#best question I’ve ever been asked it is an honor thank you anon

[lbctal]

Does Walton have big dick? Asking for a friend

wish i had the answer… 😔 but according to my calculations… absolutely.

[allylikethecat]

Can I be very cheeky and request another kiss prompt… if you feel like it I’d love prompt 23 (a kiss in relief) for Matty and George (I’ve requested a pairing this time don’t worry!!)

Ps. Have you ever considered emojis to keep track of anons? For example I sign off as ♥️ on a few other blogs

Whelp, this is it. After what feels like a very long time (or well, it's been a month, up to you if that's a long time!) I have finally come to the LAST Kiss Prompt in my Inbox! Thank you so much to all you lovely wonderful people who have sent them in! I have had so much fun working on these and am so honored that y'all liked my writing enough to request them! My inbox is always open for more requests (formal or informal) and I will always do my best to fulfill these fic requests, even if they take me a while! I'm slowly but surely posting all of the kiss prompts that I've completed on AO3, so if you want to revisit any, missed any, or want to give any some special love, they eventually will all be able to be found here. The original list of prompts can be found here! Thank you so much again to everyone who spent in a prompt!

Special thank you very much ♥️ Anon for sending this one in! I'm sorry it took me a while to get to, but I hope you enjoy it! I had no idea there were enough people who sent me asks that you guys would want to have an emoji to identify yourselves but if you want want, it's yours feel free to claim it (just not the ♥️ unless you are the newly dubbed ♥️ Anon!) Let me know what you think!

(Warnings for this prompt: Matty is involved in a single car accident swerving to avoid a deer and ends up in the hospital - when George first finds out about the accident he worries that Matty was driving drunk, however he was NOT)

❤️Ally

23. Kiss … in relief

George’s heart was racing as he made his way through the sliding door, his rain damp trainers squeaking on the polished sheet vinyl flooring as he scurried across the lobby, nearly slipping right in front of the “Wet Floor” sign. There was another man in line in front of him and he resisted the urge to tap his foot impatiently. He swallowed hard, trying to will himself to stay calm. He needed to stay calm and level headed. Matty needed him to stay calm and level headed. Only one of them was allowed to freak out at a time and George knew that it was not his turn.

The man turned away, a hospital bracelet fastened around his wrist and George felt a pang of sympathy as he watched him take a step to the side, headed towards the waiting room area. But he pushed it down, he was here under his own power, meaning it couldn’t be dire. It was his turn to speak with the receptionist. 

“I’m looking for Matthew Healy,” George said, quickly, bracing his hands on the counter, “I got a call that he was admitted.” 

“Can you spell that for me please?” the receptionist asked.

George swallowed down his irritation. “Healy, H-E-A-L-Y,” he said and the receptionist hit a few buttons on the keyboard, frowning as she looked at the screen. 

“And you are?” she asked, looking up at George, her expression bored, as if she wasn’t the only thing standing between Geroge and the love of his life. 

“Ah, George Daniel, his partner and power of attorney?” he said, hating that it sounded like a question, hating that he knew that title didn’t even begin to cover it. Matty was his soul mate, his other half, his twin flame burning, one could not exist without the other. However, he seemed to have earned her approval because she hit a few buttons on her computer and then nodded to herself. 

“He’s in room twenty oh two,” she said, “it’s through the double doors on the right, down the hall to the left,” she said.  

George barely remembered to thank her before he was running through the double doors she had indicated, watching the room numbers tick by as he looked for 2002.

He froze just outside the door, heart hammering in his chest as he tried to mentally prepare himself for what he was going to find. Was Matty going to be intubated and sedated? Was he going to be handcuffed to the bed? George swallowed hard, hating the uncertainty, hating that upon receiving the call his stomach had dropped. He hated that his first thought, even after all these years, was that Matty was drunk. Or high. Or a combination of the two.

The woman he had spoken with hadn’t been able to give him any information over the phone. Just that Matty had been involved in a single car accident and had been admitted into the hospital a little over halfway between Manchester and London. He had been driving back from visiting his mother, George hated himself as he buckled his own seatbelt that he had declined joining Matty on the trip.

He had made it to the hospital in record time, while still being careful of the heavy downpour. Worst case scenarios playing out in his mind's eye as he drove. Matty was drunk. He had to have been Geroge thought darkly. He loved Denise but also knew she would never discourage another glass of wine, he knew that Matty would never turn one down. He ran his fingers through his close cropped hair, the strands wet even from the sprint from the parking lot. He swallowed hard. He needed to rip off the bandaid. He needed to open the door. He was just terrified, uncertain, afraid of what he was going to find. 

A nurse rounded the corner and made eye contact with George, smiling up at him. “You can go in,” she said kindly, her accent thick and Scottish, seeing George’s hesitation. 

He took a deep breath, and turned the handle. 

“Oh love,” he said, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

Matty was curled up on his side, his back to the door, his dark curls, the ringlets matted together with what George hoped was water and not blood, were sticking out from the top of the blanket draped over him. He rolled over, the movement slow and careful as if it caused him great pain. 

“George?” he asked, his voice rough and wet as he sat up, blinking up at him like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I’m here, baby,” he said, moving through the doorway and deeper into the room, his legs moving on their own accord to Matty’s bedside. 

He reached out, running his hands down his skinny shoulders, his sides, checking him over as if he knew what he was looking for, as if he could pinpoint what was wrong with him, what was hiding beneath the thin hospital gown. He had a cut on his cheek, a butterfly bandage holding it together, and George was sure his chest was bruised from the seatbelt and airbags, his neck aching from the whiplash. He leaned down, pressing their lips together. He licked into Matty’s mouth, burying his fingers in the curls, holding his head steady so as not to aggravate his neck, he could taste blood from Matty’s lip, he must have bitten it during the crash. 

“You’re okay,” George whispered, eyes wide, as he pulled away, relief oozing from every pore. There was no alcohol on Matty’s tongue. “You’re okay.” 

Matty sniffled, “I’m so sorry,” he said, he was crying quietly George realized, “I fucked up,” he hiccuped, “I’m so sorry.”  

“Ssh,” said George sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling Matty into his arms. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Matty turned and buried his face against George’s chest, his breathing evening out as George ran his hand down his back, his hand hot against the cool bare skin visible between the open sides of the gown. 

“What happened, love?” George asked, wanting to hear Matty’s account before he flagged down the doctor. 

Matty sniffled and took a shaking breath. “Well,” he said wetly, “my car is fucked.” 

George bit back a laugh. “We can replace that,” he said and Matty snorted. 

“It was raining,” he said quietly, “and you know I don’t see too well at night anymore, and a deer ran out in front of the car, I tried to swerve, but I was going too fast, I just wanted to get home, and I ended up hitting a ditch on the side of the road,” he said the words coming in a rush. “And the next thing I knew the airbags went off and I was rolling down the hill.” 

He took another breath, “they said I was lucky,” he said quietly, “that I had a good car, it could have been a lot worse.” 

“So what you’re saying is we need to get you another Audi,” George said, trying to cheer Matty up, trying to make him smile, the grief and upset rolling off of him in waves making George’s heartbreak. 

“I don’t think I want to drive anywhere for a while,” Matty said softly, keeping his eyes downcast. “The doctor’s said I can’t anyway, I have a concussion.” 

“And that’s okay too,” said George, pressing another kiss to Matty’s lips in relief. “I’m just happy that you’re going to be alright.” 

[greensagephase]

🛒 and 🎨 for the ask, if you don't mind!

Hi, anon!! Thank you for the ask!!! 😊

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

I only have one fic but I have a few other short works! I guess a common theme in most of my pieces is soft, sometimes, playful Miguel. I would also say there's this casual domestic lifestyle theme going on (me trying to give Miguel simple but fulfilling moments).

Regarding feels, I tend to stick to sweet, comforting vibes and because of that I think a lot of my scenes always have some sort of intimacy between Miguel and reader. There's a lot of respect, caring, and understanding, and of course, love, even if it's on a platonic side (this is primarily for my fic as of right now).

For imagery, I always like to describe a scene's environment, so I tend to include scents like that of food, which is also a recurring theme (I feel like food can bring people together). Miguel is always somehow around food lol, and usually making it for reader because it does something to me! I tend to include sound as well, so it can be soft music in the background, or "mundane" sounds like that from cooking or a fireplace. I also love incorporating the lighting of the room, which is usually very cozy and comforting with lamps and flickering candles that lead to "dancing" shadows and coziness!

To summarize, I tend to write what I think are sweet and wholesome moments with Miguel! A lot of fluff!

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

Forgive me for screaming but IT MAKES ME FEEL SO MANY HAPPY FEELINGS!!!! I’m so so so grateful to every single artist that's created fan art of my fic!!!! There hasn’t been a single time that I’ve never not screamed out loud when I see a notification about fan art!! I truly never get used to it no matter how much time has passed since the first fan art was posted nor how much of it there is, which that alone makes me want to cry sometimes because I never imagined there would be one piece, let alone so many!!🥺

I think about this all the time and each time without failure I’m just filled with so many emotions. It’s one of the most beautiful things I've ever experienced in life in general (not even joking) and as someone who has been writing since 14 (started in wattpad and now I'm here - the progress!), this is one of the best things I've had the privilege of experiencing as a writer. I feel honored and just really happy and grateful about it, and I’m never going to forget about it even when I’m old and gray!!

Shoutout to all the beautiful and wonderful artists that have made fan art for the fic, I love you guys ❤️

Thank you for asking these questions, anon!!! 🥰

[moonjxsung]

Hello Star! I’ve been your fan for a long time but I’ve always been worried on how to firstly introduce myself to you.😅Seeing how you stand your ground for people passing your boundaries(ex: reposting your work) and are also so kind to other anons is…well I don’t really know how to say it, haha. It makes me look up to you as a writer but also as a person? You are an amazing writer and an even more amazing person! I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

(And daylight savings is also making me question my already messed up sleep schedule, haha!🥲)

Bye Star!!

-🌕🌊 anon

YOU ARE SOOOO SWEET THANK YOU SO MUCH???? 😭🫶🩷💓💕 It’s so funny, I’ve had a couple different people say that there’s such a dichotomy on this account of serious and humorous at the same time and I often forget I ever come off as serious just because I’m always joking with you guys but I’m glad we have a little bit of everything 🫶 as for my anon interactions, all I can say is how could I NOT be kind to you guys!! I’m always so baffled and honored that people even WANT to talk to me on here like there are a million different blogs and pieces of work and people not only interact with me for my work but also want to just chat about their day or build a friendship with me as a person aside from just an author and that’s SO sweet I can’t even begin to put it into words. When I was just a reader on here I used to send in asks to my favorite blogs and I always felt so happy getting responses so I do my best to make everybody feel as welcome as possible and establish a safe space for you all. We’re all part of the same fandom at the end of the day 🥹🫶 thank you so so much for the kind words and for stopping by, you’re always welcome to chat or drop in whenever you feel comfortable! And even if not, I hope you know I’m rooting for you and sending you all my love regardless! (And I hope your sleep schedule gets fixed soon, working on mine lately too 😵‍💫)

I love you angel!!!! Take care!! 👼🫶🩷💓💕⭐️🌙

[addictedtostorytelling]

Hey AJ! I hope you’re having a good Monday :)

I have a question for you, or an ask I suppose. So I know you love the Sara/Grissom relationship dynamic as much as I do (and your content has kept me endlessly entertained for what I think has been 9 years now ((I just realized this wowwwww — 19 y/o to 28 😵‍💫)) I mean, you’re basically my favorite writer, too!!! ☺️) anyway, I wondered if you’ve ever felt somewhat similar about a relationship dynamic in a book. I’m craving something like it, and I’ve been in a bit of a reading slump so anything sort of similar would be ideal - though I understand a show that’s spanned 20+ years had more time to explore said dynamic lol. I’ve read the classics and stuff but wondered if you had any recs! And if not, any book recs would do. Like I said, I’ve been in a bit of a slump :/

And again, if you have none that’s fine too! Just wanted to ask!! Thank you 😊

hi, anon!

thank you for your kind words! you've been following my content for nine years? wow! i'm honored, truly. thank you for being part of my little corner of the internet! ❤

as for your question, i can't say i've ever felt similarly about any literary dynamic as i have about gsr.

albeit gsr is my otp to end otps, so they're kind of in a class of their own for me, regardless of medium—especially because, as you mention, they are pretty unique in their construction, as a 20+-year primetime tv romance slow burn. there's just nothing really like them out there!

while there are a few literary dynamics that evince particular aspects of gsr for me, almost all of them come from classic literature, so you're probably already familiar with the texts (e.g., odysseus & penelope from the odyssey by homer, hamlet & ophelia from hamlet by william shakespeare, just the general vibes of a lot of regency and victorian-era romantic pairings as in the works of jane austen and the brontë sisters, etc.)—and none of them is really a full match anyhow.

meanwhile, i don't tend to read a lot of contemporary fiction where romance features heavily in the plot.

all of the above so, i can't really think of any "similar to gsr" book recs for you.

the best i can do is just something more general.

i don't know what type of books you usually tend to read, but one book i do enjoy that does feature romance—not at all like gsr in its particulars, except that the two characters involved do start out both doubting their own lovability and come to find acceptance and affirmation in each other—is the shipping news by annie proulx.

it's a realistic fiction novel about a single american father who, after a family tragedy, moves to a remote fishing community in newfoundland, canada with his two young daughters and takes a job with a local newspaper.

though the romantic plot isn't the main one (i.e., it isn't a romance novel, just a novel that happens to feature a romance), it is ultimately quite sweet, and the book itself is well-written. for me, it was a highly enjoyable read.

of course, i should probably say something here about how because i am in my life outside of the internet a creative writing professor, the things that make a story enjoyable to me tend to have more to do with the author's craft practices than anything else. i don't really have any preferences when it comes to genres or settings in fiction; i just want the author to do what i would consider to be cool shit with their language, and i'm good to go. your mileage may (and probably will) vary, depending on your tastes.

anyway, since i struck out on offering you anything even remotely gsr-like with my rec, i will put your question out to anyone else who cares to chime in:

does anyone know of any books with gsr-esque dynamics in them for my dear anon? if so, could you share them in the replies?

please and thank you!

good luck, anon! i hope you're able to find something enjoyable to read to get you out of your slump. ❤

[callmethehunter]

I've read a few fics by different authors about Robert, and I'm kinda confused. They portray him in different ways, so what's his personality like in different aspects? I know that he's extroverted (I saw him getting typed as an ENFJ) and extra, and has a warm heart, but what about his flirtiness and apparent hedonism? How does his rural ideals contrast with touring? I know people are multifaceted and no one's flawless, but I still wanna know some things for certain.

Oh dear Anon, you have made my day! These are great questions about my favorite subject in the world: Robert Plant.:D And as far as that goes, I could (and will) go on and on about this forever, I’ve got so much to say!!

I’ve been obsessed with Robert’s music as well as with his personal life for years. I find him to be a multifaceted, highly talented and intelligent person who embodies traits that one would think were mutually exclusive, yet are somehow at home in him. He is without a doubt, totally outrageous and extroverted, he wants to be the center of attention, yet he is also reclusive, a deep thinker who is keenly aware of the world around him while also being introspective and self-aware. In his own words he has said

“It's part of me to get off on those moments where... well, what people would call attention. Obviously, that isn't the be-all and end-all of life, but at the states of creativity that I've reached, well, it helps the lyrics along a little bit.”

“ I’m pleased with how ridiculous I am. I like me. Though I’m not a huge fan. I know when to switch me off.”

I do think he has a very warm heart. He is genuinely interested in other people, in experiencing the most out of any given situation.

In my opinion, he loves the idea and the feeling of falling in love. He gets off more on that than on the longevity of it. It’s like he’s got ADHD in the aspect of love lol!! I say this because of the number of serious relationships (and not so serious relationships) that he has had in his life. I’m sure he was saddened when they ended, but then he’s moved on to the next great infatuation and adventure. He’s quite capable of starting again, as he has shown multiple times both in his personal and professional life. But I also think it’s a testimony to his heart that he’s been able to continue to be friends with his past loves. “There have been people I've warmed to over the years but, as the situation I'm in is so fleeting and transient, I've always known it's going to be over kind of real quick.”

I mean think about this: after having children with two sisters, Maureen (his exwife) and Shirley, they have been able to raise their children in what looks like a loving extended family. His sons, Logan (with Maureen) and Jesse (with Shirley), are half-brothers as well as first cousins. Just think on that for a moment. In a recent picture, there’s the entire family on vacation: Maureen, Shirley and their children with Robert, as well as Robert and a previous girlfriend, Jessica something or other (don’t remember her name). He’s not confined to societal conventions. He could give a flying fuck. I love that free spirit and he himself has said (and I paraphrase) that he may come across as being a good mate, but in reality he’s out to do whatever the fuck he wants. (And it shows!! )

He says, “...if you do what you think is right for the benefit of everybody and everything and you make decisions, then to go back and regret them afterwards - it's a futile experience and it's not worth thinking about. Because life just unfolds. Provided you do your best and you think you're on the right track, you can only be right or wrong. But to regret it - I don't think there are any huge errors or misdemeanors.”

