#chain of memories is one of the easier plots to understand!

[firestorm09890]

FUCK what I said about the majority of significant changes to dialogue in Re:CoM being to adjust Axel's characterization, the most egregious change is actually this

(GBA CoM)

(Re:CoM)

if I had to guess, the reason for this change was because in GBA CoM, The Superior was a spooky, unknown being at the head of this Organization we had very little knowledge on, and for Vexen, the guy who runs his mouth constantly about how much better he is than the others, to be terrified of him, he must be some pretty scary dude. But then after kh2 we know him, it's Xemnas, he's very dramatic, he likes to talk to the moon, and the effect of your mind filling in the gaps about what "The Superior" must be like is gone. So it wasn't really necessary anymore, right?

(rest under cut because it's long)

Except... the way they changed it is so weird. In the GBA version, what's happening is pretty clear:

Marluxia tells Vexen that his project is a failure

Vexen demonstrates that he does not give a shit about Marluxia's opinion

he does care very much about The Superior's opinion, though, and Marluxia uses this to blackmail him into eliminating Sora- an action which is nonsensical, as the entire point of what they're doing needs Sora alive, making it clear to everyone in the room that he is deliberately sending Vexen to die

and then after that, when Vexen shows up to fight Sora, he goes "if you want to fight me for real you've gotta do it in the memories from the other side of your heart lol bye" and Sora goes "huh? other side?" and then it cuts to a scene on the top floor:

and then this gets more into subtext but here, Vexen has realized he's totally fucked and his only hope is to mess directly with Marluxia's plans (well, they were the Organization's plans, but it's pretty obvious by now Marluxia's abusing his power for his own purposes) by giving Sora more information than he should know. This does get the traitor gang worried enough to send Axel to go kill him (as opposed to just letting Sora take care of him, which was presumably the original plan)- he very specifically cuts Vexen off to keep him from saying too much (this is retained between the original and the remake)

Anyway, what happens in Re:CoM sort of follows the same order of events, but everything is changed slightly in a way that just makes things more confusing.

Marluxia tells Vexen his project is a failure and Vexen demonstrates that he doesn't give a shit about Marluxia's opinion, as before

Marluxia threatens Vexen with a weapon, rather than threatening to tell the Superior

this, notably, does not seem to faze Vexen very much. he continues to run his mouth while having the scythe pointed at him.

Xemnas is still leveraged- Marluxia points out it was the Superior who entrusted him with the castle

...even though reasonably Vexen would already be aware of this, and has still demonstrated that he has zero respect for Marluxia despite it

the lines about betraying the Organization being a capital crime are retained, probably because it's super relevant later, but then that line of thinking is abandoned in favor of Marluxia and Larxene just taunting Vexen instead

The part where Marluxia says "do it. you won't" could be seen as a sort of threat... if not for Axel's line: "You give a challenge like that to Vexen and he'll seriously want to eliminate Sora." It frames it all as though Vexen went to fight Sora out of some sort of pride.

And look, Vexen may have a temper and a superiority complex, but he's not stupid. They're obviously baiting him. Plus, what happened to him seeing himself as above the others and countering things he doesn't like with "well actually I'm higher ranked than you and also you're an idiot"? Is he that insecure in his fighting capabilities? I could deal with characterization changes doing him dirty if it didn't also make no sense in the context of the plot.

So now we have Vexen going to try to kill Sora, something that really makes no sense to do, out of pride. What was the purpose of sending Sora to Twilight Town? Also pride, over the fact that he managed to get that information? Giving the writing the benefit of the doubt, I could say that these nonsensical actions can be explained as evidence that Nobodies can have hearts and people with hearts do strange and rash things, but that just feels like a reach, which is bad because what they had in GBA CoM worked perfectly fine and made sense without any reaching for the "idk emotions make you do strange things" explanation.

It continues. After Vexen gives Sora the Twilight Town card in Re:CoM and Sora wonders about what the "other side" means, this is that version of the conversation the top floor members have:

...what? "If Sora disappears, that would mess up the Organization's plans"? what are you worried about? the only reason Sora would disappear is if Vexen killed him. there's no way they think Vexen being in Twilight Town would give him an advantage, right? they know he's a pathetic fighter. "Vexen has clearly committed a treasonous act against the Organization" HOW? HOW IS IT CLEAR? they don't express any worry about Sora learning too much, up until Axel says "I came to stop you from talking too much" when killing Vexen- and that being there makes it seem like they were worried about Sora learning to much, but if that's the case, why would they replace the perfectly serviceable lines in the above scene? it's just... baffling that they would want to lean into the narrative that Vexen going to kill Sora (which he'd been goaded into doing) is the problem here, because it just makes so little sense compared to what it was originally.

once again giving them the benefit of the doubt: Marluxia's real plan was to take over the Organization, and he saw an easy way to pick off one of the members, so he took it. the motive for stopping Vexen doesn't actually matter.

buuuuut it's the same as with Vexen earlier. Marluxia may be too self-absorbed and power-hungry to notice Axel is scheming against him, but he, too, is an intelligent man. he's plotted for a while, getting into Xemnas's good graces in order to be put in charge of the Castle. this is incredibly sloppy for him. I guess it could be said that getting so close to his goal would make him sloppy, but again, if they'd just left things the way they were in GBA CoM, I wouldn't even have to be saying this

in conclusion: GBA Chain of Memories' intra-Organization strife subplot is so tightly woven with calculated moves on all sides that Re:CoM changing certain things without taking into consideration the consequences makes certain parts of the plot fall flat and become far more confusing than in the original story

[phoenixcatch7]

Idea: Ichigo being reincarnated (with his memories?) as sephiroths twin.

He'd probably get some appropriately occult name. With the same genes Ichigo would have the slit eyes and face and body, but keep the spiky ginger hair and gold/brown eyes. Grown out like his hollow, like his twin. Ironically the length tames the spikes a hit, makes it easier to manage.

They'd be such excellent foils for each other. Both fighting prodigies with that once in a century skill, humongous weapons that should be unwieldy, absolute battle tanks with huge reserves. Twins that look identical if not for the colouration. Ichigo being the 'warm' one, gruff and opinionated but free with his kindness. Sephiroth the 'cold' one, closed off but polite and struggling to understand and express compassion. Ichigo liking literature and sephiroth liking astrophysics. (He'd get on so well with genesis over loveless. Him and angel might but heads over the specifics of honour, though.)

Them growing up together, Ichigo protecting sephiroth as best he can in the labs and then sephiroth silently taking on the cruellest missions when he grows up, the ones he knows Ichigo hates to do and would hate him doing. Ichigo mouthing off at hojo to get his attention off sephiroth and sephiroth distracting the drill sergeants while Ichigo fumbles the regulation uniform and gets into fights.

Being each other's only family, the twin demons of wutai, leaning on each other in the labs and in photo shoots and on the field and when genesis and angel degrade and when jenova starts to press on their minds. Ichigo throwing the library books at the walls as sephiroth seethes behind the desk. Challenging each other to reach ever greater heights.

Would Ichigo keep his powers? Would he be able to see degradation blacken and rust the chains of fate? Would he be able to track sephiroth down with his uniquely green spirit ribbon? I think that'd be cool. It would be kind of unequal towards sephiroth though. Full bring? Could masamune be a spiritual weapon in an inanimate gigai? Could Ichigo's presence in the womb have affected sephiroth (and lucrecia) the way he did his friends?

Ooh, could the whispers be an equivalent to hollows? Visible only to certain people, causing trouble. A defence of the planet. Invisible enemies at their level of fame are too good to not include. They'd hate Ichigo for existing when he shouldn't. And with him being theorised to be capable of breaking fate, that's just too symbolic!

The afterlife of course operates very differently, being soul compost planet oil and by all accounts a much more personal and private experience than the second life across 3+ different spirit planets, though I can't remember bleach's exact stance on reincarnation. Dead people can meet people on the brink of death (and maybe give them a power boost) so they're not immediately gone, and who knows the technical specifics of what sephiroths situation was in the life stream. Maybe Ichigos situation is more akin to Vincent, hosting life energy spirit creatures. If chaos is a weapon... Hm...

Man zangetsu would look SO like sephiroth. He'd drive the poor man up the wall, goad him into a fight because something something accept and admit you love fighting/the beast in your blood/your killer instincts like he did to Ichigo.

Funny how sephiroth is this pinnacle of science and was trained from birth for war master of the blade terror of the planet son of the calamity etc etc and bleach's power scaling is so different Ichigo is about an equal match if not stronger. He's like cloud in that way. He'd LOVE zack.

Anyway the biggest problem is Ichigo not killing hojo the day he's tall enough to reach his throat because Ichigo may not be a murderer but I can only see him making an exception here. Actually, could I kill hojo and still have a plot?... I could.

Ichigo would walk all over Hollander, he's bad and unethical and tricky but I don't think he has the gluttony of malice hojo does. Much to consider.

To Ichigo, degradation sounds like the rattle of chains. Would Ichigo sprout horns and a tail if he started degrading instead of a wing?

They'd probably have separation anxiety between Reunion, their circumstances, and traumas.

Okay, so a few plot ideas:

Ichigo escapes with ifalna, with sephiroth sacrificing himself to cause a distraction. Horrified and guilt ridden, Ichigo flees midgar but keeps a close eye on sephiroth, looking for the day he can save his twin too. Sephiroth for his part fondly remembers his twin and deeply misses him, but contents himself on long nights with having gotten at least one of them out. After the war with wutai ends, Ichigo decides to risk reaching out to sephiroth again via a/g/z, who are spooked by a second sephiroth with crazy hair.

Ichigo manages to escape with ifalna, but gets caught and returned to shinra halfway through the war. Sephiroth is thrilled to see him but crushed he got recaptured. Ichigo retains his rebellious streak and general personality, which is put down to his stint of freedom. Shinra goes wild with publicity, hamming up the long lost twin sob story, to make it too hard for Ichigo to escape again. Ichigo and sephiroth aren't quite as close as they used to be, and Ichigo eventually joins avalanche during the tower break in to get answers to what happened to his brother, and stop jenova using him. He doesn't lose hope until sephiroth is dead. Or maybe he saves him.

Ichigo somehow doesn't kill hojo, and canon continues mostly uninterrupted until abruptly it's Remake and other people can suddenly see whispers who are attacking everything and sephiroth has gone utterly mad. So much confusion. Ichigo joins avalanche for answers and to try and get his brother back from the crazy future sephiroth while protecting cloud from him.

Ichigo kills hojo at a young age and Hollander gets promoted to the role, who fails to be quite as evil as hojo. They grow up to be much better adjusted people (though still not great) and are basically attached at the hip. Ichigo encourages sephiroth to take more extremes when genesis and angel start to degrade. With Hollander much more busy, much less willing to risk his job and with access to what he could get of Hojo's files he doesn't create/creates much less of the genesis copies. Unfortunately an S cell transfusion doesn't work but aerith does, at the cost of a chunk of their enhancements. Not suspecting any risks to themselves, they're horrified when the same starts to happen to the twins, but between the three remaining firsts, a determined trooper and eventually aerith again they manage to prevent anything serious.

Eventually everyone involved in a happy ending, disillusioned and horrified, discreetly join avalanche and when the weapons rise to wipe out shinra go on a planet hopping jrpg adventure with the addition of all the soldier firsts (and the trooper, on his first round of mako injections) to make sure shinra doesn't take the world with them.

Ichigo gets jenova'd with sephiroth and no one survives.

Ichigo burns down shinra the first chance he gets and a reluctant reeve inherits the earth.

Hojo kills Ichigo for being obstreperous and sephiroth is forever haunted by the ghost of his dead twin in a black samurai outfit. He handles it calmly and rationally, and doesn't develop a plethora of idiosyncrasies and the conviction that hojo will kill anything he cares about. On an unrelated note, hojo dies in an accident and sephiroth has to get talked down from jenova years early.

Zangetsu mind blast jenova and nobody has any issues at all except hojo having a mental breakdown and getting retired early. The twins take their own retirement and move to rocket town where sephiroth takes up astrophysics with cid as his coworker/rival and Palmer as his mortal enemy. Ichigo works as a world renowned martial arts teacher and does amateur book critique on the side. He publishes several Shakespeare plays from memory under a pseudonym.

[katheriensapple]

What is your TAWOG AU about? I know that Gumball is aware, but will there be more of the AU? :D

(and what’s it called? Or some little fun facts about it?)

Hello, thanks for your question! I'm really happy that my little AU is interesting to you. ❤️❤️❤️

The main idea of my AU is, as you said, that Gumball knows the truth. And all the changes branches from that single point. In the first place:

1. Gumball has tried to escape his fate and save the city before. Many times. He has always failed and has lose hope completely. So he has resigned himself to live in this nightmarish loop of a life. His main concern is keeping things interesting because he knows that's the only way to guarantee his own survival.

2. He has gradually stop caring about other people with few exceptions. He barely remembers a time when he saw people as... people and not as static figures in a theatre. They don't change, they don't grow. They can't because if they do the void simply erase their memories and it all end in the same start point. As Gumball himself says: 'it's been a long time since I was actuatlly twelve'. He can't really grow or change either, but at least he's aware of it.

3. With this position, Gumball becomes an antagonist to Rob, who is the actual hero of this AU. Rob wants things to change, he wants to free Elmore from the chains that restrict it's natural form. Gumball thinks he's being naive. He knows that the only way for Rob to remember and being able to fight the void is if the void itself allows it. So, deep down, Gumball thinks that Rob is merely following the same doomed path he has followed time before. He refuses to say anything, however, because he knows better that interferes with the Void's plans. He has learned that lesson the hard way.

4. So, with this context, Gumball tries to keep the show as normal as possible, ignoring any mention of the Void or missing people.

5. Gumball remembers perfectly the Repetition incident.

6. Things change, of course, when Gumball falls in love with Rob. It was an inevitable result, given that Rob is like... The only being that Gumball perceives as fully real. Even Sarah doesn't know all the things that are going on being scenes and Gumball has no reason to enlight her. On the other hand, Rob actually see him. In an unhappier note, Rob doesn't like what he see.

7. So post-finale Gumball manages to convince the Void that Rob can still be useful for the show, promising to 'keep him in check'.

8. The Void is like a little kid. It and Gumball are alike in that sense. And Gumball is the only person who talks in a language the Void understands, a kid's language.

9. Rob doesn't know anything of that. He thinks that Gumball is as ignorant as everyone in Elmore because that is the image Gumball likes to proyect. So discovering his real implication is both world-shaking and heartbreaking.

10. Gumball tries to convince Rob that any escape attempt is pointless and they should just give up and return to their old nemesis dynamic. But Rob, naturally, refuses to believe him.

