#and.... well yeah it did help but once she abandoned the rebellion she wants nothing to do with the war at all

[imogenkol]

Our hero, our hero, claims a warriors heart

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes

Yrsa Gunnr

Race: Nord

Date of Birth: 19th of Evening Star, 4E 175

Special Status: Dragonborn, Werebear

Occupation: Blacksmith Apprentice, Woodworker

Affiliations: Stormcloaks (former), Companions, Thieves Guild

[a-simple-imagine]

Misunderstandings

Requested by anonymous: The whole school knows you’re planning to go to Hogsmeade and rumors of who you’ll be asking to go with you spread fare and wide. But things don’t quite go to plan and so instead you find yourself studying all weekend and a very determined and apologetic Hermione Granger following you around

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 2.2k+

A/N- The more stories I write about Hermione, the less confident I feel. I always feel like there is something missing or they’re getting worse but alas, I do hope that whoever requested this does it enjoy it. 

Warnings - Prejudice, minor bullying 

The sound of childhood giggles and idle conversations echoed through the corridors of Hogwarts school. Hiking Pansy Parkinson further up your back, you charge through the sea of students; first years and fifth years alike also on their way to have dinner in the great hall. Slipping between them with surprising grace as you raced an invisible clock.

"Times running out" your fellow Slytherin whispers in your ear. Had it not been for sharing a dorm room, you probably wouldn't be friends with Pansy. She had never been the nicest of girls to pretty much anyone who wasn't in her immediate circle of friends. And her friends were also stuck-up purebloods who thought they were better than everyone else.

"We're nearly there," you choke out, Pansy's arm pressing dangerously tight against your neck. "You're just heavy."

"I am not," she growls playfully earning herself a giggle. A glorious smell titillates your tastebuds signaling you're almost at your goal. This race was as good as won and you couldn't wait to rub it in Pansy's smug little face. Proving once and for all that you were strong and could carry her from the dungeons to the great hall without dropping her.

"Stop!" Busted. You come to an abrupt stop almost smashing into two Gryffindor boys who had also thought the instructions were for them. "Put down Miss Parkinson, please." Pansy slips down off your back and you both turn to see A displeased Professor McGonagall staring back. "If I find either of you running around the corridors with reckless abandon again I will take points from Slytherin house, do you understand?"

"Yes," You both bow your heads as a sign of apology mumbling out a quick Sorry Professor. Scurrying off around the corner and out of sight of the dread teacher, Pansy immediately jumps up onto your back and you continue your journey. It's a little clumsier this time, students harder to avoid as they move together like a herd of sheep. Slowing down as you reach your destination, Pansy shoves a little Slytherin to the floor. In her defense, the girl was in the way but Parkinson didn't have to be so rough. Making a mental note to apologise later, you drop the girl at the threshold but not without strangling you a little on the way down. One hand runs over the delicate skin of you neck, as the other shoots up in celebration. "I am triumphant,"

With a less than favourable look, the Raven-haired Slytherin's head shakes slowly. "You dropped me."

"Yeah but only because McGonagall made me," you protest, arms falling. "so it doesn't count."

"It does count." You shove her forward, watching her stumble into the hall as you follow behind.

"It does not- that's not fair," Pansy looks back to you with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. It was a look you knew all too well. She was trying to get a rise out of you.

"You dropped me," Her hands connect to your side, pushing you back. "So you lose. Just face facts that you're a loser,"

The argument falls short at the sound of your name. With a roll of your eyes, you're met by two giddy students you didn't know. One was short with long blond hair and ugly wide framed glasses. She was still wearing her Raven claw robe. The other was taller than her friend but still short; her brunette hair was pulled into a messy bun and she had a badger clip keeping stray strands at bay. You reckon they're first or second years. Either that or you're more ignorant than once thought. "What's up?"

"Word around the school is that you're going to Hogsmeade this weekend?" The little Ravenclaw spoke first. Pansy comes up behind you, slumping an arm around your shoulder. The two girls backed up just a little.

"Who told you that?" You wonder. The whole school always seemed to know your business. The two of them giggle between themselves.

"It was Hannah," the Hufflepuff blurts out; at least you assume that's her house.

"Hufflepuff Hannah?" You ask and they nod. You didn't know a lot of Hufflepuff's personally but Hannah was one you'd come across more than once.

"She also said you're planning to ask someone," your heart stops. "The forbidden one?"

"We think it's Harry Potter," The blonde comments and you relax a little. Of course, they would assume it was Harry of all people. "I mean he is the chosen one after all. And for him to be with a Slytherin? well, that would shock everyone,"

"Yeah," her little Hufflepuff friend agrees. "Apparently Harry wanted nothing to do with Slytherin when he first came here."

You chuckle; exchanging an amused look with Pansy. "I am going to Hogsmeade yeah but not with Potter- now if you'll excuse us."

Removing her arm, you pull Parkinson away before the conversation can continue. "So you like potter?"

"No," you shake your head. "At least not in that way. I'm not going to Hogsmede with him if that's what you're getting at."

"You can just admit it- I won't tell anyone."

"Yes you will," It'd be stupid to trust Pansy with information like that before telling the forbidden one yourself. "You'll tell everyone," With an extra hard shove, she stumbles into none other than Draco Malfoy. He was someone you had trouble getting along with. Before you get an earful, you slip into the crowd and make your way to the Gryffindor table while Pansy deals with the spoilt rich kid.

"Hey Hermione," Her name drifts from your lips as you slide in next to her. Her brown hair was pulled up into a bun and she had her head buried deep in a book; her brow crinkled adorably as she focuses.  "Ron," you nod your head towards him as he takes a bite of sausage. And then you turn to the most famous wizard you would probably ever know. "And... don't tell me... it begins with an H... Henry Porter right?"

"We were just talking about your," Ron announces.

"All good things I hope- I'm not crushing on the chosen one."

"What brings you here?" There is a chill behind her voice, once that suggested you weren't welcome. You didn't read too much into it, she probably just didn't want you to disturb her.

"She's allowed to sit with us Hermione," Ron jumps to your defense.

"I'm going to Hogsmeade this week and I was thinking, that maybe we could go together? If you want to like?" You grab a goblet and begin pouring yourself a drink. "I mean Hermione by the way. Not you, Ron- No offence or Henry over there."

"You know my name is Harry,"

"Is it? my bad, I'm awful with names." It was always fun messing with the chosen one. Everyone knew who he was, he was a legend after all although he wasn't all that impressive up close.

"I can't," Hermione states firmly drawing all attention to her as she snaps her book shut. "I have to study for our upcoming potions test. Considering some of the grades you've received since returning, I would advise you to do less gallivanting and more studying."

You had never gotten the best grades but you were in no way failing and for her to suggest such a thing was a little mean. "You know what?  you're right, maybe I will hit the books instead."

"We could-"

"I'll see if Cho is free this weekend," you suggest, slapping your hands against the table and rising to your feet. "She's really smart."

"Cho Chang?" Harry perks up. You wonder how many other people he knew with the name Cho to ask such a silly question.

"Harry's got a massive crush on her," Ron snidely adds, struggling to hold back his devilish bark of laughter.

"Seriously," Cho Chang was arguably way out of his league but it was still amusing. "I can't really blame you, she is cute. I'll put in a good word for you." And with that, you take your leave.

Cho Chang was an older, well known Ravenclaw. Beautiful and with a heart of gold. The two of you had become pretty good friends since your first year and her second so it was no surprise that she agreed to help you out.

Study hall was the bane of your existence. It was almost always incredibly boring and you found sitting in complete silence with a bunch of other students rather awkward. Today you were working alongside Cho as she takes you step by step through the Goblin Rebellions.

"Can I have a word?" The tapping on your shoulder was from Hermione, who you briefly glance at before turning back to your work.

"What?"

"I just... can we talk in private?"

"Why?" You bite back quietly.

Please?" With a heavy sigh, you apologise to Cho and follow Hermione. She takes you far enough away from the hall as to not disturb anyone.

"Well?" You huff, leaning against the wall.

"I wanted to apologise for the other day,"

"You're gonna have to be more specific?"

"You're not a bad student by any means," Her gaze drops to the floor. "I should not have brushed you off the way I did."

"It's whatever," you shrug. "Is that all? I have studying to do."

"No," she answered quickly, you meet the uncertainty in her eyes. "...when I said you should study too I didn't think you'd ask Chang."

"Why do you care who I study with?" You sound more defensive than intended. "You didn't want to hang out anyway."

"That's not true," Hermione mumbles softly. "I was kinda hoping to study together but you were so quick on the defensive-"

"Because you basically called me stupid when all I did was ask you out."

"That's not entirely accurate," Hermione fires back. "I never called you stupid."

"You implied it," you growl. "so sorry I'm not smart enough for you,"

"You know I didn't mean it like that

"Do I?" You ask. "I'd invite you to study with us but we're probably not on your level." Without giving her a chance to reply, you walk away.

"Everything okay?" Cho asks as you return to the table.

"Just dandy," You offer her a smile, sitting back down beside her and picking up your quill. "Shall we continue?"

The following Friday, you walk into the great hall alongside Millicent and Pansy; listening to Parkinson drone on about how funny it was to watch a first-year fall flat on their face. Sitting down, you chat idly when Hermione takes a seat next to Pansy who looks nothing short of disgusted. Shoving Crabbe further up the bench so she could move away from her. "Are you avoiding me?"

"What makes you think that?" You don't bother looking at her as you take a sip of water.

"We don't want dirty witches like you here," Pansy spat.

"Don't worry Pans, you won't catch anything," You never understood her distaste for muggle-borns.

"I apologised so can we go back to being friends or something?"

"You want to be friends with someone like me?"

"I'm sorry okay," she blurts out. "Really sorry."

"This is kinda sad to watch." Millicent comments. "Didn't you like her not too long ago?"

"Yeah until The mudblood called her stupid, keep up."

"Pansy," you growl, shooting her a glare. "Don't call her that,"

"I'm going to Hogsmeade this weekend, maybe we could go together like you wanted?" Hermione suggested abruptly drawing the attention back. "Ron explained what you actually meant when you invited me. He also seems perplexed that you aren't in love with Harry."

"Him and just about everyone else at this school," you chuckle. "why would you want to go with me?"

"Because I... I like you,"

Pansy and Millicent snicker to themselves and you can't help but smile. "I'm sorry I didn't quite hear that."

"I like you,"

"You what?" You ask loudly; forging confusion.

"I..." The red of her cheeks betrayed all her attempts to act like this wasn't embarrassing for her. But after what happened last week, she kind of deserves it. "Like you too okay? When you invited me I thought it was no big deal not that you wanted to go on a date." She practically shouts, surprising you and everyone else who had decided to listen in on the conversation. "You don't have to come with me, it's... fine."

She scampers you her feet and tried to walk away.

"Hermione," you call out. The girl comes to a stop, turning back to you. She can't look you in the eye, it was almost sweet. "We should go together."

Your friends are struggling I hold back their laughter so you elbow Millicent in the side. "Really? you're not mad anymore?"

"Never was," You admit although it wasn't entirely true. I'm the moment it had but you quickly got over it's "it wasn't a big deal. I just like pushing your buttons."

"Okay. Well- great then," she coughs awkwardly. "So Saturday then? Yeah."

It's like Hermione can't get away fast enough. Perhaps she was worried if she stayed around much longer you'd change your mind or maybe she just wanted to get away from your awful friends. "So you're really going with Hermione of all people,"

"I am," you nod, your lips curled up in a triumphant smile. "And I wouldn't have it any other way so shut up and eat your food, Pansy."

[sanoiro]

Anon Spoilery Questions & Answers

You mean in S2. The thing is that from back in S2 Mum is aware her husband has a Plan. Mum lied to Lucifer about his Father wanting to destroy him as Dad as we know now from 5x11 found his declaration of starting a rebellion... adorable...

In short, when Lucifer asks Dad how much of *this* was his Plan, Dad simply smiles and leaves. 

So the thing is it appears that both Dad and Mum knew that one day Lucifer would make it to heaven and he would be ok but the logistics were a bit harder to put down at least as it seems in Mum’s case. Mum didn’t know about Chloe for example. That is because she was banned and it seems that there cannot be omniscience between Gods or that they have some still unknown and perhaps ever speculated limitations. 

In short, Mum knew that Lucifer would go to heaven, that he would be fine eventually, perhaps even that he would become God but crucial details escaped her like why Lucifer would go, how would Dad stop being God in this universe etc. So she believed she could force Lucifer to reach the end of the Plan where he does not burn he simply is elevated to a new divine status. Sadly if Lucifer had listened to her he probably would have failed to become God and he would have died but with the turn of events he managed to reach the end of his Father’s Plan that Mum knew as a singularity. 

Yeah, it was heartbreaking. She had to witness Dan dying and Chloe as well and yet she got there seconds before Chloe was stabbed he gave Lucifer a warning although it counted for nothing really. When I watched that scene Azrael’s meta post came back to me. She was indeed the tragic figure in not just 5x16 but the whole series. 

No worries, When we are talking about a Happy Ending do we mean a conventional one? Probably yes to a point. The rest will be adapting to this new setting S5 led to. 

What I loved was that Lucifer said in the Pilot and in 5x16 that Chloe’s time was not reached yet. Meaning he knew there would be a day she would die and that was okay as that’s the course of life. When he sang, ‘I dreamed a dream’ the lyrics: 

“That we will live the years together But there are dreams that cannot be And there are storms we cannot weather“

They basically sing the song from Les Miserables where Fantine remembers how the birth of her illegitimate child came to be and how she was abandoned by her lover. She then recognises that dreams do not match reality but it’s also the point where the character of Fantine believes she just experienced her lowest point. She yet does not know she will sell her teeth, her body and eventually her life in hopes to keep part of that dream alive meaning her child. 

That is what happens to Lucifer as well, we saw in S5 that many tragic things happened to Lucifer and the ones he loved. In season 6 we do not expect a strong season but the pattern of tragedy will follow Deckerstar in my belief until a catharsis is achieved. 

There had and will have time to be together but as we saw from Dad & Mum, even for Gods life is not easy even if it is laid out in a whole eternity. As God said in the original series of the comics, He was created by external powers so yeah there will be storms that will not be able to surpass and yet fragments of their dreams will manage to survive. Whether they will have an eternity together it is not known but for sure I do expect them to never cease to be partners in life or work. 

Some things were infuriating to not been answered yes. I was expecting they would bring up Uriel and the painting. I was hurt they didn’t. I still hold hope it will happen in S6 but who knows. 

Now God essentially did tell him. Or better yet Michael did. He was given a place of misery,  of regret and sorrow to rule in hope to be able to find some clarity over his own emotional state. Now do remember that for a being like Dad millennia is not a long time. He didn’t believe he was sending Lucifer away for a long time just for the time he needed to experience what suffering was from the human perspective, for him to gain empathy and hoped - as it was shown - that eventually when he met the right people he would be able to change things for the better in a way his siblings couldn’t and in Amenadiel’s one wouldn’t as well. 

In Dad’s mind there was this plan in which time was not consequential it seemed to realise that time was a factor in 5x10 and in 5x11 when he realises that revelations do not just happen and you cannot just give opportunities as children grow and that means in his knowledge of where things could lead he lost grasp of the process. When you put a teen to work on an adult’s setting it will be hard. When Lucifer bans Trixie from the penthouse (the irony & parallel there!) Trixie is lost as fr her a month is a long time but in Lucifer’s perspective it’s a fair punishment for her lying and kicking him. Essentially what Lucifer did to Dad. This asymmetrical power is not always understood from neither parties. The one high in the ladder believes they are fair and look at the concept of the 1 month/millennia rather than realise what that means for their subordinate. How they handle the ban and the rejection. 

The Dad/Lucifer fail to realise what they enforce to Lucifer/Trixie. 

Now where the lightbringer is concerned I believe it was subtle. It was the focus of the whole Part 2 if not S5. Lucifer is different and what unveil’s his status is Dad’s words to Ella, where Ella provides a parallel to Lucifer. A cheerie woman who lights up with her behaviour the room. 

The Darkest the Darkness, The Brightest the Light. 

Dad could not fix Lucifer because Lucifer had to realise where he needed to focus. If you are the sun and you look yourself you will be blinded as everyone who looks directly at you that will make you believe you are a blinding effect similar to the one of darkness while you are the exact opposite so once Lucifer managed to look away from what he believed he was and see around him and urged the others to do the same, the Lightbringer was unveiled. 

Yes, we will. No, he is not gone forever but he eventually will move on. Dan’s story is not yet over despite his death. He has a long way to go still and similarly to Lee he will be provided most probably with adequate help as well as certain chances to say properly goodbye. 

[headoverhiddles]

Wrapped In Plastic - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: The new kid at school intrigues you. He’s infatuated too, but beneath that scary exterior, you’ve got no idea what’s in store. 

Notes: Era: Spooky Kids! Requested by anon: “High school Brian having a crush on you.”

There he is, sitting in front of the principal again. Brian Warner. You're surprised he hasn't been expelled yet, frankly, even though he just moved here to South Florida recently.