In the area of friendship, however, he is fiercely loyal. He and Bonzo were like brothers till the end, and even still, Robert honors his dear friend. He’s also been able to maintain friendships with so many people from his hometown- people he knew before he was famous. He puts away the trappings of fame and fortune to be the good old Black Country boy, riding horses and playing with goats, walking around in the forests and enjoying nature.

“I think I could sing and shear a few sheep at the same time.” he says. He is the picture of the word “earthiness”. Able to be the rock god on stage as well as the humble farmer on the farm or at the local pub. He’s loyal to his soccer team and to the sport itself which has been a lifelong passion. I love that in him.

Is he a hedonist? Absolutely!! he has tasted every pleasure there is to taste. His every material wish could be a reality in an instant...He has done drugs, had hundreds of one night stands. He is a highly sensual man. IMO the sexiest man that’s ever walked the planet. His sizeable bulge perpetually stands as a symbol (no pun intended) of his virility and lust (and I like it!!) He exudes charisma and raw sexual energy. He’s done it all to the highest level, partied and cavorted around the globe. What a life he’s lived!!

But he is also soulful- in his lyrics there is also a deep spiritual side of him: I think he is a modern day troubadour and philosopher. His lyrics touch on that, “it is the springtime of my loving” ….“In the light you will find the road” “when all is one and one is all” “Then as it was, then again it will be, though the course may change sometimes, rivers always reach the sea” and I could go on and on with other examples. These are just what popped in my head. “I am a reflection of what I sing. Sometimes I have to get serious because the things Ive been through are serious” He’s experienced moments where he is the “golden god” as well as tragic moments such as the loss of his 5 year old son and the loss of his dear friend Bonzo. These are definitely reflected in his music.

And finally, in his own words:

“I'm like one of those firecrackers that goes off in your pocket occasionally. I'm not really struggling with it as much as the people around me. But at least I'm not doing too much damage to anybody or to myself. It's just the condition I'm aware of."

And he’s still got a twinkle in him and always will.

Thank you for letting me go and on about this man, he holds such a special place in my heart. He is a beautiful and joyous old hippie full of wisdom and talent. He has created a lasting legacy and I hold the deepest admiration for him, despite his human frailties or shortcomings.

If you have read this far, you deserve a kiss and a medal! Thanks so much for this ask!!

[mediocre-writerr]

invisible string [quinn fabray]

quinn fabray x reader

requested by anon: Hey, I love your writing and I loved Quinn Fabray's miniseries. Could you do a sequel to "Betty", maybe Quinn and the reader meeting in episode 100 and giving them a second chance? I would love :)

pt.1  pt.2 pt.3

*not my gif*

There was once a old folklore. It once said that everyone had an invisible string tying one to their soulmate.

A simpler term for it would be fate.

That everyone decision, good or bad, would lead you to that one person.

The invisible gold string would drag you out of the wrong arms, wrapped all of your past mistakes, and chained your demons back. The one single thread would lead them to you, no matter how far you’ve strayed.

Not many people believe in it anymore because of the time. The time that it takes for the invisible string to tie one another together took far too long, maybe that’s why you didn’t believe anymore.

There you were back at McKinley High School. When Mr. Shue told you that the glee club was shutting down and you were having one last hoorah, you did not hesitate to book a first flight home.

Walking down the hallway with your classic olive green cardigan that made you feel like you seventeen again and straight back into the classroom that made you feel like home.

And there she was the beautiful blonde who held your heart and dropped it all at once, “Y/N,” she let out a breath as her eyes caught on yours.

“Hey Quinn,” you told her with a shy smile, “Long time no see,”

“Yeah, how has college at Penn State?” she asked as the two of you made small conversation in the middle of the choir room.

You shrugged, “It’s been nice, I don’t know if it’s everything I’ve dreamed it would be, but it’s good. How’s Yale?”

The two of you didn’t live far, it wasn’t all the way across the country. It was driving across a few state lines, but you never hung out. In fact, you barely talked after the two of you had broken up.

“Good, good. It uh feels like I’m missing something, but I don’t think I would change my decision,” she told you and you nodded.

She was about to say something else when you heard someone scream your name, “Y/N!” Sam yelled as he rushed over towards you.

You broke out into a big smile as he picked you up from off the ground, spinning you around and around. You let out a hearty laugh as he set you down.

“I’ve missed you!” he told you as he let go.

You smiled, “I’ve missed you too, bud. I wish our third musketeer was still here with us,” you said with a sad smile.

He let out a sigh, “I know, me too,” he turned to Quinn who looked hurt and jealous at the same time. Do you know why? No, but she always has been hard to read.

“Hey Quinn,” he said, giving her a tight hug.

She hugged him back with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Hey Sam, I’m gonna go catch up with Mercedes. I’ll catch the two of you later,”

You and Sam looked at each other with furrowed brows before eventually shrugging it off.

You thought that coming back here would bring back loads of bad memories from the cheating to the heartbreak to losing Finn, but it didn’t. As the day went on you remembered why you fell in love with her in the first place.

The way she sang, so full of heart. When she crinkled her nose as she smiled. Or how big her heart is for people she actually lets in.

And at first you weren’t too sure, but when the nostalgia of the club forced you guys to sing your iconic duet, it just hit you harder than before.

“I think we need the iconic rendition of Everything Has Changed from Quinn and Y/N,” Mercedes admitted and your heart immediately stopped.

You looked at Quinn who was already staring at you, like she was seeking approval, “Let’s give the people what they want,”

You grabbed your guitar playing the soft acoustic intro, as she stood on the opposite side of the room, both of you unable to look away from the other.

“All I knew, this morning when I woke is I know something now, know something now, I didn’t before. And all I’ve seen since eighteen hours ago is green eyes and freckles in your smile in the back of my mind, making me feel like,” she began to sing and you forgot how soothing her voice was. Like everything in the world kind of faded away at the sound of her voice.

As the song went on the two of you closed the gap between you until you were face to face. The only thing separating the two of you was the guitar that was wrapped across your body.

“All I know is we said ‘hello’ and your eyes look like coming home. All I know is a simple name and everything has changed. All I know is you held the door, you’ll be mine and I’ll be yours. All I know since yesterday is everything has changed,” the two of you sang.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her only doing so when they averted to her lips. Like two puzzle pieces that were supposed to fit together, you were about to connect when the sound of clapping tore you from each other. And with one last lingering look, you broke the gaze as everyone was clapping and smiling like we were all seventeen again.

You didn’t know what to do though. Finn was usually the one to give you advice, but he wasn’t here, so you did the second best thing. The boys locker room was empty as his football jersey hung proudly on the wall. The big number five just staring back at you.

“Hey buddy, I’m in kind of a dilemma right now,” you told him honestly, “And I really wish you were actually here to tell me what to do. You were always good at that,”

He probably would’ve chuckled at what you said, recalling the time where he told you to not eat that funnel cake on senior ditch day before the rollercoaster, but you did anyway and puked all over his shoes.

“I think I’m still in love with Quinn and that absolutely terrifies me. I don’t want to get hurt again,” you whispered, tears staring to sting your eyes when you realize he’s not gonna be there to hug you.

“I’ve been so scared to put myself back out there and when I do it just feels like no one compares to him. And God I wish you could be here right now to tell me what to do because you would know, you always did,”

That’s when you heard someone clear their throat. You looked to find the source of the noise, seeing Coach Beiste standing there next to the office door.

“Hey pumpkin, do you mind if I sit here?” she asked as she pointed to the empty seat on the bleacher.

All you did was nod, before wiping your eyes, “I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to be here,”

“Eh it’s okay. You aren’t the first girl who’s come in here to talk to him,” she told you with a shrug.

“Rachel come in here too?” you asked.

She shook her head, “Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ in the word, “Quinn, turns out she needed advice of her own and she asked him a question,”

“About?” you asked, curiously.

“I can’t tell you that,” she confessed. 

“Hey Finn,” Quinn told him, staring at the jersey that was hanging on the wall, “God I don’t think I ever stopped loving her. Actually I know I never stopped loving her, but I’m so scared Finn. I don’t know if she’ll give me a shot or anything, but I don’t want to hurt her,” she confessed.

There was a moment of silence, before she continued on again. 

“I’m so scared that I’m gonna hurt her again and she doesn’t deserve that. But if I don’t tell her how I feel then she’s gonna be the one who got away,” she contemplated it for herself for a second, “Do I have your blessing to love her again? I know how much she meant to you. If you do give me a sign, anything,” 

She sat there on the bench for a moment before something fell off the shelf. She let our a teary laugh, “Thank you,” 

After a little more time she left the room as Coach Beiste left her office to pick up the towel that she dropped. 

“I know I’m not Finn, but do you mind if I give you some advice?”

“Please, I really need it right now,”

She smiled, rubbing your back, “Go for it. If Finn was here he’d tell you something like ‘don’t give up on something that would be good for you’. And I bet if he could come down here right now and tell you one piece of advice it would be dont take life for granted. Don’t let the love of your life slip away like he did. I think that was his one big regret, not being with Rachel before he passed. I think he wants you to be happy,”

“And my advice the two of you are mature now. All of the negative emotions and feelings are easier to talk out now. So talk and just go for it, life’s too short to waste another second,” she told you and you smiled at her with teary eyed.

“I miss him,” I whispered, staring back at the jersey on the wall. 

“Me too, pumpkin, me too,” 

After a few more minutes, you hopped back onto your feet and went to find Quinn. You searched every hallway and every classroom for Quinn, but came up empty. Until you found her outside by the football field. There was a little tree made out in his honor, she was looking at it, just staring, contemplating everything.

“Quinn!” you shouted and her head shot up to the name of her voice.

You were making a bee-line straight for her, “Y/N are you-” but you cut her off and kissed her. Your hands grasping her cheeks and pulling her towards you. 

The two of you pulled away and looked at each other, “Everyone deserves a second chance,” 

“Are you sure?” she asked you, a small smile on her face.

“Very, very sure,” 

The invisible string tied her to you. 

[angeltreasure]

Hello friend, sorry if this is a silly question but could you explain what the Eucharist is and why it is important? I’m in the beginning of my journey and feel so overwhelmed by google. Have a beautiful day 😊💛

I’ve been saving this ask for a while so this is so exciting! I apologize for my lateness. I usually answer right away but we have had trouble with the WiFi setting up. Anyway! Welcome Anon!!! I am so excited for your faith journey!! Welcome. 😊🙏🏻

Don’t worry, this isn’t a silly question at all. No, it’s a very good question! I am a Catholic, so I will be explaining my Christian denomination believes what the Eucharist is. In fact, this is a VERY important topic to learn about. I will give you my answer then give you some quotes and videos. Hope you enjoy.

The Eucharist IS Jesus Christ. You know how traffic lights are different colors? Red for stop, yellow to caution; slow down, and green for go? Well, you must understand if you choose to join the Catholic Church that the Eucharist is not a symbol. Although the appearance is a wafer bread and tastes like one, it is not plain like a traffic signal. When a priest blesses the host at a Catholic mass, the host transforms into the body of Jesus Christ. You will not see Jesus appear in the priest hand when he raises the host up for that blessing, and you will not taste human flesh when you eat of it. The veil between this world we live in and the afterlife block us so the appearance and taste remain as a wafer host but the substance has really changed into the body of Jesus Christ. Eating the bread means Christ becomes a part of us and makes us stronger in faith! ♥️

Here’s what the Bible says about the Eucharist, taken from my favorite New Testament book called Matthew. I will color the specific verse in the story as red to help you understand what we believe. In the story, Jesus and His disciples were preparing to find a place for Passover. There is a lot to unpack since you are very new to the faith, so I will skip right to the verses of what Jesus spoke. [Passover: “Passover is a Jewish holiday that honors the freedom and exodus of the Israelites (Jewish slaves) from Egypt during the reign of the Pharaoh Ramses II. Before the ancient Jews fled Egypt, their firstborn children were "passed over" and spared from death, thus dubbing the holiday "Passover."”]

….. “While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” - Matthew 26:26-29

You see, at this point in time, His disciples did not fully understand the mystery surrounding what was to come. After this night, Jesus was betrayed by Judas (one of His followers) gave His life to die on the cross. In doing so, He saved us from the punishment of all of our sins and opened the gates to Heaven. Back in the past, animals were often given up a sacrifice. Jesus Himself was the perfect sacrificial lamb for slaughter in order to save us from death. This image is the very best that I love that describes the Eucharist Transubstantiation.

I love this one too…

So when you eat the blessed Eucharist and drink the blessed wine done by a Catholic priest, you really do consume the substance that is Jesus’s body, blood, soul, and divinity. Ever hear that phrase, “you are what you eat”? When we consume Jesus, that doesn’t mean we are cannibals, become God, or re-sacrifice Jesus. It means we become a better reflection of Jesus.

Catholics believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist because Jesus tells us this is true in the Bible: ““No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them, and I will raise them up at the last day. It is written in the Prophets: ‘They will all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard the Father and learned from him comes to me. Very truly I tell you, the one who believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which anyone may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” Then the Jews began to argue sharply among themselves, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Your ancestors ate manna and died, but whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.” He said this while teaching in the synagogue in Capernaum. On hearing it, many of his disciples said, “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?” Aware that his disciples were grumbling about this, Jesus said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you see the Son of Man ascend to where he was before! The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you—they are full of the Spirit and life. Yet there are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus had known from the beginning which of them did not believe and who would betray him. He went on to say, “This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless the Father has enabled them.” From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.” John 6:44-66

Fun facts!!!:

Eucharist: “is a transliteration of the Greek word eucharistia, which is itself a translation of the Hebrew word berekah. All three words have the meaning of thanksgiving, or praise for the wonderful works of God.”

Bethlehem: the city where Jesus was born means “House of Bread”!

Transubstantiation: “the conversion of the substance of the Eucharistic elements into the body and blood of Christ at consecration, only the appearances of bread and wine still remaining.”

I saw a poll that only one third of Catholics really believe in Transubstantiation. If you decide in your journey to become part of the Catholic Church, please do not ever forget the words Jesus spoke about Himself to His people and those who read today. He truly is present as the Eucharist and wine.

Did you know there is evidence that the Eucharist is truly Jesus?! They are called Eucharistic Miracles. There are sooo many stories from around the world of bleeding Eucharists that scientists and such have actually tested in their labs to find real they had human blood down to a specific blood type AND material evidence of finding human heart tissue not healthy and strong but distressed! Blessed Carlo Acutis (a young man that passed away that is currently in the process of sainthood here on Earth) created an amazing website that collected examples of Eucharistic Miracles. (See link below.) This subject itself is just extra icing on the cake but don’t fall down the rabbit hole so you don’t feel overwhelmed.

Bishop Barron on the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist

Explaining the Faith - The Eucharist In Scripture

Explaining the Faith - Eucharistic Miracles: Scientific Proof

The Veil Removed, what really happens during a Catholic Mass

I could give you so much more but this was just so wonderful to be able to teach you. Know that it’s ok to feel overwhelmed. The topic of what the Eucharist really is and why it is so important is so rich in history and traditions. I hope I was able to satisfy your curiosity. If you ever have any more questions about it, I highly recommend reading sections about it in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (revised edition) but more importantly, reach out to a Catholic priest or bishop by calling them, e-mailing, or even dropping by in person. I am not part of the clergy at all, so talking to a Catholic priest or bishop, you will be able to answer any more questions you have to the Eucharist and they will explain it so well. If you are interested in wanting to know more about the Catholic Faith, I strongly suggest asking about the RCIA, free classes offered by your nearest Catholic Church which will allow you to explore what the Catholic Faith is and answer any questions you have. No pressure though, but just know we are here for you. I am so happy you were chosen as well by God! I will pray that you have a wonderful, exciting journey! God bless and you have a wonderful day/night as well.

[4stars-uswnt]

You Take My Heart Away [Kelley O’Hara x Reader]

requested by anon: Kelley O’Hara x reader where reader gets into a fist fight but she’s like I won’t throw the first punch bc I’ll finish it and like she gets teased by the team but Kelley is mad at reader for it bc R could’ve gotten hurt but it was still cool

requested by anon: Can we get another Kelley O’Hara x reader doesn’t have to be anything specific just maybe along the lines of them both being crazy and maybe oblivious

A/N: i decided to combine these two prompts! hope y’all enjoy it. also bonus points to anybody who gets the title reference (there’s a lil connection to a reference within the story)

warnings: homophobic and sexist language, violence, and swearing

Conversation was flowing and music was playing in the background of the bar, as the USWNT finished up their first round of drinks and appetizers. The team had pushed together a couple of tables, where you all were now sitting, laughing at each other’s jokes.

The air was light, victory and celebration filling the atmosphere. Megan and Ashlyn had been the ones to suggest a night out after your win against Japan, not only to celebrate the 2-0 victory but also to celebrate Lindsey’s birthday that was in the next couple of days.