That was the main plot. So here some curious facts:

1. I'm following the idea that all Elmore's citizens are discarded characters from other shows/movies/ads, so they usually retain some of their original traits. Gumball, for example, was the main character of a campaign whose objective was promoting the early detection of antisocial behaviour in middle school students. It, in fact, explains a lot.

2. Some characters got scars from bad encounters with the Void, being Gumball the only one who recognises them for what they're. He himself has some marks but less visible and easier to ignore. He CAN'T have scars, he's the protagonist after all.

3. Gumball uses wires and electrical connections to play pranks on other characters. It's been a long time since the last time Darwin was surprised to find their bedroom full of messy wires and broken TV's being repaired. Being suddenly electrocuted for walking over a random-ass puddle (that was in the fucking carpet for some reason) Is also a common thing.

4. Gumball himself has his fur and skin filled with electric burns 'cause security measures are for lesser beings.

5. Gumball won't shut the fuck up about how much he hates static and TV's and radios and how the world would be a better place if people just choose books over electronic devices. He hasn't read a book in his life and is an expert in electronic devices repair and general maintenance.

6. Every time Gumball brings the topic up, Anais buries her head in an open book and SCREAMS.

And for the name I think that something like MissingStatic could fit. Inspired in my fic series Something's Missing

[lesbianaerith]

i see you like kingdom hearts!! one of my goals for this year is to finally play all of them (the all in one package i think)

is there anything i should know before starting?

I have a lot of advice of varying usefulness.

Don't put too much pressure on yourself to understand everything. KH is more about the fun moments, characters and vibes than really following the plot super closely, at least to me. I must admit I didn't get far in UX and I haven't played Dark Road.

Don't watch the cutscenes for 358/2 Days in the collection, the movie they put together honestly sucks. Watch a cutscene movie on YouTube from the original DS game. Everything about it is going to be better, and Days has one of my favorite stories in the series.

Regular Pat on YouTube has a lot of great Kingdom Hearts videos and I would recommend him both to any long time KH fan, and people trying to get into the series.

You can skip Re:Coded entirely. Some people will try to tell you otherwise. They're lying to you.

The original KH has a lot of fun secrets, really take your time and explore and try things out! There's no other game in the series that pays so much attention to detail and has things I'm still discovering twenty years later. Try not to look up too much, of course I won't tell you how to play but I think the original game is best experienced with as blank a slate as possible! To me, KH1 is the embodiment of childlike wonder and exploration.

DON'T skip Chain of Memories. I believe the collection already organizes things in this play order, but ideally you should play KH1 first, then CoM, then KH2. You WILL still be confused when you start 2. This is fine. I think play order is heavily debated but I tend to prefer release order. I definitely wouldn't recommend playing BBS first despite it being a prequel.

Your choices at the beginning of KH1 affect how you level up and what your strengths are in combat so choose wisely!

Learn to block. These games are so much easier if you block. I say this as someone who tried to dodge roll my way through the game for years, until I got the FM version of 2 and had to fight a very difficult new boss. Blocking will save your life and once you get the timing down it's easy. Reflect is your best friend.

Have fun!

[cardfate]

Case Study : Redesigning Kingdom Hearts for Mobile Gamers

Context

Video games should be a universal experience, but increasingly, older gamers find themselves isolated from it due to games' lack of accessibility.

Kingdom Hearts is an action role-playing game developed by Square Enix and released on the PlayStation 2 in 2002. The game features an action-oriented battle system, a role-playing leveling system, and a few smaller mini-game sections between worlds. For the redesign, the plot will not be affected by any changes. However, it would be made more for users to play on the go for a quick burst or while sitting and relaxing at home for a longer more, “system-like” play.

Objective

Redesign the UI of a nonmobile game, Kingdom Hearts, into a mobile gaming experience accessible to elders.

Implementation

Menus

| Pause Menu

| Redesigned Pause Menu

Menus would be streamlined in the gaming process so that the elder player can spend more playtime in-game rather than in menus. Many of the previous menu options are now automatically added to the player (upgrades and abilities) or are not needed anymore (status and customize).

Exploration

| Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories Isometric Camera

| Redesign UI camera and main UI

Originally, Kingdom Hearts used a 3rd Person camera that is known to be very floaty, difficult to control, and overall unresponsive. For the redesign, the camera would be isometric and follow the character as it moves. For an older player, I wouldn’t want them to have to think about the camera in any way or move it. This type of camera was only used one other time in the series for the title Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories for the Gameboy.

The player character, Sora, has a glowing green dot under him for visual contrast and so he is more noticeable to elder players especially if other characters or enemies are on screen. Enemies in the game have a red spot under them and they stand in one spot, unmoving, unlike the original game.

Within exploring the game world, there would be a color system for doors. If a door leads to another accessible area it would glow: Red for boss areas and gold for normal areas. This change was because the original game has a lot of painted on doors for textures and I wanted the player to be clear on where they can go.

A mini-map would be added to the game, to assist navigation. Though the first game lacks one, this was later corrected in newer entries. Some areas of Kingdom Hearts are known to be hard to navigate and I believe this quality-of-life change will help a lot with navigation. On the mini map, doors are marked either gold or red just like in the overworld. The player is also marked with a green dot. The mini-map will also be stagnant and not move.

World Map and Gummi Ship Minigame

| World Map

| Gummi Ship Mini Game

| Redesigned world map

For these two sections, there are no major changes because they are already simple and straightforward.

For the world map, I only changed the way the battle level is displayed, I used numbers out of 10 instead of the star system because I believe it’s easier to understand. The only change I would give gummi sections is making them shorter, making the HP and MP bars like the new battle ones (introduced below), and giving the ship automatic upgrades instead of having to build and add them yourself because, in the original game, this system is confusing and unfun.

Battle System, Magic, and Item Change

| Standard battles in Kingdom Hearts

| Redesigned Battles (showing Health Points)

| Redesigned Battle (showing Magic Points)

To make Kingdom Hearts more accessible and easier on a mobile format, I decided to change from an action battle system to a turn-based battle system. Action games require quick reflexes and timing, two things that decrease as a person ages, however; for a turn-based game, the player will not have to worry about reaction times or reflexes, they may take as long as they like to go through battles. The camera during this section would not change, only the characters would move.

Health Points (HP) and Magic Points (MP) would be displayed differently. Instead of the radial style used in the original, I opted for using bars for a simpler look. HP will display directly under the player character in most menus, only when clicking the "Magic" menu will the bar change to show the player's MP. This change is to help with managing the different point systems so the battle UI is not cluttered. Number percentages would be added to both bars to help with understanding the number of points left. For enemies, the HP bar will always be shown under the enemy and will not need to be unlocked like in the original game. Under the enemy that’s being targeted, a blue circle will be shown.  For each battle, HP and MP will replenish back to 100% for the player.

To adapt to a mobile format,  made changes to the command menu that Kingdom Hearts uses for battles. Instead of having to scroll through and select, the player can simply tap the button for attacking, blocking, magic and items. Within this I also made a change to items used in battles, only three would be available to players: Potion (for healing HP), Ether (for healing MP), and Antidote for status effects. All status effects would be able to heal with Antidote instead of having different items for statues, this makes item management much simpler for an elderly player.

The magic system now lists all the magic available and automatically upgrades to the stronger version of the spell instead of having to equip it, taking away the need to prep outside of battles and streamlines the playing experience.

The party system would work similarly to other games with the party member characters attacking/healing/blocking on their own however I would like the party members to be programed to heal the player character’s health or magic more often than themselves so that it’s less that an elderly player would have to worry about, and they can focus on attacking the enemies.

| Redesigned Item Menu

[completeoveranalysis]

~

Warning! This post contains spoilers up to chapter 170 of Tsubasa (and Chapter 71 of xxxHolic). Please skip this if you have not read that far.

Please also make no comments about what happens after that point in either manga.

~

SO here is the other splash image that really stuck out to me:

This time not because of the Seresu arc but because of how the Infinity arc itself ends.

Here's the link to the original post the image is from if you'd like the full context, but the particular quote from that post I want to use as a reference is here:

"Syaoran also sits on the throne - which as far as I can tell, isn’t his. ... The only one ever wearing the crown they’re all wearing [on their clothes] is Sakura. Now, does it make sense that Syaoran has usurped her throne? Heck yeah! He’s stolen everything from her. He’s stolen her journey (they’re following him now, always a step behind), he’s stolen her feathers, and he’s stolen the person she’s in love with."

Where I was kind of on the right track but couldn't have possibly guessed what all the chess imagery was ultimately feeding into. Looking back now the initial liveblogs for all of these Chess-related splash images are such a big mix of different iconography, so it’s very fun reading through all my old guesses back then. I think I did a really good job of trying to decipher some of it, especially the Cinderella and Snow White imagery in Chapter 140, but the Chess was a bit trickier.

Which, like, understandable, because the chess game that was happening in the chapters was stressful as heck and did not end well, but there is a nice conclusion to it with this image which is easier to read now - especially in regards to Sakura. Because it's made very clear to the viewer that the symbol of the Queen piece is in reference to her; both in these splash images (where she wears the crown at one point, and every character wears the symbol in ways that reflect their allegiance to her) and in the plotline, where she functions as the Queen of the battles taking place. Here is another good example of the symbol being used for Sakura with it right there on her throne, and the two Syaoran's wearing the symbol in smaller ways to represent their relationship to her. But with that all in mind? I had no idea what it was really getting at with Syaoran on Sakura's throne here.

BUT NOW I DO.

If you go back to that example I just gave with Sakura sitting on her throne? It's a different throne! It still makes it very clear that she's undeniably the Queen piece, with the symbol in gold actually being a key part of the throne itself.

And the throne Syaoran sits on? It has the crown symbol as part of the decoration, but it's not representing him, it's just a small symbol to show that matches Sakura's throne. This throne is his own.

He's the King piece.

(And, important distinction; the throne is not Lava Lamp's, but our original plotline Syaoran who is now in Autopilot mode.)

This wouldn't have occurred to me the first time through because I was focused so much on what this might mean for Sakura, and how she related to everyone else, but the way the Infinity Arc ends really hammers this home. After all, Sakura is the mastermind in this arc - everything that happens is according to her plan. She's not playing chess just during the literal chess matches, but during the entire plotline, moving every character and circumstance into place to enact her final plan; to activate both Chi's at once, absorb both their feather's, and trigger Fai's curse - resulting in her pseudo (if purely physical) death. But like we see in the plotline, this isn't a loss - it's a win. It's exactly how she planned things to unfold, and it will lead her to winning the game.

Just in case anyone isn't familiar, in Chess the queen is the most powerful piece capable of the widest variety of moves - but the queen is not the endgame goal. You can lose the queen piece in any game and (besides losing a powerful piece) it's not the end of the world. You can still win the game without the queen piece. It's the King piece that's the Win/Loss condition. The King is the piece you have to keep safe at all costs, even if you lose other pieces in the process. The second the King dies, the match is over. You've lost.

And this matches exactly how Sakura played the series events. She was the Queen in control of every move, and Syaoran was the Win condition she was focused on. She foresaw Fai killing Syaoran in the future - which, for her, is the Losing Scenario. She planned everything to avoid this, and she succeeded! She lost the Queen piece (ie, her physical body) but won the ultimate goal of keeping the King safe. She won the 3D future chess game that she was playing by herself, and positioned herself in the place that would have the most benefit for the victory at the end. (Which I still haven't seen, but she was VERY confident about this having a better result than Fai killing Syaoran.)

I'm also super happy that this ties in really well with the fairy tale allusions I talked about back in Chapter 140, but in ways I wasn't aware of back then either.

I talked about Snow White and how the apple (that shows up in a lot of the splash images in Infinity) may have been referring to Sakura's tendency to sleep a lot. What I didn't realise was that Sakura was essentially about to pull the Big Brain Snow White maneuver on herself to ultimately win her chess game. While in Snow White the poison apple is a trap, here Sakura sprung the trap intentionally. Fai is the apple she bit into deliberately - she arranged it so that killed her body, breaking his own curse, and sent her to the World of Dreams (and thus, she is asleep) which also placed her in a Glass Coffin (aka The Jam Jar of Dreams - Im sorry I have no memory of what it's really called). So the Snow White metaphor is now complete.

But also Cinderella! In the image for 140 Sakura is trying on a glass slipper - so she's Cinderella figure as well. But at this point in the plot the clock hadn't struck midnight just yet - like Cinderella, Sakura knew the exact time limit she had to work with, and for her the timing had to be PRECISE. She spent all of Infinity stressed out of her mind about this plan she couldn't trust anyone else with, knowing full well that if she missed the window even slightly it would ruin absolutely everything and they would all lose. Which, funnily enough, makes Yuuko the fairy godmother, since she provided Sakura with the magic she needed to make her plan happen (via wishes). This also means that Fai stabbing her with the sword is the exact moment the clock struck twelve - and like the spell finishing, Sakura could finally drop the act and explain what she had done, even as all the magic disappeared (ie, her luck being traded away). There's even a detransformation sequence of a sort, with her body and soul going in two different directions. But either way, the Cinderella metaphor is also complete!

And with all that done the last part I want to talk about is back in the image of Syaoran on the throne. He's framed on either side with the curtains that portray the chess board, and they're tied back by chains with him in the very centre. He is visually chained to the board - which, like, of course he is. With his Autopilot programming in place he's essentially just a chess piece without any will of his own - a winning piece, for sure, but he's still being moved around without his choice. He's playing the game on auto, making the moves that will lead him to the winning gambit, but without his individual soul he has no choice but to keep playing until the game is over. The goal he's working towards isn't even his - it's Evil Wolverine's. So in the same way that everyone else was a chess piece in Sakura's strategy (if, sort of, willingly), including Sakura herself, Syaoran is a piece being moved around in Evil Wolverine's favour - though if he dies, it's game over for Sakura's side as well.

I'm unclear if Syaoran dying would be a game over scenario for Evil Wolverine, but at the very least it would end the game he is currently playing.

So, in the hyper future 3D chess game that Sakura was playing by herself she couldn't properly win the game for her side by taking out Syaoran because he's her king piece too. Syaoran is the piece at the centre of everything, and will be the key to winning the game for either side. We just have to wait and see if Sakura's gambit will pay off in the way she thinks it will.

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt.8]

Pairings:  Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death.