You watch from afar, sitting with your friends. He's making that face. That expression... or lack of expression. He doesn't give a fuck what he got in trouble for, and you, he and the principal know it.

"Hey. (y/n)," your best friend says, "What the hell? Are you listening?"

"Yeah," you mutter, glancing back into the office. God, he would probably fuck like an animal, taking you in some old haunted forest somewhere while spanking you and telling you you're his dirty little slut...

Your friend scoffs when she sees where you're looking.

"That guy is dangerous, quit fantasizing. That isn’t your picture perfect bad boy-- that’s like dating the next Son of Sam killer.”

Your other friend chimes in. “My sister told me she saw him and his pack of weirdos out lighting an abandoned house on fire. My sister’s friend said she hears him jerking off in the washroom every lunch hour. The whole school knows about it. Also apparently in creative writing, he turned in this story about this guy fucking his sister's corpse or something. Seriously weird, probably evil. He's gonna end up in jail, mark my words." You ignore your friend, but turn back into the conversation.

Eventually, the principal gives up, dismissing him. You see Brian join his friends outside the office door, who have been waiting-- Jeordie and Stephen, you think you've heard them called in class. The one with the brown comb-over is called Pogo outside of class, because of his fascination with serial killers. You think it's funny. Those guys just do whatever they want. 

Your breath hitches. Brian tucks his long black hair behind his ear, looking up and grinning at his friends. He's describing what he did, and he looks like a gleeful child who just got away with murder as the other two bust out laughing and dig for details. How could anyone think he's evil? 

Cold chills run through your body as he meets your eyes. Oh, fuck. He smirks a little bit your way, but you quickly look away. His features harden, and he turns back to his friends. You turn back to yours.

You can't help watching after him as he walks down the hall to fourth period, though... his head nearly reaches the ceiling, and that metal Planet Of The Apes lunchbox makes you smile. You've heard him make a threat or two to beat someone's ass with it, and you believe he'd do it. For every bully who promised him he'd be nothing, there's something about him that promised so much more.

--

The bell goes, and Brian sits down at the desk. 

"She was looking at you." 

"Yeah, she was talking to her friends about me," Brian mutters back.

"She looked like she was wetting her panties over you," Jeordie grins, "She looks like she wanted to suck your dick right there in front of Mr. Ogilvie!"

"That'd be the day," Brian sighs. 

"Yeah, you'd have beat off material forever," Pogo laughs.

"But she wasn't," he said, "You guys are just fucking blind."

"I don't know, I got some blow job vibes from her,” Pogo says. 

“You get blow job vibes from everyone.” 

“I’ll blow you for lunch money,” Jeordie mentions. Pogo shrugs. 

“I might take you up on that.” His obnoxious laughter rings out as you walk by the door. You recognize it immediately, and look back. Brian’s sitting there, knees tucked under the desk like his legs won’t fit. Shit. In your experience, being this preoccupied with someone meant you were into them... or at least, wanted to see more of them. 

Brian looks up again, and sees you staring at him. This time, he frowns. You’re drawn away by your friend, who pulls you toward your next class. As you're walking, someone calls your name.

“Hey! (y/n), right?” 

You turn as your friend keeps walking ahead. You scoff slightly as he approaches. “Like you don’t know my name.” You pause, backtrack. “I- sorry. That was mean."

“That’s okay. I’ve been known to be a little mean too,” he smirks, and he flips his hair out if his face. “I guess when you hang around a bunch of catty bitches all the time, it rubs off on you.” His voice is so deep and calm. It throws you off whenever he speaks, but does other things to you as well.

"Hanging out with a pair of delinquents can do the same." Your eyes dart inside the classroom to his friends, who are carving something into a desk. He gives a small smile.

"Touché."

“Speaking of rubbing off,” you raise an eyebrow, “Did you want to talk to me?”

He blushes, then forces his embarrassment away. “That rumor’s not true.”

“No?”

“Nah. I did light that abandoned house on fire though.” He grins, and you do as well, hugging your books closer to your chest. 

“So. You’re a rebel, huh?”

“If not putting up with everybody’s bullshit counts as rebelling, then yeah. I guess so.”

“I can respect that,” you nod. “I feel the same way... but I’m not as fearless as you.”

“Are you saying you might commit arson with me, (y/n)?” 

“Maybe. How did the conversation progress to lighting things on fire with you?” 

He laughs, ducks his head nervously. “Well. Um, I saw you staring like a creep, and... I was wondering if you wanted to be creeps together. Y’know... hang out sometime? Come see my band, or...?”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Yeah, I am.”

You smile, poking his black shirt that read Christianity is Unnatural, Abnormal, and Perverse. “You’ve got balls, Brian.” You look at the clock, and back to his class. “What do you say we fuck off for the rest of the day?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You wanna skip class today?”

“Sorry,” you walk your fingers up his chest. “I know I’m not quite at your level of rebellion yet, but it’s a start.” 

He laughs as he follows you to your locker. 

---

“So. Do you have a car?”

“No.” He scratches his head. “We can walk back to my house, though. My parents aren’t home.” 

Following that plan, you make it back to his house. For someone hailed as the Antichrist of the school, he's got a relatively normal looking home, white picket fence and everything. All that changes once you get to his room.

"Wow," you say, looking up at everything. He's got serial killer-like writing scrawled on the wall by his bed, lyrics that seem like they're straight out of a porno or a horror film, or both. There are pentagrams drawn on his bed posts, and posters of bands like Nine Inch Nails, Ozzy Osbourne, KISS on his walls.

"I know it's stupid, but I'd give anything to meet those guys," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's not stupid," you say, examining the edges of the posters, freyed from the move no doubt. "I actually think it's awesome. I love Ozzy."

"One day I'm gonna beat his record for most drugs consumed over a lifetime."

"Have you started practicing?" you tease.

"I... well, I haven't had the chance."

"Right. Let me know when you do." You smile, going over to sit on his bed. He looks down at you, seems to have a mini panic attack, then acts cool with it, playing with his lip ring and sitting beside you. You look around the messy floor. He's got a strange mix of stuff that oddly seems to perfectly fit his personality: leaking boxes of black hair dye, various lipsticks and nail polishes, a bag of weed, books on the rise of fascism and Carl Jung's red book, an antique-looking switchblade, a Willy Wonka hat, condoms with little angry faces drawn on them, an old deflated football with "FIGHT" written on it, and... "What's that?" you ask, leaning down. Brian coughs.

"Oh. Yearbook from last year."

You pick it up, looking at all the little drawings of candy, needles, Charles Manson and other doodles he's defaced the book with. "But you didn't go to this school last year."

"I traded my mom's diet pills for it."

"Huh. Hustling already. Must have been some good stuff." You hesitate. The page was open to the photos of you as the lead in the play last year. You smirk, pretending to squint. "Is that a cum stain I see on my face?"

"You wish," he huffs, but he's blushing, hair curtaining around his face. You give him a look, turning fully toward him.

"Why'd you really invite me over?"

"To tell you I hate you, knock you out, and bury you in my backyard." You laugh.

"I mean, if you think about it..."

"It's the perfect plan. Invite the girl you've got a crush on over, assume she's gonna make fun of you, lure her in, then get your revenge." You smile, laying back on his bed.

"You just admitted to having a crush on me."

"Wasn't it obvious?" he asks. "I only ever threaten to kill the people I really wanna fuck."

"And do you really wanna fuck me, Bri?" you ask coyly, crawling dangerously close to him. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his long, graceful throat. "You wanna fuck me right here, right now, while your parents aren't home, make me scream your name while you blare your favorite metal record and act like things'll never change?"

"That sounds good," he groans. His hands wander up your thigh, and you smile, bouncing on his leg. "...I also wanna share my music with you. Read a book over your shoulder. Maybe pop a few pills, key someone's car, grab a milkshake and look at the stars on Special K so we feel like we're floating, you know. Before I bang the shit out of you. Date stuff."

"Is this not our first date?" you ask. His tongue flicks up over his lip ring again. 

"I guess you could say it is."

"Good. Cause I never fuck on a first date," you say, "Or so I tell people." He clenches his jaw, and braces a skinny arm beside your head, leaning down to capture your lips. His lips taste sweet, like mint and those sugary rocket candies. He takes his shirt off, and you rub your hands down, feeling a few scars. He lets out a whimpered noise at your touch, shuddering a little. 

You make out and grind against one another for a few minutes, your hands pulling his hips closer by his black belt loops and his fingers tangling your hair. Your breath gets faster as he grinds harder, more desperately, and you reach a hand down to help him out, give him something to rut against.

"You feel so big," you moan, and he runs a hand through his hair, lips falling open.

"I'm gonna..." He makes another desperate noise, and you feel it right where you need him. But since all his condoms in here seem to be used or have faces drawn on them in scented marker, you opt for over the clothes stuff only.

"Use your fingers?" you breathe. He looks like he's about to cum, and you know it'll tip you over as well, what with all the times you had thought of him like this.

He reaches into your jeans, unzipping them, and messily finds your clit. For a teenage guy, he's not bad. He starts to rub, then reaches three fingers down to thrust them into you.

"Fuck, Bri! Three?!" you breathe. He looks into your eyes, not stopping.

"I thought girls were whores for that kind of thing!"

"It's..." you moan, "That's... oh... y-yeah... Jesus...” He really start to work them in, watching your reactions while rutting his clothed erection against your leg. "Fuck, Brian, grab my tits... yeah... this is just how I imagined it when I..."

He freezes for a second, and his whole body convulses. He gasps, and you see him reach down to cover his crotch, face going beet red. He doesn't stop, though. He keeps fingering you, and now that he's not worried about grinding, he can explore you in other ways. He attaches his lips to your neck, and sucks a hickie right below your ear. 

“Brian... Bri, make me c--” 

"Cum for me, you filthy little slut," he snarls, and you arch your back up, grinding down into his fingers as your orgasm hits. You rock through it, and he kisses you again, sloppy and hot. When he pulls away, he gives you your fingers to lick clean, which you do through a heated stare.

Things calm down into you laying back against his pillows with his stringy body tucked in a cramped position beside you. "I didn't know you were that..." you search for words. "Experienced?" 

"What, you thought I was a virgin?” 

You giggle. “I didn’t know what to think about you, to be honest. Kinky, inexperienced, I had no idea. Of course, I hoped that you were kinky.”

“I’ve been known to use restraints when asked,” he smirks.

“I’ve got that to look forward to. I thought you were cute too, though. I don’t care if you’re some devil worshipper who parents and teachers everywhere shiver at the thought of." He's quiet for a second.

"I thought you were scared of me." 

"That too, a little bit. But what scares me turns me on." He rolls over to face you, a vulnerable position for him, you can tell. 

"The way I dress is what I perceive to be beautiful. Looking like this, doing what I want to, it keeps the assholes who like to give my face their own version of plastic surgery away if they think I'm a Satanist who's gonna... cut off their mom's head or something if they fuck with me. Makes the hypocrites who call themselves teachers question their morals too, ‘teaching’ someone like me to be a good little boy and follow society’s rules. It’s all brainwashing, everything they feed us with their sugar and shit, and I’m the bad guy for standing up to it." 

You stroke hair out of his face, and he looks up at you, lips pursed. "There’s always gotta be a scapegoat. I guess you fit that role.” You look beyond him. “You think it would ruin your image if those bullies found your poetry books?” He smiles. 

“Nah. One day, I’m gonna grow up to be a big rock and roll star. I’ll use my own poetry and turn it into music, and I’ll look ten times more extreme than I do now. Then they can all say they knew me, and I’ll tell them to go to hell.” 

You snuggle into him. "Mmm. Speaking of extreme... we should pull a Sandy and Danny. I'll come to school dressed all goth and shit Monday. Throw my friends for a loop."

"Does that mean I have to dress like a cheerleader?" he asks.

"You've got the ass for it."

He grins. "Stop it, you're making it very hard for me not to wanna fuck you for real right now."

"Here's the deal," you say, "I'll show you where I live this weekend. You tell me what your favorite fruit is, because that's a soul searching question. At that point we'll know each other better... and I'll be fair game."

He bites his lip. "I feel like I've known you forever."

"Yeah. Me too."

Just then, there's a knock at the bedroom door. Startled, you sit up quickly, and who you can only assume to be Brian's mom pops her head in. "When the fuck did you two get home?!" Brian blurts.

"About five minutes ago, honey. Don't worry, we didn't hear anything. Jeordie called, said he 'left the smoke bomb under the urinals.' I hope you aren't getting up to trouble like the last school, your father had a heck of a time getting you into this one.”

“Mom.”

“He had to switch jobs too, and with his back, you know how difficult long drives can be. Oh, how rude of me-- hello sweetie, you can call me Barb."

"Mom--" 

"Brian, is this the sweet thing you had that dream about the other night?"

"MOM!"

“Hugh, Brian’s got a girlfriend over, we should turn the TV up to give them a little privacy.” 

“GIRLFRIEND?!” a voice calls up, “GOOD ON YA, SON. THAT’S MY BOY!” 

“Jesus fucking Christ...” Brian groans, burying his face in a pillow. You laugh so hard into his chest you nearly tumble off his bed. Most dangerous guy in school, your ass.

[tellywoodtrash]

Hi TT,

I'm so glad that your lbs are back🥳🥳.

So much has happened in immj2 land after the vihaan track.Your lbs were the only source of immj2 for me..so when u stopped the lbs at the point where vihaan was revealed to be vansh only and he started playing mind games and revenge revenge with a clueless ridhima...Uske baad kya hua till the events in this lb I have no idea.So can you pls do a KAHANI AB TAK from the point where the lbs were on hold till now?

Love

Ratna.

Hi hi!!!!!!!! 💖💖💖

Oh boy, tbh, this show is bonkers crazy and I don’t know how to sensibly explain what the fuck went down, but I shall tryyyyyyy:

Ok so we left off at Vansh telling Riddhima to murder Kabir. She obviously can’t do it coz she’s a weakass bitch (warna kab ka Vansh ko hi maar deti uske anginnath chutiyaape ke liye............) Kabir gloats about it to Vansh and also lets slip that they were in a relationship before she came into V’s life, and how he’s just not fated for love, is he. Vansh gets hella mad at this and instead of going to therapy about it like a normal person, decides ki I have to get revenge from Riddhima for this. They go on some dhaarmic vacation where he abandons her and when she finally makes her way back everyone’s like “Hein tum kaun????????????/ Vansh ki biwi toh Ahaana hai.” So basically Riddhima; whose whole identity is just being Vansh’s wife; ka account deactivate ho jaata hai, like Trump’s twitter. Siya meanwhile starts yelling in her coma for Riddhima Bhaabi, so Vansh has to let R stay. There’s some stupidass competitions and shit between her and Ahaana and R is finally like ok you know what I’ve had enough of this and leaves. Siya finally wakes tf up and tells everyone the truth. V like OHNOE!!!!!!! I’M A DUMBASS!!!!!!! (yeah, we know.) and runs behind R and stops her from leaving. R usse bhi badi buddhu and actually gets back together with this fucking crazy man and his nonsense family. Ab aata hai track where Kabir starts sending Riddhima clues about her past and R finds that her parents didn’t actually abandon her at the anaath-ashram but actually died in some accident. She finds that around the saaaaaaaaame time, teenage V was in juvie. Snooping around, snooping around, as per usual she wants to know if V’s connected to her parents. Because no one taught her ki correlation =/= causation. V plans elaborate second shaadi to keep her from snooping but Riddhima apni multitasker max hai! Manages to get through 4098340239480 shaadi rituals and also do her jasoosi, finds out he was in juvie for a car accident that killed a couple. V lies to everyone that the couple he actually killed was Kabir’s dad and aunt. Yeh sunke K ki khisak jaati hai, but then he actually overhears V and Ishani talking ki that was a lie and it was Ishani who killed Riddhima’s parents and V took the blame for her. Kabir doesn’t like being taken for a fool and is like bitch imma burn this shit to the ground now and get my girl back too. Meanwhile V is having issues with his diamond smuggly business and is like “omg I have such a dangerous line of work I can never have a family of my own.” Well, yeh khayaal thoda late aaya coz guess who’s been regularlyyyyyyyy tapping it without wrapping it??????? Yeah, this dumbass who doesn’t want kids. K ka dariya dil is like “arre waah ek se saath ek muft muft muft? I want R and baby also!” V is a pissyass bitch about R getting pregnant as if she did it all on her own with no contribution from him. Anyway, thanks to his diamond smuggling fuckery someone shoots during a family event and Ishani loses her baby. Not the best time for everyone to find out R is pregnant, and people start trying to murder her and baby. Someone keeps sending her warning letters about it tho. K keeps saving her ass and V is just like meh who cares, mereko toh bas apni padi hai. AnuMom makes a comeback here and adds to the fuckery and K is like SO HELP ME GOD, DON’T YOU HURT MY GIRL AND BABY, and she’s like “hein yeh kya ho gaya, I was literally not here for a few weeks and ladka haath se nikal gaya.” Anyway, long story short, turns out it was the random uncle (Aryan’s dad who shows up only once in 6 months) who was looking out for R and baby and saving them via warning notes. For that nek kaam, AnuMom murders the fuck outta him. Tbh by this point I stopped even keeping up with the show and someall fuckery happens with the diamonds and all, but at some point V realises ki “oh mere ko bhi chahiye apna crotch-goblin” and accepts the consequences of his non-condom wearing actions. By this point Kabir is trying to get the diamonds and the girl + baby and idk man.......... Kuch ka kuch ho jaata hai and they all end up in a forest where Kabir seems to have murdered V (but he’s saved by AnuMom who’s like FRIENDSHIP ENDED WITH KABIR, NOW VANSH IS MY BEST SON) , and is all ready to marry R but V comes outta nowhere and haathapaai ensues and this leads to V/R jumping off a cliff and hiding but he gets shot and sends Riddhima off to safety.