You were currently sitting next to your best friend, Kelley O’Hara, bridging the gap between the veterans and the youngsters.

“Anybody want another drink?” Alex asks, pushing her chair back, as she moves to get up.

A chorus of yeses ring out, the team’s orders ringing out.

“I’ll help you with that, Al.” You stand up from your seat, giving the other woman a warm smile.

Once the two of you had left for the bar, the rest of the team began interrogating Kelley, who let her eyes follow you as you moved through the crowd.

“Kel,” Ash calls out over the noise of the music. “When are you gonna admit to (Y/N) that you’re hopelessly in love with her?”

“What?” Kelley sputters, flustered.

Megan rolls her eyes at the defender. “It’s so obvious that you’ve had a crush on her for the past like six years, and a blind person can see that she likes you too.”

“I- I’m not in love with (Y/N).” Kelley’s face flushes, as she rubs the back of her neck nervously. “She’s my best friend.”

“Kelley,” Christen softly chimes in,, hoping to talk some sense in her friend she’s known since college. “You guys obviously have feelings for each other that go beyond friendship, and you’ve been dancing around them for years. We just want you two to be happy.”

Many of the women nod and voice their agreement.

“But what if it ruins our friendship and I lose her forever?” The freckled defender bites her lip nervously.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Christen gives her a knowing look. “Even if she didn’t reciprocate those feelings, she’s not gonna cut you out of her life.”

“And Kel,” Tobin adds on. “You never know until you ask her. And who knows? The risk of putting your heart out there may be worth it. But you’re just gonna live in the dark haunted by the unknown and what ifs unless you tell her how you feel.”

“I hate that you’re philosophical insights are usually right,” Kelley huffs.

Meanwhile, as the team holds their intervention for your best friend, you and Alex were at the bar ordering another round of drinks.

As you were waiting for the bartender, you and Alex were engaged in your own conversation, when you hear a boisterous voice interrupt you.

“Hey! It’s Alex Morgan!” A large man approaches the two of you, holding a half-full cup of beer in his hand, and you have a feeling he’s downed a couple pints already.

You sense Alex tense up next to you, as she gives the stranger a tight smile. “Hello.”

“Oh, and who’s this?” He turns to you, a leering grin on his face, making your insides turn. You reach for Alex’s hand in search of comfort but also as a protective gesture.

“Is she your girlfriend?” The man looks back at the star forward. “I hear your entire team is full of d*kes, but I didn’t think you were one. You’re way too hot to be a d*ke.”

Alex’s grip on your hand tightens, as anger radiates off of her. “I’m actually happily married.” She raises her left hand to show off her ring.

“Woah.” The stranger lets out a low whistle, his eyes slowly widening before he squinting to get a better look, as his movements impaired by the alcohol. “That is quite the rock. How’d you afford that with your pay? I’ve heard all about your team’s fight for equal pay and all that. I personally think it’s a load of crap. You guys aren’t even that good at soccer, and it’s so boring. The only thing that makes your games interesting is your smoking hot bodies.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust at this man’s blatant misogyny. “I’m surprised you know about our equal pay fight. I’d think it’d be too complicated for your thick skull,” you quip, throwing the insult right in his face.

“Ooooo feisty, are we?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “And where do you get off calling me dumb?”

“I’m just calling them as I see them,” you simply state, letting go of Alex’s hand, as you move to stand in front of her protectively. “Where do you get off disrespecting women and being a bigot?”

“(Y/N/N), it’s not worth it,” Alex whispers in your ear.

“I’d listen to your friend,” the man sneers and stands up straighter, slightly sobering up. “Because I’m not afraid to hit a girl, especially a mouthy one like you. Women like you deserve to be put in your place.”

“Go on then,” you challenge, probably a stupid decision on your part, but the adrenaline is rushing and you are at your wits end with this man in front of you. “I dare you.”

You thank all the gods in the universe that the stupid stranger was actually stupid enough to try and throw a punch with his blood-alcohol level because you can see his punch coming from a mile away.

Before his fist can make contact with your face, you grab his hand and twist his arm, leaning in closely to his face. “Is that all you got? My mom hits better than you.” You smirk.

“Let go of me, you bitch,” he growls, snatching his arm out of your grasp.

“Wait, I have one more thing,” you call out.

“What the hell are you talk-”

Before he can finish, you cut him off, rather your fist cuts him off. The man in front of you had been testing your patience and had used up all your grace, which, in your opinion, warranted a punch in the face.

You can’t help but wince at the sharp pain shooting through your hand upon the contact, but the cracking sound of his nose eases some of your discomfort.

By now, the rest of the team had become worried by your prolonged absence and then had noticed the commotion this stranger was stirring. Hearing the raised voices coming from your direction, many of the veterans, including Kelley, Christen, Tobin, Ash, Ali, and Megan, made their way over to where Alex was currently holding you back from unleashing your anger on this drunk man.

“What is going on here?” Becky asks, surveying the situation in front of her.

“This asshole was insulting Al and then had the audacity to continue being a sexist pig,” you spit out, directing your words at the man, who was still holding his bloody nose, while Alex was doing her best to keep you under wraps.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Ashlyn states firmly.

As the goalie, along with Becky, Megan, and Ali, coax the stranger into leaving you alone, and hopefully leaving the club, Alex, Christen, Tobin, and Kelley try and calm you down.

“(Y/N/N),” Christen soothes, cupping your face. “I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath.” The curly-haired forward inhales and exhales, motioning for you to mimic her actions.

You take a deep breath, and upon exhaling, you feel the tension, along with the adrenaline, leave your body.

“Shit,” you sigh. “My hand.”

You lift your right hand, revealing your split knuckles on which bruises were starting to form.

“Come on, Sylvester.” Tobin claps your shoulder, letting out an amused chuckle. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, and on the way, you can tell us all about your heroics.”

You amusedly roll your eyes and lean into the other woman’s side.

As the team gathers their things, ready to call it a night after the turn of events, Megan approaches you, holding out a bag of ice.

“Here, (Y/N), the bartender gave me this for your hand.”

“Thanks, P.” You place the cool ice on your knuckles, hissing at the temperature shock.

On the way back to the hotel, many of your teammates were interrogating you about what had happened back at the bar. After telling the entire story, you received many hoots and hollers from the rest of the team.

“Damn (Y/N)!” Ash whistles. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Way to protect our honor,” Rose gushes, as many of the women nod along.

“Thank you, (Y/N), for defending me,” Alex says sincerely.

“Of course, Al. Anytime.” You give the forward a warm smile.

“Who knew (Y/N) could be such a badass?!” Emily exclaims with an impressed look on her face. “Kel, did you know that your best friend was a secret badass?”

While the rest of the girls had been teasing you about your heroic actions, your best friend had been oddly quiet.

“News to me.” Kelley answers shortly, her face hard and distant. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wondering if the defender was mad at you. You thought she would’ve been proud of you for standing up for the team and putting a sexist douchebag in his place.

Before going back to entertaining your teammates’s jokes and questions, you make a mental note to talk to her once you get back to the hotel, silently thanking Vlatko for rooming the two of you together this camp.

You would never in a million years admit it, but you were harboring a huge crush for your best friend, had been for the past six years, ever since you’d joined the national team. Not only did you not want to ruin your friendship and end up losing Kelley, but you knew she would never return your feelings.

Over the past several years that you’d been friends with the defender, you’d seen Kelley go in and out of relationships, and comparing yourself to her other girlfriend’s, you had a feeling you weren’t her type.

You also had reservations due to the fact that Kelley was your teammate, and you didn’t want to change the team dynamic, especially if the two of you didn’t work out.

Thoughts of Kelley clouded your mind all the way back to the hotel, only further exacerbated by her deafening silence.

Upon arriving to the hotel lobby, before you all disperse to your rooms, Alex gives you another hug and thanks you again, and Becky, ever the mother of the group, gives you a warning.

“Make sure to ice on and off. 20 minutes. You know the drill, (Y/L/N). Kelley, make sure she takes care of that hand.”

“Don’t worry about me, Becks. I got it,” you reassure the veteran defender, giving her a mock salute.

Following Kelley, you cautiously enter the hotel room. You nervously watch the other women move around the room, as she silently goes about her usual nighttime routine. Taking the hint that she wasn’t going to talk to you anytime soon, you go about your own routine and get ready for bed.

After about twenty minutes later, after both of you had showered, you were finishing wrapping your hand and were about to get into bed, when you noticed Kelley discretely staring at your bandaged hand.

Unable to tolerate the silence anymore, you break the tension. “Okay, what is up with you?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Kel,” you sigh, plopping down on the side of her bed. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder ever since what happened at the bar. Are you mad at me?”

“Nope. Not mad,” Kelley hums slightly passive aggressively, still not looking up from her book.

You roll your eyes, frustrated by your best friend’s childish behavior. “Kelley, I know when you’re lying, and I know that you’re mad at me right now, so would you please just look at me?!”

Sensing the exasperation and frustration in your voice, Kelley closes and sets down her book. “Fine, you’re right. I am mad at you.”

You thought you’d feel relieved, hearing her confirm your suspicions, but instead, the pressure in your chest increases.

“Why? What did I do?” You practically beg, scooting up the bed, so you’re closer to the other woman.

“As if you don’t know,” she scoffs.

Confused, you tilt your head. “I clearly don’t. Kel, please talk to me, tell me what I did.”

“You literally punched a dude in the face!”

“Yeah, but he deserved it, Kel! You heard the things he was saying,” you defend. “I couldn’t just let him get away with talking about our team like that. I thought you’d be proud of me for standing up to a sexist asshole like him.”

“I am proud, sort of. I mean that was completely badass and totally warranted, not that I necessarily expected that from you, and I’m glad you put him in his place,” Kelley babbles. “But that’s not the point, (Y/N/N). You were reckless tonight. You could’ve gotten hurt!”

Your face softens at her outburst. Taking a deep breath, Kelley confesses, “I love you, (Y/N). I’m in love with you, and I just can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt, especially by some drunk idiot who doesn’t know shit about football or respecting women.”

Your eyes widen and your heart practically stop, when you process the words that have come out of your best friend’s mouth.

“(Y/N), please say something,” Kelley begs.

“You’re in love with me?” You test the words on your mouth.

“Yeah,” she sighs contently, giving you a soft smile. “Have been for the past eight years.”

“Gosh, we really are idiots.” You let out a wet chuckle, shaking your head.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you, too, Kel,” you rasped, your voice laced with pure emotion. “I’ve loved you since my first camp.”

“Wow,” Kelley scoffs, an amused grin playing on her face. “Are we really that oblivious?”

“Apparently so.” You shrug. “But we’re here now.”

“Yeah, we are.” The freckled woman softens. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod eagerly, leaning in to meat the other woman’s lips. The kiss is nothing like you’d dreamed of; it’s better. It’s soft and tender, full of love and passion. You melt into each other, as your lips move together in harmony.

Not wanting things to get too heated, especially not before you’ve talked about what this meant for the future of your relationship, you pull away, resting your forehead against hers.

“Hi,” you whisper, smiling like a fool.

“Hey,” Kelley murmurs softly, returning your smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She takes your hand, kissing your wrapped knuckles. “But please don’t be getting into any more bar fights.”

“Hey! I would never start a fight, however I have no problem finishing them.” You smirk, boasting slightly triumphantly.

Kelley rolls her eyes playfully, but then looks into your eyes. “I mean it, (Y/N). I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. So no more fights alright?”

“I promise, Kel.” You give her a chaste kiss.

“Good.”

That night, you stay in Kelley’s bed, cuddling into her side. As you slowly drift into a peaceful sleep, you notice the woman next to you is already fast asleep.

You sigh contently, and you can’t help but feel extremely lucky that even after all these years, and everything that’s happened, life still led you to this woman and a love worth fighting for.

[melzula]

The Beginning of the End

pairing: Zuko x Princess! reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death, fluff

summary: in which the Princess learns what became of her father and turns to Zuko for comfort (requested by anon)

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

“Y/n,” your mother calls gently from your doorway. “The ships are leaving, come say goodbye to your father.”

“No.”

“Princess, he’s your father,” she chides gently. “I know you have your differences-“

“Differences?! He forbid me from water bending and he forbid me from ever seeing Zuko again!”

“Little otter penguin, try to understand that your father only has your best interests at heart. He loves you, and if you don’t say goodbye you’re going to regret it.”

“I won’t regret anything,” you insist stubbornly. “Besides, there’s no point in saying goodbye when we both know he’s going to come back.”

The White Lotus campsite is relatively quiet despite the number of members it inhabits, most of them gifting you friendly smiles or passing glances of acknowledgement as you weave through the tents in search of any familiar faces. With Aang having disappeared, you’re only hope in defeating the Fire Lord now rests upon Iroh, hence your group’s presence on the campgrounds. Zuko has left in search of his Uncle, and though you wished to see the kind old man again after having been apart for so long you knew it was something the prince had to do on his own. Besides, you had your own questions that needed answering and didn’t have much time to waste as you sought after any water tribe member who might have information on the whereabouts of your father.

Your search efforts are halted by the hand that rests itself firmly upon your shoulders, and though your first instinct is to pull the water from the air around you in preparation for a fight you’re quick to relax as you see it’s none other than Pakku. An apologetic smile forms on your features as you grant the old man and longtime family friend a tight hug.

“The last time I saw you you were barely learning how to walk, and now here you are pulling water out of thin air like a true bending master,” he comments with a laugh. “It’s good to see you again, y/n.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” you reply with a watery smile before pulling out of the hug to look at the man before you. Your grandfather and Pakku had been good friends in their younger days, and before the war he had often visited to teach water bending to the boys in your tribe, but then your grandfather had died and Pakku stopped coming. It was comforting to see a familiar face, but you were starting to dread the truth that would come with your question. What if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear?

“You’re troubled,” he says carefully, “what can I do to help?”

“My father... Have you heard what’s become of him? Is he back home in the south?”

Pakku’s eyes soften then, sympathetic and remorseful, but he doesn’t answer your question, not right away. Instead he guides you towards your tent and takes you inside to discuss the matter privately. Once you’ve seated yourself on the ground Pakku reaches into his robe and pulls out a familiar item from his sleeve.

“Do you recognize this?”

“Father’s tiger shark tooth necklace,” you murmur quietly as Pakku places the piece of jewelry into your open palm. The tooth is jagged and sharp though worn around the edges from the many years it’s spent hanging from your father’s neck; it was a good luck charm given to him by your mother when they were younger, and he never went anywhere without it. “But I don’t understand...”

It’s the way in which Pakku refuses to meet your gaze that you finally understand, tears beginning to well in your eyes as you clutch the necklace tightly to your chest.

“No...”

“I’m so sorry you had to find out this way,” the man offers weekly before handing you a paper scroll. “Everything you need to know is in this letter. I’ll give you the privacy you need to read it for yourself.”

He leaves you alone to mourn in piece, and despite how desperate you are to know the last words of your father you can’t bring yourself to open the letter. Opening it makes it real, and you don’t think you can face his death. Not now, not when your friends are counting on you to be at your strongest for the arrival of the comet. Your heart is beating rapidly in your ribcage and your vision is blurry with your tears, and this time when a gentle hand rests itself upon your shoulder you collapse against the owner’s chest. Strong arms wrap around your trembling figure and encompass you in a comfortingly familiar warmth as you weep into their chest.

“Pakku sent me,” Zuko utters quietly into your hair. “What is it?”

“My father,” you whisper into the fabric of his robes, “he’s dead. He’s gone and I never even said goodbye.”

“I’m so sorry, Princess,” Zuko comforts gently. “I can’t even imagine what you must be going through right now. Is there any way I can help?”

“There’s a letter,” you sniffle as you pull away from Zuko to wipe away your freshly fallen tears. “I can’t bring myself to read it but I need to know what it says. Would you... would you read it to me?”

“O-Of course,” he replies quickly before scrambling to open the letter as you situate yourself to sit in between his legs with your back resting against his chest. With his arms around your waist and the letter held in front of the two of you, Zuko’s gentle voice slowly begins to morph into that of your father’s as you shut your eyes and listen.

“Princess,

I don’t have much time left on this earth, and I know the chances of seeing you again before my time is up are slim, so I’ve taken to writing this letter in hopes that all of your questions will be answered when I’m gone. I’ve been badly wounded in battle and with no healers available it will only be a matter of time before I pass on from this life to the next. But know that I am sorry. I’m sorry for making you become someone you weren’t, for forcing you to change when you didn’t want to, and for not being open enough to listen to your needs. I was blinded by my anger with the Fire Lord and I took it out on you and that poor boy. Love is a complicated thing, you cannot choose or help who you fall in love with, and perhaps if I had remember that then I wouldn’t have forced you to run away.