A/N: **TW: A certain death is finally explained in this chapter. It is the second half of the chapter. It’s not in crazy detail but there is some important plot stuff mixed in.  I decided to post despite someone stealing my work. 😤 Thanks to my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​​​ for looking this chapter over for me. Enjoy the sad I guess. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Stepping away from music for those ten months turned out to be the best thing you could have done for yourself and your career. Without the small reprieve, you doubted you would have found your way back to teaching, and you loved teaching. Not that it had been intended as a break at the time you walked away. You had every intention of never looking at another sheet of music again, but then Bucky came home and things became more complicated and somehow easier. You doubted that he knew what he was doing, and why should he? It wasn’t as if he had planned on coming home to pick up all your broken pieces so he could help put you back together. He did -- whether he realized it or not -- help you get some of your old life back. The bit that you could take with you into this new one. You even called a few of your former students and asked their parents if they were interested in picking up their lessons. Most said they would love to pick up where you left off, and a few said they found someone new in your absence. You couldn’t blame them. The world had continued while you chose to stand still.

Bucky must have noticed a difference because he told you he liked how pretty you looked when you were smiling. 

Lessons started with the school year, and fall was here before you could blink. You were surprised to find you weren’t dreading the holidays as much as you thought. It would be the first holiday season since you got the call and you had expected it to feel like the rest -- hollow and grim. Along with Easter and Memorial Day, you had skipped celebrating Steve’s birthday. There was a small cake you shared with Bucky, three bites in, and you couldn’t force any more falsities down. You spent the rest of the night in your room. It was one of the rare nights you hadn’t slept next to Bucky since he had been home. You needed the night to yourself, and he understood that. By morning, your wedding ring had found its way from your ring finger to a chain that Steve had given you years ago. It felt strange at first. From the moment Steve slipped it on your finger, it rarely left your skin, and when you did, it always felt like there was a piece of you missing. That feeling didn’t show up this time, but you imagined there weren’t many more pieces of you that could go missing. You didn’t want to make it a big deal, so you kept it tucked inside your shirt. Of course, Bucky noticed the absence right away. He never questioned it. 

It was a step forward (or maybe backward you weren’t sure some days). They were small, slow steps taken, but at least you were moving.  

You’re not sure when it happened, but one morning you woke up and everything didn’t hurt as bad, you guessed it started right around the time Bucky came home. While moving forward was necessary (as everyone continued to remind you), there were days when it felt like a betrayal. You are moving on, and Steve can’t come with you. A little guilt blackens your heart every time you smile on those days; so you falter and take those arduous steps back. It lessens with every laugh and smile Bucky draws out of you, but it’s there under it all, and there’s the fear too. You’re afraid if you move on and keep up with the rest of the world you will forget. You will forget everything you and Steve had, and it will be as if you were never anything at all. Bucky shook his head when you confessed that to him late one night with your forehead pressed firmly against his shoulder, fighting your sleep and the nightmares you were sure would follow. 

“You’re holding on to the past, Y/n. You gotta let it go. I’m not sayin’ you have to stop lovin’ him, but you gotta let go of the part of Steve that’s keeping you from moving on and being happy. Or it’s going to continue to tear at you until there’s nothing left.” 

“And if I forget him?” 

“You won’t, Trouble. You can’t forget a love like that. Trust me, I know.”

Bucky didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t dare ask. He’s never mentioned anything about falling in love in all the years you’ve known him. You’ve never seen him hold onto a woman for longer than a month and the idea of Bucky being in love, holding on to that love all these years without ever getting to know it turns your stomach inside out and shades your heart a bitter green. You’d rather not dwell on those feelings long enough to understand them. 

Neither of you spoke about it again, and you were thankful. You didn’t think you could handle discussing Bucky’s long lost love when you could barely pick out an outfit. You’ve been staring at your clothes for an hour now, and everything either looked awful or felt wrong. Maybe you needed to buy new clothes and start from scratch. Every piece you owned had a memory stitched into the fabric, and you didn’t need to be reminded of things you would never have again. Bucky pulled a grey flannel out of his closet, and you reached across the bed, yanking it right out of his hand to slip over your head. That would have to work for today. Bucky rolled his eyes and turned back to the closet to grab a blue Henley for himself. 

You always did like the way he looked blue. 

“I can go see Sam so you can have some time alone with Tasha and Wanda.” 

You didn’t say anything. Just gave a simple nod of the head, refusing to look up from the pile of clothes on the bed that now needed to be put away. You could leave it. The girls would be here any minute, and with Bucky gone, you could deal with it then. Bucky reached out to wrap his fingers around your wrist and gave a gentle tug, forcing your gaze to follow the motion up to meet his eyes. He ran his thumb over the soft thumping in your wrist and stared at you for a while as if he was working something out. 

“Or,” Bucky suggested gently. “I can stay right here and work on my bike.” 

Your lips curled up in a small smile despite your brain’s wish to keep them in a permanent frown. 

“Okay,” You agreed with an easy smile. You slipped your wrist out of Bucky’s loose hold and made your way towards the door, stopping before you crossed the threshold and looked back at him with a deep frown replacing the pretty smile you were wearing only a second ago. 

“You don’t have to babysit me, y’ know?” 

Bucky’s laughter was followed by an exasperated groan. Of course, that was why you were upset. 

“Yeah, I know. You’re just fine on your own.” 

There was no fighting the grin Bucky’s words caused. “Yes, I am. But�� you can hang around if you want to.” 

“I’ve meant to clean up my girl anyway. I’ll hang around today, Trouble.” 

Bucky assurance made your heart rest a little easier and maybe his too because he looked relieved when you nodded. The doorbell broke your silence and forced you to leave his side; you barely made it to the top of the stairs when you heard Bucky mutter, “Pain in my ass.” There was a fondness in his voice that made your heart leap. 

Even though you were back to teaching you made sure not to overwhelm yourself; Tuesdays and Thursdays you worked late into the evening. It was nice to have something to look forward to, and Bucky always had something to eat ready when your last student left around 8:30. That was nice too. 

Natasha had called earlier in the week wanting to come over Thursday night, and you had to explain that you went back to work. There was silence on the other end of the line, and silence was never good with Natasha. She was probably mad you didn’t tell her and that you were keeping things that important hidden, but it wasn’t something you wanted to advertise. Besides, Friday was as good a day as any to have the girls over. No one had to work the next day and took some of the pressure off. Everything felt normal when Natasha and Wanda arrived; you shared a hug or two. Okay, three. Wanda liked to hug, and she showed you the muffins she baked while Natasha held up a bottle of something that looked as if it could melt the glass it came in. You didn’t know what you expected. You hadn’t thought you would feel so excited to see them. Not because you didn’t love them, but having excitement around anyone but Bucky has been rare these last few months.  

Sometimes the unexpected was good. 

You chose to sit on the window bench that happened to overlook the side yard where Bucky had his black and chrome bike parked and was sitting on an old milk crate hard at work. That didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha. Not that anything ever does. 

“So are you two living together now?” 

You slowly draw your gaze up from the wine glass in your hand to look at Natasha and Wanda, who was skillfully avoiding your eyes as she blew on her tea for far longer than necessary.  

“Yes. Is that a problem? It’s not like we talked about it or anything. It just sort of happened.” 

Natasha shrugged in answer to your question and waited for you to go on. She wanted more of an explanation, so you rolled your eyes and explained why Bucky was staying with you. 

“He didn’t have anywhere to go when he came home.” 

Natasha smirked at the suggestion that Bucky would have been homeless if he hadn’t come to live with you, and you knew right away what you said had been a mistake. “Besides his mom’s, right? She lives twenty minutes from here. What about Sam’s? Or at my place with Clint and I? And I’m a hundred percent certain Sarah Rogers would have taken him in if everyone else in his life let him down for some unknown reason.”  

You turned to look back out the window right as Bucky looked up, catching his eye, and you felt the panic in your chest lessen. Bucky gave you that pretty smile and scrunched his nose at you before going back to work. You fought to keep your smile small and lost the battle before it even got started. Wanda’s voice pulled you back into the living room; it was gentle as if she was trying to offset Natasha. 

“I think what Nat was trying to ask is if you are planning on staying here together, or is he going to get his own place eventually?” 

“We haven’t talked about it. I suppose he will at some point, though...” 

You frowned at the thought. Why did that bother you so much? 

“He doesn’t have to do anything, you know?” Wanda added at the sight of your upset. “He might want to stay here.” 

“Maybe, but he has to move on eventually,” you added, dread filling your voice from the mere thought of Bucky leaving you. “He can’t stay here just to keep me from falling apart for the rest of this life.” 

They were right. Bucky will eventually want to get back to his life. He can’t babysit you forever.  There was going to come a time when he will want to date, fall in love, and get married. Maybe even have kids. Do all the things that you were supposed to do with Steve. The thought of Bucky leaving you to have that life with someone else made you sick, and you know it’s selfish. It’s unfair to expect him to stay there with you because you don’t want to lose him to someone else. 

“How are you doing?” Natasha sounded a little softer this time, sensing your unease. “Are you sleeping?”  

“Yeah, I started sleeping in Bucky’s room with him. It seemed to help.” 

They stayed quiet but shared a look. You weren’t fond of whatever that was.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” Wanda rushed out far too quickly, but Natasha was quick to cut in, and by her tone, you could tell she’s been feeling this way for a while. “I’m just wondering how long you are going to keep punishing yourself?” 

Natasha stared at you and Wanda swore under her breath. They talked about this before coming over. That was clear by the glare Wanda was settling Natasha with. You briefly wondered how often your friends discuss you like that. More often than you approved of, you were sure. 

“I’m not punishing myself. I’m allowed to be sad. My husband died--”

“You’re right. You are allowed to be sad. Just like you’re allowed to find new things that make you happy and start putting your life back together.” 

“I’m fine, Nat. I don’t need anything new. I have our house and my music--” 

“And, Bucky?”

While she was right, you did have Bucky, in a sense. Bucky wasn’t new. You had a feeling what she was suggesting would be very new and not a notion you wanted to entertain.

“Natasha--” 

“It’s okay to be happy again, Y/n. It’s okay to let your heart get put back together and heal. It doesn’t cheapen what you had with Steve. It doesn’t mean you didn’t love him, and it doesn’t mean you are betraying him. You aren’t doing anything wrong by letting yourself find happiness again. Even if that happiness is found with Bucky.” 

You had a feeling what Natasha was hinting at, but hearing it outright like that made you a little queasy. Did people, your friends, talk about you and Bucky like this? Is that what everyone was worried about, who would get you next?  

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t act stupid Y/n. You’re a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.” 

“He’s been my best friend since I was thirteen. It’s not-- It’s never been--” You took a deep breath and told them both, firmly. “He’s my best friend.”  

Wanda pinched Natasha’s thigh and grabbed your hands from where she sat on the floor between you and Natasha. “All Nat is trying to say is if you wanted to find happiness again... with Bucky or anyone for that matter, it’s okay. You’re not doing anything wrong by moving on.” 

“It’s been nearly a year since you lost Steve. It’s time to start picking up the pieces, Y/n. With Bucky or without. You can’t stay stuck in this in-between, and you can’t go back.”

You turned your gaze back out the window to catch Bucky staring at you. He quickly looked back at his bike and fiddled with the wrench in his hand. It reminded you of all those days he would hide you in Shop class so you could skip Geometry with Mr. Coulson. The memory makes you grin. The girls might be half right. Maybe you couldn’t go back, but that didn’t mean you wanted to let it go completely.

----

Three hours after Natasha and Wanda left, you found yourself wandering around the house with what you thought was purposeless. It started in the kitchen, and you slowly made your way through your home, somehow ending up in the doorway to Bucky’s room. Your heart must have told your feet where to go and left your brain in the dark. His hair was still wet from a fairly recent shower. The ends were darker than the rest and shiny from being wet. It wasn’t long enough to tuck behind his ears, but it was long enough that he could slick it back. His beard had become relatively thick due to his laziness these last few months. To be fair, most of his attention has been on you. When he mentioned trimming it a few weeks ago, you wrinkled your nose at the thought, and at the time, he had laughed. 

He never did trim it after that. 

Bucky glanced up at you, hovering at the threshold to his room, and he smiled, crooking his finger for you to come in. You pushed off the doorframe and made your way over to where he was resting on the end of the bed, wet towel lying on the bed next to him. You wanted to tell him it was getting your side of the bed all wet, but you thought better of it. 

It’s not your bed, after all. You have your own you should probably start to sleep in and let Bucky get back to living his own life. 

“Have a good time?” Bucky asked. There was a softness in his voice he saved for you and you alone. 

You shrugged.

“Tasha called me stupid on the way out. Got any idea what that is about? Should I be scared?” 

You grinned and brushed a fallen strand of hair back to lay with the rest. “I don’t know, but being scared is always a safe bet when Nat is involved. How’s the bike? It looked like you got a lot done.” 

“She’s good. Just cleaned her up a bit and changed the oil. You know, I like fiddling with her a bit, and she’s been sitting at my mom’s collecting dust.” 

You cupped his cheek and gently rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb. He nuzzled your palm right away, eyes falling closed, and he seemed to relax a fraction. There was tension in his shoulders you hadn’t noticed before, a darkness that has never lingered in his eyes this long, and his smile never quite reached his eyes anymore. He’s spent all this time taking care of you, and you never once noticed how badly he was struggling. 

He was lost just like you. 

“Hey.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice and quickly pulled away from your touch as if he remembered he shouldn’t be doing that. You slowly drew your hand back, letting them drop to your side and choosing to sit next to him instead. 

“Wanna talk?” 

“‘Bout what?”

He looked dejected, troubled. A little scared, too. 

“What’s been weighing on your heart.” Bucky dropped his gaze, his tell for waiting to drop the subject, but you pushed a little more. “I didn’t see it before. I was too wrapped up in my shit, but I can see it now. The guilt and the hurt.”

If he honestly couldn’t talk, or didn’t want to, you would drop it. 

“Y/n, you don’t want to hear about that.” 

So it was about Steve’s death then. You had a feeling. 

“If I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t have asked. I need to hear it, Bucky, and I think you need to talk about it as well.” 

It took a long time before Bucky made any movements at all. He shifted further away from you, tossing the towel onto the desk chair and turned to face you. You mirrored his position tucking one leg under you on the bed and letting the other hang off the edge. He was still quiet, gathering his thoughts and a little courage, too. You nudged his barefoot with yours and he gave you a small smile.

“Steve was… He was walking in front of me. Like he always does-- like he did, and Sam was on our left.” Bucky licked his lips, tossing words around his head to find the right ones. This was harder than he thought it would be. 

“I wasn’t paying attention. I should have been. That’s my damn job. I was too busy staring at the damn…” Bucky stopped short, and the look of guilt he gave you said he feared you already knew his crimes and found him deserving of judgment. 

“At what, Bucky?” 