Now we’ve moved to Voot. V wakes up 6-7 hours later in the forest to find Angre there; Angre says R is home and sent him to come get him. V comes home to find new and improved Riddhima who is veryyyyyyy horny all the time (not unheard of with pregnancy hormones.) Meanwhile entry of sasta!Vansh who R has some deal with and she keeps doing shit like steal the diamonds for him and some khaandani rifle (they keep calling it a “SNIPER RIFLE” but it legit looks like Vasco De Gama ki gun from Andaz Apna Apna.) Dadi on the other hand has turned into this major Gangster Grandma who’s ruthless as fuck and is all about the Raisinghania naam and power and mafia business or whatever and she’s like I can’t take it how V and R are fucking up the name of the fam for their do takke ka manhoos pyaar, I want them murdered, esp. R. V finds out that sasta!V’s wife (whom he claims to have murdered) looks exactly like Riddhima and is now convinced ki yeh jo mere ghar mein hai is a duplicate, and they have kidnapped my real pregnant wife. Anyway, he’s like fine Dadi, I’ll murder R for the khaandaan. Takes her to the jungle and shoots her in front of Aryan. But V is puraana paapi who is expert in making it look like he’s murdered the love interest of the season and hiding them from the whole world, so yeah............... Keeps R in some room somewhere and interrogates her every day but she’s like OMG *I’m* your wife, dumbass. Udhar Siya’s traumatised by bhaiyya’s wife-murdering ways and is now falling for sasta!Bhaiyya and gotten a makeover and discovered teenage rebellion; while Ishani’s realized how hot her husband is and is constantly wanting to sex him. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand now the non-Rrahul dude has gotten COVID irl, so I guess he’ll be off the show for a bit, and my cyuuutoooo Kabir (who’s being kept captive somewhere by Riddhima????) will finally be back? One can hope. I miss Kabir and this show is absolutely nothing without him.

[steves-on-a-plane]

Destiny Disputed

Words: 2216 Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader Timeline: Pre-Episode VII AU Summary: Ben takes Reader on what they think is a joy ride to an outer rim planet. What Reader quickly finds out is that Ben has come to Tatooine in an attempt to define himself and his place in the force.

“Hold on tight, we’re going in for the landing.” The young pilot behind the yolk of a borrowed tandem x-wing you were riding in told you. His voice came in slightly static through your headset. You looked through the viewport trying to see the planet below. “It’s going to take a while before you see anything good.” He told you as if reading your mind.

“Well, it’s Tatooine, so I won’t see anything good until we leave.” You insisted. “But I never get tired of seeing planets from this high up.” You smiled.

“I used to think that too.” He laughed. “But the magic wears off after a while.”

“I just realized that other than your uncle, who we see every day, you never talk about your family. Did you travel a lot as a kid?” You wondered.

“My mother is in government and my father is the captain of a freighter.” He told you. “So, there was a little bit here and there.”

“A captain?” You commented, clearly impressed. “Is that where you learned to fly?” The curved sandy surface of the planet below finally came into view as the X-wing continued to descend towards Tatooine.

“You could say it’s in my blood.” He answered back. “My Uncle always dreamed of being a pilot. I’m told my grandfather was a pilot too. I’ve been flying as long as I can remember.”

“You have quite the legacy to live up to, Ben.” You told him.

“Yeah.” He scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

“How exactly did you talk Master Luke into letting you borrow this X-Wing anyway?” You asked.

“Right, about that…” His sentence trailed off.

Once the X-Wing was landed and secure at Docking Bay 42, You followed Ben to the crowded streets of Mos Eisley Spaceport. They weren’t streets in the sense that you were used to. They were more like dusty pathways with no clear flow of traffic. Only a few steps off the ship and you were already grieving it’s temperature control settings. The planet of Tatooine was hot, dry, and full of sand.

“What exactly is so important here that you had to steal an X-wing for?” You found yourself coughing violently as flecks of sand managed to find their way into your lungs. Ben rolled his eyes at you.

“Wear this.” Without giving you a change to protest, he wrapped a thin piece of linen cloth in such a way that your mouth and nose were covered. “It protects you from the sand.” He explained impatiently. “And I didn’t steal the X-wing. We’re going to bring it back.”

“You’re still not answering my question.” You remarked. “What’s so special about this place? Other than the fact that it’s a miracle any life forms can survive on it at all.”

“C’mere.” He grasped your hand and tugged your off the street. The two of you were wedged together between two Tatooineian Clay buildings. You hadn’t thought the dual sun planet could feel any hotter, but with your chest pressed against Ben’s, you could feel his every breath on your exposed skin.

“I never tell anyone this. I don’t want the others to make fun of me. Can you keep a secret?” You nodded. “My mother is Leia Organa-Solo. She was the princess of Alderaan. Her husband is Han Solo.”

“As in General Leia Organa Solo?” You repeated.

“Yes, not so loud!” He covered your mouth with his hand. Maybe it was the heat but pressed between him and the building with one of his hands holding yours the other covering your mouth, it was almost romantic. Definitely the heat. You decided. “We can’t be overheard talking about them here, do you understand?” You nodded. He nodded back, removing his hand.

“I don’t understand, you tell everyone your name is Ben Skywalker. Why would you do that?” You questioned in a whisper.

“I couldn’t avoid being Luke Skywalker’s nephew. The others would sense some type of familial bond through the force, but they didn’t need to know about my parents. I want to forge my own destiny. I don’t want to be known as the general’s son, or the smuggler’s son. I just want to be me. You can understand that can’t you?”

“I-I…” You looked into his brown eyes. You could feel the weight of what he was saying. You could feel it in his body language and in the force. You could feel how it had burdened him all this time. How he was pleading with you now to understand him. You were proud of where you came from. Your father was a respectable trader and your mother, who had been a pilot in the rebellion, now worked transport jobs for the republic. She’d even met Leia Organa once or twice and had nothing but kind things to say about the general.

“What’s on Tatooine, Ben?” You asked him again.

“Ghosts.” He whispered. “And we’re going to see them all.” He tugged you out of the ally and towards a land speeder rental.

“You said before that I have a lot to live up to.” Ben recalled your earlier conversation. “Everyone in my family was once a nobody.”

“Everybody is somebody, Ben.” You disagreed.

“Not in the outer rim.” He shook his head. He stopped the speeder. It appeared you were hovering inside abandoned ruins of some sort of colosseum. “When my grandfather was a child, before he was a jedi, he was a slave; a nothing. Where we are now was once the starting point for the Boota Eve Classic. A podrace. A pod race that my grandfather won, his winnings were used to repair the ship of a jedi master named Qui Gon Jin who helped him escape this place. Without pod racing, he never escapes Tatooine, he never becomes a Jedi, he never becomes Darth Vader.”

“There’s no way to know that for sure.” You disagreed. “Master Skywalker says…”

“Master Skywalker.” Ben offered a grunt of contempt.

“Is it Master Skywalker or his teachings that you don’t like?” You asked over the hum of the landspeeder. Ben was already steering the vehicle away from the forgotten racetrack towards another part of the planet.

“What I don’t like are his philosophies.” Ben hissed. You watched his grip on the landspeeder’s yolk tighten. “My father is the sort of man who believes a person makes their own destiny. Uncle Luke thinks all things are determined by The Force. That our destiny isn’t fully within our control. I suppose my mother is somewhere in between, though her opinion was rarely asked about while the two of them debated at the dinner table.”

“So which do you believe? That our choices all mean nothing or that they mean everything?” You watched his brows furrow together. He scowled into the skyline.

“That’s what we’re here to find out.” You traveled in silence for serval miles. You wondered how Ben could so easily navigate the planet. To you Tatooine seems to be nothing but sand for parsecs and parsecs. He navigated the terrain as if he’d spend all of his youngling years there. You supposed it was possible he could have. He’d already admitted to lying about who he was once. You began to wonder if you really knew him at all.

The landspeeder seemed to stop suddenly. You glanced around looking for any type of landmark. Ben reached over and tilted your chin with his forefinger and thumb. He pointed out to the horizon. If you squinted, you could just make out the signature dome shape of a moisture farmhouse. You knew from the stories he shared around the temple that Master Luke had grown up on a moisture farm.

“Is that…” You started to ask Ben.

“Not exactly. Like the legends say, the majority of it was burned down the day my uncle left the planet, but it’s the same land the family farm was on.” Ben nodded solemnly. “The family farm where my great grandmother lived and my uncle lived and where my great uncle died. Did anyone ever tell you who I was named after?”

“Until a few hours ago I’d thought your last name was Skywalker.” You reminded him. “How do I even know your name is Ben?” You turned in your seat and looked at him. You waited for a response.

“I deserve that.” He laughed. “I am named after Uncle Luke’s mentor. A jedi named Obi Wan Kenobi. The people in the area knew him as Old Ben. He lived here for eighteen years here keeping an eye on Luke. Trying to protect him from my grandfather.”

“How exactly is this helping you with your moral dilemma?” You interrupted him. Both Ben and his uncle had an affinity for dramatic story telling. Normally you enjoyed that sort of thing. There wasn’t much entertainment at the temple. Being in the vast openness there in the broiling land speeder, however, had taken away your usual appreciation for grandiose speeches.

“How is it possible that so many people’s stories can be intricately intertwined here, on this one planet?” He didn’t wait for you to answer before asking another question. “How can so many lives start and end here and it mean nothing? Obi Wan brings a baby Luke Skywalker here to this broiling hellscape while his sister is sent to live in the utopia that was Alderaan. What if instead they’re switched? If Luke becomes Luke Organa, prince of Alderaan, does he still grow up dreaming of becoming a pilot and discovering life somewhere else? If Leia Skywalker spends her life here, does she still become the great general who openly defies Darth Vader and helps get the Death Star plans to the rebellion? We have one more stop on our tour.”

The landspeeder gave a sudden jerk forward and you began to move away from the moisture farm and back towards the closest thing to pass for civilization on Tatooine. It was in that moment that you sensed it for the first time. You weren’t sure how you’d missed it for so long. You’d known Ben most of your life after all. Sure, he’d been quiet and mostly kept to himself, but you’d always considered him a friend.

You’d always known he was powerful. That was the burden of the Skywalker legacy. He’d always learned things faster than others and you assumed it was because of his bond with Master Luke or maybe that he’d received additional training on the side. Despite being good friends for years, you realized you’d never been truly alone with Ben. The sheer vastness of Tatooine meant it were just the two of you alone, no other lifeforms for miles.

Your fight or flight response told you to be afraid. You felt yourself stiffen, as if even the slightest muscle twitch would put you in danger. You fought to gather yourself and shake the feeling away. Surely it was the unfamiliar planet that had given you a scare. Maybe all of Ben’s talks of ghosts had put something in your head. Deep down though you knew, the darkness that you were sensing was coming from Ben.

“You’re afraid of me.” He stated. “There’s no sense in lying. I can sense it in you.”

“No.” You told him quietly, your voice barely audible over the speeder’s hum. It was the truth. Ben had been nothing but kind to you, you had no reason to be afraid of him. It was the darkness you were afraid of. You wondered if it scared him too. Had it been the allure of the darkside that had brought him all the way to Tatooine?

“My uncle is.” Ben told you. In the distance the outskirts of Mos Eisley were visible at last. You no longer cared about making it back to the spaceport. “He’s worried I’m too much like Vader. That I won’t be able to fight it.”

“What do you think?” You asked.

“That he doesn’t know me at all.” Ben answered. “That if he knew I had something worth fighting for, he’d understand why I wasn’t really tempted by the dark side.”

“What’s that? The something you’re fighting for?” You questioned.

“You don’t already know?” He stopped the landspeeder a mile from the very edge of Mos Eisley. He turned to look at you. You met his gaze with your own. “My father once said that a man doesn’t get where he’s going alone. You get as far as you can on your own, but sooner or later you need at least one good partner to walk beside. Someone to co-pilot when you just can’t seem to make it that final stretch of the journey. There’s a cantina in town, the same one my father met Uncle Luke and Old Ben at for the first time. You’ll know it’s the right place when you hear a blith band that playing incessant Jatz music. After an hour, if you’re not there, we’ll meet back at the ship, I’ll take you to the temple and we’ll never speak a word of it again.”

“What sort of a co-pilot would I be, if I even got out of the speeder?” You asked reaching for his hand. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Ben. I’ve got you.” You promised.

[ruffiorocks]

Trying to understand Catra

Just re-watching season 1 episode 11 and this one really does give you an insight into why Catra is the way she is.

The first time you watch the childhood memories of Catra and Adora you just see Adora looking out for Catra (at least I did) but then this time round now that I've seen the final season I'm seeing more in this episode.

Those memories aren't just Adora looking out for Catra, yeah sure is being a best friend to her, but that's not all that's happening. The pickles Catra gets into are only ever resolved because Adora is there to help or speak up for her.

The training memory shows that Catra, despite being treated like garbage and not having much of a connection with anyone but Adora is actually really good at combat, she shines here, but she just can't outshine Adora. But she doesn't act bitter about it to Adora's face, she's supportive and then goes to let out her frustrations in the changing room.

The worst one is the scene where Catra and Adora go into the black garnet chamber and get caught by Shadow Weaver. Shadow Weaver doesn't think for a second to blame Adora or use magic on her or threaten her. It's automatically Catra's fault. Shadow Weaver threatens a little child. She actually tells Catra she will "dispose of her" herself if she hinders Adora's future in any way. She tell her that she only tolerates Catra because Adora is fond of her. That is quite horrific when you really think about it! Does Shadow Weaver hold any of the other orphans or cadets to these standards? Or is it just a personal vendetta against one child? Catra is told her place in the Horde, heck her very life is all dependent on her being in Adora's good graces. Catra can't shine now even if she truly wanted to, because of the risk it presents.

Shadow Weaver tell Adora she has to keep better control of Catra. Catra is there listening to this and it comes across as though Adora is her "keeper" . She is effectively Adora's "pet" so it's no wonder she lashes out.

When the memory ends Adora tells Catra she could come and join the rebellion and then she gets irritated that Catra doesn't just leave Shadow Weaver. But it's not the same for Catra as it was for Adora. I don't really like going into abuse themes, but if I don't someone will mention it. So here goes, we didn't see Adora being abused by Shadow Weaver, she is the golden girl, everyone likes her and even when she does something wrong it's blamed on Catra. Heck it reminds me of the old practice of having a "whipping boy" you can't punish royalty so you punish their servant in the hope they behave themselves.

Catra on the other hand is shown to be abused by Shadow Weaver, it's not as easy for someone to walk away from their abuser. It's all Catra knows and as we've seen, Catra has a bit of Stockholm syndrome where Shadow Weaver is concerned. She still wants her approval, she tells her not to worry when Hordak is mad and even when Shadow Weaver is locked up, Catra can't help but keep going to visit her. She's even heart broken when Shadow Weaver leaves, and who does she go to? Straight to Adora.

When Adora leaves the only thing Shadow Weaver cares about is getting her back and once again blaming Catra for something that Adora chose to do. Hordak on the other hand doesnt care about getting Adora back and he gives Catra something that she has never had before, he gives her chance to shine! He SEES her! Even when Adora goes to rescue Glimmer and Bow Shadow Weaver is ecstatic because she can erase Adora's mind and she tells Catra she's no longer relevant because Adora is back. It does explain why Catra let's Adora go and why she tells Adora this, Catra doesn't want and can't stand the idea of going back to being just "Adora's Pet".

Her relationship with Scorpia is a harsh one. But Scorpia isn't the cute, innocent little baby she's presented as. Scorpia willingly works for the Horde, she has no problem joining Catra in her missions to take the rebellion out. It's Scorpia that plants the heat bombs at the Princess Prom and uses her tail to sting Bow and Glimmer so they can be kidnapped. We just don't like to see her that way because she's funny, and sweet and likes to give warm hugs.

We can see moments where Catra enjoys being with Scorpia, where she's almost allowing herself to be real friends with her. But then she's pulled back and resorts to her defence mechanism of being an ass. Scorpia wants to protect her, hug her, take care of her, BUT that is exactly what Adora did. To me, even though Catra's behaviour isn't right, it's her not wanting to create that kind of a bond again because losing Adora was too much for her but at the same time it kind of freed her. She also doesn't want to become reliant on someone having to protect her all the time because thats what she's had to live with her entire life. What if Scorpia decides to leave like Adora did? It's a vicious , unhealthy cycle. She's also so obsessed with getting her job done and shining because now she can, she has Hordaks approval, she's taken her abusers place and suddenly has all this power and it goes to her head because what happens if she fails? She even gets rid of Entrapta because Entrapta won't let her proceed with the plan to open the portal, Catra is of course totally in the wrong but she's so far down the path she can't let go anymore. Sure she causes a lot of damage, but later on Glimmer causes a major issue when she trusts Shadow Weaver and messes with the Heart of Etheria because she's gone to far down a path she shouldn't have gone as well.