We all have a destiny in life and leaving was part of yours. There’s a greater world out there for you to explore; a good leader requires knowledge, and as future leader of the Southern Water Tribe it is your duty to obtain it. Learn to love, learn to be brave, learn to be kind, and learn to be forgiving. We didn’t get to say goodbye and that’s alright, we’ll have our time together again in the next life, so don’t let this slow you down. I know you’re going to do great things, my sweet daughter. I’ll always be with you in spirit, and you’ll always have my support. It is an honor to be your father, my brave little water bender.

It’s all up to you now. With love, your father Tukon.”

The air is silent as your father’s voice fades away and all that is left behind is the sound of your quiet sniffling and Zuko’s gentle breathing. You want to cry but for some reason the tears don’t come, and instead being filled with devastating loss and regret you are filled with a small warmth that fills your heart with love and appreciation. Your father is with you now, you can feel it, and in this moment that is enough.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, showing your gratitude to both your father and Zuko as he holds you close to his chest in the safety of your tent.

~~~

You wake to the smell of freshly cooked porridge, a smiling Zuko sitting beside your bed as he holds the bowl of breakfast in his hands to maintain its warmth while you rise.

“Good morning,” his raspy voice greets you. “How are you feeling?”

Memories from the previous night flood back to you all at once, and your boyfriend doesn’t miss the way in which you immediately reach up to clasp the tiger shark tooth hanging from your neck tightly in your hand. Tears begin to well in your eyes but you manage to keep them at bay, instead choosing to look upon Zuko with a fragile smile.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Did you sleep okay? I had Suki look after you while you slept so I could speak with my Uncle.”

“How is he?” You ask, features perking up with interest. A small smile forms on Zuko’s lips as he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“He’s fine, and we’re okay. He’s eager to see you again. But you need to eat first, we all have a big day ahead of us,” Zuko instructs before handing you your breakfast. “Uncle says I need to reclaim the throne, and to do that I have to face off against Azula. But I can’t do it alone, so I’d like you and Katara to join me.”

It’s silent for a moment as you digest both the yummy porridge and the information Zuko has bestowed upon you. You had a feeling this day would come, and despite the apprehension you hold when it comes to fighting his deranged sister you know there’s no other option.

Your father’s words echo in your head: “Learn to be brave.” A beat passes before you finally nod.

“I’ve been wanting to put her in her place ever since she beheaded my favorite doll,” you admit with a wry smile. “I’d be honored to help you.”

“Get dressed,” Zuko says then, rising from his place beside your bed to give you the space you need to prepare. We leave in ten minutes.”

And so begins the end of the war.

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @zukh03s @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal |

[xsugarysweetsx]

Hi so I know you already did a Royal au for Oikawa, but insted of him being a prince how about a knight or a stable boy? And the reader as a lady-in-waiting or kitchen maid 👉👈 You can ignore this if it doesn't make sense

Thank you 💕

A/N: I don’t mind anon! I made Oikawa less....self absorbed here.

Please enjoy~🍰

*******************************************************

“You should talk to him” y/b/f urged you as you watch your crush from afar. It was none other than Oikawa. One of the top knights of the kingdom, yet you were a simple servant who cooked and cleaned for the royals.

“You know he would never notice me...“ you said defeated. Even though he was a knight he was fair and just to everyone, no matter their status. That’s what drew you to him. As much as your heart yearned for him, he wouldn’t be yours.

“Come on would I ever lie or mislead you?” your friend asked 

“N-no-”

“Exactly! Besides I have seen him taking a few glances your way” she bounced her eyebrows “speak of the devil, there he comes“ she whisper yelled as said knight started to come into view. You were pretty sure he could see the bright blush on your cheeks. Both from him coming and because you felt a bit embarrassed to be in rags.

“Hello ladies, how are you this afternoon?“

“Just as fine as we can“ y/b/f answers 

“That’s good, lady Y/N, may I speak with you for a moment?“ he asked you causing your brain to short circuit 

“S-sure“ he motioned to the side where there was more privacy “What did you want to speak about?“

“Well, I have no intentions to lie nor deceive you Y/N, I’ve taken a fancy to you and I’d like to treat you to a day.“ he said with a smile

“A..day?“

“I’ve asked my captain to have the day free so I could take you into town“ he smiles softly at you.

“W-why?” You ask a bit confused. A day with him? He couldn't possibly mean it

“Why? Because I l see how hard you work day and night, it’s only right to treat a lovely lady to a lovely day. So, may I have the honor?” he gave a smirk with a quick wink.

Damn that charm

“O-Okay-“ he cut you off in excitement

“Perfect! Our day starts tomorrow at noon!” for some reason he had ran away from you almost like a child. Nonetheless, you were a bit confused 

“Oh Y/N!“ Y/B/F came and almost tackled you in a hug “What did he say? Did he ask you to marry him?”

“What? No, he just wants to treat me to a day is all“ you said regaining your balance 

“Awwwh, my Y/N is getting her prince charming after all“ she then noticed how you weren’t exactly thrilled “Hey...aren’t you happy?“

“What if it’s a joke? I’m not exactly as pretty as noble girls, or have their beautiful clothes, what if he just wants a laugh out of me“

“No, don’t think that! Any man walking this earth would be blessed to even hold your hand. You are beautiful, kind, and warm, you don’t need silly dresses to impress some man. If anything, I’ll poison his dinner“ she said trying to make you smile. Which did work “Come on we have to get you ready for tomorrow“

...

The next day Y/B/F had lent you a beautiful pink dress. It wasn’t too flashy, nor heavy, it was delicate yet pretty and it fit like a glove. She helped with your hair and gave your lips and cheeks some color. Just as he said he was waiting for you near the stables to take you into town. 

“You look lovely this afternoon my lady” he said taking your hand and laying a quick kiss to your knuckles

“Th-thank you”

“So shall we be off?” he said extending his elbow for you to take. Today you wanted to play it cool, to not freak out, and to just enjoy your day off. As you walk out of the castle you had gotten some looks from girls. Some were surprised, other of envy, and other of joy for you. 

Walking into town you both had small talk. How things have been, your childhood, how you came to work at the castle

“Look this is our first stop“ he said pointing to a small store with sweet attracting aromas. He opens the door and lets you in first into the small bakery. It was very humble and cozy inside the bakery, but the smells were so comforting and appealing. 

“Oh Oikawa it’s been quite some time since you’ve come here, and you’ve brought a beautiful young lady“ an older voice came into view “What can I do for you today?“

“Hello uncle, I took today to take Y/N here around town“ he said laying a hand to your shoulder “Thought we would stop by for a treat first.“

“Well, hello Y/N, pick anything you like free of charge“ he offered with a warm smile 

“Oh, no you’re too kind I don’t mind spending-“

“Ah ah, I am treating you today Y/N, which means you will not be spending your best silver“ he winked taking your hand in his and walking over to the display to pick a sweet. You both pick a slice of cake with pink frosting and fresh fruits. His uncle truly had hands for desserts. 

You both thank him for the wonderful cake and make your way out. As you walk down the town street as it began to get busy. Buzzing with people of all kinds, farmers, black smiths, merchants, everyone. You kingdom was a busy one. But the was still one question you had

“I- um I do have a question Oikawa...“ you clear the air

“Go ahead” he pulling you into his side so he doesn’t lose you in the crowd.

“Why me of all girls?” You ask a bit confused. Confused because there were so many girls in the kingdom even princesses who would she loved to get his attention so, why you?

“Well,” he started as he took you down a street where the crowd cleared up more “you caught my attention. You weren’t exactly drawn or impressed whenever I showed off and I think I really liked that” he admits

“Really?” You ask

“That’s right. I’m honestly so used to attention that when I saw you look away as if I were another person you gave me a feeling. A feeling like I wanted to know you better”

“Well....I’m glad to be the one who caught your eye then“ you gave his arm a slight squeeze. 

Walking up to a pub and dinner he walks in to be greeted by the men and women of the place. He leads you to what seemed like the only peaceful place in the bar. Honestly, this didn’t seem anywhere close to what he may like, you found it a bit funny. He pulls out the seat for you and pushes you in 

“I’ll get us some drinks and food alright?“ he told you before taking off to the waitress there. In the meantime you took a look around the place, men were arm wrestling, betting, or just being rowdy. A figure stood at your table, looking up you thought it was Oikawa but you were mistaken. 

“Hey there prrretty lady, why don’t we have er...some fun” the man wrecked of booze and seemed to not have showered in over a week. You looked over the bar to see if you spotted Oikawa but had your arm caught by the man “Come onn *hic* I’ll buy you something to drink“

“Please leave me alone, I’m here with my...knight and he’ll be here any moment“ you tried not to show any panic but he was reluctant 

“I don’t see him-“

“Turn around.“ a strong voice called out the man turned around to face him still with a hold on your arm “Let her go“

“Er what? *hic*“ he threatened standing to him, even though his drunkenness made him slump over a bit 

“Or I’ll throw you out of the pub”  

“You brat-“ he tried swinging but missed as Oikawa moved to the side swiftly putting in almost no effort. The man takes another swing which Oikawa caught his arm and twisted it behind his back and turned him to you 

“Now if you would apologize to my lady here“ he asked adding in an extra twist making a high pitched 

“Sorry!“ come out of the drunk after his forced apology he was then pushed out of the pub earning the young night a crowd full of cheers. Coming to sit with you he takes your hand 

“Are you alright?“

“Y-yes thank you for the, help“ you smile at him

“And was I hearing things or did you call me your knight?“ he beamed causing you to blush 

“W-well I mean he was bothering me a-and I um-“

“Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t mind being your knight if it’s what want“

Wait was he courting you? What do you do? What do you say?

“But there are so many-“

“I’ll stop you there, you’re a beautiful woman inside and out. No other woman, princess or noble can match the wonder that you are. And I would lay my life for you“

You hadn’t ever been courted this way. His proclamation of love was so deep and emotional you honestly did know what to do or say. He then leaned over and kissed your cheek  “You’re cute when you get shy”

The rest of he afternoon was spent with food and drinks until sundown, by then you had to head back. It was clear to say you felt very protected even in the streets at night. He kept you close to him even up to your quarters. Once at your door you bid each other good night 

“I had a lot of fun today“ you say to him 

“I did too...so does that mean-“ you stop him in his tracks crashing your lips on his as he melts into your lips. The cold hallway becoming warm and fuzzy from the kiss you shared. He pulled away almost breathless

“Wow....I um...goodnight“ you chuckle as he seemed almost kiss drunk

“Goodnight...“ you say shyly closing the door softly. As Oikawa walked away he heard your roommate practically scream and he just giggled

“She’s going to be my wife” 

*******************************************************

I hope this was okay!❤️

[nancywheelxr]

For Sokka/Zuko prompt (2/?): Sokka saving Zuko after miscalculation how long he can hold his breath during the North Pole Siege

anon, like i said before, you are an angel and I hope you like this

*

Sokka is going to kill Aang.

No, seriously, he means it, the next time he sees the kid, he’s going to murder him because this is all his fault. It has to be, because there is no other explanation for this except Aang beginning to rub off on him. There really, really isn’t.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he murmurs, dragging Zuko out of the freezing water and away from the cracking ice. Honestly, the guy is heavier than he looks and Sokka bets it must be the crushing weight of all those issues. “Should’ve let you drown, asshole.”

And you know what? He stands by that. The little voice at the back of his head that sounds annoyingly like Aang be damned, Sokka should have taken one look at the jerk, incandescent hands slamming against the thick ice, too cold in the freezing water to properly melt the frozen floor, wide eyes blinking sluggishly, and, and– okay, fine. Maybe Sokka couldn’t look the other way and pretend he didn’t see him.

Still. He resents Aang for not being there to convince him to save the guy and let Sokka advocate for the drowning. You know, for argument’s sake, just ‘cause Zuko’s the freaking Fire Nation prince that’s been chasing them all the way since the South Pole and they should at least make an effort to look like they’re doing this under duress.

“Come on, we can’t stay here, wake up, jerk,” well. Sokka can’t stay here, he has a duty and also, the place will be crawling with soldiers soon, but if he leaves Zuko here, there’s no telling if he’ll make it. Do Firebenders get hypothermia? The guy looks hypothermic enough, at least.

Something explodes nearby.

Staying here any longer would be crazy. Sokka eyes Zuko consideringly. “I did my best,” he says, frowning because it sounds weak even to himself and he already knows what he’s going to do, “truly, it’s tragic. I dragged him out of the water, but there was nothing I could do. Too many Fire Nation soldiers around,” he grumbles, heaving one of Zuko’s arms around his shoulder and getting only a faint mumbling in response, “I had to leave him there.”

Just to be clear, though, Sokka is only doing this– he’s only dragging Zuko across the town in the middle of a Fire Nation invasion because he’s gone through all this trouble already to keep the asshole alive, it would be a waste to leave him for dead now. Hey, he didn’t spend five minutes slamming at the ice with his boomerang for nothing, okay?

“What were you thinking anyway?” He asks him, because the only thing worse than be dragging your nemesis around is to be dragging your nemesis around in silence. “Stupid firebender swimming around. At night! Were you trying to die?”

Another mumble. At least that’s better than the wheezing sound from when he first came out of the water, he figures.

“And I mean, it’s pretty clear this whole thing isn’t your doing,” he continues, ducking under a bridge to avoid the worst of the fight, “it’s way too organized, and honestly? Last time we checked, you didn’t have an entire fleet with you.”

And, not the Sokka would say it aloud, but it just doesn’t seem like something Zuko would do. From what they’ve seen of the guy so far, he’s less about conquering and invading, and more like capture the Avatar, restore my honor, blah, blah, blah. Which makes bringing him straight to Aang probably a very stupid thing. 

Damn.

He groans. What’s he supposed to do now? Zuko’s a dead weight at his side and he has no idea where Yue and the others went, even though he’s supposed to be protecting Yue. And Katara. And Aang. 

Instead, here he is, shuffling into another alley. “This is all your fault,” he glares at the still unconscious moron prince. “Yours and Aang’s. There’s a blizzard outside, did you know?! What, you were just going to get Aang and walk out on the snowstorm?!”

Zuko still doesn’t answer him. He does begin to shiver, though, so that’s something? Better than hypothermia, that’s for sure. Still, Zuko’s shivering and looking sad in his wet clothes, and this is something, at least, that Sokka can help. He can take his own fur coat and drape across him.

“Yeah, you didn’t really think this one through, did you?” He sighs, letting his head thump lightly against the wall behind him. “Me neither, buddy. I’m supposed to be looking after the princess, but I’ve got no idea where they went. I guess I’m looking after you instead, huh? I’m not happy about it either, trust me.”

If only he had some sort of rope– Sokka groans. How does he keep getting in these situations? He levels Zuko with a resentful look. “Why is it always you?” Looking at Zuko now, though, it’s pretty hard to muster much anger. He doesn’t look very intimidating like this– his hair is falling out of his ponytail and his face is paler than usual, his scar stark against the white. Actually, he looks a lot younger like this. Aang had called him a teenager when they met him, but Sokka thinks this might be the first time he’s ever thought of him like that. It’s pretty messed up. Zuko can’t be much older than Sokka– a year? Maybe less? Oddly, it makes him wonder how did he end up here, like this, hunting Aang in a banged up warship and only his Uncle along. Shouldn’t a prince have like, more back up?

Not that Sokka is complaining, it could be a lot worse than Zuko, it could’ve been someone like freaking Zhao. He doesn’t think Zhao would have kept his promise not to destroy his village back in the South Pole. Actually, the guy would’ve probably started with the destroying and left the questions for later.

A hoarse shout shakes off that line of thinking pretty quick.

Zuko wakes up all at once– one second he’s lying motionless on the ice, chest rising and falling steadily faint, pale and pitiful wrapped in Sokka’s furs, and the next he’s fumbling with the cloth, tangling himself further with frantic movements. His eye zeroes in on Sokka, widening as far as they go for a split moment, and managing only a flickering flame with his trembling hands, probably too busy heating up to do any proper firebending.

“Oh, goody, you’re alive,” Sokka says, choosing to let the sarcasm bleed on his voice and quietly grip his boomerang a little tighter, just in case. 

“What,” Zuko coughs up, and the shivering is back, and Sokka doesn’t think he means to be furrowing further into the coat like that. “Where– you. What have you done to me?”

Yeah, Sokka should probably have seen that one coming. Still, “hey! I saved your life! You did all the drowning yourself, buddy!”

 Zuko frowns. Hysterically, Sokka kind of wants to smooth that out, go back to the young look from before. The frown is a very angsty one, though, and full of suspicion, which is fair, all things considered, but he still takes offense. They’re the good guys, after all, they’re not the ones doing the invading.

Spirits, the invasion. Sokka doesn’t have time for this, he needs to find Katara and Aang, he needs to find Yue, he needs– 