Bucky dropped his eyes and shook his head. 

“You’ll hate me.” 

“Bucky… I could never hate you. Nothing you could do would make me hate you.” 

Bucky closed his eyes, squeezed them shut really. He didn’t want to see your face when he said what he had to say next. “I was staring at your scarf. It was sticking out of his collar, poking up right out of the back of his BDU’s and all I could think about was you, and how I could never have-- I was distracted.”

He reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes with the palm of his hand. You had to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling him close. Bucky needed to get this off his chest and you needed to hear it. 

“Next thing I knew, there was a shot fired and then about ten after that. Maybe more. I don’t know. Steve was down, and at first, I thought he dropped to take cover, but my damn ears were ringing, and shots were flying everywhere. I tried to yell out, but I couldn’t hear my voice over the noise. Sam was trying to drag me away, but I couldn’t leave him lying there…” 

Bucky’s words became stuttered and choked. You could follow along, but you had to piece together the holes Bucky couldn’t fill. He explained how Steve had taken the bullet for him, how he had been distracted and didn’t see it in time. Bucky told you that he had pulled Steve undercover, and Steve had begged for Bucky to take care of you for him. Bucky left out the reason Behind Steve’s choices that day. You didn’t need to know that when Bucky asked why he did that, Steve told him with that stupid lopsided smile, “You’re my best friend, Buck and Y/n... S-she can go on without me. She can’t live without you though.” 

You wiped your tears away with shaking fingers. Bucky blamed himself for Steve’s choices and you couldn’t let him go on thinking he was at fault for something he had no control over. Scarf or not. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“Yn...” 

“No, Bucky. It wasn’t your fault. If it had been the other way around, you would have jumped in front of him. We both know you would have.” 

“But if I was--” 

“It’s not. Your fault, Bucky.”  

You crawled into his lap and pulled his head to your chest. Bucky tightened his arms around your waist, clutching at the thick fabric of his shirt still clinging to your skin. “I don’t blame you, and I know Steve wouldn’t,” You cooed softly in his ear. ”He would do it a hundred times over, and I know you would do the same for h-him.” 

Bucky tucked his nose into your neck and took a shaky inhale. The two of you sat like that as the glow of the room slowly faded from orange to dark blue. Bucky’s quiet sobs had settled into barely-there sniffs along with your own. There was a new heaviness resting on your chest, but despite the pain that came with knowing the truth, it gave you a tiny bit of closure. He never said if he believed you or accepted your forgiveness. You prayed he did. You hoped now he would be able to forgive himself, too.

“Bucky?” 

There a beat of silence. Bucky rubbed his beard against your neck making you shiver. You could feel a faint smile on your skin when he finally spoke. 

“Yeah?” 

Bucky slowly lifted his head, so the two of you were sitting nose to nose now, you were so close that when you whispered he could feel your breath against his lips, “I’m glad you came home… to me.” 

Maybe now, you could both heal and move on to something new. 

“Me too, Trouble. Me too.”

Previous // Next

[gracifleur]

TAG DUMP 003; VERSES / QUICK SUMMARY 001 - if you haven’t read either the non-spoiler version of shea’s origins OR the detailed version of shea’s origins i encourage you to pick a path & do so now. 

#MAIN. ( A WISH IN TIME / ARC I. )

follows the standard plot of pla following shea’s divergence. shea lands upon prelude beach with no memories meeting professor laveton & agreeing to join the survey corps. shea does not pick a partner from laveton’s trio, but merely borrows them until they run into a shiny zubat on a night excursion who becomes their partner. winifred, the zubat, quickly & i mean quickly evolves into golbat into crobat. im basically saying their partner is a pink crobat.

#MAIN. ( DISCARDED IN EXHILE / ARC II. )

follows the mid-game point of the vanilla storyline where shea is kicked out of jubilife village. shea does not stay fully with cogita, instead they go off & live out in the wilds. either making a camp or using shelters built by p.okemon themselves. shea due to her heritage, unknownst to them, gets along easier with pkmn in the wild so while there is still danger shea finds themselves safer than most & often protected by wild packs or alphas. the unwillingness to stay with cogita is out of worry that the trouble they “brought to hisui” would put kind stranger in danger, slowly unlearning this as shea moves to befriend the lake trio alongside adaman who steps up to protect shea while irida attempts to advocate for shea. during this time both clans work behind the galaxy teams back to provide aid to shea as somewhat of a open secret vs the game where they refuse to help.

#MAIN. ( PACIFIER OF TIME & SPACE / ARC III. )

follows the ending of the vanilla storyline where dia.lga & pal.kia make fucking nice. both adaman & irida were possessed by their prospective pokelords & now share a deep connection with the legendary mons. shea does not capture either legendary, but merely befriends them & for some reason can somewhat understand them. dia.lga did not need the red chain & was fighting to calm down palki.a, joining shea at every turn to help pacify the ruler of space. pal.kia is caught in the red chain ball, however is released shortly after. both dia.lga & pa.lkia call shea ‘little sibling’ & this is the time where shea’s memories start to unblur & them starts to unravel the mystery surrounding them origins. di.alga & pa.lkia do not outright tell them, they also just kinda stay somewhat in between reality & come in & out of reality as they please bc the world is their oyster. this is also the time when shea meets the sha.ymin of hisui & adopts them. we have not had The Voloing, We Are Collecting Plates.

#MAIN. ( BRED OF CREATION & GRACIDEAS / ARC IV. )

follows the post-game after vo.lo’s defeat & the meeting of shea & ar.ceus. after vo.lo’s reveal & disappearance shea is whisked away to the realm of creation where a.rceus, in their manifestation resembling what one would call a pkmn, reveals shea to their memories & explains their origin & purpose. shea is given the choice to return to hisui & live among people & pkmn now awakened to both the truth of their existence as well as the responsibilities of their newly understood deityhood. shea, is tasked with the governance of balance. keeping the creation trio from angering each other & outside forces angering them. to maintain the coming of seasons, helping sh.aymin of all regions care for the growing of flowers, the change to summer, & the wilting with fall leading to the hibernation during winter. shea is meant to help things grow & change, to help others understand & be grateful--- or shea can choose to return to ar.ceus & sh.aymin, accepting their role is done & thus it’s time to cease. shea chooses the former; wanting to live with pkmn & humanity to continue helping make a brighter future. 

#MAIN. ( DEITY BORN; MYTHICAL CHILD / ARC V. )

follows everything the heck else. shea is immortal & thus lives their long life alongside sh.aymin & the creation trio & the lake trio & the regis & the other 489732 legendaries of sinnoh, as well as other regions. shea travels with the seasons, explores corners of the world, meets new pkmn pals, etc etc. this verse is to accommodate every game within the franchise as well as the anime & various mangas like pokespe. shea is a deity, their is a legendary pkmn for all intents n purposes. while they won’t reveal their true nature so easily it’s also not a secret if one finds out. its like meeting a legendary u just dont blab it around u befriend them n have adventures. for the most part shea lives in the flower paradise. that’s their home. their pokepartners were granted by arc.eus the gift of choosing to stay by shea’s side if they so chose, so they most certainly chose to stay with shea forever & can be found wandering the island where victory road lies if not with shea or the sh.aymin. when shea travels outside of this area, often they travel with them in their old hisuian pokeballs. **this covers anything outside of major plot points of the video games. read this as a general modernish pkmn verse perfect for the animated series or side games. **anyways if ur a pokevillain see me after class in this verse to talk about pissing off the creation trio n potentially tricking them into world destruction by preventing shea to get to them 

#ALT. ( WANDERER THROUGH TIME & SPACE. / MISC VERS. )

follows everything else outside of pkmn until im pressed to make a specific verse for it. Im Shea is a wanderer through time & space, a small deity of spring & gratitude. shea is most often found when the changing of seasons begins. this is a general basic verse to catch all or whatever. yay. also shea has a companion of a small white creature with bushy leafy like fur & sprouted flowers upon it’s back. she calls it a s.haymin.

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Please tell us about the cinema, I beg you

Oh boy...that accursed night. If you think fanfic plots are chaotic, just wait for this story.

Story under the cut:

So, I just got this job at my small town’s local theatre. I genuinely enjoyed it, and was quite content with the way things were going—fun shifts, cool coworkers, and a nice boss. So I thought.

I was only two weeks in when the “incident” occurred.

At the theatre, we had to collect a walkie talkie radio at the start of every shift, and sign it in and out with a piece of paper in the office.

It was a little clunky and annoying when cleaning cinemas with vacuums, but nothing to cry over.

One night, I’m put to work with a new supervisor I hadn’t met before and some new coworkers (they’d all been there a while, but this was my first shift with them).

For a little context, I’m 19, and most of the other employees were like 15-17. So, I was basically being bossed around by pretentious, power-tripping kids. Fun.

King Kong vs Godzilla had just been released, so of course, the theatre was packed that night — 130 people per room.

Now, we usually have 20-30 minute intervals between sessions to clean the cinemas, but with the release of a new movie, it was cut down in half, sometimes less.

I was cleaning the most popular cinema that night, and was first told to take my time, as it needed to be spotless. Also, side note, can people please not throw popcorn everywhere? It’s a pain to clean. Then again, I don’t work there anymore nor ever will, so do what you want, I suppose.

My little coworker told me to take my radio off my belt and put it aside to get a good vacuum going through each aisle, as it apparently made it easier, as the cord would sometimes get wrapped around the radio stem.

Fair enough.

I did so, and left it on the wooden platform of the rows to begin vacuuming. He leaves and I get to work.

However, he comes rushing back a few minutes later and says, “what the hell are you still cleaning for?? We’ve got a hundred people waiting outside???”

I’m over it™️ at this point because I only took this job to see the behind the scenes of how a cinema works. I shrug and go, “okay”

I pack the vacuum up and try to leave hastily, as he’s being very antsy and pushy.

He gets frustrated and grabs the rest of my cleaning crap to leave, and tells me to hurry up behind him.

My hands are full and I can’t grab the radio, so I say, “what about the walkie talkie?”

I swear I hear him say, “leave it, there’s no time!”

I shrug and think it’s weird, but trust him to know better.

However, once I dump my crap and prepare to leave, as a hundred people are pushing in behind me, my intuition tells me to grab the walkie talkie.

I rush back in to where I left it, and find it missing

I have a brief moment of “oh shit”

However, I think to myself, “it’s okay, you only took this job for shits and giggles. If they fire you, you have your other job anyways. What’s the worst that can happen?”

If only I knew.

An hour goes by into my shift, and I’m cleaning another cinema with the same coworker. I’ve kind of shoved the walkie talkie thing to the back of my mind, because I was doing a closing shift that night and could probably get away with not facing my manager about the sign out sheet.

However, at one point the boy goes, “where’s your radio??”

Sheepishly, I say, “uh...I left it in cinema 3, like you told me to?”

He sort of pales and I think this little skinny high schooler is about to pass out.

He starts yelling at me and tells me that I need to get my flashlight and start checking every single row in there.

I go, “fuck no, the movie is still going? You want me to flash a torch in the peoples’ faces during King Kong?? The one cinema hosting the entirety of the sweaty balls side of reddit right now???”

He gets very shitty and says, “I’ll do it myself, wait here.”

By now I know I’m in the shit, but shrug and remember I can always escape through the vents if need be.

Now, there was this really fucking annoying 15 year old boy I was working with that night, who’s the definition of the “well aCtUaLlY” guy irl

He comes sprinting into the theatre I was cleaning, and starts literally interrogating me over this walkie talkie. Like, he thinks he’s the “bad cop” or some shit. Other coworkers closer to my age had already warned me about him before I even met him.

The other boy I was working with apparently couldn’t find it, and just didn’t want to deal with the consequences that night so much, that he called his mum to come pick him up early.

Weakling child.

It was at this point that I quietly arrived at the conclusion of “they think I stole it”

I didn’t understand why, it’s a fucking walkie talkie? What’s the big deal? Go get a Dora the Explorer one to replace it from Target??

I let my inner Mickey Milkovich come out, and play cool.

Him: you fucking stole it

Me:

This 15 year old Ben Shapiro-looking fucker starts grilling me, and literally places me under theatre arrest. I wasn’t allowed to leave the room I was cleaning, in other words.

He gets uncomfortably close—just me and this weird boy in this dark theatre—and goes, “I want you to be brutally honest with me...did you take the walkie talkie? I won’t tell the manager that you did.”

If you guys know me well enough from my blog, then you know this boy suffered a great deal of aggressive sarcasm in response.

He gets pissed (brown-noser), and tells me to continue cleaning, as he leaves the theatre.

Only ten minutes go by until he comes back, but this time with “good cop”.

I roll my eyes, and turn the vacuum off.

They stand at the bottom of the cinema blocking my entrance with their arms folded, and start interrogating me about stealing it.

I give them some more Mickey Milkovich sarcasm, as I had already explained to them a hundred times what happened.

They involve the manager (snitches) and now I’m really in trouble.

They force me to go into the cinema whilst the movie is still playing to look for it. Begrudgingly grabbing my flashlight, and preparing for rightfully angry people as I search their crotches in the middle of a highly anticipated movie, I head inside theatre 3.

Fuck doing that though, I watch the movie instead with the people and eat some popcorn.

Figuring a reasonable amount of time to search had gone by, I sadly leave the cool laser battle scene, and head back out.

Me: “I searched and couldn’t find it.”

Power-complex 15 year old with a punchable Ben Shapiro face: “Did you look everywhere in the cinema??”

Me: “Yeah, I shoved a flashlight up seat 33’s asshole and checked it myself.”

Some more pissy exchanges take place, and I’m told to go clean another cinema.

I’m having fun at this point, because I’ve worked enough jobs to know this situation was being dealt with incredibly immaturely by the other staff.

Regarding accidents like these in the workplace, and given how big the cinema chain is, they should know insurance covers a simple walkie talkie, and that assuming the new employee stole something which is misplaced is a bad way to integrate them into your company. It’s simply a bad look for your business.

I’m cleaning another cinema when all three come in, and tell me they’re going to put cinema 3 on lockdown when the movie ends, and check everyone’s bags.

I’m amused at this point, so I really just go “damn bro that’s wild”

They do exactly that, and it’s as awkward as you can imagine.

People are angry and annoyed—all 130 of them at 9:30pm huddled in a group, having their bags searched for a damn walkie talkie.

After discovering no one had actually stolen it, like I said, they start interrogating me again.

“Are you sure it was cinema 3??? Is your memory perhaps failing you???”

“If I say yes, will I go home sooner?” (my shift ended 15 minutes ago, and I wasn’t allowed to leave)

Naturally, I stayed another 40 minutes, and had to search the entire building. I’m talking arcade, toilets, offices—everywhere.