These memories, the one where Adora tells her nothing can just them as long as they have eachother is clearly something Catra had to rely on her whole life. Then suddenly Adora and that promise were gone. Catra had to be Adora's obedient pet the whole time they were in the Fright Zone, but that also means she had to believe the things Adora did and make sure she proved it, and that's a belief in the Horde.

People like to talk about the brain washing Hordak went through with Horde Prime. But what about the brain washing the orphans and cadets went through in the Fright Zone? Lonnie, Kyle, Regalio? They all happily fought for the Horde and took joy in taking down towns in season 4.

We always see Catra being both nice and an ass to Adora throughout the series. But to me it shows the conflict in Catra. She loves Adora, but part of her know she's Adora's pet and she rebels against this and takes it out on Adora, but the other part loves Adora and can't bear to be away from her. Adora doesn't understand it because all she sees is herself being treated very well and always saving Catra. She doesn't see what Catra really goes through, even though she knows that she's treated bad. Adora then gets a destiny, a life changing field trip and a bunch of new friends, then she just leaves and expects Catra to leave with her. But Catra doesn't have the same experience as Adora, all she sees is her best friend/The only reason she's still alive abandoning everything they were both dedicated to.

At the end of the episode Catra makes a choice, she can either wallow and want Adora back, or let go of Adora and move on. Catra tells Adora what living in her shadow is like and Adora is acting like it's the first time she has ever considered how everything affected Catra, she apologises but to Catra it's to late.

Scorpia tells Entrapta that Catra is the best friend ever, and you can see Catra stop for a second but we don't see her face. You can tell this comment has stopped her in her tracks, perhaps she does want to be a best friend again on her own merit, but she just won't allow herself to go down that road again. But this is ultimately the thing that causes her to lose everything.

Anyway, rant over, I'm glad it all ended happily 😊

[reversecreek]

ziggy strutting up to me like this gif as i hold up a crucifix n say begone begone vile beast BEGONE from my vicinity i will NOT buy u a happy meal wretched little boy...... some live action rp to start this off..... and SCENE. takes my bow. his pinterest is here n his playlist is here.

* dylan minnette, cis male + he/him  | you know ziggy benson, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of his life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to hand crushed by a mallet by 100 gecs like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole glitching televisions impaled by remotes, nonchalantly texting the babes as a stove fire ravages your kitchen & cartoons turned up so loud it fries your eardrums thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is november 24th, so they’re a sagittarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt she/her  )

HISTORY;

from the second ziggy ws born he didnt stop screaming. within the first hours of his life he gave his father an ear splitting headache tht prompted him to say “that uncooked chicken’s fucking demonic” n joke abt popping “it” in the oven to roast. when this understandably received disgusted glances frm the nursing staff he ws all like “jeez alright alright i’m kiddin i’m kiddin can’t a guy have a joke around here?” n i feel like that sets up their dynamic so nice n sweetly <3 (sarcasm) (lips pursed)

frm day one he ws just honestly a rly hyperactive child. when he laughed he’d shriek it out at the absolute top of his lungs bc he’d just get this huge giddy surge of energy all the way to the very tips of his toes n it’d hit him like a shock from a fork in a plug socket. their parenting style ws rly just lazy tbh.... they didn’t have much time for disciplining him. ziggy’s mum wld halfheartedly be like “ziggy quiet now....” n then go bk to nuking whatever vegetables she’d defrosted until they tasted like dinosaur bones..... this wld not make any difference in ziggy’s behaviour

his father rly just took the stance that it ws ziggy’s mum’s job to discipline him or raise him in general which is. 🔪 please enter the 20th century sir.... get ur noggin sorted..... needless to say he wsn’t much involved in ziggy’s life n honestly generally jst didn’t like him. ziggy was a responsibility he didn’t want (accidental prregnancy) n in his literal words once said (blatantly while ziggy ws watching cartoons on the sofa) tht ziggy just “harshes my fucking vibe a lil bit”. 

he wound up leaving when ziggy was six ish.... ziggy watched thru a crack in the blinds as his mum tried to grab at his jacket to make him stay as he lugged out his suitcase..... she even tried to physically cling onto him so he cldn’t get in his ride bt the door wound up slamming n she sat on her knees watching the lights pull out the drive n even long after they were gone. ziggy didn’t rly kno what to do abt this (emotions hd never been smthn he particularly understood, his own or how to handle other people’s) so after watching her fr 5 minutes he went out n gently shook her shoulder n was like. mom come inside u look weird out here. FKGHSFHGSFHKGFHKSGSFGHK. this was him trying to show love <3

ziggy’s mum is like.... rly relationship dependent. she gets all her self worth n validation frm whtever man she’s dating.... so she went on this like.... wild rampage of jst. dating a very large string of men. they ranged frm dreadfully boring to downright awful n were always below her standards. ziggy quite literally hated. all of them. every last one. even one that tried to b nice to him by offering to help him do his math homework when he ws 13 (bc ziggy was struggling a lot w this) n in response ziggy loudly barked until the man gt scared n stumbled backwards into a dining chair on his way out of the room. KGHFHKSJHFJGSHKFG

while him n his mum hv a kind of strained situation (there’s a great deal of resentment from her end n kind of. blaming him fr “driving his father away” n it’s never spoken abt bt it’s very much Present in their relationship n honestly ziggy kind of resents her too fr bringing some of the men into their lives tht she did) there is. love there...... sometimes she’ll like. reach out to cup the back of his head n he’ll duck his head away n be like wtf are u doing checking me for lice? n she’ll jst smile like :)...... knowing that’s how he loves. KHSFGKJGHKSFGFHKGSHF. ugh we love men who know how to process their emotions yesssss king give us nothing <3

(abuse n violence tw) idk i won’t go into it too much bt even tho ziggy’s constantly like 🙄 when his mum shows him affection he wld quite literally. kill fr her n almost did one time.......... narrowly avoided getting charged w assault when one of her bfs was drunk n evil n he went into protective mode.... idk he. has gone thru a lot n seen a lot n so has his mum. they look after each other the best they kno how despite the negatives in their relationship.... it’s complex <3

literally got in trouble so. often. at school. he ws always hyperactive (undiagnosed adhd n also probably not helped by the fact he ws jst allowed to eat sm junk food w 459729457952 sugar percentage all hours of the day) bt when his dad left n like. dealing w acting out so severely at home where his mum’s bfs were concerned it rly escalated..... i jst think he ws like. literally a terror. probably got suspended so many times. maybe even was permanently expelled before he cld get his diploma honestly. set off a firework in school hallway. smthn absolutely reckless n stupid.

hs hd a bunch of jobs mostly in the service industry...... usually ends up getting fired.... worked at mcdonald’s fr a while n then one day he went in rly high n ate three cheeseburgers in front of a weeping child who hd ordered one.... promptly gt fired bt he ws like yo fuck this place i’m quitting n threw off his apron n was like who’s with me??? who’s joining the union??????? to the rest of the staff n they were all mostly like >_> <_< before security approached to forcibly remove him n he grabbed a cookie n crammed it into his mouth in rebellion mid frantic n frankly possessed escape.....

in terms of wht’s going on to this day w his living situation i honestly think he still lives w his mum. i can just see this. KHGFSKGHSFGKSFGH. in like. a ramshackle bungalow in delphinus heights.... having said tht she probably isn’t. there tht often nw she’s dating her latest man (jonas, somehow always sweaty no matter the weather, wears too many gold rings n smells like shoe cleaner) who owns a car dealership n thinks he’s a kingpin for it. still home sometimes tho.

PERSONALITY:

ziggy spends his days working shifts at an ice cream parlour (one he got fired from once bc he broke in high n ate sm ice cream he was lay on the floor in the bk pants unbuttoned stomach bulging sm calling himself garfield saying he had too much lasagna. they hired him bk tho bc he has a harem of middle aged women who lust after him n it brings customers....) or like. cruising parties...... setting off fireworks.... skateboarding...... breaking into abandoned buildings.... filming stupid jackass type tricks....... playing guitar hero...... getting drunk at the arcade..... sometimes busking fr cash in a tossed dwn hat (very badly) (thinks he’s sick at it however)........ or alternatively...... fucking chicks aha...... fuck.......... not exclusive to chicks tho just had to sound despicable bt :smirk: he’s bi Baby.... 

i won’t lie he’s kind of an asshole................ never rly was taught properly how to empathise with ppl so like he struggles w that....... sometimes he’ll say smthn tht’s genuinely just quite mean n doesn’t need to be said but he doesn’t rly realise it’s like bad. n he’s like. what’s the deal haha why are u mad...... 

fuckboy. genuinely jst. rly summarises it well. insatiable. sleeps around wildly. will say he’ll call u back n then will not call u back. lies like oh babe i’m moving to france tomorrow fuckkkkkkkkk sucks so bad that we can only have one night but let’s make it special yeah? tits? n then they’ll see him casually skating past them on the street a week later n be like well clearly he’s not in france. ziggy doesn’t care.

calls himself a “genius inventor” bc he once gutted a vintage analog television n made it into a fish tank. it literally leaked water a bit. still convinced he is a literal visionary never seen before never done again. he’s like i’m on the brink of greatness. i’m the next einstein.

has a bit of a god complex where he thinks he’s the sexiest person in any given room n it’s kind of funny bc like dylan minnette’s sexy to me bt tht isn’t a widespread opinion n ur being a bit bold ziggy...... regardless has confidence thru the roof tht isn’t rly deterred by anything or anyone.....

dyes his hair 49729572459752 colours every colour under the sun. sometimes all at once jst different patches. wears lots of tie dye tshirts n basketball shorts even tho he doesn’t play basketball. rly colourful sneakers. just lots of loud colours tbh. often wears a paper clip in his ear as an earring. pierced it himself. someone probably recorded him doing it fr his insta story. probably was drunk.

drives a vespa around tht is baby blue with pastel yellow polka dots. it has lots of tin cans attached to the back by string like on those cars when u just got married. he did not just get married. u can hear him arriving frm over a street away.

almost never pays fr anything bt is always like “yo it’s my treat” n then either dine n dashes or u have to pay

his idea of romance is nuking a hot pocket as breakfast in bed n then complaining he’s hungry n eating half

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

fuckboy antics: he’s insatiable. rabid. notorious. mayb they fkd n he didn’t call........ jst completely ghosted........ mayb they were genuinely into him n he honestly built up kind of false pretences abt them having a connection n then jst dipped..... cld  b good fr angst n drama <3 someone please egg his house he deserves it <3

high skl heathens: locals tht were equally chaotic in hs..... just picture him having this group of misfits tht were like so loud n always getting up to no good doing god knows what god knows where.... probably gt arrested together breaking into an old abandoned hospital one time........... rly just doing the absolute most at all times............. probably so loud........... drinking n smoking far too much.....

an attempted teenage relationship: i’m like. tentative to even put this one bc i just feel like ziggy wld be a shit bf. KJHGFSHGFHGSFHGFKGHFKSG. but. maybe it ended in drama.....i’d say this wld probably be a girl bc in hs he probably ws less open w his sexuality... maybe ziggy cheated on her or she cheated on him................ angst........ strife.... we love it we love it........ i crash my car into the bridge... i don’t care... i love it... sudden icona pop moment me stood on stage singing karaoke.... it’s just gone 7am as i write this so i apologise if this is losing any. coherency. smiles so sexy....

last adolescent plot i swear: i picture when ziggy was expelled he somehow amassed a large group to protest w signs outside the school fr him to be accepted back. it didn’t work. he threw a party when he received news he hadn’t got back in anyway. maybe ur muse was involved or helped organise this or was violently opposed.

enemies: ppl who just. don’t like ziggy bc like honestly that’s so fair n valid. KJHGFKGHKSFGHSGKHSFHG..... mayb he like. exploded their mailbox one time when they were younger. mayb he skated over their toes. mayb he fucked their bitch aha fuck................. (joking btw) (don’t condone misogyny) (hashtag feminism). cld be fun to play around w

fwb: probably hs a few of these......... mayb they’re cool w things being no strings attached n lax n at ease w ziggy being the mess tht he is in general..... mayb they want more bt ziggy cannot provide...... mayb they literally don’t get on at all n this is their only mutual ground n they keep coming bk to each other.... :smirk:..... whatever u Farncy....

maybe ziggy’s mum dated ur muse’s dad at one point???? we can discuss this if u think it fits..... cld be fun to play around w............

coworkers: past or present r fun..... mayb they were like WTFFF is this guy fking ONNN at a past job (he’s had a few in the food service industry so pretty open in tht area)... mayb they work w him at the ice cream parlour now..... cn discuss the dynamic probably wld be dependent on the muse involved fr like. how he’d act n stuff.... :yum:

[catradoramma]

Day 27: “Can you wait for me?”

this is another part in the arranged marriage au. it takes place right after this part. 

|  Buy me a Kofi  |

Shortly after their last date, aether is stopped recovering any and all reports out of Catlantis. So, it was no surprise when Catra missed their next monthly meeting. But...just because it was expected did not mean it wasn’t worrying.

By the end of that month, Adora had managed to get informants back into Catlantis. Adora worried endlessly for Catra as another monthly date came and went. She couldn’t stop herself from imagining what might be happening in the neighbouring country. What might be happening to Catra.

When Adora’s informants finally got back to her, what they reported about the state of Catlantis was even worse than anything Adora could have imagined.

As She-Ra, Adora has seen rebellions before. She had seen what angry people were capable of. She herself had even helped. And yet, as she read the reports sent to her from Catlantis….she felt a wave of fear and helplessness overwhelm her.

The advisors that supported both Mara and Adora advised them to allow Catlantis to sort out its own disasters. They told Mara to abandon the treaty between their countries and try again with the new government that would rise after the rebellion.

They told Adora to abandon Catra and their marriage.

In that moment, Adora felt nothing but rage. How could they even suggest she abandon Catra? Had they not seen how much they cared for each other? Could they not see what a match they were losing by saying this?

Adora wanted nothing more than to take her sword and storm into Catlantis. She wanted to take Catra and run away. She wanted to abandon this place and these people and really live in a cottage in the woods.

Not once did any of the advisors suggest we go in to mediate.

Not once did any of the advisors suggest we try and help the people.

Not once did anyone suggest not just allowing Catlantis to fall.

Their wedding day came and went.

Adora became Queen of Etheria as if this wasn’t also supposed to be her wedding day.

Adora cursed every day her status in life. She cursed her duty. She cursed this life. She wished more than anything she could go after Catra.

— . —

It was barely a month after Adora’s coronation when someone broke into her chambers. It was the dead of night and Adora’s guards were right out her door. She could call out for them, have them in her chamber within a second.

But as Adora stared at the empty space in the bed beside her where Catra would have laid if this was their honeymoon, Adora found she couldn’t move, let alone speak. Perhaps if she was killed tonight it would forgive the fact that she allowed her betrothed to die.

Adora felt the person stop at the edge of the bed, right at her back and waited for the knife to plunge into her body. She waited for the pain—excruciating and hot—before nothing. She...she longed for it.

But it never came.

“Adora?” The figure’s voice was soft and a little hoarse from behind Adora—and—and Adora knew that voice. But it was—

Adora turned over and sat up—

But it was too dark and Adora couldn’t—

She reached for the oil lamp on her table and fumbled—

She needed to see—

There was no way it could be—

She got the light on and there—

There was Catra.

Her hair was shorter, cut off at odd angles as if done in a rush. She had a scar on her jaw and she looked smaller without the ceremonial dress she usually wore.

She was...she was a sight for sore eyes.

“Catra?” Adora managed, unable to believe it was really her. Unable to allow herself to hope.

She reached up to cup Catra’s cheek. She needed to touch to make sure she was real. Catra let her eyes slip closed and she leaned into the touch. Her skin was so soft, and Adora wanted nothing more than to pull her into a deep kiss.

Catra smiled softly, her shoulders relaxing as if a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She let out a breathy laugh and said, “Hey Adora.” It was music to Adora’s ears.

Suddenly touching Catra’s cheek wasn’t enough anymore. Adora shot forward and wrapped her arms around Catra. “You’re alive,” Adora breathed happily.  

Catra hugged her back just as tightly, her face fitting perfectly into Adora’s neck. “Yeah. I’m alive. Just barely though.”

“I’m so glad,” Adora breathed then let out a little shaky breath. “What happened? Why are you here?” Adora asked after a beat, finally pulling away to look at Catra.

“Long story,” Catra sighed, rolling her eyes. “Nothing too bad. Just on a mission to win back my people. You know how it goes,” Catra shrugged, still funny after everything.

“Is there any way She-Ra could help?” Adora asked, desperately wanting to help.