“Why?”

He blinks. “Why what?”

“You said you saved me,” Zuko is still sounding worse for wear, rough and cracking at the edges, but there’s some color returning to his cheeks, the shivering finally dying down.

And isn’t that the question? Well, not really. It’s what Aang would have done and that’s usually a pretty good moral compass. Sokka shrugs, “it was the right thing to do. You’re a jerk, but even you didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Zuko doesn’t seem to know what to do with that information, faint steam wafting off his now dry clothes, and Sokka has half a mind to ask for his coat back, a weird tightness on his chest the only thing holding him back– the same odd feeling that sort of made the Aang excuse taste a tiny bit like a lie.

No time to dwell on that, though. Before Zuko could brood some more or throw any other wild accusation, a shadow falls over the both of them, Zuko’s weird uncle pausing at the start of the alley and taking in the scene. His face kind of does a complicated thing where he looks like he wants to bundle Zuko on his arms in the tightest hug in the country but knows Zuko would probably like, throw a fit and then die of dramatic indignation, and Sokka feels like maybe he shouldn’t be witnessing this, especially because the angry jerk is looking like he maybe wouldn’t go so far as dying if hugs were to be involved.

“Nephew,” the old man says, and the relief is his voice is palpable, “you are alive– I feared–”

“I’m fine, Uncle,” Zuko cuts in, getting up in wobbly legs and giving Sokka a wide berth as he inches his way along the wall.

“I owe you a great debt, young man,” he continues, now turning to Sokka with such a grateful face, it’s really hard to remember he’d been doing some chasing the Avatar just weeks ago. He looks so normal. “You saved him when most would not and for that, I can never thank you enough.”

“Uncle!”

“Erm, you’re welcome?” Sokka clears his throat, loosening his rip on the boomerang, suddenly awkward.

“Have you thanked him yet, Prince Zuko?”

“I–”

Iroh– well, Sokka thinks that his name, at least– doesn’t glare, but his eyebrows do a very disappointed move and Zuko seems to cave like a sullen teenager. It’s kind of great. And very surreal, honestly, Sokka is kinda just rolling with it at this point. “Thank you,” Zuko bows, making a very fire nation-y sign with his hands, adds softer, “Sokka.”

“Huh, you do know my name.”

A loud explosion interrupts whatever retort Zuko had been planning, and Iroh grimaces. “I’m afraid we are running out of time,” the grave expression seems foreign in his face and Sokka feels a terrible dread in the pit of his stomach, “Zhao plans on doing the unthinkable– he is going to kill the moon spirit.”

Well, it’s official, then. Zuko’s just been demoted from the worst to pass on the title to Zhao. “Is that even– I mean, how?”

“The Avatar,” Zuko says, but it’s a weak complaint, even he knows stopping the murder of an ancient spirit ranks a bit higher, like immediate catastrophe higher. “Fine,” he snaps, hands curling into fists, “but Zhao is mine.”

Okay, because that sounds like it’s not going to blow up on their faces at all. Not that it matters, because Sokka knows that it’s a done deal now. There’s something urgent in the air, pressing down on them, almost buzzing with the expectations of a tragedy. They’ll need all the help they can get if they mean to stop Zhao’s idiotic plan.

Sokka looks at Iroh, at Zuko. He’s still wearing the fur coat, stretched across his shoulders, sleeves too short at his wrists. 

“You guys,” he feels the need to say, “are the worst. But we should probably hurry up, then.”

[cno-inbminor]

hello, kay! i hope you've been taking care of yourself well and that life has been kind to you for the most part. i want to ask, how do you feel about kita shinsuke? your akaashi is exquisite and incredibly characterized that i always find myself coming back to your stories should i need my keiji fics, and i realized that it would probably be really interesting (and beautiful) to meet kita through your words. no pressure, tho! as always, i am grateful for whatever you write. ♡ all the love x

you’re an absolute sweetie -- i hope you’ve been well too! i’m honestly at my wit’s end but we’ll survive somehow, right? ahahaha // i’m still incredibly flustered whenever someone mentions how much they like my keiji characterization -- he’s one of the ultimate comfort characters for sure! so thank you for giving my keiji fics that honor <3 

i’ve definitely developed some love for kita over time! i love anyone who’s incredibly dependable -- my love language (that i’ve recently re-discovered) is acts of service and i can see him embodying that! 

i got carried away: here’s ~1.7k of some hazy kita appreciation, or some strangers-to-lovers ideas sprinkled together. my brain has died from finals, but i hope you like this anon!

-

the first time that kita shinsuke even crosses your mind, you mistakenly think, “he’s certainly a bit dull.” 

it’s not that you forgot he existed by any means -- the boy certainly carries a presence and emanates it in a calm, quiet manner. you just can’t remember him saying anything that wasn’t related to speaking out loud in class or social pleasantries. he’s certainly not much more than a blank canvas to you, and the only splotch of color thrown on is that he’s a member of your nationally recognized volleyball team. other than that, you know nothing else.

it all changes when you two are paired for classroom cleaning duties your third year. 

when your homeroom teacher announces your name after his, you glance away from the window to the boy sitting diagonally in front of you to your right. his back sits upright, elbows bent to indicate he’s probably sitting with his hands linked on top of his desk, legs still and placed together underneath the wood. besides the two-toned grey and black hair, you would think he’d be the perfect poster child for japanese education. 

the first morning of cleaning duties, you’re sprinting through the halls in your slippers, hoping that the student council president isn’t anywhere near your classroom. the subway was absolutely packed and nobody seemed to be in the usual pace of the morning rush, which caused some delays and for you to cut it very close. you slide open the class door with all the force you can muster, panting and out of breath with apologies falling off your tongue. unbeknownst to you, your brain had been expecting kita to give you a small smile and ensure that it was okay for your two minute tardiness -- instead, you were at the receiving end of a blank yet heavy stare, and seemingly scathing words of, “don’t be late next time.” 

your second thought of kita is that he’s too rigid and austere for a seventeen year old. bitterness festers in your chest as you practically stomp towards your desk, setting your stuff down before you head to the erasers in front of the chalkboard. even though there isn’t much dust left on them, you’re searching for excuses to calm down and be a little more level-headed. 

you’re so caught up in your thoughts and staring out into the open sky that you don’t register kita’s presence looming near. but it’s his timbre voice that startles you out of your stupor, though they’re nothing more special than, “you can sweep the other half of the classroom. i’m getting started on the desks,” and he walks away. 

in gliding the bristles over the wooden floor, you take another peek at your partner for the time being. it’s hard to miss the way he methodically cleans each wooden surface, leaving no corner unwiped, no speck of dust lingering. something about it is somewhat endearing to you, a rather drastic juxtaposition to how you were feeling not too long ago. maybe you were wrong about him -- kita shinsuke might still be a little boring to you, but he’s just...diligent. 

in home ec, you’re partnered up with ojiro aran (which proves to be in the best of your luck). but he’s good with small talk, and it’s not like you two have never spoken before. so three weeks later over the folding of meringue into the other batter, you decide to pop the question of, “what’s kita-san like as captain?” 

aran can’t contain his muted surprise at your inquiry, seeing as you two rarely ever get into the details of his volleyball playing, much less so about his team. but it doesn’t stop him from giving a truthful answer, “he’s no nonsense, keeps everyone in line. we have some rowdy underclassmen and no one scares them more than shinsuke.”

“a hardass?”

“when he needs to be,” aran chuckles. “but he’s very thoughtful and goes out of his way to care for everyone. the guy lives and breathes by routine.” 

there’s something that stirs within you, a small flame being lit, one that flares the next morning when kita walks by your desk and greets you, “good morning, l/n-san.” seeing as he usually never does, you stumble over your reply and shock, all the while berating your heart for beating as fast as it is. kita’s just being polite and using social pleasantries, nothing more. 

but he does it the next morning, and then the next, and even incorporates, “how are you?” into his line of words on days you two clean. little by little, you get to know more about him -- not a lot, but enough to correct yourself for ever thinking that he’s a dull, austere, mean human being. you tell yourself it’s nothing more, especially when you start looking forward to their games and join the student cheering squad. it’s nothing when you eagerly await for the moments that kita gets subbed in; absolutely nothing when he looks away from the court and into the crowd, catching your eyes and allowing his lips to slip into a demure smile before turning back around. the pounding of your heart and sweating of your hands aren’t related at all, just physiological effects of the game. 

and before you know it, graduation comes around and you think you’ll never see him again after this. you’re laughing and taking pictures with your classmates, later spotting aran over the crowd of families. he catches your waving arm and bounding figure, bright grin on his face as he congratulates you. “i’ll miss you all,” you confess and aran affectionately pats your head. “same here. have you seen shinsuke?”

your brows furrow. “no, why? is he looking for me?”

“you sound confused by that. weren’t you two friends?”

“i wouldn’t overassume that...but i doubt i’m on his mind right now.”

aran only nods and adopts a pensive look, taking a moment to think before confessing, “you meant something to him. after all, he greeted you every morning, right?”

you nod. “but what does that have to do with anything?”

aran’s parents interrupt and attempt to drag him away before he can answer, but he beckons for them to give him another minute. quickly, he pulls you into a one-arm hug, telling you over the bustling crowd, “you were part of his routine.” 

you’re stunned, frozen in your tracks as aran and his family walk away. their departure creates some space between everyone, and you find yourself looking straight into the golden eyes of the man that had been plaguing your thoughts for months now. he doesn’t back down, not out of defiance though -- rather, he seems to be trying to convey that he sees you, acknowledges your existence and long wedged a placeholder for you in his life. 

but the spell is broken when one of your relatives tugs on your arm for you to leave and go home for a big lunch celebration, and that’s the last you see of him.

at least for the next two years. you have a part-time job at osamu’s onigiri shop, having met the man in some cooking classes over the years. while you’re up front most of the time, you occasionally help out in the kitchen during rush hours. evidently, you missed any of the information on the exact source of the rice, remembering nothing more than the fact it was special and held a certain place in osamu’s heart -- because when kita shinsuke walks in to make a special, personal visit, your brain splutters and ceases all deep cognitive functioning.

he looks well, happy, strong, more than he did back in high school. the same air of confidence still surrounds him and encases the entirety of the shop, and instincts nearly have you dropping to your knees so you can hide behind the counter and catch your breath. 

“oh shinsuke, you’re here!” osamu calls out from behind you, popping out of the kitchen to help with the rice bags. the most you can muster is a gentle bow before messing with the cash register, pretending to be busy organizing receipts and bills. you tune out most of the conversation cleaning counters, checking customers out, wiping down tables, and anything else that’ll take your mind off the guy your heart could never seem to forget. 

but osamu bidding goodbye to kita snaps you out of your reverie. and instead of walking towards the door, kita’s figure approaches you until there’s nothing but 5 feet of wood between the two of you. “it’s good to see you,” he greets softly, a gentle expression casting onto his face and tone. 

“i-it’s good to see you too, kita-san,” you barely reply in time, doing everything you can to fight the blood rushing into your face. 

“i’d like to take you out for coffee when your shift is over, if that’s okay.”

oh. 

“oh, well, yes, but um, my shift doesn’t end for another hour and--”

“oh, you’re good to go for the rest of the day,” osamu calls out with his head popped out the kitchen door, sending a knowing look towards his former captain. in fact, you remember that the owner had been somewhat insistent that you come work today of all days and you never knew why...until now.

that fucker.

shinsuke’s eyes glimmer as the realization hits you, the same demure smile as the one he sent you all those years ago during a volleyball game sitting on his lips. excitement bubbles within you, and you attempt to tease, “only if you can untie my apron for me?”

there’s no hesitation in his demeanor as he walks around the counter and plants himself right in front of you, mere centimeters between the tips of your shoes and his. you can’t bear to look away as an arm reaches around easily undo the bow at your lower back. neither do you miss the ghosting of his fingertips at your waist that burn through the cotton of your t-shirt, and you’re just thankful that no customers are around to witness this heated, intimate moment. 

“lead the way, captain,” you can’t help but say. something dark and dangerous crosses his eyes, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. and you think that yes, yes indeed, you’d like to see those eyes more often if you can. 

[theskywaslookingback]

Top 5 moments between Jon and the girls in tma?

Ooooo I haven’t seen this one before, good question anon! (Nothing from season 5 because I haven’t gotten there yet)

1. MAG 157 - Rotten Core

[ID: a screenshot from MAG 157 - Rotten Core transcript that reads “GEORGIE Melanie, you don’t have to do this. MELANIE It’s - it’s okay. He’s welcome... as a friend. But that’s it. ARCHIVIST Right.” /end ID]

This part genuinely breaks my heart because we have so many almost kinds of friendships. The genuine love and care that Melanie and Jon have for each other that gets muffled by their own self-hate is so loud but they really could have been best friends. And even here when Jon is so scared and so desperate because he’s lost Martin and he needs help, he’s still so kind and gentle when reaching out to Melanie. He leaves when he’s asked to and he doesn’t push. It hurts. They could have had such a good life. All of them.

2. MAG 132 - Entombed

[ID: a screenshot from MAG 132 Entombed transcript that reads “DAISY N-Not alone, though. ARCHIVIST (barely a whisper) No. No, not alone.” /end ID]

I just really love Jon doing this even though it was massively stupid and suicidal. Jon just really does love people and the closer he gets to The Eye the more human he tries to act. 

3. MAG 81 - A Guest For Mr. Spider

[ID: a screenshot from MAG 81 - A Guest For Mr. Spider transcript that reads “GEORGIE No. No, you’re thinking of every other hacky, ghost podcast. But, you know, if it sells a few T-shirts... ARCHIVIST Oh. I, yes, I meant to say, actually, thank you for- GEORGIE Oh, it’s fine. Though I don’t know what sort of “employment dispute” leaves you without a change of clothes.” /end ID]

The thought of Jon in kitschy What The Ghost merch fills me with joy. But also I just love how comfortable and familiar they are with each other? Even if it’s been a long time and they ended on not great terms. It’s just so sweet and I love getting to see actual Jon who has friends and loves people and people love him.

4. MAG 28 - Skintight

[ID: a screenshot from MAG 28 - Skintight transcript that reads “MELANIE People like a show. People like our show. And, even if we do ham it up a bit, even if we do add a bit of sparkle, we’re still more respected and evidence-based paranormal investigators than you and your lot. [NERVOUS, DISPARAGING LAUGH] ARCHIVIST We are not ‘paranormal investigators’. We are researchers. Scholars.” /end ID]

Okay I know everyone always talks about “yes I know what a meme is” but this part is just as funny to me. Jon is soooo offended. Also the implications in this episode that Jon has seen enough of Ghost Hunt UK to make fun of it kills me. And the bit after this where Melanie is still ragging on Jon and he goes “And yet you’ve come to make a statement.” Peak season 1 bitchiness I love them both.

5. MAG 24 - Strange Music

[ID: a screenshot from MAG 24 - Strange Music transcript that reads “SASHA So, do we know if it’s pronounced ‘Ka-lee-o-pee’ or ‘Kuh-ly-o-pee’? ARCHIVIST I have also heard is said as ‘Ka-lee-ope’. SASHA Seriously? By who?” /end ID]

This whole section between Jon and Sasha is so cute and it’s one of the first times we see Jon as well “Jon”, this nerdy little guy who gets poked at by his friends. It’s smart and funny and just a good show of characterization that we hadn’t really gotten much of yet.

Honorable Mention: MAG 88 - Dig

[ID: a screenshot from MAG 88 - Dig transcript that reads “BASIRA I just, I mean he was good company. Y’know, when he wasn’t being a paranoia machine. He was funny, you know? MARTIN What, John? BASIRA Yeah. MARTIN I don’t think I’ve ever heard him tell a joke. BASIRA Maybe you weren’t listening.” /end ID]

Jon isn’t in this scene but I think about it all the time. Basira and Jon really could have been best friends they had such good chemistry.

ask me my top 5 anything!

[haru-sen]

IAL: Mandalorians 2

Thanks, 3-D Render Anon, with your adorable voodoo dolls.  That was the serotonin I needed.

I should be working, but I’m posting this.  The Mando’a phrases and cultural dishes are from Wookieepedia.  I’ll post the actual translations in the fic, but I don’t have time right now.

You woke up in a tent, your entire body aching.  You were tucked under some blankets, a bedroll under your head.  Your sabers were still on your belt.  

“Query: are you done yet?” HK-53 asked, from overhead.  “Also, are you sure I can’t kill these Mandalorians?”  

“I am going to track down that pacifist module and shove it right up your accessory port,” you muttered.  “Just you wait-”

“Shock: Master, how could you threaten your loyal droid this way?  When did Master get so cruel?  I am very proud of you!”  

Laughing, you held your head for a moment. “What happened?”

“Recollection:  You collapsed. The blue-armored meatbag injected you with kolto, and carried you here.  The black-armored meatbag kept his gun on me, and I made sure neither of them did strange things to your person while you were inconveniently indisposed. It has been a little over a standardized hour since you lost consciousness.”  