It is eventually deemed completely lost, and I basically end the night saying, “well, I ain’t about to strip nude for you all for a full body search, and although I’ve never had such a fun shift anywhere else, I’m not a fan of work environments that promote skepticism and cohort-wide distrust. I ain’t coming in next week, or the week after that, or the...well, I think you get the point.”

I leave my badge behind, and basically book it out of the cinema an hour after my shift was supposed to end. I worked illegally longer than I was supposed to, and wasn’t given the legal shift break.

I received text messages and emails from the head office shortly after, asking if I was coming back, and ignored them for a little while, as although I can handle irl confrontation, virtual ones spook me?

Anywho, the walkie talkie actually costs $1000, but as mentioned before, I, an adult, recognise insurance covers these sorts of things, especially in companies as big as these.

So, moral of the story, don’t leave 15 year olds in charge of adults, because most of the time, they’re too young to realise what insurance policies are :)

[presidentrhodes]

44. Din + Omera 🥺

44. “You’ve always felt like home.” (Angst/Fluff prompt list) 

After Grogu left with the Jedi, Din hit the road — a quick trip to Nevarro and a discreet under-the-table handshake with Greef Karga earned Din, his first bounty puck in more than a year. Tucking it in his belt, next to the gear knob that felt heavier day by day, Din wandered around the spaceport outside the city.

He needed a ship.

After a bit of haggling and veiled threats, he landed a bargain on another pre-Empire gunship, in a considerably better shape than the Razor Crest — with four laser cannons instead of two but lacked a carbonite freezing chamber. Still, it didn't feel like home. The cold, unmoving durasteel interior lacked the warmth and familiarity Din had grown used to onboard the Razor Crest.

With the ship in hyperdrive, en route to Ryloth, Din spent time in the cargo hold arranging his newly acquired arsenal into the weapons locker. Home. He thought about that word lately, what it meant, what it should have meant if he had been born at a more peaceful time before the Galaxy imploded. The Razor Crest used to be home, the same way Grogu was once his home, the Tribe and his Creed, the little settlement on Aq Vetina, — all of them were gone, reduced to mere fragments of memory.

Din sighed.

***

The bounty required minimal effort — a Twi'lek spice runner who had fallen into debt. Din tracked the target through valleys and jungles, apprehending them on the third night. Tired of the Twi'lek's desperate struggles to get free and their insistent pleas for mercy, Din knocked them out cold and hoisted them over his shoulder to make the long, arduous trek back to the ship.

Back on Nevarro, Din tuned out the kicking and screaming as Karga's men dragged the target off his ship. It didn't matter, nothing did anymore — there was only the next job, the next bounty as Din went looking for his next puck.

***

He spent a year going from one bounty to the next, racking up enough credits to upgrade the ship's weapons system, its engines and even install a carbonite freezing chamber to make his job easier.

Nothing he did brought back the warmth and comfort he had gotten used to: The soft coos that used to wake him up, the nasal whines that drew his attention whenever the child was hungry, the chittering giggles that echoed through the cockpit everytime Grogu found the sweets Din kept hidden from sight.

Din studied his next puck and sighed. Tatooine. Karga had been cagey about the details — no chain code, only a fob with a location. He had been weary to take the job; the last time Karga had been that secretive over a bounty, Din had learned the true meaning of loss and heartbreak. He was still reeling from it. But Din needed the credits to pay off the latest upgrades he made to the ship.

***

On Tatooine, he parked at a different hanger on the Mos Eisley spaceport. He didn't have the heart to face Peli — though she had only met Grogu a handful of times, Din knew she had grown to care for him. Learning about the kid's departure would break her heart and the least Din could do to repay her kindness was to spare her from the truth.

He followed the tracking fob into the desert until the spires of a familiar fortress came into view. Din paused. "What the—"

"I was hoping you'd take the bounty," someone said as Din turned while his hand reached for the blaster on instinct.

Upon seeing his unexpected companion, Din let out the breath he had been holding in and sighed. "Fett." Realization dawned on him at Boba's words as Din's expression morphed into a frown. “You're the client? Who the hell is the bounty then?"

"Me." Fett had the audacity to chuckle. Din took a step closer and Boba raised his hands. He was unarmed and out of armour — surely Fennec had to be nearby with the rifle trained on Din. "Easy there. I just want to talk and you haven't been answering lately."

Din dropped his hand to his side. "I've been busy."

"Clearly. Let's go somewhere more comfortable."

***

Though Din had heard rumours on the HoloNet, he didn't believe Boba was crazy enough to take over Tatootine's crime syndicate. Walking though the Hutt Palace, Din said, his voice a little in awe, "I didn't think you had actually done it. I heard whispers but this—this is—" He gestured at the surrounding. "You're a crazy shabuir."

Boba chuckled. "Yeah well, this seemed more reasonable than your quest, burc'ya. Taking back Mandalore? Insanity."

Din waited for the other shoe to drop. He knew Boba was baiting him — wanting to dig out information from Din to piece together whatever else he had gathered in their time apart since they apprehended Moff Gideon. After a brief silence, Boba's patience got the better of him. "Bo-Katan contacted me. A few weeks ago. She must be getting desperate if she is reaching out to me."

"You are a crime lord. You have resources that could be of use in her efforts. She may be arrogant but she's no fool," Din replied. They resumed walking until they arrived at what looked like a private meeting chamber. Boba pointed towards the seats by the fireplace and Din obliged as he sank onto one of them.

"She's not interested in what I have to offer. She called about you."

Din frowned under his helmet. Of course she would — onboard Gideon's cruiser, Bo-Katan had shown a surprising level of tact in the end as she allowed Din to walk back on his promise, and to leave with the Darksaber. "We will see you soon, brother," she had said with the forced pleasantries of someone who knew they had, temporarily, been defeated. Her words were laced with a promise she was keen to make good on but with Din's constant moving around the Outer Rims made her task difficult.

"I'm not interested to rule Mandalore. Yet she refuses to take the Darksaber." Din did little to hide the irritation in his voice. He narrowed his eyes at the man opposite him — had Boba lured him to Tatooine with a bounty on his own head just to force a meeting with Bo-Katan? A meeting that Din had gone out of his way to delay because he had no interest in acquiring the legacy of a dead planet that would never feel like home. And—since when had Boba been doing Bo-Katan's biding?

As if understanding Din's line of thinking, Boba shook his head and offered a quick explanation. "I couldn't care less about what the Princess wants. She can wait. I'm—I'm worried about you. There's been a great deal of murmur about you in the past year. You're working yourself to exhaustion."

"Am not." The denial felt hollow. Din's voice sounded unconvincing and he slid down his seat, hating the sympathetic look in Boba's eyes. If he hadn't met Boba, if he had just gone by the myth surrounding the Empire's most famous bounty hunter, Din would've never believed the man's capacity for kindness, lost among the tides of his bottomless rage. "I don't need your pity, Fett. I'm doing just fine."

"Never said you weren't," came the sharp reply. "But you're a man without purpose. You're lost, you need closure."

Din sighed. In silence, he plotted a way to make a quick exit and return to Mos Eisley. If he hurried back to the ship, he could still make it back to Nevarro, pick up a bounty in a nearby system and settle his debt over the ship. Anything to get out of listening to Boba drone about Din's emotional state of being. As if Boba had any ground to stand on and lecture him about closure.

"Are you done? I have to go. Not all of us have the luxury of running a crime syndicate. Some of us have to work to pay off our debts." Din stood up, prepared to make his exit. Without an armour, he doubted Boba could physically stop him and the palace seemed to lack a heavy security presence.

"I'll pay your bounty," Boba said and his words stopped Din on his tracks. "50,000 credits as agreed. More if you want but in return, I need you to do something for me."

Din was a practical man. He wouldn't let his ego get in the way of his income. Boba continued: "I want you to stop. Take some time off, find some backwater planet to lay low and heal. Because Bo-Katan is assembling Mandalorians in the outer worlds and there will come a time when there will be a challenge for the throne. And not all of them will be as generous with you as you were with that Imp."

"Why do you care so much?" Din couldn't resist asking. "Mandalore is a dead planet, you said so yourself."

"I don't care—" Boba hesitated, a flicker of doubt on his scarred face. "But if Mandalore is to be restored, it is in the Galaxy's best interest that it isn't ruled by another blood-thirsty dinii. Or else the fighting will never stop. It needs to be you who sits on the throne, not Bo-Katan or worse, a Viszla."

***

Din took the credits and left Tatooine by sundown. As his ship flew over Hangar 3-5, Din felt a pang of guilt in his chest. As much as Din wanted to spare Peli the painful truth about Grogu, a selfish part wanted her to know, if only to share the misery of the kid's absence with someone.

He considered returning to Nevarro but it no longer felt like home. The Tribe was gone — dead or scattered throughout the Outer Rim with no foreseeable ways for Din to contact them. Even if he did, he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to return. Din didn't know if he wanted to return after breaking the Creed. Arvala-7 came up on his radar until he remembered Kuiil had sacrificed everything to protect Grogu and it made his stomach churn.

After drifting around for days, Din charted a course for Sorgan. He didn't know what to expect there but he hoped there would still be a touch of familiarity that he hadn't felt since Grogu left.

As his ship cruised in hyperdrive towards Sorgan, Din wondered about Grogu — it had been more than a year since the kid left with the Jedi. Din had belatedly found out the it was the same Jedi who blew up the Death Star that hammered the final nail in the Empire's coffin, sending them scuttling back into the dark, lurking in the shadowy Outer Rim like the unseen monsters in children's tales.

Both Cara and Boba had offered to track down the location of the Jedi temple but Din dissuaded them from their efforts. "No, Gro—the kid needs to concentrate on his training. My presence will be a distraction," he had said. Din hadn't trusted himself to not show up at the temple as soon as he had the coordinates in his hands. Being ignorant of its whereabouts was necessary for Grogu's safety, or so he told himself — Din knew he wouldn't survive making the kid choose between him and the Jedi and if he chose the Jedi.

As he drifted off, Din dreamt of Grogu and their time on Sorgan, where for a short few weeks he could pretend he wasn't a bounty hunter who ran off with the bounty — "You and your boy could have a good life. He could be a child for a while. Wouldn't that be nice?" It would.

***

The lack of a spaceport on Sorgan meant Din had to land his ship in a forest clearing and trek his way to the nearest settlement, about an hour by foot. He considered his options as he walked through the cantina, drawing curious stares and excited whispers among the patrons. It wasn't everyday that a Mandalorian walked through the front doors, especially one whose presence had been spotted on the backwater planet several times.

Sitting down at a corner table with a bottle of spotcka, Din hesitated only for a moment before taking off his helmet. That earned him another round of hushed murmurs. Showing his face in public was still a nauseating experience that left Din feeling exposed. But the helmet felt suffocating at that moment, worsened by the blue liquid's allure.

He drank fast and straight from the bottle, reducing its content by half within a few minutes. The bitter, smoky liquid burned at the back of his throat but it did nothing to ease the perpetual constriction in his chest, like something or someone had gotten a good grip on his heart and refused to let go. Din knew who and that battle had been lost more than a year ago on board an Imperial light cruiser. Din learned to get used to that feeling.

"Excuse me," someone said as they approached his table. Their nervous gait made Din look up and the creases between his brows eased. It was Stoke. "Mando? Is that—is that really you?" Good old Stoke and his buddy, Caben, had lured Din with the promise of accommodation and safe passage (for Grogu) to fight off raiders in their fishing village. Stoke appeared to be alone in the cantina.

"What do you want?" Din crossed his arms and frowned, not the least bit interested in carrying on the conversation. Stoke misunderstood as he sat down across him.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Vacation."

Din's deadpan tone failed to deter him as Stoke broke into a wide grin. Leaning on the table, he said, "You should come by the village. It's harvest season and they'd be really happy to see you again. You're our hero, Mando—" Din felt like he was anything but that. He wasn't a hero; he was a lesson in abject failure. His actions had exposed the Tribe, it had gotten a good Ugnaught killed, he had created needless obstacles in his people's quest to reclaim Mandalore. Worst of all, he had broken his Creed, both by necessity and choice, and still he had lost the kid. A fitting punishment for his many crimes — to spend his remaining days yearning for the kid, for his Tribe, for a home but all he deserved was the cold, emptiness of his ship. It wasn't a haven, it was a prison, a fitting choice for a wicked man like him.

Stoke's voice cut through Din's thoughts. "Oh come on, Mando, come stay with us for a while," he said, pleading, before showing his hand. "Omera would be thrilled to see you again."

Din's head snapped up. "No," he said and stood up. Tucking the half-finished bottle under his arm, he tossed a few credits on the bar counter and left. He walked fast, determined to put as much distance between him and the cantina — in case Stoke followed him — until the ship came into view.

***

Din finished the bottle by sundown and tossed it inside the cargo hold, hearing the glass shatter. He didn't move from his seat on the edge of the ramp — there was no kid on board so glass fragments were not an immediate concern. He'd clean up later.

A pleasant breeze blew through the forest that made the leaves rustle while the stagnant air was punctured by calls of wild animals prowling in the distance. The planet's humidity left him flushed and sweating under the armour. Before the constant suffocation in his chest worsened, Din stood on shaky legs and went inside to strip out of the beskar and the flight suit. Instead, he put on a pair of brown pants, a beige shirt and a black waistcoat with holsters for his blaster.

The second he left the ship, Din knew it would be a bad idea but his legs carried him on their own accord, the destination imprinted into every cell in his body. He didn't have the right to impose on a quiet, unassuming fishing village any more than he already had — while Stoke had earlier assured him his presence would be welcomed, Din's own conscience was conflicted. Already, the Tribe was gone because of him, Kuiil was gone because of him, how many more people would pay the price for acquainting with him? Like the planet of his people, Din knew he was cursed.

By the time he came out of the forest, the villagers had retreated to their homes for the night. Cartons full of krill lined up along the edge of the lake as Din stumbled his way down the uneven path, twice avoiding tumbling into the water. The booze at least numbed the tightness in his chest and—

"Hold it right there," someone said from the periphery. Din squinted in the darkness, trying to get a look at the unexpected companion. "I mean it. Step away from the harvest and turn around. Slowly. Otherwise I will shoot." Even drunk, Din had no doubt the threat wasn't made in jest. Raising his hands, he turned and found himself looking down the barrel of a familiar blaster — one that he had owned for years, one that he had left behind on Sorgan both as a souvenir and as a source of reassurance. "Take it. Please. You can use it to protect yourself and your daughter," Din had said once.

"Omera," Din slurred.