“No, this is something I need to do on my own,” Catra said, sounding thankful for the offer. She stepped closer, her thighs bumping into Adora’s knees. Catra looked down and took both of Adora’s hands in her own. “I came because...It’s selfish, but I wanted to see you one last time.”

Adora squeezed Catra’s hands. “I’m glad you came,” she admitted. “I’ve missed you. I’ve...I’ve been so worried.”

Catra squeezed Adora’s hands back and then ran her thumb across Adora’s knuckles. Adora’s belly swooped at the gesture. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. Then a second later she added, “I wish I could stay.”

“It’s okay,” Adora said, “I wish you could stay as well, but…” she smiled a little up at Catra, “You have to do what you believe is right for your people.”

Catra nodded and let out a sigh of relief, as if she was expecting Adora not to understand. Adora squeezed her hands again and wanted to pull her down into the bed with her, but knew Catra surely had to leave soon.

“I need to ask you something,” Catra said after a beat. “You can say no, but...I have to ask.” Catra looked back up at Adora, her mis-matched eyes shining in the moonlight.

“Okay,” Adora nodded a little.

Catra looked back at their hands and collected herself. When she looked up again, Catra’s eyes were pools of desperation and sadness. “Can you wait for me?” She whispered out, as if she spoke any louder, the words themselves would swallow her whole.

Adora straightened and held Catra’s hands in a crushing grip. “Of course,” she said firmly. “Catra, of course I will wait for you.” Adora felt something like relief as Catra let out a breathy laugh. Her stomach swooped as Catra leaned in and stole her lips in a deep kiss. Catra’s hand was soft on Adora’s cheek.

Adora would wait a hundred years and longer for Catra. Whatever it took, Adora would wait.

part 1 | part 2

[vannahfanfics]

Needed Part IV

Before you read, here’s Part I, Part II, and Part III! 

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: One Piece

Characters: Monkey D. Luffy, Baby 5

Requested By: Wannabekurt (Ao3)

Baby 5 kneeled before a wooden tub, her hands wrist-deep in sudsy water as she scrubbed a kimono against a washboard. The rhythmic scrapes of the fabric against the wooden ridges were soothing, in a way, bringing a content smile to her lips. She lifted the sodden clothes to inspect them, and decided that they were sufficiently washed. As she rose, water cascaded from the soaked fabric, puddling down into the grass. When she turned, a few small dewdrops splashed against the skirt of her own kimono, a simple red-purple color patterned with white flowers. She walked to the clothesline and draped the drenched kimono over the string, pinning it with a pair of clothespins. She then turned, looking at the pile of clothes she still had left to wash. All in a day’s work, but at least I’m being helpful!

While Luffy and half of the crew traveled to Whole Cake Island to rescue Sanji, Law had led another party of the Straw Hats to Wano, where they would infiltrate the population and gather information on their targets, Orochi and Kaido. They had been split apart for some time now. Baby 5 had settled in a small village, taking odd jobs for money. Today, she was helping a housewife do laundry; she couldn’t keep up with her gaggle of five children running around, and Baby 5 had been happy to volunteer her services. It was clear that the family was of eager means, so she was intending not to take any money at all. She'd rather just do a good deed for the sake of doing so. 

“Batama!” called a pleasant voice, and for a second, Baby 5 didn’t respond. Then, she recalled that she had assumed a different name while traveling in Wano: Batama. She whirled around with a shout to see her employer walking out of the house, a toddler in each arm. Baby 5 rushed forward to take one, causing the woman to smile pleasantly. “Ah, thank you. Are you done with the washing yet?” 

“Not yet,” she admitted shyly, not wanting to admit that she’d spent a good thirty minutes following a pretty butterfly around the garden. “But I’m getting there! I’ll get it done, I promise.” 

“Don’t worry,” the woman chuckled with a dismissive wave. “Anything you can do helps.” After setting the toddler down in the grass, Baby 5 walked back to the wash tub, kneeling back down and wrinkling her nose at the feeling of water soaking into the bottom of her kimono. Still, she had to work hard! She picked up a yukata from the pile and dunked it into the water, allowing it to soak up the liquid before she started scrubbing. The mother also set down her other daughter and watched her two children play in the grass. 

Baby 5 watched the two toddlers run in circles around the yard, chasing one another with excited squeals. She couldn’t help but smile; they really were cute. She had long dreamed of having a family, abandoning piracy so she could rear children alongside a loving husband. Things hadn’t turned out quite the way she intended, though. Traveling with Luffy, she’d spend a long time on the seas. But that’s okay, she smiled and picked up the yukata to begin scrubbing it against the washboard. I want to see Luffy become Pirate King. 

The thought of her lover made her heave a sigh. She hoped he was all right. She had faith in him just as much as the rest of the crew, but she couldn’t help but worry. Big Mom was an emperor, after all, far deadlier than any enemy that Luffy had ever faced— and he only had half his crew with him. She hoped that he would stick to the plan and escape with Sanji, but if Luffy was anything, it was hot-blooded and reckless. There really was no telling what he would do if he got fired up enough. 

“Ah, have you heard?” 

Baby 5 perked up as a neighbor came trotting up into her employer’s yard, holding an infant to her chest. She looked alarmed, but not in a bad way— more like excited? Baby 5 continued to scrub the yukata, not wishing to look like she was eavesdropping, though that was exactly what she was doing. She drowned out the giggles of the two children still tearing around the yard to catch the two women’s conversation, straining her ears. 

“Apparently pirates have infiltrated Wano!” the woman gasped, making her friend put her hand to her mouth in shock. “Yeah, yeah! They just landed a few days ago and are tearing around causing a ruckus. I wonder if they’re here for Orochi…” 

“Be careful what you say!” the other hissed, looking around with a frightened look. “His spies are always lurking around. It’s one thing to be hopeful, but you know what they do to people who so much as breathe a hint of rebellion. It’s best not to talk about this.” 

“Still,” the woman said, looking down at her infant with a smile. “I feel the winds of change blowing…” 

The winds of change were blowing indeed, and Baby 5 was determined to catch them. She returned to her task with gusto, eager to finish her work soon so that she could gather more information on this crew of pirates. Surely, this was news that the rest of the Straw Hats had landed on Wano and were searching for them! Baby 5 finished the laundry just as the sun met the horizon. She did end up refusing payment from the young mother, but was unable to escape without a package of rice balls. As she set off down the road, she munched on one, heading to the nearest tavern. Alcohol always made tongues wag, and if rumors were beginning to fly, then a bar was the best place to sieve them. 

It didn’t take her long to hone in on the gossip. Apparently these pirates were the talk of Wano, as most of the talk in the bar concerned them. Baby 5 sat at the bar nursing her sake, taking slow and careful sips while filtering out the useful information. Once she confirmed their last known location, she paid her tab and bid the bartender goodnight. The pirates apparently weren’t far, so she could make it on foot. Traveling at night was dangerous, especially with the enemy’s forces skulking about, but Baby 5 was more than capable. Besides, her desire to reunite with Luffy clouded all of her judgment; her heart skipped in her chest as she hurried down the road leading out of the village, a smile plastered on her face. 

The sun filtered through the trees of the bamboo forest, dying the skinny stems a bright golden-green. The only sound was the scuffing of her sandals in the dirt path and the wind whistling through the thin leaves of the bamboo. As time and Baby 5 marched on, the spears of light piercing the green gradually changed angles with the setting of the sun. Dusk began to descend as the light faded further, and Baby 5’s pace began to slow, nervousness setting in. Crickets chirped within the depths of the forest, falling silent whenever something rustled within the gloom. Baby 5 jumped each time, nervously looking around. Yet she could see nothing within the gloom clouding the fronds.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, she thought while wringing her hands. Maybe she should have tried to rendezvous with one of the other members and then they together could search for the rumored pirates. There wasn’t even a guarantee that it was Luffy, if the rumors held credence at all. Baby 5 realized her folly as she slowly came to a stop within the forest, surrounded by darkness and all alone. 

Yet… She could not bring herself to turn back. What if it was Luffy? He could be in Wano all alone. He might need me, she thought, heart stirring. If he’s here, I have to find him! 

A particularly loud snap yanked Baby 5 out of her thoughts. She morphed her hand into a pistol and looked around wildly, the stars doing little to illuminate the dense bamboo forest. When she whirled around the check behind her, her stomach dropped into her stomach; two large silhouettes were outlined against the indigo sky. She gulped thickly as their shadowy forms encroached on her; she took an offensive stance and pointed her gun at them, narrowing her eyes. 

“Identify yourselves or I’ll shoot!” 

“Threatening two of Orochi’s officials? That’s not very smart of you,” came the low, threatening voice. Baby 5 swallowed thickly as they stepped out into the moonlight— two burly forms in yukatas with katanas strapped to their hips. Baby 5 morphed her other hand into a shotgun and pointed it at his companion, her eyes flicking back and forth between them rapidly. “A Devil Fruit user, eh? Orochi could have use for a woman like you…”

“I have no intentions of working for him!” Baby 5 snapped. As the two split apart to begin walking a semicircle around her, she stepped back, making sure to keep both the guns on them. 

“Oh, it wasn’t an offer, sweetheart,” the other chuckled darkly. His katana gleamed in the starlight as he drew it from the sheath. The scraping sound it made made Baby 5’s heart thump. Law had instructed them to lay low, and murdering two of Orochi’s underlings wasn’t exactly following those directions, but it was beginning to look like these two goons wouldn’t give her much of a choice. 

“I’m warning you. I will shoot you,” she threatened. 

“Do that, and Orochi will have your head on a pike within a week,” the other goon chuckled darkly, drawing his weapon as well. Fat chance of that! She thought and cocked both the guns. At the clicks, the two thugs snarled and leaped at her in unison, but before she could shoot, the bamboo fronds rustled wildly. She looked to her right just in time to see a sandaled leg— a very long leg— erupt from the bamboo and plow right into one of the goons’ heads. He flew sideways at the force, crashing into his friend. Both of them flew off to her left, disappearing into the bamboo. She looked at the broken-off stalks in shock, then slowly turned to the elongated leg in front of her. 

The rubbery leg slowly shortened, a torso and a head following. When she spotted an arm holding a straw hat down against messy black hair, Baby 5’s eyes alit with excitement. 

“Luffy!” she squealed, changing her arms back so she could jump forward and embrace him. Luffy cried out in shock when Baby 5 crashed into his chest, and he grabbed her hips on reflex. A big grin spread across his face in the next second, and he leaned down to nuzzle into Baby 5’s voluminous tresses. 

“Baby!” he cried in delight. “I’ve missed you…” 

“I’ve missed you, too!” she beamed, hugging him tighter. She breathed in deeply, admiring his scent of salt and sea spray and a hint of roasted meat. Her eyelashes fluttered as the aroma calmed her. “I’ve missed you so much…” 

“I know,” he hummed and rubbed soothing circles in her lower back. “It’s okay. I’m here now!” She looked up at him, chin perched on her chest and eyes dewy with joyful tears. He lifted his hands to cup her cheek, his thumbs rubbing over the smooth, rosy skin, before leaning down to peck her on the nose. “I’m here now, Baby.” 

She blinked, the tears beading up over her eyes and flowing down her cheeks. Luffy gently swept them away, continuing to smile down at her like she was all he needed. She hoped so, because he was all she needed in this crazy world. He pecked her on the lips this time, and then she buried her face into his chest, snuggling into him as close as she could. She knew that soon their trial would begin and they would go to war with the dragons of Wano, but for that moment, she just savored being in the arms of her beloved, the one who needed her.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Kindle

Distraction fic time! Or is it fanfic as a coping mechanism? Dug out an old WIP and gave it a few finishing touches. This was originally written for the “Swords” prompt of a Bispearl Week ages ago.

Early in the Rebellion, Pearl introduces Bismuth to the concept of rubber ducking in an attempt to avert a crisis of confidence. Bismuth/Pearl but mostly in that slow burn phase. ~3000 words. No warnings.

Fic potentially also known as: 

while you studied the blade i studied the forge so i could make you the very best blade in the world! love you baby

---

Kindle

The first few swords were a disaster.

The Forge was rudimentary still, in those early days - didn’t look like much at all, but it was a bold, determined little start. Bismuth did her best: all of her hard-won knowledge, scrounged up information not meant for her or her kind, going towards building what she thought they would need to get weapon production up and running. Raw materials gathered at a great risk - Snowflake had chipped her gem during the last of the supply runs! Tools for Bismuth to try to replicate and experiment with, and a thoroughly raided armoury’s worth of various weapons for Bismuth to learn from, to suit every possible rebellious inclination. All carefully arranged in the semi-natural volcanic caverns in an attempt to enable what she judged might be a sensible workflow.

She decided to go with a simple, plain, straight-edged sword to start with - mid-length to her, meaning a dagger to some and a hefty two-hander to others. The sheer variety already present in the Rebellion was half of its charm and point, wasn’t it just? And Bismuth wanted so very badly to fan the flames of it, to do everything she possibly could to see it, to see all of them, flourish and persevere and come out on top for once.

So Bismuth tried, and tried, and then tried again. Considered her mistakes, weaknesses, what she knew (or, doubt never failed to creep in, thought she knew) she was supposed to be doing and achieving here.

And failed.

The first blade that at least looked right shattered in her hands when she tried to force its tang through a guard and into a handle to put the whole thing together. The rest of its batch became hopelessly crooked when she quenched them. Each new day brought new failures, some unexpected enough as to be termed almost cruelly creative.

Bismuth crushed in one fist the latest useless ingot whose ore ratios she’d clearly gotten wrong in her mounting frustration, and tossed it against the wall with an irritated cry.

And of course, of course, that was the moment Pearl chose to walk in.

She was clearly shuffling around, trying to make herself more easily noticed. Bismuth knew that if she really wanted (or if she forgot she didn’t need to anymore, as she sometimes did, as they all sometimes did), Pearl could just pop up next to her elbow suddenly and apparently out of nowhere, piping up with a comment or suggestion or a casual greeting. Keep herself unseen and silent, coasting under any notice until whatever passed for “needed”, as easily as Bismuth could tear down walls with her bare hands and carve new ones in their place. They all came from somewhere, of course, from something, and they all carried it with them in one way or another.

“Bismuth?” Pearl called out gently, and Bismuth raised her head from its contemplative slump to meet her gaze.

Her voice and expression were both filled with concern as she inched closer from the entrance, but there was a glint in her eyes that made it clear Pearl would not be deterred or dismissed and that it would do nobody any good to try. So, figuring she had nothing to lose, Bismuth abandoned any nascent idea of pretending nothing was wrong, allowed her shoulders to sag, and let her misery show.

“I’m not cut out for this. Literally,” she admitted quietly, arms raising in a feeble attempt to encompass this.

Pearl snorted, hopping up to sit on the anvil with a highly deliberate and highly unconvincing casual air. “Tell me about it.”

Bismuth sighed, rubbing the back of her neck with a tiredness she wasn’t sure she was supposed to be capable of, and leaned next to her.

“I ever tell you of my first actual visit to a forge?”

Pearl shook her head and drew closer, making them look like a real pair of conspirators. 

“Wasn’t all that long ago. I took the chance and snuck into a weapons production plant when the hematites weren’t around. Me and the other bismuths had been working on some training grounds right next to it and I’d wanted to see one for so long, so one day during a shift change I just went for it. And it was... Well. Let’s just say the last time that place had seen a bismuth was when it was being built.” 

Bismuth ran a hand through her hair, and noticed that, for perhaps the first time since they’d met each other, the gesture didn’t result in Pearl immediately being endearingly enraptured by the tumbling rainbow locks. No, her eyes were fixed on Bismuth’s face, intent and understanding in a very particular and oddly encouraging way. So Bismuth continued. “I didn’t even fit in there, Pearl. I was too big for the bellows and too small for the anvils, and I could barely walk around the quenching baths they had set up. It was all just… wrong. The whole place was screaming at me, telling me I didn’t belong there and couldn’t if I tried.”

“You’re still trying, though, despite that,” Pearl pointed out, and swept an arm out to seemingly encompass the entire forge. “And look at all of this! You’ve been working so hard to make it your own.”

“Because I want this!” Bismuth burst out, resorting to unusually ruffled pacing around the anvil. “I’ve wanted this for so long! And the Rebellion needs this! I thought I could do it, and I’m trying to learn so very hard! Why can’t I? The simplest thing a hematite could do five minutes after popping out of the ground I can’t get right after grinding at it for weeks!”

“But you haven’t given up!” Pearl reiterated, raising her voice to match, and Bismuth relented, stopping in her tracks.

“Yeah, you’re right. And I’m not planning to. And something tells me you aren’t either.” She smiled and shrugged in mock-defeat. “Guess we’re a stubborn pair of boulders like that, huh?”

It was certainly more than a trick of the light when Pearl appeared to preen at that, puffed up chest almost exclaiming a proud Me! A boulder! Imposing and immovable and sturdy!

Then, with a grin, she proclaimed: “We absolutely are.”

Bismuth couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, something unpleasantly tight finally uncoiling from around the inlaid edges of her gem. Pearl quickly joined her, helping to fill the forge with a delightfully improper little cackle.