You sat up slowly.  The sun was still up.  “Where are we?”

“The witch is alive.”  

You blinked, the black-armored Mandalorian standing in front of you.  He was not wearing his helmet. Tall, with dark skin and clawmark scars across his cheeks, he loomed over you.  He was well-groomed, his beard neatly trimmed, his black hair was immaculately styled.  How did he not have helmet hair?  

Blue scrambled over, also with his helmet off, also younger than you expected.  He was blonde, hair gelled and styled.  What the hell? Did Mandalorians discover the secret to preventing helmet hair?   He smiled at you, with eyes as blue as his armor, his cheeks flushed. “You’re recovering much faster than I expected. How are you feeling?”

“Like I drank Delta Squad under the table again…”  You said, rubbing your forehead.  You had overdone it back there.  Between the terentatek corruption, the Ataru form, and the subsequent wounds, you had pushed yourself too hard too quickly.  

“Jedi drink?” Blue raised a brow.  

“No, we just absorb dew through our pores,” you scowled.

“This Jedi witch is about to get dunked in a lake if she keeps giving me that attitude,” Skull said coolly.  

“Well, I am thirsty,” you said.  

To your surprise, Blue offered his canteen, looked thoughtful for a moment, took a drink, and then offered it again.  “It’s not poisoned.”  

“Disgust: Not poisoned, but definitely contaminated,” HK-53 said.

You hesitantly accepted the canteen, drinking down some of the metallic-tasting water. “Thanks.”  You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “What do I call you?”

“Reaper,” Skull said. “76.” He pointed at Blue.  “You?”

“Strike,” you said,  climbing to your feet.  The world wobbled, but did not tilt too far on its axis.   You looked around.  This encampment was small, but there was a cold firepit and vehicle tracks. They had not set this up in a couple hours.  They had been in this area for awhile.  

“Strike,” Reaper said, expression grim.  “I think we need to talk.”  

“No, I need to get to Nar Shaddaa,” you said.  

The men looked at each other.  “So do we.”  

“That’s what we need to talk about,” 76 said, crossing his arms.  

You stood there for a moment, a little intuitive nudge already sending your thoughts into overdrive. This was about to get even more complicated. “Because you really like casinos?  Right?” You asked, with a sigh.  

“Because we need to get one of those kids back,” Reaper said.  

“...Of course, you do,” you said, staring up at the sky.  You were glad someone had survived to hire mercs to rescue their kid. And you didn’t really care if the child chose to avoid training on Tython. But you did not need battle-happy Mandalorians ruining your operation.  “Which one?”

“Xenya Itera, human female.” Reaper held out a holo of a little girl with a tiny spherical droid floating over her outstretched hands.  She was dark skinned, her hair in several long tiny braids. She was smiling.  “You can rescue the others, but we are obligated to retrieve her.”  

“And if she doesn’t want to go with you?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Then she doesn’t have to,” Reaper said with a shrug, surprisingly unbothered by the question.  

“Your bounty?”

“Not your problem,” Reaper said coolly.  “We just need to get the kid away from the Cartels. Simple enough.  Easier too if we go after them together.”  

...Two sensible, non-volatile suggestions from Mandalorian mercs in one day? Was the world coming to an end? ...Or was it a trap? There was a long history of bad blood between Jedi and the Mandalorian clans.  

“What clan?”  You asked suddenly.  

“Excuse me?” Reaper said.

“What clan are you?”

The men looked at you for a moment, like they hadn’t expected that question.  “Clan Ordo.”  

You nodded.  You didn’t have any standing grudges with Clan Ordo.  Hell, you hadn’t really ever dealt with them.  But they weren’t Clan Lok, Rook, Varad, or Viszla, so you were probably good for the moment.  “I can work with that.”

**

“You should be fine with Ordo,” Rogun said, over the comm-link.  “They were one of the clans that backed the Crusader’s Schism, several years back – wanted to side with the Republic instead of the Empire.  Whole thing got crushed by Mandalore the Vindicated, and Ordo was eventually welcomed back into the fold, with honor.  So they likely don’t have the grudge that Lok and Viszla do.  I can’t speak for the individuals though.”

“Good to know,” you said, sitting cross legged in the tent.  “And Talon?”

“...I guess you’re right, Strike.  There are no coincidences.  He’s been spotted on Nar Shaddaa, near the slave markets with an entourage.”  An entourage? Did that mean…?  Rogun gave a rough laugh.  “The Force moves in mysterious ways.”  

“No, the Force is a mean bitch with an axe to grind, usually in my face,” you scowled.  

Rogun guffawed, the lethorns on the side of his head shaking.  “You’re never going to make Master with that kind of talk.”  

You rolled your eyes upward, like that was the only thing keeping you from obtaining the rank of Master.  Ha!  “Just so you know, I got quizzed by the Council on our association.”  

“I’m sure you said nice things about me,” he said, his grin mean.

“I said, your sandwiches suck.”

Rogun scowled back at you.  “It was the best I could do during an active bombardment!”

You knew adult Chagrians often lost their sense of taste due to environmental factors, and maybe that was the reason the food had been awful, but it was rude to point that part out.  “Yeah, well, I talked you up a little too.  Made sure they knew that despite your questionable occupation, you’re a friend of the Republic.”

“Great, so when they come knocking at my door for favors or charitable handouts, I know who to blame.”  

“Just give them one of those sandwiches, that’ll send them on their way.”

Rogun squinted at you.  “It’s a good thing you’re useful, Strike.”

You laughed.  “Thanks, Rogun. Keep me updated on Lord Talon’s movements.  I’ll make you a delicious sandwich in gratitude.”

“Go kiss a sarlaac,” he scowled, and hung up.

“You certainly have a way with people,” Reaper said, hovering by the entrance.  

You had not noticed his approach. How much had he heard?  “That’s me, making friends wherever I go,” you said with a shrug.

Reaper gave a low chuckle.  “You and that mouthy droid.”  

You glanced around, realizing HK-53 had not been over your shoulder for your conversation with Rogun. You got up, a little concerned.

“Relax, he’s shooting bogstalkers with 76.  They were attacking the comms equipment.  I’ve already updated my people. I’m going to finish breaking down the camp, and then we can go.”  

You started to disassemble the tent, watching as HK and 76 sniped at the leathery reptilians that fluttered in the sky.  

“What are you flying?” Reaper asked, packing several weapons into crates.

“The usual – Rendili Defender-class light corvette.  It’ll get us where we need to go.”

“And you think your credentials will be enough to get us through Olaris?” He asked, because the Republic-held city wasn’t too friendly toward Mandalorians.  

“I can, but it might be easier if you leave off the helmets.  I know that’s culturally insensitive, but we’ll move faster if I don’t have to pull rank on a bunch of terrified soldiers and customs agents,”  You shrugged, bundling the tent tightly.

“Sensible,” was all Reaper said.  

**

“So what’s it like, traveling with a Jedi Knight?” 76 asked, lowering his rifle.

“Declaration: That is a broad question, meatbag.  Be more specific,” HK-53 said, rifle aimed at a ferrazid hound, the mutated creature already tearing apart a broke receiver.  

76 laughed.  “Do you get in a lot of fights?”

“Bragging: We get in so many fights.  The number of people who want to kill Master is very high. And it doesn’t seem to get lower, despite how many people we do kill. If I wasn’t so busy killing her enemies, I would want to fight her one day.”  HK-53 paused, its head twitching.

76 frowned.  “Why does she attract such enmity?  Just who are you killing?”

“Aggravation: Master has killed many things, usually enemies of the Republic, but she has also made many rules about what I am not allowed to kill.  It is unnecessarily complicated.  For example, Master generally prefers to let the enemy make the first move of aggression, to ensure that it is adhering to her archaic rules of “moral” combat.  Sometimes she even talks people out of fighting her.  Can you believe it?  She knows they’re her enemies and she lets them walk away! She should just kill them ahead of time, not spare them.  What is she thinking?” HK-53 gunned down the mutated hound-beast.  “But Master is a Jedi, and Jedi have to follow silly rules,” the droid muttered petulantly.  

“How did a...violent murder-happy droid like yourself end up with a Jedi then?” 76 asked.

HK-53 tilted its head, giving 76 a very skeptical look.  “Suspicion: Such flattery. Why are you asking so many questions, meatbag?”  

“I’m just curious about the people I’m traveling with,” 76 said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “It’s not every day I meet a Jedi Knight or such an...enthusiastic battle droid.  It leaves an impression.  There’s a story there.”

HK-53 stared at him, those eyes glowing.  “Satisfaction: We are impressive. You don’t need to know more.”  Turning back to the swamps, HK-53 surveyed the area. “Observation: Oh, it looks like Master and the other meatbag want us to return.”

76 just laughed awkwardly.

**

“Concern: Master, that meatbag was asking a lot of questions about us.”  HK-53 was secured to speeder on the seat behind you.  The Mandalorians were on the other. You were technically using their equipment, but you didn’t exactly trust a bunch of battle-happy maniacs in the driver’s seat.  That included your droid.

You zoomed over marshlands and fields, the Mandalorians riding parallel to you.  

“What kind of questions?”

To your surprise, HK-53 just replayed the recording of the conversation.  Normally, he was all too happy to summarize an interaction, and intersperse his own commentary, but he let it play out without interruption.

“Query: There is subtext that I do not understand, Master.  Is he probing for weakness?  What angle is he coming from?  What does he hope to learn?”

You sighed.  “It could be socially-motivated, but I’m sure he’s also trying to gather intel.  People often let a lot of things slip in friendly conversation.”  

“Query: What did he let slip?”

“Not a lot,” you said, thoughtfully. “But he’s trying to be diplomatic, and he seems to have a personal interest in Jedi.”

“Query: How can you tell?”

“The enthusiasm,” you said. “He’s not just asking for intelligence purposes.  He’s interested in the topic, and he wants to make a good impression on you.  I’m not exactly sure why – Mandalorian mercs aren’t really known for their diplomatic skills, but I think if we talk to him more, we’ll figure it out.”  

“Statement: These Mandalorians are not what I expected.  Normally, we just fight them, and it’s a little difficult, but it’s done.  This change in behavior is...disconcerting.”  

“Yeah, I know.  Nothing about this mission is what we expected,” you muttered.  

**

  “Clean, sturdy, and fast,” Reaper said, looking over your ship.  “Not bad.”  

“Spacious,” 76 said, with a nod.

Given the fact that it was just you and HK-53, the ship was almost too big.  “You guys can make yourselves comfortable in the crew quarters,” you said, gesturing to the rooms.  “Let me know if you need anything.  I’m going to make some calls before we reach Nar Shaddaa.”

But first you needed to change into an intact top, and check your wounds.  Your robe was ruined, and there were three parallel gashes across your low back.  They nearly spanned the entire width of your back, and were each a couple inches wide, and thankfully not too deep.  But they would take a while to heal.  76 was right, you would scar.  Your healing skills just weren’t up good enough.  Still.  

The auto-navigation was engaged, cockpit locked.  You wouldn’t have to take the helm till you reached Nar Shaddaa.  You didn’t exactly trust the Mandalorians on your ship, but you could feel them settling down, sharing one of the two sleeping rooms - there were multiple berths on your ship, but they holed up in one together. And they were behaving. To your surprise, when you reached Olaris, the Mandalorians had tucked their helmets into their bags, and quietly followed you through the spaceport.  HK-53 attracted more attention with his running commentary, but boarding had gone smoothly.  

You put HK-53 outside the comm room and shut the door.  

You first called Master Amari, to give her the update for the Council.  Yes, you were going to Nar Shaddaa.  Also, Orgo the Hutt had a terentatek and had tried to feed you to it.  You did not have time to finish the beast – but you would return to take care of it, after you rescued the children.  You had picked up some Mandalorians – they were also tracking one of the children and on their best behavior.  

Master Amari had been interested to learn they were Clan Ordo, but seemed satisfied with your progress.  You did not mention Lord Talon.  

The next call was less staid.  

“A terentatek, Theron,” you snarled.  “How did you manage to leave out that detail?”

“I don’t keep an inventory of every crime lord’s dungeon!”

“It’s a goddamn terentatek, not a monkey lizard!  How did he even get one?”

“Did you try asking him?” The spy asked snidely.  He lounged on the comm unit, looking nothing like the sickly boy you’d met on Haashimut. “I was too busy trying not to die!”

“Sounds like a “you problem,” he shrugged.  “And stop whining, you didn’t die.”  He grinned at you.  

“No, thanks to you!”

“You didn’t invite me.  You could still invite me,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes bright and too eager.

“Pfft, since when did you care about a dozen potential padawans?” You asked, even though you knew the answer, just like you knew why you had not invited Theron along.  It would get too complicated for a variety of reasons.  “This is barely even Jedi business.  It’s a criminal venture that happens to have Imperial ties – not really relevant to the SIS or your career.”

“...I heard you saw the Grandmaster,” he said, suddenly subdued.  

And that was exactly why you had not invited him.  Theron was a shady son of a bitch on the best of days.  That said “bitch” happened to be Grandmaster Satele Shan was just another level of complicated. There were so many reasons the situation was screwed: she had given him up immediately, his father was “unknown,” and he didn’t have enough force sensitivity to blow out a candle.  His solution? He’d gotten some kind of high end cybernetic implant and gone off to play spymaster for the Republic, instead of working through his feelings.

But there was always an underlying layer of bitter regrets that accompanied his dealings with the Jedi Order.  

“Yes, she looks healthy,” you said, playing it off like it was not a big deal. “It was going to be a disciplinary hearing, but that changed, because I’m just a pawn in some greater philosophical argument.  Or maybe because they needed me to do a job,” you scowled.  “I still annoy her, don’t worry.”  

“Wanna wager which one of us is the greater disappointment?” Theron asked, his smile deceptively cheerful.  You knew better than to answer that question.  “Just kidding, Strike.  It’s obviously you.” He made finger guns.  “She hasn’t given me a second thought.”  

You shrugged, pretending like you didn’t hear the open wound in that statement. “I doubt it’s anything so important.  I just get a lot of lectures from the Council.  You can probably guess what they think about strong emotion and any activity that isn’t meditating in front of a fountain.”  You paused. “Look, do you want to be there when I report back to them?  Like as an SIS adjutant or something?”

Theron let out a harsh laugh. “Are you trying to get kicked out, Strike? You show up to a High Council meeting with the Grandmaster’s bastard offspring in tow?  How’s that going to look?”

“...You’re the one asking to come along,” you scowled.  “Make up your own mind, Theron.  I don’t offer to drag you into stupid Order business, you complain.  I do offer to bring you into stupid Order business, after you ask, and you decline and point out why it’s a dumb idea.  This is why you don’t have friends.”

“You’re one to talk, unable to make real connections because the Order stunted you for the first half of your life. Now here you are, running around with that psychotic defective HK unit, like it will replace what you lost on Corellia, chasing after Lord Talon like he’s the one you’re mad at, instead of-”  

The world narrowed to a single point.  Red light flashed across your field of vision.  

“You need to stop talking,” you said, your voice going cold.    

Theron blinked, his eyes widening.  “...Druk.  Strike, I didn’t mean-”

You cut the connection, the room blurring around you for a moment.  It took a couple seconds for your vision to adjust.  To realize how angry you were.  Sure, Theron was an asshole, but he’d only peeled back the scab on a still-festering wound.  You tilted your head back.

Breathe in.  Hold.  Breathe out.  Hold.  Repeat till the darkness recedes.  

Gradually, your control steadied.  But you sat with that cloud of anger, not letting it go, nor letting it take ascendance.  It was there, a pulsing reminder of your humanity.  

You were going to kill Lord Talon and maybe his apprentice.  Not because you hated him, though you did.  Not because it was the right thing to do, though it was.  You were going to kill him for personal reasons, and unlike the rest of the Order, you were not going to lie to yourself about it.  And if that brought you down, if that decision made you fall, well, you were prepared.  You had taken the appropriate precautions. There would be no Sith Lord Strike.  

There was a ping as you received an incoming message.  It was from Theron. It was only five words.  

I’m an ass.  I’m sorry.

You shook your head, not ready to respond just yet, and left the comm room.  

**

“Is that the best you can do?” 76 laughed, and then there was whumpf, before you heard a body hit the floor.  

You peeked into the bunks, to see the Mandalorians stripped down to their shorts, wrestling on the ground.  Both men were muscular, with noticeable scars from blasters, vibroblades, and even some teeth and clawmarks.  But the tattoos were interesting… Reaper had a full left sleeve, and 76 had some very colorful creatures etched on his back.  Was that a varactyl?  

“See something you like?” 76 asked, glancing over at you.

Reaper looked up at you, narrowing his eyes.  “Or are we being too loud?”

“I wasn’t sure what was going on, just making sure it wasn’t a murder,” you said.  “Carry on then.” You abruptly turned around, shoulders taut.  You would not stare.  And you certainly would not get caught staring.  

“Hey, you seem kind of stressed.  Do you want to spar or something?” 76 asked.  

“That’s not a good idea right now,” you said, tensing.

“Why, because you’re still weak from getting your ass handed to you by a Sithspawn freak?” Reaper asked, casually.  “Don’t worry, witch. I’ll go easy on you, if you ask me nicely.”  His grin was savage.  

You turned back to face him, feeling the anger pour off you in waves. “...Mandalorian, do you need someone to humble you that badly?” You asked, your voice low and harsh.  

Reaper laughed.  “You don’t scare me, witch.  Choose your weapons.  And if you need to hide behind your fancy light swords-”

