him when she shouldn’t have, but it was too late by then: he’d already failed her, and she’d been with Luke, and had known it could be a lot better than Christopher was ever capable of.

Max. I kind of wish we had gotten to see Max in the revival. They had a perfect opening with Rory and Paris returning to Chilton and it wouldn’t have opened up another love triangle situation, because Lorelai wouldn’t have been there. I would have loved to see him stable and with a wife that suited him and actually loved him (and maybe some kids). Max, like Dean, was a nice guy who just wasn’t right for Lorelai, and it would have been nice to see that he ended up with a nice life away from it all, like Dean did. It’s so sad that the last we see of him is being physically threatened by Lorelai’s presence while she pursues him solely because she’s bored with her current quasi-boyfriend (when she remembers he exists, that is).

Alex. It’s now occurred to me that Alex is basically Lorelai’s version of Rory’s Paul in the revival and I’m kinda creeped out. Well, at least Alex didn’t seem to take it any more seriously than Lorelai did.

Luke. Luke spends this season as lovesick and silently devoted to Lorelai as ever, but halfway through he seems to decide that it’s not going to happen and he’s just going to move on. I’m not really sure what Nicole was doing with him, though. He seems a lot more willing to go on excursions with Nicole (the skiing trip, the cruise) than he was with either Lorelai or Rachel (in both cases, they both stuck pretty close to life in town) but at the same time denies he wants to commit to her at all. He seems to always be looking for reasons to confirm that Lorelai might be a tad interested. When Lorelai tells him about the dream, it’s clear that he’s looking for what might else might be in there that she’s not telling him. And when he’s with her at Rory’s graduation and asks if she’s sure that it’s really a good idea for him to go on vacation with Nicole “despite everything”, he’s practically begging her to give him any little sign of hope.

All that time, he still was hanging onto that horoscope. Even after he married Nicole, he never let go of it. All she had to do was say the word and Nicole would be history.

Ugh, these two.

I kind of want to talk a little about the kids subject, since the season opens with Lorelai dreaming she’s pregnant with his babies and the one time they discuss the subject before they actually get together is in this season. I don’t think the dream was as much about Lorelai really subconsciously wanting the babies as it was about wanting someone who would actually support her and take care of her and her family (ie Rory), and that was never going to be Christopher. It was always Luke. I don’t think Lorelai knows it at this point: for her part, she is clearly jealous of Nicole, but she hasn’t thought it out any farther than that.

When Luke brings the subject of kids in the dance marathon episode to Lorelai it really comes out of left field. What does she care if Luke makes a few snarky comments about Sookie and Jackson’s suitability as parents? She’s not his girlfriend: she’s not remotely thinking about having kids with him in reality. Of course, that’s the exact reason he brings it up. He doesn’t want Lorelai to dismiss the notion of giving him a chance on something even as remote as him never wanting kids. But it doesn’t sound to me like it’s something either of them are longing for. I’ve heard lots of talk that their conversation about kids in the revival was empty and meaningless as opposed to this earlier conversation, and I think that’s silly. While it’s a cute moment that obviously implies that they are meant to be together eventually, it just doesn’t compare to a conversation where they discuss their life together and Luke flat out says that he considers Rory his daughter (and that he doesn’t need a son because he has Jess). He and Lorelai didn’t need a traditional family of their own because they already had one.

What I think some fans miss when they get wrapped up in the fact that Luke and Lorelai never had kids of their own is that even at the moment of this earlier conversation, Luke is already a parent. He really, really tries with Jess, albeit imperfectly, and he fails. Maybe it wasn’t possible to reach someone as angry and confused as Jess was. Maybe if Luke had been more proactive in making sure Jess actually finished high school on time, he would have succeeded. But it’s so sad to me to see Jess beg and beg that deadbeat father of his to let him stay with him because he can’t face life back home. But Luke was the only real father that Jess had, and his good influence ultimately paid off, even if not right away.

(And seriously? We were supposed to watch a spinoff series on Jess and his dad? I’m glad it never happened. I think it would kind of lessen all that Luke tried to do for Jess.)

I think too that we see that Luke really is Rory’s actual dad in this season, if only intermittently. Christopher makes a big deal about Rory forgiving him at the beginning of the season, but he’s got little to offer her. He can’t even show up for her graduation. But Luke is there, and he even cries: he’s jubilant at all of her college acceptance letters: he’s very overprotective when it comes to Jess. He was always there for her, no matter what.

(Luke must be a living nightmare for April’s boyfriends, though. Even his own relatives weren’t good enough for Rory, and we can see that overprotectiveness with April start to flare in season 7.).

Jess really does not come off well to me in this season. In fact, I remain confused as to why so many people remained in love with Jess Mariano for years after the way he ends things here. Jess polled as Rory’s favored boyfriend for years, and I believe the affection many people had for him is a major reason why Milo is so beloved on This Is Us (of course, the fact that Jack Pearson is a flawless human specimen has a lot to do with that, but I think that affection did transfer over). Jess lies to Luke, betrays the trust he has in him, and flunks out of school for no apparent reason. He tries to get Rory to have sex with him, avoids her, and then leaves town without a word for either her or Luke. And this is after beating up Dean, having Luke takes responsibility for his own mess, and ruining Rory’s chance to go to prom. I know he was a sullen, rebellious kid who never wanted to be there and had basically been abandoned by both of his parents, but he had a lot of good people in his corner pulling for him and wanting him to do better. I think the guy he turned into in the revival is a sweet, loyal, dependable guy who would make a great mate for Rory if she ever gets her shit together. We can kind of see him becoming that person in his later appearances in the series. But that is not who he was by the end of season 3.

Lane’s plotline kind of falls flat to me: it seems so twee and backward, even for a show like this. Dave is cute and patient and adorably awkward, but the kind of shenanigans Lane is pulling with him at this point are ridiculous, considering that she’s nearly an adult. I just couldn’t accept him as a real love interest, and I’m not sure he was any more suited to Lane than Zach eventually was. Dave started off perfect: Zach clearly never was, and he had to work to become the kind of person that would be good for Lane. I don’t really see Dave fitting into the kind of hipster mom/dad unit that Lane had settled into by the time of the revival. So I guess the guy is sweet, but I’m not getting it. At least she got a chance to go to prom, though.

The fact that Lorelai is willing to give up her dream of buying the inn solely so that Rory can fulfill her dream of going to an Ivy League school and not have to burden her parents again makes me love her so, so much. I mostly focus on the shipper stuff when it comes to this show but ultimately it is about one woman’s self-sacrifice for the sake of her daughter and I think we see this so much this season. Lorelai can be selfish and infuriating and we do see that a lot of the time, but she’s more than willing to dig her heels in and make the hard choices when it counts. In a world of Shonda Rhimes dramas and decadent superhero shows, we really need that sometimes.

And if you don’t cry at Rory’s tribute to her mom during her graduation speech, you soul is blacker than even mine and there is no hope for you.