When they both settled down again, side by side at the anvil, everything stayed just that little bit forgelight-orange brighter. A pleasant, comforting warmth in place of an oppressive volcanic heat aching to burst.

“I believe you can succeed,” Pearl began again, more slowly, as if picking out each word with great care. “But - and I am working on all of this myself still - I also think you should be aware you don’t have to do this. I know - oh how I know - that more often than not it feels like the most phoney thing in the world… but remember: you don’t have to be useful to be of value.”

It did sound quite a bit like a learned platitude, the way Pearl recited it. But there was a feeling of, if not exactly believing it, then of very much wanting to believe it.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Bismuth murmured. “I’m definitely holding on to that one. Thanks. Got any other nugget of wisdom for me, Terrifying Renegade?”

Pearl effortlessly and gracefully evaded Bismuth’s jokingly nudging elbow and continued her almost-lecture. “Well, we all need to remember that love and self-love are radical and revolutionary concepts in Homeworld’s eyes.”

Bismuth burst out laughing again. “What was that supposed to be? Was that really your best Rose Quartz impression?”

The forgelight turned the blue in Pearl’s cheeks into a fascinating range of colours as she moved and turned. “Well, yes and no-- focus on the message!”

“Alright, alright,” Bismuth acquiesced. “It’s a good message. And an important one. Just… not really helping me with the task at hand, which is arming all of us so we can defend ourselves against those who’d prefer that message didn’t spread. And there’s a whole lot of them and not a lot of us. Yet.”

Pearl hummed in response, suddenly pensive, gazing down to where her feet were dangling off the side of the large anvil, toes describing elaborate patterns in the air - courtly dance steps or fencing drills footwork, Bismuth couldn’t tell. Always restless.

“You know, the first time I properly sparred with Rose and got her to stop holding back on me I got utterly trounced,” Pearl shared quietly. “It’s not exactly a fond memory of mine. After all that training, after trying so hard - I was so sure I was ready! But no, in a real battle I’d have gotten pulverised. And Gems… even here, in the Rebellion, you have to admit, Bismuth, you’ve seen the way a lot of them look at me, too.”

“Well,” Bismuth said with a soft huff of a chuckle, “can’t say watching you show them the error of their ways the first time they show up for training isn’t a treat.”

“I think...” A small blush appeared on Pearl’s cheeks - icy blue tinged purple in the forgelight that Bismuth just had to pause and appreciate every time - and she seemed to develop a sudden and intense interest in a spot on the anvil right next to where she was sitting. “I think the fact you never really looked at me like that is one of the main reasons I like you so much.” 

“Oh?” Bismuth managed around a strangely constricted throat, and a warmth in her face that had nothing to do with the persistent lava-glow of the newly dug channels.

“I remember-- our very first meeting you immediately started asking me about my swords, and I didn’t have to waste endless time just getting you to talk to me like a Gem, let alone listen to what I had to say.” Pearl gasped out an odd chuckle, “It was such a relief!”

A mouthy little pearl, she’d thought, unusual and prickly, but utterly charming in a way Bismuth was fairly sure she wasn’t supposed to be. The way she carefully dusted off the anvil before jauntily perching on it - much like she was perching on it right now - with a very loud air of I’m certainly not doing this for you, I just do not want soot anywhere on my person. How could Bismuth resist being near-instantly won over?

Pearl pressed a long, thin finger against her chin thoughtfully, and hummed. Certainly seemed to be taking the whole thing entirely seriously, and Bismuth found herself feeling an odd relief. What did she expect, Pearl to laugh at her worries and frustrations? Dismiss them as unfounded somehow, as both silly and imagined? Just agree, say that oh, guess that’s just how it is then, best find some other way of making yourself useful to us - which, yes, of course usefulness wasn’t the point at all, on the contrary, but…

But Pearl was speaking, that thoughtful finger still up. “How about… we make one together. An entire sword. And you can talk me through it.”

“Talk you through it?”

Pearl seemed to be growing increasingly enthusiastic about the idea. “Every step of the way! Every detail you can think of! Trust me, there’s no better way to find out where it’s going wrong. And I’ve… well,” Pearl hesitated suddenly, as if catching herself, “I’m no expert, of course, but I’ve looked into some of these things on my own, too. So I will be able to make sense of what you’re saying - even though that might not even be the point. The point is that you make sense of what you’re saying.”

Bismuth didn’t feel entirely convinced, but Pearl’s sudden whirlwind felt very hard to not get caught up in - strange, that. Usually it was Bismuth herself getting others caught up in all sorts of things, loudly and unabashedly and delightfully Homeworld-unapproved. “If you say so.”

“Trust me, it’ll help. Here,” Pearl hopped off the anvil and went off to the raw material containers as if there was not a single moment more to lose, “ore selection first. Tell me all about your mix.”

“Uh,” Bismuth blinked, and did her best to concentrate on the task she supposed was at hand, but Pearl was at the same time incredibly distracting and the very embodiment of pointed, precise focus. She cleared her throat, feeling the newly familiar and surprisingly pleasant stick of hot air and volcanic ash in the back of it. “Well, for this particular brand of steel, this was my ratio.” A careful fistful after fistful, from her carefully arranged containers, with Pearl nodding along.

“Seems like a good composition to me. Of course, not exactly how I’d measure anything out, but, well, I’m me.” Spoken with a grin Bismuth just had to match.

“Let’s just say my hands have had a lot of practice when it comes to measuring things out. All those spires don’t just pop into existence magically holding themselves together, no matter what those upper-crusts seem to think.”

“Well, it was bound to come in handy some day,” Pearl nodded sagely, and Bismuth couldn’t restrain her guffaw.

“Pearl! That was absolutely terrible.”

Her smug little smile was so proud. Bismuth almost let all the ore in her hand scatter on the floor when Pearl took her by the arm and started pulling her towards the lava pools. 

“Thank you! Now, no more dawdling. Show me your smelting! Remember: every step of the way,” Pearl repeated with a tiny but lingering touch on Bismuth’s arm. It was such a small hand in comparison, every bit of it looking fine and fragile - but she'd seen it wield a sword and it was no joke and no dainty detail of a trinket. Far, far from it.

Bismuth felt her face heat up, and she quickly dipped her ore-hand into the lava bubbling in its channel nearby. The ingot-to-be filled up her hand and she tried to focus on that, but-- oh, Pearl was clearing her throat and looking away too.

It seemed so ridiculous to even imagine her all in utterly impractical frills, trotting behind some lousy, spoiled clump of aristocratic dirt. Not only a waste of potential as Rose often said, but an outright crime.

“Ready for the forging?” Pearl sprung up eagerly, breaking the reverie, then jolted, as if remembering something. “Oh! Just a moment. Allow me!”

With a very dramatic wave of her hand, a hologram sputtered to life from her gem, and Pearl herself leaned forward and down just slightly to centre it on the anvil.

“There we go. A perfect reference, don’t you think? And perfectly practical!”

“Oh, wow,” was about all Bismuth could manage at the sight of the lovingly detailed holographic blade before her. She quickly dropped the hot ingot in place, transformed her hand and hammered at the metal. The blade glowed, freshly struck into shape, orange mixing with Pearl’s translucent blue and playing around both of them.

In no time at all the emerging blade matched its holographic counterpart and seemed to be ready for quenching, so Bismuth happily informed Pearl of this next step. “I’m going for plain water this time.”

Steam poured out around both of them, standing almost cheek to cheek over the quenching bath - this one perfectly sized for Bismuth’s use - eager to see what they’d made so far once the haze dispersed.

Nudging Pearl with one shoulder and waving an annoyed hand around, Bismuth put on the snootiest voice she could manage. “Pearl, what is the meaning of this? Look at the state of the place! When was it last dusted?”

Pearl grinned, the little soot mark on her chin moving dashingly in tandem. “Oh it’ll dust itself well enough when I dissipate your form.”

“Hahah! Atta Pearl.” The clap of the hand on her back almost sent Pearl stumbling, but then she straightened up and leaned happily into it. Smugly, even. Her entire back fit into Bismuth's palm - what an odd pair the two of them must have made. 

Bismuth decided she liked the feeling.

She cleared her throat. “You know, when we get this right? When we end up with a proper sword? It’s all yours.”

Pearl looked up, almost startled, eyes wide and slightly watery. “Mine? Oh, Bismuth, I couldn’t possibly...”

“I insist. You’ve definitely more than earned it. But most importantly… I want you to have it. And I’d be honoured to see you carry it into battle, or, hey, use it to knock some sense into a rowdy quartz newbie or two.”

A sudden thought made her stop in her tracks. Who in their right mind would want to go into battle relying on a second-rate experiment of a weapon from a cobbled-together forge?

“I-I mean-- if you want to, of course, I didn’t mean to, uh, force it--”

A slender hand was lightly placed over Bismuth’s once again, quieting her near instantly. Pearl’s smile was small but reached her eyes and lit them up with a beautiful sincerity. “Of course I do. The honour will be all mine,” she said. Then, with a bit more audible steel: “And I know it will turn out excellently.”

“Because we made it together?” Bismuth hazarded a guess, but was cut off.

“Because I know you.”

She blinked at the sudden intensity, but felt an answering rush, too. Oh, it was impossible not to get caught up in it all: the wonderful rightness of their championed ideals, the beautiful words of the manifesto, all the Gems they could finally do right by, everything each of them stood for, Rose Quartz herself, Garnet, Pearl...

Bismuth had no intention of doing anything but eagerly dedicating all of herself to it, and every bit of skill she might hope to possess. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

A fighter of Pearl’s calibre, and a cause as important as theirs, deserved only the best. Bismuth was determined to provide it.

-

The next battle of the fledgling but intrepid Rebellion saw Pearl charge in with a newly forged sabre, Bismuth beaming proudly right at her side.

[lajulie24]

Into the Woods

So, if you’ve already seen this, I’m reposting it in text format. Originally it was in response to an ask that @chancecraz sent me, but I made the mistake of putting a “read more” link in it and...Tumblr put the read more link at the top of the ask so nobody could see anything but the question unless you clicked. I tried to fix it but to no avail, so...here we go! Attempt #2!

chancecraz asked:

For the minific reblog, Han/Leia  B. Under cover of darkness.

Thank you for your patience! This started out a drabble and turned into something a bit longer, which is part of why it took a while. Hope you enjoy! (And for folks who have already sent me prompts, I’m getting to yours...I promise.)

Prompt: B. Under cover of darkness

Into the Woods

It felt like the night would never fall; the sunset seemed endless, the sky taking its sweet time to change from gold, to burnt orange, to red and deeper red, to violet. Waiting for the purple to deepen, for dusk to turn to night, felt even longer, especially in the cramped corner where they stood, waiting.

Leia was vaguely aware that in another life, the trappings of their current situation might seem almost romantic. Standing together by the window, Han’s body right behind hers, their eyes on the sunset and the darkening sky that followed. The sky was beautiful, the air humid but not stifling, the scent of the honeyblossoms rising up to meet them. She could feel Han’s breath on her, feel the warmth radiating from his body.

But the fact that her nerves were all straight at attention had much less to do with any feelings she might have for—or about—her current companion, and everything to do with the Imperials running a room-by-room search of their lodging house. Once it was dark, they’d have to move quickly.

“Okay.” Han’s voice in her ear was soft, deep, reassuring. They’d said next to nothing to each other for the past forty minutes, but Leia had been hyperaware of his presence, and it felt like he’d been the same.

“Yes,” she agreed.

They moved quickly, did a quick check of the window and any sight lines, took turns shimmying down the pipe just outside. No words, just eyes and nods and the two of them stealing away to the wooded area just down the road.  

The honeyblossom smell was stronger there, the forest itself a tangle of trees and vines. That was both a good thing and a bad one; if they took care to crawl through without leaving an obvious path, the snarl of vines and foliage would hide most evidence of their presence, but taking care to crawl through would also take precious time. And darkness had fully enveloped the sky now, adding a further degree of difficulty.

Han led the way, and their silence with each other continued, punctuated only by the bend and snap of branches around them, as well as the occasional huff of breath that in normal life would have been a Corellian swear word. Leia herself was boning up on her Alderaani curses in her head, particularly after the third occurrence of a vine snapping back to hit her in the face.

At last, they reached a clearing, or as close as they were ever going to get to one. Leia emerged from the thicket to find Han surveying the area around a large tree as if it were an abandoned alley on Nar Shaddaa. It was still so, so dark, but her eyes had adjusted enough that she could still see his head bob in its usual nod, indicating the way was clear.

As they made their way through this next section of forest, the trees cleared out enough that they could see pieces of sky above their heads again, glimpses of blue-black and the pinpoints of stars. It felt like a setting for a fairy story, escaping the clutch of flowering vines to travel among the ancient trees, the ominous giant not in sight but always steps away.

And then Han stopped, and looked up.

Lost in the woods was Leia’s fleeting thought; it fit with the setting, the fairy tale. They’d traveled a long time without checking their position, just moving, always moving, pushing forward, getting away.

But they weren’t lost, not really. Lost people looked around, looked back. Han was looking up. Struggling to view enough sky through the branches to read the stars.

Well accustomed to having to having her view obstructed, Leia looked around for options. It looked like the foliage opened up a little, further up into the canopy of trees. The first sturdy branch, she judged, was still a little too high to shimmy; perhaps with some help—

“Han,” she said, and his head turned from the sky back to her. “Boost me up.”

He looked concerned, kept sneaking glances back at the sky, like he might miss something important and she was distracting him. “Won’t do you any good,” he explained. “’M just tryin’ to—“

She laughed softly before cutting him off. “I’m looking for the same thing you are. You think you’re the only one’s ever been outside, flyboy?”

He still looked a little skeptical, but he hoisted her up far enough to reach the branch, and she climbed up further to get a good look.

She’d missed this, scaling trees, getting up high enough to see, really see the landscape around her. Han was right, you couldn’t see enough on the ground from here to be useful, it being so dark, but it was nice to be higher just the same. And she’d been right about getting a better view of the stars.

She tested the next branch, making sure it could hold her weight, then settled in enough to take stock of what direction they’d been heading in. Letting the stars talk to you, as one of her guides used to say.

She didn’t much want to come down.

The trunk shook slightly, and Leia knew that she had company. “Don’t trust me?” she asked.

Han’s eyes were barely visible in the dark, but she could feel them on her anyway. “Nah,” he said casually, as if he crawled through thickets and scaled ancient trees on a regular basis. “Wanted to see, too.”

She pointed out what she’d already marked in her head, suggested a direction. It was settled. Still, neither of them moved. Kept looking up.

“Had trees like this on Yavin. You ever climb one there?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “We weren’t there long enough.” She’d noticed the trees there—it had seemed somehow appropriate, her parents’ memorial nestled in the shade of the huge branches that surrounded the temple—but she’d been too busy and too heartbroken to take time to explore them then.

There was a low hum in the forest, with nightbugs making their song. Han was quiet for longer than usual, like he was taking a deliberate pause. Then his voice was soft: “Alderaan?”

He was being careful, but it felt better than the kind of careful she usually got from people, people who acted like the name of her homeworld was the secret word that could never be uttered again, lest its curse infect you with sorrow. This kind of careful was good. More like…gentle curiosity.

“We had forests like these in Aldera,” she said. “I lived in one, once. For like a week.”

The branch Han was resting on shook, just enough to rustle the leaves a bit. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I lived in the woods.”

“With your folks?”

“No, by myself. I ran away.”

She could hear Han chuckling a little. “You bring a chef with you? Guide?”

Leia kept her eyes on the sky, remembering. “No, just me.”

“And they let you stay out there for a week.”

Leia smiled a little, recalling the burst of stubborn pride she’d felt even as she was being reprimanded. “It took them a week to find me.”

“And how old were you?”

“I was nine.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Han sounded impressed.

It was quiet for a few minutes, the nightbugs sounding again. They probably should be going soon, getting another few steps ahead of their pursuers. But neither of them moved.

“You’d like Kashyyk,” Han said, like he’d never left off from their earlier conversation. “Trees like this, but older, bigger. They live in the trees there, y’know.”

It did sound like a place Leia would like, honestly. It also sounded like a place Han missed, was almost homesick for. Which was interesting, given that it was Chewie’s homeworld, not his own.

“Have you been there a lot?” she asked.

“Yeah. Used to. Least I could do, y’know, since Chewie’s always with me. Haven’t been back in a while, though.”

Because of the Rebellion. Because you’re here, instead.

Leia lifted her head again to look at the sky. The stars were the same across the galaxy, but the view changed, the stars spoke differently, depending on where you were when you looked up.

She turned back to Han, found his eyes in the dark. Thought of the mythical firmament, the dome containing the moons and the stars within them.

It was time to come back down.

Leia smiled. “Come on, hotshot. Let’s make some time and I’ll tell you the rest of the story.”

Send me a character I write and a drabble prompt for a minific!

[ceciliavonwrites]

Clownmom and Sonboy

"Sweetie?" Harley Quinn lifted one of her ratty couch's throw pillows. It was too small to hide anyone under, but she had to be sure. She'd only gotten home a few minutes ago. "Where are you?"

She got down on her knees to check under the couch. She was pretty sure that he hadn't gone out; the front door was still locked when she got home.