Omera lowered the blaster and in proximity, Din saw the confusion unfurling across her face. "How do you know my name?" she said, her voice low with suspicion. She raised the blaster back in Din's face and placed a finger on the trigger. "Answer me!"

"It's me," Din said, swallowing back bile. His stomach churned, tying itself into knots and he managed to blurt, "Mando," before emptying the contents of a rationed lunch and spotchka on the dirt path.

The blaster was gone. In its place, a pair of gentle hands held Din's shoulders until he stopped hurling and broke into a coughing fit. The hands guided Din down the uneven path towards one of the houses — inside, everything happened in a blur: Omera sat him down by the fireplace and held a glass of water at his lips. After he drank, she wiped his face with a damp cloth and helped him out of the black waistcoat, setting it and his blaster on a nearby table, within his reach.

"What happened to you?" she said when Din became cognizant of his surroundings, after the booze-addled nausea had passed and he could think straight again. Omera stood in front of Din and as he looked up, he noticed her eyes were as beautiful as the first day he had seen her. She ran her fingers through his hair and took his face between her hands, her forlorn expression gave away her question. "Where's your boy?"

That proved to be the final straw. For more than year, Din had reassured himself that letting Grogu go was the right thing to do. It had been for the kid's safety. The Jedi could protect him better than Din could and every other sacrifice was made to save Grogu. Losing the Tribe had been worth it. Losing Kuiil had been a necessary sacrifice. Losing the Razor Crest was another necessity, breaking his Creed served a higher purpose — at the end of the day, Grogu was still gone. "He's—he's gone," he said in a soft, trembling voice, choking back a sob. "He was all I had left and—and he's gone."

Without a word, Omera pulled him close, allowed Din to bury his face into her tunic and let out sobs that shook his frame. He clung to her, his skin clammy with desperation and her solid presence became an anchor in the swirling tides of emotions that threatened to overwhelm his mind. Din lost track of time. Pulling back, he took sharp breaths that forced air back into his lungs and wiped his eyes. Looking up at her, he blushed and stammered, searching for words to excuse his behaviour. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

Omera pressed a finger to his lips. She cupped his cheeks and smiled. "You don't ever have to apologise for anything, Mando—"

He interrupted. "Please. Call me Din."

Sitting by the fireplace, Din told her everything: His quest to find Grogu a Jedi master, his search for other Mandalorians, the run-ins with remnants of the Empire. When Din paused, Omera leaned forward to brush back his fringes. "So you're the king of Mandalore now?" She studied him and her smile broaded. "It suits you. You have really kind, brown eyes, and after everything you say your people have been through, they could use a leader like you."

Din tucked his head, blushing. It wasn't the first time he heard someone say he was meant to be the Mand'alor, but her voice carried an air of sincerity that chased away the constriction in his chest. His heart thrummed against his ribs but this time, it felt different. Her words freed him in a way Boba's words had caged him into a title he hadn't wanted.

"You really think I could do it? Be honest. Please." He needed to know.

"Do you want to do it? Do you want to be a king?"

Her words gave Din pause. Did he want to rule a society where he had always felt like he was one mistake away from being an outcast? As a foundling, Din had always doubled down in everything he did to prove his worth but his devotion to the Creed was still questioned. Paz had done little to hide his disdain when Din joined the Bounty Hunters Guild. Yet, the more he had heard about Mandalore, its violent but glorious past, Din had come to see the complexity of wielding the Darksaber. Boba had been right — if Mandalore was to thrive again, it needed to be rebuilt on an understanding of unity and loyalty. Not just to the Mand'alor but to each other. Unity between the clans could make their society untouchable once more and if Mandalorians rallied behind Din, then Grogu would be protected no matter where the Jedi had taken him. No Imp would dare touch the kid.

"If you had asked me this a year ago, I'd have said no but now—if it can keep Grogu safe, then I owe it to him to try," Din said, leaning into her touch.

"Then you must do it. Children are the future. But for now, I insist you stay here. At least for the night."

Din looked down at his palms. "I don't want to impose—"

"You're not imposing." Omera leaned closer. Din saw a sliver of doubt cross her face before she pressed her lips against his, a quick peck that ended almost as soon as it began. Din’s chest fluttered as he watched Omera duck her head, biting back a smile that threatened to pour from her lips. "You'll always have a home here," she said and if Din hadn't been sitting so close to her, he wouldn't have heard it.

Din spent more than a year searching for a place to belong again, where he could rebuild his life until Grogu came back — he had to. Not once did it cross his mind that he could one day belong, even for a short while, in a krill farming village tucked behind the forest in a backwater planet in the Outer Rim. Still, a part of him felt as if this was where he was always meant to be. "You've always felt like home, Omera, and I'm sorry it took me so long to find my way back," he said, pulling her onto his lap as she pressed their lips together again.

Din was finally home.

[elencelebrindal]

Time to ramble about Shun

Sooo... you said you wanted my rambling to become reality. Here I go. 

Shun not holding back for the whole series would have been a disaster for our dear villains, let me tell you.  But let’s go in order. And I mean, from training to Hades. Obviously, this completely disregards the fact that Shun was Hades the whole time, because if I am to take that into consideration everything would end before starting.  Small disclaimer, this is mostly anime-based. I’ve read the manga, but my memory is so bad in remembering what was just manga and what was just anime, and I have a better memory for the anime.  Also, this is going to praise Shun a lot. No, not because of my undying love for this character, but because logically speaking, he’s freaking powerful; this young man stood against a god that was possessing his body, dammit. 

Now, his training.  Of course, I won’t even imagine Shun actually going to Death Queen Island, mostly because it was Ikki, and not him, the reason why he went to Andromeda Island instead.  What we know, is that Shun nearly awakened his Seventh Sense there and then, when he donned the Cloth for the first time. And we know that he won the right to the trial after winning a fight against his “rival”.  But, before winning, he took a good beating, because he held back.  What would have happened, in the eventuality that Shun did not hold back? Well, probably just quicker access to the trial for the Cloth, but also... this might be the only time Shun not holding back would have affected him negatively.  What if he, by not holding back, lost his right to the Cloth? Andromeda is famous for her sacrifice, after all, not for her brave charging into battle.  This is mostly my own idea about it, because of course Shun was destined to become the Andromeda Saint, but luckily he held back, and only fought when he needed to. 

That aside, now it’s time to tackle all the positive things that could have happened had he not held back. 

Galaxian Wars / Black Saints Arc (forgive me, I forgot the actual name)

We had a taste of how smart and capable Shun is during his fight against Jabu, but all of that was thrown away thanks to Ikki’s appearance. Now, this doesn’t mean than Shun completely lost his competence, but he definitely held back for the sake of his brother.  This is obvious when we take into account the fight they all have against Ikki, when Shun tries to help his brother rather than stop him.  We already saw how dangerous Shun can be, when he faced Black Andromeda, so it’s easy to understand how much easier it could have been for the Bronze to stop Ikki if Shun was there to actively help against him.  Sure, he helped in the end, but he was probably the only one (at least at that point, because remember, he was the only one to have almost awakened the Seventh Sense) capable to stand his ground against Ikki.  Seiya’s success was more plot than skills, honestly speaking.  Shun could have been infinitely helpful, at least in making sure they earned a faster victory with less blood spilled.  To me, what we know about Shun’s power (though it’s only revealed later) makes it that he has a huge advantage that is ignored because of 1. Shun’s personality and 2. what’s needed for the plot and what was known of the plot. You all know he’s my favorite Bronze, at this point, but following a logical reasoning I cannot find something against this. 

On a side note, can you imagine how fast he would have destroyed Black Swan, if only he used his brain and not his heart?  Considering the outcome of his fight against Black Andromeda, and his knowledge about Hyoga’s techniques (which are kinda imitated by Black Swan), it’s not difficult to imagine he would have won.  He wouldn’t have done as good against all of them together, at this point of the story, but a one vs one fight would have definitely seem him victorious. 

Silver Saints Arc

I have no clear memory if that Docrates mess is in this arc or the one before it (the Italian division is a bit different and it confuses the hell out of me when I have to switch), but let’s put him here.  Because come on.  Shun getting thrown around like a doll? Yeah, no. Docrates might be a powerful - and not so brilliant or likable - warrior, but to the point of overwhelming a Saint like Shun with so much ease? I hardly believe it. I can  believe Shun having a hard time against him, especially considering how they won that fight.  Full power, I think Shun could have helped way more. I’m not saying he could have defeated a beat like Docrates all by himself, not at that point. Hyoga’s help was crucial for him to actually deal an effective blow.  But I’m pretty convinced they could have had a bit of a better time - especially Saori - because power makes the difference, even if it’s not enough to turn the tide without aid. 

Continuing with the same arc, we have another example of Shun being extremely competent and showing how strong he is when he doesn’t hold back.  How long did it take him to completely obliterate a Silver Saint? Not even enough to appreciate how badass he was.  It didn’t seem forced at all, more importantly! Most times, especially with Seiya, their victories seem so... well, convenient that it’s hard to believe they’re actually strong enough to beat their enemies. The plot armor around them is stronger than their actual armor, from time to time. This fight against Dante, instead, felt completely genuine. Shun and Ikki beating so easily two Silver Saints seemed incredibly normal and realistic, rather than feeling forced by the plot.  Of course, all the other characters have their genuine moments (yes, even Seiya), but I wanted to point this out for Shun in this particular instance because it’s necessary to understand how underrated he is. 

Sanctuary Arc

Moving on, we have what I like to call “Shun could have choked Saga to death and ended the entire Sanctuary Arc in less than five episodes”. Listen, does it seem so unreasonable? If it does, remember how Shun (with Ikki’s help, this is not something I’m ignoring, I like Shun but I don’t play dirty here) used his chain to break free of the Other Dimension (a place that’s supposedly impossible to leave? Hello????) and literally reached Saga where he was sitting.  What the hell, are we just ignoring the fact that he legitimately broke into the throne room of the most protected place of the entire Sanctuary, stole Saga’s cheap-looking trinkets, and shattered his control over him? For god’s sake, I’m SURE he could have at least managed to try and kill Saga where he was.  I’m aware he had no idea what the hell was going on, but had he used a bit more of his cosmo? A bit more of his concentration and intelligence? To me, it seems really weird that he only properly awakened his Seventh Sense so late in the arc. If Seiya was able to screw the plot over and get his precious Seventh Sense so early and easily, why wasn’t Shun given the same opportunity? Well, I know why, plot and everything, Shun’s actual power was still very much a mystery, but I’m going chronologically, and by logic. And what logic tells me is: Shun should have awakened his goddamn Seventh Sense there, realized he was stealing costume jewelry from the Pope, and at least knocked him out for the next couple hours.  For as much as i like joking about it, I know Saga is smarter and stronger than the average guy, Shun wasn’t going to be able to strangle him with the chain. But a good old pointy cosmo-powered chain to the forehead, well... come on. Would have been hilarious, other than useful. 

For the rest, the arc was pretty amazing.  His sacrifice for Hyoga? Yeah, he wasn’t holding back there.  And the fight against Aphrodite we all know how incredible it was.

Something I’m going to point out is how much Shun held back against Leda and Spica. That was all his personality, but he was able to defeat both of them in a couple seconds as soon as he used his true power.  I don’t really want to count that as holding back, but I have to. Because he was keeping his strength low, and it counts.  That was a time loss that could have been avoided. 

Asgard Arc

Now this, this makes me mad.  As soon as Shun leaves canon territory, it gets turned into this weak warrior with no desire to fight.  Either that, or he gets to fight but accomplishes little.  And this is exactly what happened in this arc. 

By now, we know how lethal Shun can be, and we know he awakened his Seventh Sense. It’s not theory anymore, it’s not fan wishes anymore, it’s Shun with one more sense to deal with.  And what happens? They give him the fight against the only enemy his goddamn chain doesn’t want to hit. Of course he gets that, and that his - actually beautiful - personality refuses to fight and instead insists on diplomacy.  Now, I loved that. I love how Shun tries to find a peaceful way around the war. But, once again, this is not the point of my rambling.  The point of my rambling is: Shun shouldn’t have needed Ikki to come and save the day.  Let’s take away Mime’s tragic backstory for a second, and let’s put Shun in the “classic” mind of a Saint; fight the enemy to the death, or die trying.  Shun would have won without any help. Sure, Mime is powerful, but Shun is as well. And we know that Shun is capable of facing enemies that use music as a weapon (as we learn later, in the Poseidon Arc).  Also, I’m pretty positive he has control over his chain, is not like the chain is going to ignore him like that. That weapon has a mind of its own, that’s true, but seriously speaking Shun has to be able to control it more than the chain controls itself.  That, and Shun himself refused to recognize Mime as an enemy.  Without holding back, Shun would have seen him as a proper enemy, and fought with no chain deciding “oh no no no, this is a friend!” like an overly friendly puppy.  Wrongfully, maybe, because as we learned Mime was, in fact, not a real enemy, but that’s not the point. 

Syd doesn’t really count. Shun was actually standing his ground against him, and incredibly well.  The reason Shun didn’t win right there and there was not him holding back, but the plot advancing and throwing Bud at him.  I don’t know how high I should hold this opinion, though, because to me it seems a bit weird that Bud is so powerful/stealthy that no one realizes he’s there. I’ve been skeptical about him, especially considering how he incapacitated freaking Aldebaran, but it is still a good reason for Shun not having won the fight.  Stealth can be more effective than raw power, sometimes.  Though, I believe Shun (and Aldebaran, for what it counts) should have been able to sense him. What, they’re going to show us the Saints can sense any kind of cosmo approaching them or far from them, but not realize that there’s someone right behind them ready to strike? Eh, it’s bizarre. 

Poseidon Arc

Right off the bat, he got his moment to shine against Io.  THAT, my friends, was incredible, and if Shun didn’t hold back - because he did, to avoid killing him, bless his merciful soul - Io would have died pretty easily.  Shun claimed his rights as Gold Saint, there, didn’t use all his power, and still beat the everloving soul out of him. 

Also, the fight against Sorrento? Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.  I literally have nothing to say, he had a reason to hold back there, and I will not give him a forced victory. Sorrento was on his level, and even though I think the Nebula Storm would have killed him (remember, that technique keeps getting more and more powerful the longer it’s used), they were pretty equal.  Shun didn’t hold back, save for when he understood what the hell was going on and got an ally. 

What I didn’t like, however, was how harshly he was treated when Poseidon was the threat. Damn, I’m not saying he should have been able to face a god, not without a Gold Cloth and not alone, but jeez, he ended up being completely ignored.  Like “wait, I’ll help!”, and then poof. Disappeared.  But in this instance, not holding back wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Unless you want to be 100% full of logic, and use the fact that Shun was already a vessel for a god, there’s no viable excuses for him to be able to fight a god on his own.  Not at that point in time, and not in his conditions.  Things work only if they can work. 