“Practice blades will do,” you said.  “Come on then.”  

Reaper squinted at you.

“You don’t think I’m going to tear up this room, do you?  The sparring mats are on the lower decks,” you said, already heading down.  

**

You picked up two blades off the rack, choosing a full blade and a half-length blade.  The cargo hold was equipped for exercise, as you did not normally transport a lot of goods.  You stretched, ignoring the whispered conversation between the Mandalorians.  

“Oh good, the medbay is across the hall-” 76 said.

“Whose side are you on?” Reaper growled.  

“You’re out of armor, cyar’ika,” 76 murmured. “She’s a Jedi.  The outcome is obvious.”

“Hut’uun,” Reaper spat.  “Verd ori'shya beskar'gam.”

“Don’t be salty because I’m telling the truth, mir’osik.” 76 laughed.

Maybe you should have called HK down here.  He could have translated the Mando’a for you.  Except he’d be calling for real bloodsport instead of just sparring.  And you didn’t need that temptation right now.  

You took a few practice swings, reviewing your forms.  Niman would be the most sensible.  This was just a sparring match. It was an all-around style, and Reaper had a lot more muscle mass than you did.  You did not need to go all out. You swung the longer blade, feeling the air part in front of you.  

Reaper glowered at 76, then stalked over to the weapon rack.  

“Don’t worry, Mandalorian,” you said, your mouth curving in a mockery of a smile.  “I won’t use my witchcraft to beat you.  I’ll do it with my own two hands.”

“You don’t sound much like a Jedi right now,” Reaper said as he stepped on the mat, holding a single vibrosword.    

“What do I sound like then?” You asked, as you began to circle each other.  

“A real soldier,” Reaper said.  “Which is impossible, because everyone knows that the Jedi like to hide in their fancy temples praying for peace, while their soldiers die.”  

You just smiled, the insult gliding right by your ear.  You had made that argument too many times to be offended by it.  Especially when it was from a Mandalorian braggart trying to get under your skin.  But it said everything that this was how an outsider viewed your order.  

You spun your swords, the heavier one in your dominant hand, feeling just right.  The anger boiling under your skin seemed to evaporate.  It was just energy now, ready to power you through another fight.  Your mind slid back into its seat of balance.  

Reaper charged you, lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air in a horizontal arc.  You sidestepped, ninety degrees to the right, just out of his reach.  And while his blade was extended, you slipped around his guard, and dragged your short sword across his back, a thin line of blood appearing seconds later.

He whirled, swinging the sword at you.  You parried with your left hand, and glided forward, under his guard, so close you couldn’t swing your other blade.  Instead, you grinned up at him, and rammed the hilt into his stomach.  

Coughing, Reaper doubled over, glared at you, and then his leg snapped up.  You slid backward, but a half-second to slow.  He kicked you in the chest, and you had to catch yourself in a spin.  It was suddenly hard to breathe.  

He charged you again, blade raised overhead.  

You instinctively raised your swords to parry, catching his blade between both of yours.  You twisted, and the vibrosword flew out of his hands, and landed on the floor of the cargohold with a clatter.  

“Do you yield?” You asked, spinning your swords. “Or would you like a moment to go retrieve your weapon, Mandalorian?  That’s fine.  I’ll wait.”  You grinned. “Because I can do this all night long.”

Reaper stared at you, eyes dark, nostrils flared. He was bleeding, breathing hard, and sweat glistened on his velvety skin, but he didn’t look like he was done.  

“Maybe you’d like to try both of us then?” 76 asked, his eyes narrowed. He picked up Reaper’s sword and then a stave for himself.  He placed the sword in Reaper’s outstretched hand, and took up a stance beside his comrade.  “Tion'ad hukaat'kama?”

You tilted your head back, moving your head from side to side.  76 held the staff like he knew how to use it.   You closed your eyes, feeling the currents of the force flow through you, a picture of the field forming in your head.   They stood side by side, but they would attempt to box you in.  They both had excellent range, but 76 would have the advantage of reach.   You could see the range and motion of their attacks before they made them, and while it would be difficult, you were good at this. “What are you waiting for?  An invitation?”

76 lunged first, sweeping the staff at knee-height.  

You leapt over the attack, even as Reaper slid to your right swung the vibrosword in a downward arc.  Elbow bent, wrist pressed to your head, you blocked the strike.

76 struck again, thrusting the staff like a polearm.  

You jumped backward out of his range, disengaging from Reaper’s sword lock.  You spun around toward Reaper, blades outstretched.  

76 swung the staff around, blocking the area across Reaper’s torso.

You struck the staff with a clang, and had to swing your right blade to block Reaper’s counterattack.  You disengaged again, dancing to the side, putting Reaper between you and 76. He tried to swing his sword, but you parried the blow again, and whipped your other blade across his cheek with a little flourish.  

The skin split and instead of countering, he stared at you, with an intensity that made you hesitate.  

From behind Reaper,  76 thrust again, striking you in the side with the staff. You hissed, and kicked Reaper backward into 76.   The blonde man steadied his friend, and together they stayed on their feet.  

You touched your side, knowing that the area would need extra healing later.  But it wasn’t enough to bring you down now. Breathing hard, you took a deep breath and whirled toward them, blades spinning in your hands.  

Still leaning on 76, Reaper didn’t have a chance to take a strong defensive stance.  You caught his vibrosword between yours, and scissored them, sending his weapon flying once more.  You couldn’t quite kick him aside, so you circled around to 76.  You got close, too close for him to use the staff properly.  He could block your blows, but he didn’t have the space to maneuver.  Your blades slid off the staff, but still scraped against his chest, slicing a long gash through the pink skin, the tip of the short sword catching on a gold ring.  

“Haar'chak!” He yowled.  

“Ke'pare!” Reaper shouted.  “Wait!”  

You froze, having not noticed the little gold rings on his nipples. “Disengaging,” you said, dropping your vibrosword, and very carefully freeing the short blade from the piercing.  “Why the hell would you leave those in for a sparring match?” You asked, backing up.  

Wincing, 76 held a hand over the right nipple ring.  “I...forgot,” he mumbled.  

“Showoff,” Reaper said, shaking his head.  

“I’ll get the kolto,” you sighed, setting the blades back in the rack, before you went across the hall to the medbay.  You grabbed the first aid kit and headed back.  

76 sat in the middle of the mats, rubbing his chest sheepishly.  Reaper sat next to him, shaking his head.  

“Hold still,” you said, crouching down in front of him to examine the cuts on his chest.  You cleaned the wounds with a sanitizing wipe and then applied a layer of kolto over the cuts.  You glanced at the nipple.  It was pink and a lot more swollen than the other one, but still intact.  You hadn’t torn the piercing or cut anything off. It wasn't even bleeding. Squeezing a little more kolto onto your thumb, you rubbed it lightly against his nipple.

76 stiffened, inhaling sharply as you put the healing gel on him.  He was breathing hard now, chest and face flushed from the exertion. He watched you with hooded eyes, teeth clenched.  “Do you patch up all your conquests?”  

“No, normally there isn’t enough left to fix,” you said, meeting his gaze.  

He studied your face for a moment.  You could feel the heat pouring off him.  He leaned closer.  “So I’m one of the lucky ones?”

“Very, you almost lost that piercing and more.” You said, your mouth suddenly dry.

“It’s still sore, maybe you could put some more kolto on it,” he purred, a very knowing smile on his face.

“No, I think you deserve to suffer a little for your stupidity,” you said, backing up.  You glanced at Reaper.  “Do you need kolto?”

“Go on then,” Reaper said coolly, sitting up straight.  

You crouched back down in front of Reaper, keeping him partially between you and 76.  You worked quickly, your fingers lightly tracing the scar on his face.  He watched you sullenly, as you quickly applied the gel.  And then he turned around, silently giving you his back. His skin was hot under your fingertips, and you tried to seal the wound quickly, very conscious of 76’s hungry gaze. You slapped a bandage on it, and he turned back around, plucking the kolto out of your hands.

“Let’s see those ribs,” Reaper told you calmly.  “76 hit you pretty hard.”  

“I can take care of it myself,” you said.  

“No one’s going to pounce on you,” Reaper said.  “And even if they did, you could handle them.” He did not look at 76.  “Now don’t be stubborn and try going up that ladder with your ribs cracked. That’s just foolish.” There wasn’t any of the previous malice in his voice, just a gentle chiding that reminded you a little of Master Amari.  

Sighing, you unfastened your sash, and peeled back your robes, wincing as you touched your left side.  

His head tilted to the side, Reaper applied the healing gel to your bare skin, his warm hands gently massaging it into your left side.  You bit your lip, placing a hand near there as you tried to convince the bones to knit back together correctly.  

Between the kolto and the little bit of force healing you could manage, the pain began to subside.  

“Better?” Reaper asked, his palm still pressed to your side, close to your hand.  

“Yes,” you said, swallowing roughly.  “I should be good.”  

Reaper bowed his head.  “You won, Jedi.  I am...humbled by your prowess.” He nodded to you, giving you a slight smile.  “But I would like to try against you again later.  Perhaps barehanded next time.”  

You remembered seeing them rolling around on the ground, wrestling.  Your breath caught.  “You’re welcome to use the sparring mats,” you said, pulling away, closing your robes and tying off your sash.  “But I need to go meditate.”  

“Will you join us later?” Reaper asked.

“...We’ll see,” you said, glancing at 76, who lounged on his side, one hand cupping his sore pectoral.  

76 winked at you.  “Feel better?”  

You blinked, having already forgotten why you’d agreed to spar in the first place.  “Yes, thank you, but I really need to go meditate.”  

“I can think of some other things that would help you out,” 76 said, looking you up and down with a smile.

“I really should go,” you said, already halfway out the door.

**

“I need to go meditate?”  Really?  That was your best excuse?  It worked, but still…

Grumbling you, shut yourself in your quarters, limping to the fresher for a shower.   It was quick, and you changed into another clean robe – today had been hard on clothes – and then settled on your floor cushion, still feeling the force run through you.  

You did not contemplate the temple fountains, nor the forests of Tython, nor any Jedi object.  You stared out the window, into the void of space, the stars twinkling in the distance.  You fully expected flashes of red light, or even that dark haze that settled over your mind when you really got to thinking about the past.  

But the force continued to move through you in strong currents.  It was like sitting up to your shoulders in a warm ocean.  The world took on a soft gray glow, and you let yourself drift.

It was the most peaceful you had felt since Corellia.

**

“Knight Strike, are you occupied?” 76 asked over the intercom.  

You opened one eye, focus settling back into your body.  “Do you need something?”

“We took the liberty of making a meal, and thought you might be hungry,” he said.

You blinked. “Oh, I’ll be down in a minute.”  The offer took you by surprise.  HK-53 had said nothing about them moving around the ship. You rose, tightening your robe, and left your quarters.  

A warm savory scent hit you as you opened the door.  The entire deck smelled of rich spices and sauteed aromatics.  It was coming from the conference room – the one you used as a makeshift dining room back when… Back when there had been more people on your ship.  

The Mandalorians were inside and had set up hotplates and a kettle on the table.  Reaper was back in his polished black armor, sans helmet, stirring a pot. He did not look up when you came in.  He just lifted a battered spoon to his lips and tasted the stew or maybe it was a casserole?  If so, it was heavily sauced.    

76 stood over his own battered iron skillet, an amber colored cake within.  He cautiously poured some syrup over the cake.   Then he cracked open a bottle and poured an even more generous amount of dark liquor over it.  “It’s almost done!”  

“If you want to cook, I have a small kitchen setup in my quarters-” You paused, realizing that maybe you did not want them traipsing in and out of your bedroom.  

“Oh? Really? I would like to see that,” Reaper said, looking up and smiling at you, heat in his gaze.  He lifted the spoon from the pot, offering you a taste of the bright orange stew.  It had chunks of mystery meat, vegetables, and what looked like beans.  It smelled like fire, smoke, and peppers, clearing whatever spacedust might have been clogging your sinuses.  You hesitantly took a bite.  It was savory and hot. The layers of earthy and smoky spices blended well together and even though you were still chewing, you wanted another bite almost immediately.

Even if you had never tasted this dish before, there was something immediately comforting about it.  The meat was smoked.  The vegetables had likely been dried and reconstituted in the sauce.  The “beans” were actually some kind of grains, soft and fluffy with just the right amount of chewiness.  “That’s very good,” you said. “What is it?”  

“Tiingilar,” Reaper said, watching your face.  “It doesn’t burn too much, I hope.”  

“The seasoning is excellent.  I’m very fond of peppers,” you said, raising a brow.  Was he hoping that it was too much for you?  That seemed a possibility.  You had beaten him in combat, so he was going to compete with you in other ways.  Still, if it meant that he cooked a nice dinner, you wouldn’t take too much offense.    

Reaper just smiled at you.  “You are full of surprises.  The last non-Mandalorian I fed this to accused me of poisoning her.  It was...too hot for her delicate mouth.”  

“She wasn’t as well-traveled as Knight Strike,” 76 said, flipping his skillet and dumping the cake onto a battered metal plate.  “Uj'alayi. It’s a traditional dessert,” he told you, pulling out a combat knife and slicing it into six pieces.  “It can be made in our helmets.  Reaper insisted that I use a pan this time.” He winked. “But I think the helmet adds to the flavor.”

“Interesting,” you said, glancing at Reaper, who just chuckled.  “Should I get-”

“No need! We have tiingilar, uj’alayi, and behot tea.  Plenty of food to go around,”  76 said proudly.  He paused, gesturing to the table.  

“And I have a few extra bottles of kri’gee and narcolethe, if you’re interested,” Reaper said, a little too innocently. “Now I think he is trying to poison me,” you said, because you weren’t an idiot.  Those liquors were very potent.  

“I have some extra ne’tra gal,” 76 said, gesturing to the bottle he had.  “It’s a much nicer ale.”  

“It would go well with the uj’alayi,” Reaper said, setting a bowl of his spicy stew in front of you.  He poured you a mug of tea.  Then he began doling out portions for himself and 76.

76 put a slice of cake in front of you, along with the open bottle of ne’tra gal.

You took a sip of the sticky sweet ale.  It was more potent than you were expecting, but it was Mandalorian alcohol.  You then took a small bite of the dense cake.  It was rich and sticky, filled with dried fruit, nuts, and some kind of sweet syrup.  The syrup had carmelized a little on the outside of the cake, but the inside was almost too sweet, except for the ale that soaked in.   You washed it down with more of the ale.    

76 watched you eagerly.  “What do you think?”

“It’s rich,” you said.  “But the ne’tra gal does go well with it.”

“It was originally army rations – lots of calories for a march,” Reaper said.  “We thought you might enjoy some traditional Mandalorian food.”  

“That was very kind,” you said. “It’s delicious.”  

“Do Jedi have tasty traditional food?”  76 asked.

You sat with that for a moment. “...It’s actually kind of bland,” you sighed.  “Nutritious, but not fancy.  They don’t want us to be “distracted” by such things.”  Back in the day, Theron had smuggled you candies, snack foods, and even alcohol.  You felt a twinge of annoyance.  Back in the day, Theron hadn’t been such an asshole.  “I like trying new things though.  I had to sneak around in Coruscant – make it look like I was only stopping because I needed “sustenance.”  Not because the food stall smelled delicious.”

“We are not encouraged to be easily distracted by food,” Reaper said with a frown.  “But there is no harm in enjoying it.”  

“...Jedi aren’t supposed to “enjoy” things,” you muttered.  “Well, they can, just not…too much.”

“What counts as “too much?” 76 asked, taking a big bite of cake.  

You shrugged.  “That’s a philosopher’s debate.  But we’re meant to focus on denying most temptations.  Want and attachment lead to other negative emotions, which lead to hate, which leads to the Dark Side.  Let me summarize it for you: everything fun leads to the Dark Side.”  You rolled your eyes and took another swig of ale. “Depending on who catches you, that lecture can go on for hours.”

“Enjoying cake leads to becoming a Sith Lord?”  76 chuckled.  “I want to eat more.  Will that get me my own lightsaber?”  

You laughed.  

“Your Order has a real fear of this Dark Side,” Reaper said, sipping his tea.  “It seems a little convenient, like a method of control.”  

“The fear is legitimate, but the safeguards are controversial.”  You took another bite of his spicy stew.  “It’s complicated.”  

“So what happens when a Jedi goes to the Dark Side, becomes dar’jetii? Why is this so dreaded?  I have met the dar’jetii of the Empire.  Some are reasonable.  Many are not.  But they are not Jedi, and they are not so much more fearsome.”  Reaper’s brows furrowed.

“We’ve fought dar’jetii,” 76 said, chest puffed out.  “And we’ve won.  Didn’t get to keep the lightsaber though.  Captain got it.”  He gave you a rueful smile.  

“I assume dar’jetii means “Sith.”  And that’s part of the problem.”  You took another sip of tea, staring at the wall.  “There are two different understandings of the terms.  The political difference is that Jedi are force-sensitives who work for the Republic.  Sith work for the Empire.  It is an overly-simple explanation.” You held the mug between your hands, its warmth comforting.  

“That is how we understand it,” Reaper said.  

“Then you have the philosophical definitions.  There are two sides to the Force, Light and Dark.  The choices you make in life determine your alignment.  There are Imperial Sith, who are fair-minded and compassionate.  Even if they may not follow the Jedi Code, they are of the Light, though it would be unwise of them to advertise that.”

“And there are Jedi who are cruel and bloodthirsty, and they are of the Dark?”  Reaper asked.  “Your Order allows this?”