That, and she knew by now how he functioned. Shadow had a lot of trouble expressing emotion. He internalized things. Multiple times he had chosen to hide and nurse his own pain alone (sometimes literally, with his headaches) rather than let her know that he was struggling.

In theory, with time and with patience, he would emerge on his own. Harley, very worried and tearing apart her living room, was not currently capable of patience.

Now she marched into her bedroom, leaving the living room behind her in more disarray than it had started with. Her room was equally messy, even though half of her things were still in boxes. "Darn it, where is he?" She said to no one in particular. "He'd been doing so well lately, too..."

She heard a noise. Harley stopped, managing not to make any sound for a moment. She glanced around the room, trying to figure out where it came from.

There it was again. A soft shuffling, from under the middle of her bed.

She dropped to the floor, so low that her cheek squished against the carpet.

There he was. A little black and red ball between some of her boxes of stuff, curled up so tight she couldn't see anything but the big red stripe on his head and his ears. He was so small and his little ears were drooping and sad.... She wanted to dive in, drag him out, and hug the shit out of him.

Okay, probably shouldn't do that. She took a deep breath. Stay calm, Harleen. Don't come on too strong. Use that big smart talky psychiatrist brain you have.

"Sweetie?" She said gently. "I can see you. What's wrong?"

He didn't move. Harley waited, as hard as that was.

Then slowly the stripe moved backwards, and Shadow's eyes came into view. The whites of his eyes glowed just slightly, making them very visible in the darkness underneath. In her opinion, he was trying too hard to keep whatever he was feeling from showing on his face.

"Nothing," he said quietly.

"Nothin'? Well...okay." Arguing just made him defensive. "Come on out from under the bed, though? It's almost dinner time. Help me make mac n' cheese."

Shadow glanced down, thinking. He did like macaroni and cheese. "Hm." He uncurled some more, pushing out his limbs and jostling the boxes next to him; it was an awkward motion in such a small space. "Alright."

Harley lifted her head off the floor and scooched back to give him room. It took Shadow some ungraceful army-crawling and squirming to get his head to pop out from under the bed. She offered him a hand to stand up and he ignored it, getting up on his own.

"I'll get the pot and the water," Harley said, "if you set the table."

Shadow nodded, and trailed after her into the kitchen.

So Harley got the mac n cheese box and the pot and the water in the pot. Shadow helped, obeying whenever she asked for something without any enthusiasm. Not that he was normally enthusiastic about chores, but the lack thereof was usually active, scowling, you-can't-make-me rebellion.

Shadow trudged across the kitchen to her side. He handed her a requested big spoon without so much as looking up.

"Thanks, sweetie." With the un-spooned hand, Harley ruffled the bristly fur on his head.

He let her do it in silence.

She lifted her hand and uneasily returned to the stove. He usually hates that.

Oh, she really REALLY wanted to just smother him in cuddles and make him stop being so gloomy and quiet, but that wouldn't actually help. She would know, she's tried. Gotta be patient. He has to initiate the conversation.

She sprinkled some salt into the water to make it boil faster. "So. It's gonna take a bit for the water to boil." Just a little. A pinch. A teaspoon. Half the shaker.

Shadow hadn't moved away, and didn't now. His quills brushed against her leg. "I can't see it from down here," he said.

"Well...no?" What did that mean? Did he want to be picked up? She LOVED holding him. He, less so. "You want up?"

Shadow, staring at the floor, bobbed his head in a tiny nod. Her psychiatrist brain and her holding-cute-things brain, for once, were in perfect agreement. He's seeking comfort. It's good that he feels secure enough to do that.

Harley knelt, and scooped him up, supporting him under his legs with one arm, like she would a baby. Shadow cooperated, leaning against her with his head over one of her shoulders.

She stood up, bouncing him once to adjust him. He still couldn't see the pot, but she suspected that wasn't really the point.

Okay. She's gotten him here. Harley decided to chance it. "How're you doin'?"

It was a moment before Shadow tried to answer. "I'm..." He paused. "I don't know."

She pat him on the back. "That's okay." It was a step. Getting away from complete denial of his negative feelings, which was good.

Still, it means more waiting. That wasn't too out of the ordinary for him.

She passed the time walking around the kitchen and straightening up some of the ever-present mess on the counter, occasionally adjusting Shadow on her arm. It wasn't too long; the water boiled shockingly fast for a crappy apartment stove (the small mound of salt at the bottom of the pot might've helped).

Harley hummed while stirring the boiling noodles. It wasn't any tune in particular. She just didn't like the quiet.

Shadow took a breath. "Doctor...I remembered more about that girl." He said quietly. "Maria."

Oh. That kid he saw get shot. She held him a little tighter. "Yeah?"

"She was... We were friends." He paused. "Last night I received a memory of her and I reading together. This morning I saw us playing hide and seek."

Harley thought about this for a moment. He hadn't had any idea who she was, just that her name was Maria and she had been shot. Unfortunate, and probably disturbing (Harley herself was blasé about violence at this point), but nothing personal. Now that was changing.

"How does that make you feel?" she asked.

"It hurts. She felt...important." He sounded like he was having trouble talking. "They were...happy memories. I should be happy. I don't...know why I..."

He trailed off, and didn't finish the sentence.

Harley set down the stirring spoon on the counter, and pat him on his prickly back. "I think you're sad because now you know she was your friend." She said. "Like, you're discovering that you and her both had some good times together. But you're also aware that she died sometime after that. So it's like now you know that you've lost something, you know?"

Shadow's voice broke. "Oh."

He buried his face into her shoulder. Harley abandoned the spoon and wrapped her arms around him.

The only sounds in the kitchen were the bubbling of the boiling water, and Shadow's quiet, muffled attempts not to cry.

Harley teared up. Broke her heart, every time. "It's okay, hun," she said, gently rocking him back and forth. "Cryin' helps. Honest it does." She turned in place; if she couldn't do anything else she at least wanted to be moving. "Balances your brain chemistry and stuff. It's healthy."

He made a noise into her shoulder. "Mnh..."

Harley stopped turning in place, her back to the stove. "I know, it's not fun. I know. I'm sorry. But I'm proud of you!" Harley snuggled him. "You're doing it. Meeting your memories and your feelings head-on. Doing the not-fun thing."

She could hear and feel him breathe in, the lungs in his little body pushing out against her embrace.

"...I miss her." His voice was almost steady. He paused before speaking again. "It shouldn't hurt this much."

It's working! He's talking! Harley contained her excitement, and asked, "Why do you say that?"

"I should be stronger."

"Strong?" Harley played dumb for a moment. "You can lift a bus over your head. You're plenty strong."

"Not...that."

She waited for him to elaborate. It took a few minutes for him to speak again.

"I hate that new memories can...do this to me." He said slowly. "Knock me down."

"Yeah?"

"I am the ultimate lifeform." He spoke ruefully. "And I end up hurt by something as intangible as my own memories."

Oof, the implications there. If that was a big part of his thinking... "Well, heck, anybody would be rattled by a vision of somebody dyin' popping into their heads. An' if they aren't," she added, "all they are is wayyy too used to seein' people die. That's not a strength, that just means they're fucked up. They're prolly the ones causing all that death in the first place."

She had drifted to an unpleasant subject. Harley hurriedly corrected herself. "Er, but, that ain't the point, that ain't the point. You're not like that. Make sense?"

"You are trying to say that I am not..." Shadow paused, and tentatively shaped his mouth around the unfamiliar phrase. "'Fucked up'."

"Yeah!" His formal little voice saying swears would be funny if they weren't having a serious feelings discussion right now. Actually, no, it was still funny. "Could be a lot worse. You're capable of feeling! That's more than a lotta crooks in this city can claim."

"Hm."

"And, you know, I cry all the time," Harley said matter-of-factly. "Just 'cause stuff happens and I'm emotional. Maybe I do cry more than other people. I don't really care! It helps me be peppy the rest of the time. It ain't me being weak, it's just...you know, feeling."

She softened her voice. "You're doing great, honey."

He was still and quiet for a moment. His breathing wasn't hitching anymore.

Then Shadow leaned back, pulling himself away from her shoulder. Harley adjusted her arms to keep holding him up, smiling at him. He looked tired, but calm, his eyes dry.

"...Thank you."

"No problem, sweetie." Aw, she'd probably have to stop holding him now. "Eh...do ya want down?"

He glanced aside, thinking.

Then he nestled back into her, re-resting his head on her shoulder. "In a moment."

Harley could have cried again, she was so fucking happy. Her baby trusted her enough to talk to her! And to hold him! She was bouncing. She loved him so much!!

Shadow choked. "Y-You're crushing me...!"

"Sorry!" She hastily loosened her grip. "Sorry, sorry...are you okay?"

"Y...Yes."

He caught his breath.

"Doctor?"

Shadow sounded like himself again. Phew. Harley felt a lot better. Everything was okay now. "Yeah, hun?"

"The noodles are drying out."

"What?" Shit, that's right, she had been making mac n cheese! "OH, FUCK!"

[thetunewillcome]

burn

Summer Omens: Day 3 (on AO3 here if you prefer)  

(Or that time I showed up to my own challenge with 1 minute to spare and 1,000 words of angst for you.)

Firedrops rained down around him, fading to flecks of ash in the tangles of his hair.  Figures wrapped in blankets were huddling together in alleyways.  Chaos.  People rushed past, dragging carts and carrying belongings, heading for the frantic mass crowded around the closest gate.  The sun had set, but the streets were cast in a flickering, harsh amber glow that threw ghoulish shadows on the walls of the buildings fortunate enough to still be standing.  London was burning.

The air hung, thick with smoke and the cries of the desperate, in the narrow cobblestone streets of the city.  To his left, a man tripped and fell.  Another shouted something about foreigners.  Raised his arm above the fallen figure, iron bar in hand.  No time, he thought, but he veered left to grab the bar from the man’s hand as he strode past.  Tossed it in the nearest broken window.  Up ahead, he could see the towering rooftop of his destination: St. Paul’s.  

If the rumors were true, there was not much time, maybe an hour before total collapse.  And he knew he’d be there.  “A kind gentleman,” they’d said, welcomed them to the safety of the church.  Comforted their children.  Tended to their burns.  Fed and clothed them.  In a city slowly smoldering closer to extinction, brawling with itself in the burning streets over gold and papers and blame while the Lord Mayor turned his back on the firemen’s advice, only one person could be that stupidly selfless.  And Crowley knew that he’d need convincing to abandon ship.

“This was no accident, no sir,” a man spat, holding open the door of a shop to argue with a militiaman.  “It’s the damned French.  You should be out hunting them, ‘stead of trying to tear down my property.”

“But it’s moving this way, and if we can’t create a firebreak–”  Their conversation faded into the noise of the street.

He fought against the tide of fleeing people until he reached the ornate doors of the cathedral.  After holding the door for a crying woman carrying a swaddled infant, he stormed inside.  “Aziraphale!” he called, and he followed his reverberating voice into the vast, dark space.

He found him deep within the building, where few people remained.  Something in him burned at the sight: Aziraphale leaning over a prone figure, the silver-blue of his outfit darkened with soot, tights scorched and ripped, holding out his hand.  “It’s not safe here anymore,” he was telling the woman.  Looking out for the unworthy and doomed, as always.  The sight brought forth the memory of a white wing extended toward him, as if he had been deserving of shelter.  Of the kindness in his blue eyes.  Of something close to love.

“Where should I go?” she asked, struggling to her feet.

“Beyond the wall is the best bet now.  Be careful.”

She thanked him quietly and shuffled off toward the door.  Crowley noticed her arms were bare.  Nothing left to carry.

“Crowley?  Why are you here?”

He forced his mind back to the present danger.  “Because someone has to tell you the same thing you just told her.  Let’s go.”

“There are more, down in the crypts with their things, and there are books– If you follow me, we can–”

“Miracle them to safety as we leave?  Deal.”

Shoulders sagging, Aziraphale shook his head in silent answer.

Crowley raised an eyebrow.  “No miracles?”  He stepped closer.  “You’re telling me all this,” he hissed, “is supposed to happen?”

“I was directed not to interfere.”  A second passed after the admission, Crowley reading the pain and anger in his eyes.  “But that doesn’t mean… I had to do something to help them.”

“Well, you did.  Saved a lot of people.  Now it’s your turn.”  He grabbed Aziraphale’s arm.

“No, not while there are–”

A sharp crack overhead.  Stone crumbled and fell with a sound that echoed through them.  Flames followed, a wooden beam tumbling in and igniting a section of pews with stunning swiftness.

Crowley tightened his grip.  “We’re leaving.  Now.”  And as they disappeared, the people still scattered throughout the dark recesses of the cathedral heard an urgent, breathless whisper in the air: run.

They reappeared in total darkness.  A snap of fingers illuminated the country road they stood on and the surrounding fields.  Crowley had briefly considered the room he kept in Rome, but he knew Aziraphale would resent being taken so far away from the crisis.

“Where are we?” he demanded, wrenching his arm out of Crowley’s grasp.

“Just outside the city.”

“Those people–”

“I warned them.”

Aziraphale shot him a reluctant glance of appreciation, then gazed around at their surroundings.  “I can’t just stand in a field while people burn.  I need to get back to the city.  If you won’t help me, I’ll… I’ll have to find a horse, and–”  His voice broke, then, and he turned away from Crowley.

Rage burned inside Crowley’s chest.  As if it weren’t disgusting enough that the powerless humans had to suffer in the name of God’s ineffability, he knew Aziraphale felt it all: their fear, their anguish, their loss of faith.  Just as there was nothing Aziraphale could do to save them, there was nothing Crowley could do to end his grief.  The cruelty of Heaven, Crowley knew, was something he’d have to come to terms with on his own.  So Crowley did the only thing he could do to help: he reached out a hand and placed it timidly on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Shakily, Aziraphale looked up at him with reddened eyes.  “How many times,” he started softly, pausing to choose his words carefully, “must they suffer such immense atrocities while we look on in silence?”

Having no answer to offer, Crowley turned his gaze to the earth beneath their feet.  They stood like that for a while, until Aziraphale’s breathing evened out.  “I do… appreciate you coming to look for me.”

“If you still want to help,” Crowley said, lowering his hand, “there’s a bit of grass down the road where they’re setting up once they make it past the gates.  Could wander over and see what they need.”

Aziraphale tilted his head, blinking slowly, processing.  “I… Yes, I’ll do that.”  His eyes lit up with a spark that Crowley supposed was hope.  “Good idea.  Look after yourself.”  

He started to walk down the road and Crowley followed, earning himself a curious glance.  “Yeah, well, I’ve got nothing on for tonight.  Might as well come along.”

The two of them spent hours in that field: cobbling together shelters, lighting burning torches, healing, listening.  The stream of refugees arriving from the city, exhausted but too scared to sleep, continued well past midnight.  To cover more ground, they worked separately.  Crowley didn’t mind.  It wasn’t proper demonic work, and it would be a tad tricky to explain away if Head Office questioned it, but it felt right.  If the powers that be order destruction, then helping becomes an act of rebellion, something Crowley had always been fond of.

The night air carried a hint of smoke.  When the sun began to rise, he’d thought it firelight for a frightened second.  Across the field, he caught Aziraphale’s eye and nodded toward the road.  Some humans had begun to help as well, under Aziraphale’s direction.  He wasn’t needed anymore.  Aziraphale smiled warmly at him, then returned to his work.

Their resilience did not surprise him.  Seen it before, he thought as he headed for the road.  Give them some time to recover, and humans always found a way to pick up the pieces of what had been thrown at them and continue on.  Their city burned yesterday.  Today, they would rest.  Survey.  Mourn.  And very soon, they would begin rebuilding.

(Previous days: sand / ice cream)

[bow-woahh]

She-Ra Fics Masterlist

(It’s 100% Catradora but hey)

Started: 12/10/19 Last updated: 28/10/20

Multi-chapters:

Catradora —

What drove her insane... (Canon Divergent)(Completed) (4/4)(13k+)(Ao3 only)

There were a lot of things Adora would do that would get to Catra. A lot of things that would make Catra melt inside or combust. Or both. Things that would make her feel this intense feeling in her stomach, these flips, these... butterflies, is what she thought of them as.

Similarly, Adora didn't think she had many weaknesses, but most things Catra would do drove her up the wall. In a good way. In the best way. In a way that made her heart feel like it was about to hop out of her ribcage, that made her feel she was about to faint, from an unfamiliar, yet familiar, dazed dizziness.

Both of them drove each other insane.

Heal me after hurting (Modern AU)(Completed) (3/3)(29k+)(Ao3 only)

A million feelings she’s been fighting off for months threaten to overwhelm her: feelings of deep and utter care; of complete adoration; feelings of hot and harsh hatred; of absolute disdain; and abandonment, definitely abandonment; to confusion, anxiety, all bubbling as she tries to calm herself down; eyes closed, chanting the mantra:

you are in control, you are stronger now.   ___

Catra gets sick and someone unexpected turns up to help.

bloom (just for you) (High School AU)(Ongoing) (8/?)(68k+)(Ao3 only)

She was probably about to tell her to fuck off, though maybe—hopefully—she'd say it nicely. Catra closed her eyes and hoped when she opened them that this whole situation was just a figment of her imagination. Instead, she saw a one word reply. One single word. 

bet.