Hades Chapter

I don’t have much to say here.  Shun was incredible, he fought without holding back for almost the entire series, and showed an almost merciless side. A good handful of that behavior was Hades, if we go by how Shun was portrayed beforehand, but I like to believe he finally got his time to shine and acted competent again.  After hall, he had his angry moments back in the classic, they were no different from this chapter. 

What I will say, however, is how they diminished him in Elysium.  Because let’s face it: a Saint that not only survived one of the most powerful gods ever possessing him, but also tricked and held him back, had every single right to be powerful enough while wearing a God Cloth to obliterate Hypnos from the face of Elysium.  How are you telling me to believe that the same person that defeated the god of the Underworld just... fell asleep against a minor deity? He was the first to get his God Cloth without the plot aiding him (yes, I’m still salty about Seiya), yet he did nothing, and got defeated by Hypnos like he was a weak little boy.  I understand he’s a god, but Hades was worse! I’ll tell you what would have happened. Shun would have sent Hypnos’ sorry ass back in the void he deserved to be in (I actually like Hypnos okay, Shun doesn’t) without batting an eye.  Surely someone that was able to withstand Hades’ power - and overwhelmed it, even if for a short time - could resist some minor god’s power. 

To conclude, on the same not, Shun should have definitely punched Hades in the face.  He was probably the only one strong enough to do so, aside from Athena. And probably the one with the right to do so, also. 

This is probablt the stupidest rambling I’ve ever wrote on this blog, but I regret nothing. 

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Ashes”

After The Joker’s daughter accidentally drowned, his relationship with Y/N fell apart: they were guilty of failing to protect what they loved, blaming each other and themselves to the point of no return. The sole palpable proof of Emma existence is her ashes encapsulated in glass pendants her parents wear and that’s hardly a memento able to help in such a difficult situation. Ashes are not meant to bring people together.

“Happy Birthday, Pumpkin Pie,” The Joker grumbles. “Here’s Charlie: I thought you would like to see him,” he places the purple hippo on Emma’s headstone.

Today his daughter would have been 4 years old. Instead of the usual party filled with laughter and presents he’s at “Eternal Peace” cemetery early in the morning for a different kind of festivity.

J never celebrated birthdays before yet once she showed up in his life the anniversary got a fresh new meaning: Y/N ensured that The King of Gotham was aware of how lucky they both were to have her. And he did learn to care about that tiny being he created who first called him something similar to “dada”, then a cute “da’y” and finally the word he craved to hear every single day until she was gone: “daddy.”

Being a father thought him a couple of things, but the most important was quite stunning: the index finger from his right hand wasn’t only meant for using a trigger; it was also his child’s soother.

Emma would keep it prisoner when she slept from an early age; of course all babies do it although in this case it didn’t go away once she got older.

And he misses that…

A lot.

Actually, he would give up on a robbery or anything that involves him holding a gun if she could clutch to his finger one more time.

That’s how much he misses The Princess.

“Sir, sorry to interrupt,” Frost gets him out of trance. “There’s movement at the South gate. We have to go…”

J snatches the plush animal and follows Jonny on a path behind the crypts when a woman walking on the alley leading to Emma’s grave catches his attention: although she has a red wig and sunglasses on, her disguise doesn’t fool him. It’s Y/N.

She’s carrying a small cake and intensely stares at the pavement, unaware of her surroundings.

The Joker can’t really tell what she’s doing once in front of the tomb, nevertheless he guesses she’s singing “Happy Birthday” while wiping the tears strolling down her cheeks.

He didn’t see Y/N in about 4 months. They went to the cabin by Moon Lake after Emma’s drowning and things were so rough he left immediately. She never followed, called or texted.

J didn’t either.

Why bother? They were guilty of failing to protect what they loved, blaming each other and themselves to the point of no return.

Today is extremely difficult to deal with, especially since the catalyst binding them vanished forever.

The sole palpable proof of Emma existence is her ashes encapsulated in glass pendants her parents wear and that’s hardly a memento able to help in such a difficult situation.

Ashes are not meant to bring people together.

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

After 2 Hours

“Hi,” The King of Gotham drags his feet on the porch and takes a sit on the chair next to yours.

“Hi…” you whisper, surprised to spot him after such a long absence.

Complete silence, then he utters:

“I’m here for the cake,” he points at the sweet treat resting on the wood table: vanilla- strawberry combo, your daughter’s favorite.

“Are you?”

“Yeah, I crave the taste…”

You lean over and cut two slices, sharing Emma’s birthday cake with her dad. It’s really painful to swallow the morsels knowing your baby can’t; it seems J is in the same boat.

“I can’t make anybody happy…” The Clown mumbles under his breath and the randomness of his statement makes you wonder what’s going on in his mind.

“Me neither… Sweet Pea was happy, wasn’t she? She was a happy kid…”

The Joker moves his plate towards you, hissing:

“She was and she would still be with us if instead of flirting you would have watched her!”  

“… … W- what?!...” you glare at him, astonished he has the nerve to pop up and hurt you in such a manner. “Since when talking to somebody is flirting?! Where were you, huh? Where were you??? In your goddamn office plotting more schemes in order to get more money because nothing is enough!” you raise your voice and burst out crying in the next second. “She was ours to protect, the only treasure that mattered! I just… I just took my eyes off her for a few moments, I had no idea my baby was drowning in that pool …” you keep sobbing at the horrible memory, heartbroken. “I could have save her…Why didn’t I…?…”

The Joker can’t understand what you’re saying anymore, yet he doesn’t reply to your accusations or remorseful confessions.

How could he?

He’s equally responsible for Emma’s demise but it’s easier to attack her mother.

You abruptly get up and rush inside the cottage, abandoning J to his own demons. He doesn’t know if he should bail or stay, thus he continues to gaze at the lake numb to everything.

Still… The quietness is becoming unbearable so he finally gathers the strength to stand up and search for you.

“Y/N?...” he shouts. “Where are you?”

Silly question since the cabin is a little area with a kitchen/living room combo, one bedroom and bathroom: easy to find what you’re looking for.

No response but the shower is on which queues him Y/N must be there.

The Joker approaches the bathtub, unwilling to remove the curtain and talk to you face to face.

“It was my fault too…” he admits a fact that tormented him since the accident. “I should have kept an eye on her… I couldn’t predict she’ll sneak out to play by the swimming pool… I would give away a fortune if I could fix it… Do you believe me?...”

You sniffle and cover your mouth, trying to avoid his trap: if you engage, he will probably bite more and that’s the last thing you need.

“I have Charlie in the car; I thought you might want him tonight,” J reveals the true purpose of his visit. “Drop him off tomorrow at 3pm, I’ll be at the warehouse on 17Th Street. You can’t have the toy, it belongs in her room…”

You hear his steps receding and gasp for air, completely crushed by despair: the agony of grief is stronger than any consolation a stupid purple hippo could offer.

But it was Emma’s favorite and The Joker is willing to share a token of what you both lost; now that you think about it… you really missed Charlie…

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

Next Day, 2:05pm

“Where’s everybody?” you mutter whilst entering the code at the gates. Usually there are at least 8 henchmen guarding the fence and no sign of them so far. You drive up the unpaved alley, curiously checking out the landscape: same trees, bushes and trucks you’re familiar with, except you can’t discern a single goon patrolling the perimeter.

You honk to get the crew’s assistance without any success and you wonder if The Joker tricked you; I mean, you should have seen it coming: he is probably attempting one of his convoluted strategies to punish you for the tragic past.

You stop in front of the building, intrigued to notice it appears deserted.

Suddenly, a powerful blast shakes the ground and you watch part of the roof collapsing on the north side; a few windows shatter also.

You jump out of the car, totally confused at the strange occurrence.

“Hello?” you yell. “J???”

There’s smoke coming out of the opened metal door and you hesitantly walk in the warehouse, coughing at the suffocating odor.

“J?...” you scream. “J!!!!!”

A faint knock in the distance prompts your attention.

“Y/N!!”

“J??” you run towards the source of the noise only to find him under rubble next to the south entrance. “Oh my God!” you kneel by his feet buried under bricks. “What happened?!” The Queen frantically removes debris as he groans in pain.

“Explosives, that’s what happened. Shit, I think I fucked up my legs!”

“Where are the guys??!!” you inquire, managing to free his feet enough for him to move.

“I gave them the day off,” The Joker’s explanation puzzles Y/N. “Hurry up, please!! Another detonation will follow shortly!”

“Jesus Christ!” you quicken the pace and push the last bricks out of the way. “Can you stand?”

J rolls on his side, unable to comply.

“No, you’ll have to haul me out of here!”

“Come on!” you place your hands under his underarms and start pulling. “The exit is right there!”

You huff while straining to get to safety as The Clown aims to aid by lifting his body off the ground as much as he can.

“Behind the truck!” he urges once you’re out of the premises and you barely have time to hide behind the vehicle when a second bang levels half of the construction.

“This didn’t go according to plan,” J admits in a low tone, panting a storm after the ordeal.

You asses his wounds, pressing on the ankle and he immediately growls.

“The bone’s fractured,” you wipe your sweaty forehead.  “What plan?”

“It’s actually your fault for all of this; I told you to swing by at 3 o’clock. You’re early!”

“Huh?”

“You were supposed to come when I told you then boom! Before you reached the building it would go up in flames: you would flip thinking that I’m dead and then I’ll show up and ask you to come back home. You would be so excited to see I’m alive you couldn’t refuse. Yet you ruined everything: you appeared out of nowhere, I panicked and messed up: you know I’m not good with this stuff!!”

You can’t even process the plot he’s throwing your way.

“What kind of plan…”

“I just told you I’m not good at this stuff,” he interrupts. “You know I’m not.”

You touch your chest, baffled at the ridiculous story.

“My pendant!” you exclaim when you realize the chain is not around your neck anymore. “It’s gone!” Y/N desperately searches the grass. “My baby, where’s my baby?” you part the green lawn on the verge of crying. “I can’t find my pendant! Maybe I dropped it the building,” you whimper and prepare to flee when J grabs your jeans, firmly holding on.

“Don’t go; the poles might cave in and whatever is left standing will squash you!!”

You don’t comprehend why he’s so worked up and his plea catches you off guard:

“Don’t go! I’ll give you half my ashes, ok?”

The Queen debates on The King’s proposal, conflicted by his candid offer.

After all, if ashes tear people apart, how come they can’t bring them back together?

Also read: MASTERLIST

https://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[kuramirocket]

Sandwiched between private properties in Southeast Austin sits a little-known cemetery off Hoeke Lane, just west of U.S. 183. From the outside, there’s nothing that indicates the site is the final resting place for a number of Mexican and Mexican-American residents who died decades ago.

It’s a wilderness. The headstones, many of which date back to the 1940s, are easy to miss. The weeds are overgrown, and trees and shrubs cover much of the 4.5-acre plot.

The cemetery has been called a couple different names over the years — the Montopolis Cemetery and San José II. But no sign will tell you that. In fact, there’s scarce information available about the cemetery’s history at all.

But members of the community and a team of researchers are trying to change that. They want to trace back its history and ensure the cemetery, along with its sister site in nearby Montopolis, is preserved.

Diana Hernandez is the lead researcher for (Re)claiming Memories, a research group out of UT Austin that seeks to restore and preserve missing histories in communities of color. She and her team have been collecting death certificates and reaching out to descendants of those buried at the cemeteries to help piece together the history.

“Once we start to research the people that are buried here and start to find archival documentation for each person, we start to see the community come to life through the cemetery,” she said.

The History

To understand San José II, Hernandez says, we have to start about 2 miles north at San José I. This historic Mexican and Mexican-American cemetery was built around 1919. It sits between two churches off Montopolis Drive, though neither of them own it. The site is believed to be unclaimed, or orphaned, meaning no one is responsible for its upkeep in any official capacity. But neighbors and community members have taken care of it as best they can over the years, mowing the lawn, pulling weeds and cleaning off gravestones.

A metal archway stands at the entrance and reads “San Jose Cementerio.” The cemetery was founded by a mutual aid society called the Union Fraternal Mexicana, and it served the migrant sharecropping community. This was during segregation.

“Mexicans weren’t necessarily allowed to be buried in white cemeteries,” Hernandez said. “In some cases I've seen where there's a white cemetery, and then right next to it is the Mexican section … In this case, it was just a completely different cemetery."

When Cementerio San José started to get full, the second one was created in 1949 in Del Valle. Over the years, the cemeteries changed hands. The original San José hasn’t had a known owner for several decades. San José II has an owner, but she’s believed to be in poor health and unable to maintain it, according to Hernandez. KUT reached out to the owner for this story, but did not hear back.

Based on their research so far, Hernandez and her team estimate San José I and II have more than 350 burials combined. But understanding how many burials are at each individual site is a challenge. That’s partly because on death certificates, the name Montopolis Cemetery was often used interchangeably for San José I and II. And not every burial has a gravestone.

Many people buried at the cemeteries died during concurrent epidemics, like influenza, tuberculosis and pneumonia.

“They were getting so many bodies that they were burying people in layers on top of each other, and they stopped documenting who all was getting buried,” she said. “Because there's no documentation for the number of layers for the people that were being buried in these mass graves, we're just never going to know. There's going to be layers of people that we're never going to be able to identify.”

Hernandez began researching the San José cemeteries at the end of 2019, just before the area was hit with another outbreak of a deadly disease — COVID-19. And again, this predominantly Latino neighborhood was hit harder than others.

“These histories repeat themselves,” Hernandez said. “I think that’s one of the reasons why this work is important, because it kind of sheds light on these pasts that weren’t acknowledged the way they should have been. We can use this knowledge to improve our present.”

The Descendants

Frank Monreal remembers the days when Montopolis Drive was just a dirt road. He and the other neighborhood kids, some 50 years ago, would play on the giant oak tree that stands in the middle of Cementerio San José. Instead of bicycles, he and his friends had horses.

“Everybody rode horses back then,” he said one day while at San José I. “We used to come out here, and they were our lawn mowers. They let them eat the grass and keep the grass low here.”

Monreal has relatives buried at San José I and II. From an early age, he understood death was a natural part of life. He often helped out with funerals. He remembers one burial happening at Cementerio San José when he was a kid. But it’s been a long time since anyone was buried there, he says. Most gravesites appear to date back to the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s.

There were more gravestones back then, he says, but some have weathered or broken over time. He used to walk through the cemetery on his way to school. He’d often see people putting flowers on graves, something he doesn’t see much anymore. Now, many relatives have died or left.