“No, they do not.  In fact, they are dismissed from the Order, and sometimes they are imprisoned.  Sometimes it is...worse.”  You did not look at them.  

“That seems like a tactical disadvantage,”  76 said.

“...It’s more than that.”  You switched back to the ne’tra gal. “Sometimes singular choices can swing a Light-side Jedi to the opposite end of the spectrum.  They go from honorable, kind, and patient to violent, cruel, and despotic in seconds.  Falling is a sudden kind of madness. Often they turn on their friends and allies, killing the people they swore to protect. Sometimes they recover who they were and regret what was done.  Sometimes they just become monsters.”  

“What causes it? I haven’t heard of Sith having such experiences often.” Reaper asked.  “Do they fear an inverse effect?”

You laughed, imagining that for a moment.  “No, I guess I haven’t heard of a Sith suddenly being filled with an uncontrollable sense of altruism.  At least, not to the same degree.  They may switch sides or work to seek redemption, but these are conscious choices.”

“So what makes Jedi so much easier to influence?” 76 asked.  

“Well, the Sith Code does encourage a certain amount of violence and backstabbing, but that’s the question, isn’t it?  The Jedi Order thinks if we, as individuals, keep our distance from the world, do not get attached to others, and live like ascetics, we can avoid falling.  If we just follow their rules, and live in our cloisters, we will be safe.”  The bitterness of your words surprised you.  

“Is there no middle ground?”

You took another bite of the stew.  “That’s also complicated. Allegedly, there is.”  You thought of the Gray Jedi. “But it is not an explanation accepted within our Order.  I have witnessed people falling.  It is...horrible to see someone you have known your entire life changing into the antithesis of themselves.”

“So if...attachment makes them fall, what brings them back?  Do you appeal to their honor?”  76 asked.

“Maybe,” you said, because you would give a lot to find the answer to that question.  “I think...reminding them what they found to be so important can help.”  You thought of Nomen Karr.  “But sometimes they are just in denial.  They think they are infallible, they think that excuses whatever actions they take, and that accumulation of corruption combined with their own hubris destroys them.”  You sighed.  

“What causes this madness?  The revelation of their own hypocrisies?” Reaper pressed.  

“Force users are...vessels.  The Force runs through us, it is like a constant stream of energy.  That energy can manifest in different ways.  Light Side users have certain powers, Dark Side users have others.  And then there are some abilities that are so rare, it’s hard to say where they come from.  Those are the extremely talented few: I have a friend who can heal broken minds.  But I have no idea how to do such things.  I am just a better-than-average fighter.” You smiled wryly.  “But one of my teachers has a theory.  Jedi spend so long keeping out the Dark, that sometimes, if we lower our guards, if we make an emotional choice toward the Dark, suddenly we have opened ourselves up to an outpouring from it.  Some of us do not know how to cope and that system shock is too much too quickly, and then we swing to the opposite side.”  

“So maybe you should do a few bad things, to keep your mind safe,” Reaper said with a shrug.  “Easy enough.”  

You laughed.  “...maybe.  Or maybe that slow acceptance of corruption just makes it easier to fall.  That’s a high-risk theory for me to try to prove.”  

“So what is an example of how a Jedi falls?” Reaper asked.

You sat there, knowing it wasn’t any of his business, and that you were drinking too much.  But it was not a secret.  And he wasn’t actually asking about your past. “Say you go into battle, and you really hate the person you are fighting.  You have thought long and hard about how they need to die.  You know that it is against everything that your Order has taught you, and you don’t care.  They might want him as a useful prisoner, but even if he surrenders, you are going to kill him.  Or perhaps, you are going to disobey orders – you will pursue him off the battlefield, even if it means leaving your comrades or charges behind.  There are many ways.  But I think it comes down to, you will look at your choices, you will know that what you choose is wrong, and you will do it anyway.”  

Reaper snorted.  “That doesn’t sound evil: foolish and undisciplined maybe.  But killing certain enemies is sensible.”

“But if it throws off your sense of self…”  76 rubbed his chin.  

“That is a problem we do not have to deal with,” Reaper said, brow furrowed.  “Perhaps the cost of sorcery is too high.  Or perhaps Jedi are weak-minded.  Their strictures are too rigid; the conditions they set are unreasonable.”  

“This fear of attachment and strong emotion,” 76 mused.  “How are they as parents?”  

“...Jedi are good caretakers, but not good parents.  Because Jedi are not supposed to marry or have kids, so we usually recruit externally,” you said, trying not to think of Theron.  

Both men blinked.  “What?!”

“We’re warrior monks,” you muttered.  “Or supposed to be.  There are exceptions, but in general, marriage and other romantic attachments are not encouraged.”  

76 and Reaper exchanged meaningful glances.  

You could feel the judgment.  You finished your ale, suddenly wishing for more.  

“So no sex?” 76 asked, his eyes wide.

“...We’re not supposed to,” you said, looking at the table, suddenly embarrassed.  

There was a long moment of silence.  

“But you don’t always do what you’re supposed to, do you?” Reaper asked, his voice warm and amused.  

You bit your lip.  “That’s really not your business.”  

Reaper gave a low laugh.  “I didn’t think so.”  He tilted his head to the side, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.  “There’s no shame in indulging or abstaining.  But something tells me that you’re not the type to shrink away from a challenge.”  

You crossed your arms, staring hard at him.  Did he need another lesson in humility? “What are you trying to say, Reaper?”

“I’m saying, if you choose to indulge, we’re both interested,” he said plainly, and took another bite of his tiingilar. “And if you don’t, we respect that too.”  

You nearly choked on air.  

“But we’re a package deal,” 76 said, his expression uncharacteristically somber.  

“...Wait, are you married?” You asked, because it was easier than processing what Reaper had just offered.

“Promised,” Reaper said, giving 76 an appreciative smile. “But this one has fought at my side for years, and that matters more than any words spoken.”  

76’s cheeks burned pink.  He gave Reaper a warm look.  “Traditionally, we can just say the vows whenever: in person, over comlink, through letters, and it’s done. But our clan wants to be there to witness it and throw a big party, which isn’t exactly traditional – they usually can wait till afterward.”

“But certain clan-members are insisting that they should attend,” Reaper said.

“And if we didn’t make the allowance our sisters and the Captain would never forgive us,” 76 said with a sigh.  “You don’t cross the Captain.”

“And our sisters are unreasonable and very good with their flamethrowers,” Reaper said.  

“Oh,” you said, like it all made perfect sense.  They were about to be married, but they wanted to invite you to their beds?  How did that make any sense?  You groped for words. “That’s lovely.”  

“You could come too,” 76 said.  “There will be plenty of food.”  

“...Uh…” You blinked, not sure how to process the proposition, the wedding invitation, and the entire situation.  

“76 and I take pride in performing well, be it fighting, cooking, or other recreational activities,” Reaper said smoothly.  “If you’re concerned, we’d be happy to give a demonstration.”  He leaned over, one arm around 76’s shoulder.

76 nodded happily. “You can think of it as exercise or stress relief.”

“Or you can just watch, if you like, we don’t mind,” Reaper purred, stroking 76’s hair.  Those thick metal gauntlets tightened into a fist, pulling 76 closer.   Reaper leaned over, pressing a hard kiss to 76’s neck.  

The blonde man moaned.

But Reaper was watching you, those dark eyes glittering. ��

“...I should go meditate,” you said, abruptly standing up and retreating from the room.

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Life After Losing Him

Summary: Reader goes about their new daily life but soon runs into the best friend they had lost several months prior.

TW/CW: Platonic!Reader x Sam and Dean Winchester (mostly Dean tbh). Classmate bullying Reader. Should College Student Reader be a warning? Bc I feel like it should lmao. Lots of swearing. Dean does the silver blade test so a wound and blade are mentioned. I don’t think there’s anything else but lmk if I should add something.

Requested?: Yes, a lovely Anon said, “Hello love, your writing is really good and I love how active you are on your account it’s very impressive I could never 🥰 I would be so honored if you could do a platonic imagine for me??? I had in mind like Dean going to hell and coming back and being mad at Sam because he stopped hunting and maybe being mad at reader for moving on and going to college/not trying to help Sam? Idk if that makes any sense lol”

Word Count: 1,880

A/N: So, Dean isn’t as angry as I could’ve written him to be, I didn’t really include Sam much in this one, and it’s mostly Reader going about her day in her new life. If enough of you want it, I could write a second part where Dean and Reader get home and talk to Sam or whatever. I hope this is alright. I personally really like some bits of it but as a whole it feels off to me for some reason.

Your POV

    I grabbed the car keys off my side table before heading out my bedroom door with my backpack slung over my shoulder. I stopped in the kitchen to grab the lunch I had packed the previous evening and a thermos of coffee before heading out for another day of boring ass classes. When I enrolled at the local community college to major in folklore and mythology, I thought the classes would be more interesting and it would be a piece of cake but unfortunately, I got stuck with a boring professor who obviously didn’t even want to be teaching the class in the first place. I push the garage doors open before making my way over to the car. I open the door and drop down into the driver’s seat, set my thermos in the cupholder near my feet, and toss my backpack and lunchbox into the passenger seat. After closing the door, I sigh as I place my hands on the steering wheel, “Alright, Baby. Another day without him but I know you’ve still got my back.” I reach over and pat the dash before cranking the ignition and pulling out of the garage to head for school. The ride to school is quiet aside from the classic rock drifting softly through the speakers.  

    I manage to find a decent parking spot within walking distance of my class but have to mentally prepare myself before grabbing my coffee and backpack and stepping out of the car. I lock the doors, shut mine, and head towards class. On autopilot, I find the classroom that I need and take my usual seat near the front against a wall and turn my back to the wall as I always do. Aside from a few who like to get here early for the same reason I do, to get our favorite seats, the majority of the class hasn’t arrived yet so I pull out my notebook, pen, and coffee. I avoid all eye contact with the others in the room and label my notebook page for today’s lecture. For the most part, people around here seem to avoid me although I haven’t decided if it’s because I intimidate them or because they think I’m “one of those backwoods crazy people” or perhaps it’s both. Regardless, it suits me fine. I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to get a degree and do something useful with my new life. When he died, Sam and I both agreed to not try to find a way to bring him back and try to create a normal life. Every now and then, I secretly take a hunt but it’s usually nothing more than a basic salt and burn case. I did get a job at a local mechanic shop. They were practically begging me to take the job when I showed up for the interview in Baby.

    I’m pulled from my thoughts as a loud group of guys enter the room. I try to ignore them but as per usual their little pack leader wants to try to ruin my day. He calls out to me but thankfully before he can start something, the instructor enters and tells him to have a seat. I’ll have to give this instructor points for at least not putting up with any bullshit like that in his class. Anyway, the rest of the class joins shortly and takes their seats and, on the dot, as always, the instructor starts his lecture. A miserable hour and a half later I have several pages of notes, most of which are completely false from a hunter’s perspective, about topics I already know the truth about just so I know what the instructor will expect on the test. The instructor dismisses us so I pack away all my things and head back to the car to eat lunch before my next class.

    I’m about halfway back to the car, which is completely hidden by a huge, jacked up, 4x4 pickup truck, when the loud group of guys catches up to me and their leader calls out again, "Hey, nerd! Why don’t you stop for a second? I didn’t get a chance to take notes in class and I want to get pictures of yours.”

    I ignore him and keep my head down as I mumble under my breath, “yeah because you were sleeping,” and continue to the car. As I come around the back end of the pickup and approach the car, I slam into something, or rather someone, sturdy and nearly get knocked on my ass if it weren’t for the person catching me. Out of instinct I go to grab my dagger out of its sheath under my sleeve but the person grabs my hand, “Don’t pull that thing out here. It’s just me.” Hearing that voice causes pure shock mixed with a touch of suspicion to wash over me. I look up and into the face of my formerly, dearly departed best friend, Dean Winchester. However, before I can ask questions or even test to make sure it’s him, the small group of my classmates rounds the end of the pickup truck causing Dean to push me behind him in a protective way.  

    The pack leader grins mischievously, “Who’s this? You know this guy, nerd?”

    I roll my eyes but Dean speaks up for me, “I’m (Y/n)’s brother you little bitch. Now, fuck off and leave her alone.” In all honesty, Dean wasn’t biologically my brother but he and Sam have been the closest thing to having any siblings in general that I’ve ever gotten.  

    The pack leader looks around Dean at me, “This true?” I nod. He laughs, “Well, I don’t know which of you are driving this piece of junk but you should probably get with the times and stop driving this old rust bucket. Maybe you could upgrade to a nice truck like mine here,” he taunts patting the truck parked beside us.

    “Your attention seeking, overcompensating piece of shit on wheels could never handle the things this car has been through,” Dean argues, stepping forward. I grab his arm and tug in attempts to get him to back down, no luck.

    The guy scoffs, “Yeah right. I bet if your little friend behind you there hit a curb it’d tear this car to pieces.”

    Before Dean can get into a fist fight, I unlock the car door and shove him in before climbing in myself. Unfortunately, the asshole doesn’t get the hint that I’m leaving and leans back against Baby. I check the mirrors to make sure that I’m not going to run anyone over before driving forward out of my spot, mentally thanking whoever didn’t park there or had just pulled out of the spot in front of me, causing the pack leader to fall on his ass. I laugh to myself as I watch in the rearview mirror and then take off. I find a secluded spot on campus to park so that I can test Dean, figure out what the hell happened with him, and eat my lunch before my next class in four hours. When I put the car in park, and look over, he’s already rolled his sleeve up and has a silver blade ready for the test. He presses the blade into his arm right above another wound that looks fresh.  

    “I figure if Sam wanted all the tests done then you definitely will,” he grumbles before wrapping his arm having sufficiently proven he’s not allergic to the silver. I grab the bottle of holy water that I keep in my backpack and hand it to him. He takes a sip of it before handing it back to me. I nod in understanding before grabbing my lunchbox to eat.

    Once I’ve opened my sandwich, I take a bite, chew, and swallow before asking, “What happened this time?”

    “I don’t know, Sam’s working on that now,” he pauses, watching me, “I’d like to know what the hell happened to you.”

    “There it is again. You never call him Sam but that’s twice in just the past few minutes,” I muse, avoiding his question, “I guess you’re pissed at him because he stopped hunting?”

    “Yeah, and it seems to me like you did too so why don’t you answer my question?” he replies.

    I sigh, and toss my sandwich back onto the paper towel in my lap, “After we lost you, Sam and I agreed to not go looking for a way to bring you back and to start living a normal life. Granted, I always mentally thanked him for phrasing it that way because that meant if a way to bring you back fell into my lap then I could take the opportunity. Regardless, I got a job at a mechanic shop nearby and started classes here for a degree in folklore and mythology.”

    He scoffs and whips his head around to look out the windshield, “So you stopped hunting too. What the hell is wrong with you two?”

    “The two of us didn’t stop hunting. He did,” I snap back, “He doesn’t know it but I go on hunts every now and then when the apple pie life gets too boring.”

    “What about that asshole back there? Why do you let him bully you?” he asks, nodding his head toward where we had come from earlier.

    “He’s always trying to pick on me but I ignore him for the most part and keep my dagger in my sleeve just in case. The less attention I draw to myself the better.” I answer.

    “You’re really balancing all this? Like, you go to class and study for exams and shit but then every now and then you go hunting during the weekend?” he asks and I nod. “So, what about Sammy?”

    “He got a job, even been on a few dates but like I said, he stopped hunting, as far as I know anyway,” I respond. My phone dings before either of us could say anything else so I pick it up to check it and find that my instructor for my other class for today has sent out a message to cancel it for today. I toss the phone down onto the seat between us and stuff my sandwich and everything else I had pulled out back into my lunchbox before putting the car in drive and backing out of this spot.

    “What are you doing?” he questions, once again. I swear if he doesn’t knock it off with the questions, I’m going to roundhouse his ass.

    “Going home. My other class for today was cancelled,” I answer shortly.

    He’s quiet until we get to the campus entrance, “Can we- uh- Can we stop and get a burger on the way?” I nod as I laugh at him. This is probably going to be weird to adapt to but we’ll figure it out. The three of us always figure things out. Honestly, if this turns into something bigger, as it usually does, then wouldn’t mind quitting school. Turns out it’s not all it’s cracked up to be and definitely not for me. I just hope Dean won’t sulk too long about how Sam and I handled life after losing him.

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