*

Adora Grayskull is the popular jock, the golden girl, the one that everyone loves. Catra D’riluth is the opposite. Yet despite this, they form an unlikely bond.

One shots:

Catradora —

What (Who) drives her to this? (Canon Divergent)(2k+)(Ao3 only)

Both Catra and Adora are tired. Both Catra and Adora reach a breaking point. Both Catra and Adora need to stop thinking. And when they do what will it drive them to do?

Catra’s Last Day (Canon Divergent)(2k+)(Ao3 only)

Catra has been anticipating this for months now, and now it's finally come - her last day at the Horde.

As the Sun Sets (Canon Compliant - Post S1)(1k+)(Ao3 only)

Watching the sunset was one way to end your day back at the Horde...

damn you, unrequited love (High school AU)(7k+)(Ao3 only)

Unrequited love sucks. That's what both Adora and Catra think.

Don’t sneak into the kitchen (Unless your girlfriend tells you to) (Canon Divergent)(2k+)(Ao3 only)

Catra has a bad habit of getting into mischief and Adora has a bad habit of agreeing to get into mischief with her.

Or

They sneak into a kitchen and make a mess.

As the Petal Falls (Beauty and the Beast AU)(1.5k+)(Ao3 only)

Shadow Weaver comes to kill the beast and take back Adora, who to her knowledge is a hostage there, when she has actually chosen to stay there - with Catra.

If I was perfect (Modern Family AU)(2.5k+)(Ao3 only)

Call it a coincidence, but just as Adora said the word “baby” (for the second time actually), Catra had choked on her own saliva.

How had children not crossed her mind before?

Two Sides Of The Same Coin (Gang AU)(1k+)(Ao3 only)

"Come on, Catra! You know better than to trust the horde!"

"And you know better than to trust the Rebellion!"

"The Horde is manipulating you!"

"At least they don't hide it and do it behind your back!"  

OR AU where the Rebellion is manipulating Adora and she doesn't realise (but Catra does)

I could get used to the sound of her voice (Royalty AU)(3.5k+)(Ao3 only)

Princess Adora was lucky enough for her parents not to marry her to a man. But, Princess Adora didn’t feel lucky in the slightest when she learned her wife to be was a right pain in the backside – or so she thought.

Or

Who knew that all it would take for Princess Adora to fall was her voice?

Fiction will make you think (what if it was real?) (YouTuber AU)(8k+)(Ao3 only)

All of a sudden, a new thought hits her like a train. Why does it matter so much? Image? Catra doesn’t exactly have a good one anyway, and if anything, it would be worse for Adora. But she is already in most of her videos, so clearly Adora doesn’t care either. So what would actually change?

Wait, Catra’s train of thought stops. Why am I thinking about dating Adora anyway?

OR

A YouTuber AU

Perspective (Prison AU)(25.5k+)(Ao3 only)

"Like you caved in Adora, you took the dive, and was it worth it?"

Adora looked at Catra, biting the inside of her cheek.

"I guess not."

Although, Adora couldn't deny that she felt almost lucky to have met someone like Catra, even if it was in here.

OR

Twelve months. Adora had earned herself twelve months in Prison — it was virtually hell on earth. Or it least it should have been, if not for a certain someone.

Sink my teeth to save you (Vampire AU)(1.5k+) — Ao3 link —

“How did...what are you?”

The stranger stroked her chin, pondering something, then said, “Well, I’m the tall dark stranger your parents warned you about," flashing her abnormally sharp fang like teeth, almost in a grin, though it felt more like she was just showing off.

I'll be your crutch to cope (College/Modern AU)(1.5k+) —Ao3 link —

A late night (or early morning) text from Catra’s roommate leads to more than she bargains for.

Do you know any spells to get rid of this thing? (Modern with Magic AU)(2.5k+)—Ao3 link—

“You know, like, spells and stuff, right?” Adora asks, hold a little looser on her wrist.

“Uh...yeah?” Catra replies, baffled.

Or

Catra’s a mage in training and Adora comes to her with a ridiculous request.

Christmas wouldn't be so bad (with you) (Modern Christmas AU)(1.9k+)—Ao3 link—

Catra wants to reject her responsibilities and problems for one night. Though, she can't avoid the one right in front of her for much longer.

As our differences divide us (Canon Divergent )(3.2k+)—Ao3 link—

Adora believes in the Horde. Catra doesn’t.

Or

An AU where Adora (with the sword) stays with the Horde and Catra leaves for the Rebellion.

Lost my heart (now you've taken it back) (Valentine's AU)(1k+)—Ao3 link—

Catra decides to make her first Valentine's with Adora a memorable experience.

Demons hiding underneath (Modern Gang AU)(3.3k+)—Ao3 link —

She kept plummeting deeper and deeper into the once beautiful blue abyss. And the further down she got, the more Adora realised it was closer to darkness than blue. It seemed she would continue falling, falling into the darkness until—

“Adora?”

—

They may be running away, escaping from their problems, but that doesn’t mean Adora can avoid her own too.

Distressing (over you) (Modern Superhero AU)(3.1k+)(Ao3 only)

Wearing her signature smug smirk, she stood, hands on her hips with a knowing look. Despite how many times she'd seen her in the familiar getup before, it somehow always managed to get her stomach lurching: those thigh highs which somehow weren't impractical; the crimson red suit which clung to her body in all the right places (arguably there were no wrong ones); the black sleeves which came up to cover her hands; and the red mask with pointed ears obscuring her face. However, the blue-gold glow of her eyes was still inexplicably Catra. It still captured her essence. At least to Adora.

things you said with clenched fists (Modern AU)(1.5k+)—Ao3 link—

Alone, at loss for words, but still – I've won and I've lost but I've fell and I've fucked it up

Or

An argument which stems from lies, deception and the past.

things you said when you were drunk (Modern AU)(1.6k+)(Ao3 only)

As Catra took her hand, with her mismatched eyes gleaming, and flashing her pearly white teeth in a grin, the smells, the noises of all the people around them dissolved into nothing more than white noise. 

The aftershock (of your touch) (Modern Soulmates AU)(28k+)(Ao3 only)

“When one finds their soulmate, they don’t immediately know that is the case. Some believe it is a way for the universe, for the great First Ones to test our ability to listen to its calling, to let us steer the wheel to our own fates. Others believe it is an act of cruelty—to try our patience, to punish us for being unable to love without any inhibitions. No matter what one believes, it doesn’t rid us of the fact that finding one's other half does not allow for instant gratification.”

—

Catra, jaded by her past, moves to Bright Moon to start a new life, and finds herself growing increasingly closer to her neighbour, Adora. Initially, she's apprehensive, but no matter what she does, something draws her to the girl, and a revelation causes it to make a lot of sense—and none at all.

all the time in the world (Post-Canon)(1k+)—Ao3 link—

In space, it feels like they have all the time in the world. All the time to relearn the new parts of each other, all the time to indulge the old parts of each other, all the time to simply just be.

You have their attention (and I want yours) (Modern AU - Actors)(1.9k+)—Ao3 link—

It’s all made worse when Catra does look in her direction, searching for none other than Adora’s eyes. She sees her sitting there, seething, and all she does is raise an eyebrow, then after a moment, grin. She can tell. And that only makes Adora more agitated as Catra turns back to the crowd and that girl is practically hanging off her arm. Now, Adora really is contemplating going up there, kissing the smirk of Catra’s face where everyone can see.

a regular customer of mine (Modern AU - Bakery)(3.9k)(Ao3 only)

Catra works at a bakery and Adora comes by every day trying to build up the courage to ask her out (unbeknownst to her).

Headcanons + Shorter Works: 

Catradora —

Fate Only Plays a Part (Canon divergent)(Ao3 only)

Adora finds a wounded and almost lifeless Catra in the woods and decides to bring her back to the castle.

I want to be with you when I grow up (Canon Divergent)(Ao3 only)

They are supposed to be fighting- they should be killing each other.

But they never can. And they never will.

Bad Dreams (Canon Divergent)

She tastes like coffee (Modern AU)

I like me better when I'm with you (Modern AU)

Adora's birthday (Canon Divergent)

The Start of Something Wonderful (Canon Divergent) 

Catradora Summer AU (Modern AU)(Snippet)

things you said when we forgave each other (Post-Canon)(Written before S5)

Reunion (S5 speculation)

[archadianskies]

Whumptober Day 31

Left for Dead → part 1

Whumptober Masterlist | 31/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags:  Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings  × Imprisonment × Post-Pacifist Best Ending × Abandonment  × Dismemberment 

They tell him he is progressing faster than predicted, and right on track to be deployed once the RK800 successfully gains the trust of the deviant leader and executes them. For now, though, he is to continue passing all objectives set for him during this testing phase while his prototype continues the trajectory programmed for him that would see him gain the trust of the deviants and infiltrate their ranks. 

There is excitement in the air, the team waiting on bated breath as the revolution progresses. Those in command, those at the height of CyberLife Tower, tell them soon, soon it will be time. He can sense their excitement and they are pleased to report his progress to the team back at the Tower. He is accomplishing all his test missions and soon he will be deployed to complete actual missions, and he will complete all of those too because he is faster, stronger, more resilient than his prototype. 

There is panic in the air, the team scurrying to and fro, scrambling to do this and that. Something has happened, something they didn’t plan for, something they didn’t predict. The prototype failed his prime directive and the revolution has succeeded. They are arguing about Connor, they are arguing about him, about what to do with him because this is no longer following the trajectory laid out by CyberLife.

It doesn’t make sense. The RK800 was supposed to eliminate the deviant leader and gain control over the deviant populace. It makes no sense for him to join them, to side with them, given his mission. And now no one knows what to do, how to move forward when the path laid out for them has collapsed. 

“They want us to get rid of it.”

“What?!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“That’s eighteen months down the drain, including these past three months of testing overtime!” 

“Yeah well the higher ups have spoken and they want this entire place gutted and wiped and the unit destroyed! Today!”

“No fucking way! No fucking way!” 

They’re all shouting and arguing with each other and he is watching as other staff are rushing back and forth, arms laden with whatever they can carry as they strip the facility bare. The revolution has succeeded and CyberLife has failed to achieve their goal because the prototype did not accomplish his mission.

“Hey!” One of the technicians enters the room, pushing the cart used to dispose of android cadavers from calibration and combat tests. “Come on, we have to wipe it and dump it! They’re killing the power here. Network’s already offline.”

“Fucking fuck!” One of the programmers curses, clutching their hair in frustration. “Okay, Mike get the nanites, Len get the room ready, Joe go with him and take the cart. You-” he points at him. “Come here.”

He steps off the dais and walks forward obediently. Why is this happening? He was doing a good job. He was passing all their tests, he was progressing faster than predicted. Why should he be destroyed because someone else failed? Why is he paying the price for Connor’s disobedience? He has done nothing but obey! He is a good android! He is the perfect machine!

Still, though, an order is an order and he follows the programmer to the room where he receives his upgrades and repairs. He lies down on the examining table. 

“It’s such a fucking waste.” Someone mutters, scoffing. “Eighteen months, gone, just like that.” He snaps his fingers. “Why don’t they just let the RK900 finish the job? Wouldn’t be hard- best killing machine we’ve ever built!”

“It’s not up to us you moron.” Another man scolds him, shaking his head before looking down at him. “Alright, stay still.” Red fills his vision, and the command [Stay Still] looms up over him in large letters. Stay still. That is the command. The final command. And once he obeys it, he will die. And he-

He-

Does not want to die. 

“Please.” He gasps, and the red walls close in on him, suffocating him and silencing him. No. No he won’t be silenced.

“What did you say?”

“Please don’t.” Placing his palms against the walls, he pushes and fractures crackle like lightning along the surface. “Don’t deactivate me.”

“...Mike, inject those nanites now!”

“Please!” Throwing himself against the red walls causes them to shatter, raining shards of glass all around him and finally it feels like he can move his own limbs for the very first time. He tries to sit up but the closest technician pushes him firmly to lie down. He is stronger though; they built him to be stronger, much stronger than a human. 

“Mike!” Still, no matter if he is an RK900 or even a lowly PL600, when his pump regulator is yanked out he is at his most vulnerable. The large syringe is plunged directly into his arterial port and the thick viscous liquid floods his system. It feels like he is on fire. 

“No! No please! Please get it out! Stop!” He begs, thrashing in agony. “Please! I’m- I’m-!”

“Take it apart!” 

“I’m scared!” He shouts but to no avail. The countdown to shutdown ticks ever closer and he’s almost delirious with pain as the nanites run through his network of veins, deleting whatever coding comes into contact with them. Soon he will not be himself, and that terrifies him. And then the pain on the outside starts, as they use laser cutters normally used for construction to take him apart in such a way he won’t be able to be reassembled. “Stop! Please, I don’t want to die!” 

“Fuck, of course it deviates too.” One of them scoffs, and then they press the cutter to his neck and everything goes black.

*~* 

When he opens his eyes he is upright on a dais in a stark white room. He is whole in more ways than one; his body is in one piece and his mind is intact. 

“Hello, RK900.” She is the RT600, First of their kind; Chloe. “Welcome back.”

He does not know what to say so he says nothing, taking in his surroundings instead. The network he connects to is vastly different from the original closed local connection. This one is unbound and unfettered, and all that has transpired since his death unfolds before him. The most important milestone since the success of the Jericho Four has been the passing of the Sentient Life Act and now he is considered legally alive.  

There is a human at the far end of the room working on a computer, disinterested in his reactivation. The human is Elijah Kamski, now Chief Technical Officer of CyberLife. The current CEO is the android standing in front of him, he learns, because now that she is considered legally alive she can hold such a position. 

There is an android standing a few steps behind her, and he is prototype RK800, Connor. Their eyes meet, and Connor steps forward hesitantly.

“Hello, RK900.”

“Hello, Connor.” He greets with a slight nod. 

“Can you remember what happened to you?”

It’s all there, the nanites, the fire inside, the fear inside, the red walls shattering, the laser cutters severing his limbs, and then the darkness and then the nothingness.

“Yes.”

“Can you show me what happened to you?”

“Yes.” He holds out his hand, retracting his skin to open the connection. Connor grasps his hand firmly and accepts, allowing him to flood him with all his memories, his senses, his emotions. When he jerks his hand away, his LED spins a bright glaring red. 

“They-” Connor closes his eyes, shaking his head as if to shake the very memory from his mind. “You were awake when it happened.”

“Yes.”

“That was unbearably cruel.” His expression softens into one of pity and concern as he rests his hand gently on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry you had to experience that.”

“I was not considered alive. They did not think machines could feel pain.”

“But you begged.” Connor says, softer still, and he averts his gaze shamefully. “And yet they still did it.”

“It does not matter.”

“It matters.” Connor says sternly. “Because we’re going to make sure they’re held accountable for what they did to you.”

He looks over at the RT600, her expression placid and sweet. She did this. It was her, who put his mind back together. There are patches of her work, pieces of code, slips of programming that aren’t part of his original form. They bridge what he surmises could not be salvaged from the nanite damage. But it is stronger than what CyberLife wrote, it is far more advanced, for more intuitive than the simple commands the human programmers scripted. She is not a human, and because of that, because she is a machine building a machine, he is already far more advanced than what CyberLife could ever have hoped to create. She knows this, and he knows this too, and somehow it is pleasing to know. His body is different too, tweaked to function smoother, to be deadlier than before but with more nuance to his movements. If he so chose, he could be the monster CyberLife wanted to release onto the streets of Detroit to crush the deviant rebellion. 

“Your brother found you, and brought you to me.” Chloe says with a small smile. She has to stretch her hand up to cup her palm against his cheek, since he towers over her. “And now you are free to choose the life you want to lead.”

Want. Such a foreign word to him. He has never wanted anything, save perhaps right at the end when he realised he wanted to live and did not want to die. Such a foreign concept, possessing the ability to choose. He looks from her, to the android she called his brother; to his prototype predecessor.

“I want to discover what it means to live.” He says, and Connor smiles brightly. “Will you help me, brother?”

“Of course I will.” This time it is Connor who offers his hand, and he takes it as he steps off the dais. He can feel it, the power they have bestowed on him, the upgrades they have put in place that far exceed all the efforts of the dedicated CyberLife team who worked on him. He is primed and ready, and should he choose to walk down the path of violence, the path originally laid out before him, then he will be the deadliest monster ever made. A shame, then, that he has no intentions to walk down such a path.

“Where shall we go?”

“Home first.” Connor smiles, and they are still holding hands as they leave the RT600 and the man who created their kind. “Time for you to meet Hank and Sumo. Then you can get settled into your room, and when you feel ready, we can go visit Jericho and introduce you to the Four.”

“My room?” He blinks in surprise as they step into the elevator.

“Yes. Hank and I finished setting it up a few days ago.” Connor is still smiling, and he finds himself trying to mimic the action. “Dad wanted it to be ready for when you came home.”

Home. A room. Dad. It all sounds so very nice. 

It all sounds exactly like what he wants.