“That’s inevitable, you know, because generations change,” he said. “People move away.”

Preserving the cemetery, though, is important, he says, especially as gentrification has altered the landscape of Montopolis over the years.

“[The cemetery] is sacred ground to us, from our ancestors,” he said. “I don’t want to see it gone.”

Micaela Johnson, a 19-year-old artist and activist, can trace part of her family tree back to the Cementerio San José. She’s a member of the Limón family, one of Austin’s founding families whose descendants now number upwards of 3,500.

Many of her family members grew up and had businesses in Montopolis, like the Limón Bakery. She said her grandparents probably have connections to at least a quarter of the people buried at San José.

In her family, passing down stories from generation to generation is a common tradition. She remembers hearing stories about Aurora, her grandfather’s sister, who died in 1940 of pneumonia when she was 11 months old. She was buried at Cementerio San José, and her gravestone was decorated with marbles. But Johnson hasn’t been able to locate it.

She also remembers stories of Concepcion Trevino Garcia, her great-great-grandmother who died in 1939 from tuberculosis and was buried at San José. She left behind her husband and five young daughters.

“She was one of the strongest women that I have ever heard my family talk about,” Johnson said. “She was very driven and very loving.”

Garcia's grandchildren still visit the cemetery on Mother’s Day and leave flowers, Johnson said. Her family’s connection to the cemetery has inspired Johnson to get involved with (Re)claiming Memories and help ensure the San José cemeteries are well kept.

“It’s not just a place where people are buried,” she said. “It’s the life and the heart of a lot of our ancestry.”

One of the more recent headstones at Cementerio San José belongs to Augustina Rosales, who was at one time believed to be Austin’s oldest living resident. She died in 1994 at age 116. Near the back of the cemetery, she’s buried next to her husband Marcos, who died in 1951.

Rosales had 13 children and raised several others who were relatives or orphaned as if they were her own. She liked to dance to conjunto music and cook for her family, according to an Austin American-Statesman article about her death. Rosa Moncada, Rosales's great-granddaughter, says “she was awesome.”

Maintaining The Cemeteries

Moncada has several other relatives buried at San José, including grandparents and two older sisters who were born premature and died. Growing up in East Austin, Moncada would go with her mother and siblings to visit the cemetery. But they went less frequently over time, in part because the grass was often so high they couldn’t easily walk through it.

When they heard about the work Hernandez and her team are doing to help maintain the cemetery, Moncada and her sister Juanita Moncada Bayer started visiting again. And now they’re trying to keep it maintained, bringing relatives together to mow the lawn and clear out dead tree branches.

But maintaining the cemetery consistently isn’t an easy task. San José I is 2.5 acres.

“We thought, well, let's do what we can,” Bayer said. “But unfortunately, our mind tells us we can do it. But our bodies — like, that's hard work.”

(Re)claiming Memories and members of the community hosted a cleanup for San José earlier this year and hope to host more. They have been reaching out to city and county leaders, asking them to allocate more resources to the cemeteries' maintenance.

The more challenging endeavor will be cleaning up San José II. The site is difficult to access, making it hard for people to visit and maintain it.

Monreal remembers going to San José II as a kid to visit his grandfather’s grave with his dad. Back then, San José II had a proper entrance and was easier to get to.

Now, a locked chain-link fence blocks the main path that leads to the cemetery. Several sources told KUT the fence was put up by the property owner next door, perhaps to keep people from trespassing. KUT reached out to the law office that owns the property and was told it didn’t have anything to do with the gate. Hernandez and the research group are trying to get to the bottom of the issue and hope to create a proper entrance, so descendants can visit.

The area has long had problems with people dumping trash and gravel. A mound of dirt and debris now presses against fencing on one side of the cemetery.

And warehouses are being built on the southeastern side. This worries Hernandez because the cemetery hasn’t been surveyed; some burials could be outside the perimeter and could be disturbed. Community members have expressed concern that debris from construction is impacting the cemetery.

When KUT reached out to the construction manager for the company that’s developing the site, he was surprised to learn there was a cemetery next door. (“That is a jungle,” Brent Ramirez said.)

The cemetery itself is zoned for warehouse and limited office use, which some are concerned could make it vulnerable to development. (Re)claiming Memories is working with Council Member Vanessa Fuentes to get the proper zoning for it and a historical designation. Fuentes toured the cemetery earlier this year.

“It’s sad to see because it looks as if it’s been neglected and dismissed, especially with the development that’s right next to it,” she said. “Those are families and families’ history and legacies and relatives that are buried there. Those are stories that need to be told.”

Currently, pink marking flags stick up in various spots within the shrubbery of San José II. That’s the work of Joaquin Rodriguez, an Austin resident who has been going out to the cemetery to remove litter and clean off and mark gravestones that have been covered up over time.

He first learned about the cemetery late last year while researching his ancestry. Rodriguez, who was adopted, had taken a DNA test and learned he had relatives buried at cemeteries throughout Austin, including San José I and II. After seeing how neglected San José II was, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

The (Re)claiming Memories team wants to eventually create a digital map or database where people can upload information about the people buried at the cemeteries. Hernandez hopes this crowdsourced online resource will help bring the stories of the deceased together and shed light on the history of the Mexican and Mexican-American community in Montopolis.

The team is also putting together an exhibit on the cemeteries for the Mexic-Arte Museum in September. Johnson plans to perform a poem called “We Are Lost History” and sell shirts she designed, the proceeds from which will support the cemeteries' upkeep.

Johnson said she recognizes that Austinites who are not directly connected to the cemeteries may not see a reason to care about them, but she thinks they should.

“They might just see it as another gravesite or another old ancient Mexican burial ground, and they might [think] it doesn’t matter because it’s not a part of them,” Johnson said. “But it is a part of them. It’s a part of the history of Austin.”

And as development continues to alter the look and population of the Montopolis neighborhood, she says, it’s urgent to keep conversations about the cemeteries going.

“If we’re not actively trying to be like, ‘Hey, this matters,’” she said, “it’ll get washed away.”

[theoriginalsuki]

Because if you like what I write, we probably have the same taste!

There’s a glut of well-written, well-crafted post-TROS Star Wars fanfiction out there, from fix-it to AU’s – not that I’m complaining! – but I’m-a just throw out some of the ones that have hit my sweet spot.  Please reblog!  It keeps the fic life cycle going.

Complete

The Ocean: A TFA Divergence by Journeying_Jane

I’m a die-hard TFA Kylo Ren fangirl (it’s my favourite of the trilogy, I know), and this divergence tugs the threads unravelled in the interrogation scene to a very satisfying conclusion, re: Rey and Kylo see their shared future a lot sooner, before the elevator scene in TLJ, and start to understand what they mean to one another.  Soooooo good.  (Rated G)

Air and Water by Flaignhan

The tender and thorough examination of Ben and Rey’s relationship, what it is, how it completes her, and their wholesome being-together that we ache for across three films.  Better than cozying up with a hot cup of cocoa on a rainy day.  (Rated G)

What She’s Worth by g_girl143

If Rey had been taken in by the Jedi Academy as a child and basically raised by Ben Solo.  Hear me out.  This love story is innocent and organic and is so well navigated that by the end you’re just like, yeah, of course, there was no other way that could have happened.  The *potential* is what it gives us.  I need to read it again, slowly and to savour, and happily await the sequel!  (Rated T)

Dead Space by Solia

Kylo Ren sacrifices himself to save Rey when they are stranded in a malfunctioning ship.  If you’re like me, and you like angsty grand gestures of love more than sexy times, this one is gourmet Reylo.  I’m so into the not-looking-directly at their feelings and extending that sweet pain for as looooong as possible.  Because, one brain cell!  (Rated G)

Paradise by englishable

Post-TROS, the only epilogue I will accept (except for Cleave, also by englishable).  Ben is brought to trial; Rey stands by him throughout; they figure out how to go on together.  It’s so wholesome and satisfying.  Let the healing begin!  (Rated M)

Near Kinsman by englishable

In post-Civil War America, Rey answers a bachelor ad and the most classically romantic love story since the Brownings unfolds.  (Rated T)

Delicious Ambiguity by Juulna

Some people like smut.  I like dangerous male-types harnessing their aggression toward protecting women and their unborn children.  That’s hot.  Some good TFA Kylo Ren being inexplicably soft with Rey and her Force-conceived twins.  Both of them have issues.  Both of them really, really love those babies.  It earns the happily ever after, which you know I appreciate so much in a fic.  (Rated M)

until you return to me by lovefrompluto

Rey accesses the WBW and looks in on every incarnation of Ben, all the lives they live together.  Such a cool meta on fanfics with a satisfying ending, giving Rey the agency she was denied in TROS.  (Rated M)

Killing Me Softly by AlbaStarGazer

I’m not a big AU person but the premise of this is so good and works really well with the characters as we know them in canon.  I also really appreciate a fic that isn’t afraid to look at the work of love.  

Ben and Rey, childhood sweethearts, married, are put to the test for three years after Ben gets in a terrible accident and forgets Rey.  She’s won’t give up on him, but she’s too hung up on the past.  He’s in love with her but afraid that all she sees is a memory, and not the person he is now.  Some really good character study and hurt/comfort with a happy ending.

WIP’s

The Argent Coda by BetweenTownleys

A deeply involved and well thought-out fix-it that makes me soft.  It’s not happily ever after (yet) and I am 100 percent okay with that.  The Force bond intimacy between Ben and Rey hurts soooooo good!  (Not Rated)

Conversations by acowlorsomething (suchlostcreatures)

Takes place after TLJ and moves effortlessly into the kind of interaction we want to see between Maybe-Ben and Rey.  Okay, what *I* want.  Nothing too easy, nothing too sexy, more of the same of the tender conflict we got from The Last Jedi, playing out in a believable way.  (Not Rated)

Bride of Fortune by SharKohen

Cute arranged marriage AU.  Rey is supposed to be a lucky bride.  So Leia Organa-Solo brings her into the household as her son’s wife.  They’re only young, so will they have time to chose one another before the age of consummation?  (Rated T)

Chains by Veggieheist

Rey is a slave on Jakku.  Kylo Ren picks up on her Force sensitivity and “buys” her.  Cue side comments from everyone that he just wants to sleep with her,  to which he is bewildered and frustrated.  Kylo doesn’t understand why someone so powerful would act so lowly, but when he pushes Rey hard, he finds out there’s more to her than he bargained for.  Or did he see it all along?  (Rated M)

hear my plea (and come save my life) by nouveaulove

Rey finds Ben alive but with amnesia.  I’m so soft for pining and protective Rey having to woo back Ben.  (Rated M)

Halfway, Between The Black and Grey. by PunkForTheMoment

Anakin helps Rey go back in time to the interrogation scene in TFA and she is anything but smooth.  Inspired by that meme.  Very promising!

My Fic

Epilogues by TheOriginalSuki

My initial self-help fic in the wake of The Rise of Skywalker.  Kinda dream-like with a hazy plot that is basically me just making myself feel better.  Maybe you too?  Some mature content, I don’t think it’s smutty, though.  (Rated M)

Rey goes into self-imposed exile on Tatooine.  After refusing to let Ben go, they break the laws of physics to be the family to one another they never had.  Healing can at last begin.

Battlefield by TheOriginalSuki

After The Rise of Sywalker I could see things getting worse before they got better.  If Kylo Ren had buckled down on the darkness after soul-crushing rejection from Rey and the trauma of seeing Luke again, how in the world would he walk back from that?  I’ve got it tagged “dominant Kylo Ren” but I’m not into abusive stuff, so don’t expect that!  I do however love the angst.  (Rated T)

Kylo Ren took the galaxy, and Kylo Ren takes Rey.  There’s nothing left for him to accomplish, Vader’s vision is complete – only he’s still in pain.  And no matter how he manoeuvres around the scavenger girl, it’s not easing up.

what stars are made of by TheOriginalSuki

Me trying to make a place to dump one-shots and dead-end ideas and probably failing.  Every time I pull a thread of “how things could have gone” in this universe, a whole world unravels!  Oops!  The tone of this one is completely different, inspired by the adorkable Ben Solo we got a glimpse of in TROS, and how he and Rey’s relationship plays out afterward.  (Not Rated)

Rey has a minor objection to being abducted.  Good thing Ben didn’t ask her, then!

The Stray by TheOriginalSuki for itsinthestars

Written for the RFFA fic exchange.  A modern AU!  (Rated T)

Rey moves in across the hall from Ben; a former foster kid alone in the city, aspiring to be an actress. Ben is a ladder-climbing white collar businessman with a horrible boss and zero social life. Which is just the way he likes it. So why in the world has this insufferable creature made it her life’s work to adopt him? From sharing her dinner to doing his laundry, she seems determined to make a connection. In the end, it’s easier for Ben to just let her. But opening up means letting your heart be vulnerable.

Hiraeth by TheOriginalSuki

A passion project.  I even have a plan!  Bonus – there’s Tai!  (Rated M)

Rey crosses over the World Between Worlds and finds herself in a time before Kylo Ren.  it’s been twelve years since her Ben dies, and she’s achingly in love.  But he has no idea who she is.

Beatrice by TheOriginalSuki for englishable

Illustrates the principle that good art generates good art.  Rinse.  Repeat.  (Raged G)

A brief character study from Ben Solo’s point of view, encompassing the three films and then a positive resolution.

[mx-o]

「NEO CITY」

》 nct ot21 mafia! au

》 warnings ; a lot of suspense.

》a/n: i’m sorry i took so long but i’m back with this little bit for now and will update later in the week with part 2. if you ever get confused or have questions, my asks are always open!

word count: 1.8k

masterlist | previous

four, part one

[beijing, china; jan 16, 10:32]

“hello?” ten answered the phone quietly.

“you’ve arrived, i’m assuming?” taeyong asked on the other line. ten hummed in agreement at him.

“there’s something i need for you to do, but they’re with you, aren’t they? johnny and sicheng?” he questioned again. ten could feel johnny and sicheng closing in on him now. he’d been on the phone too long and they’ve realized something was going on. he had to choose his words wisely. he hummed again, followed by a soft ‘yes’.

“this one is for you and you alone. you’re only allowed to answer with yes or no from now on, do you understand?” he spoke sternly over the line—deeply and slowly.

he hummed yet again, but with ‘mhm’ this time. to be honest, ten was a little scared to speak with the other two around and with taeyong’s tone, he only wanted to ask questions.

“words, ten. use your words.”

“yes, sir.” the other two’s ears perked up at that. they figured out who he was speaking to for the least.

“i’ve sent kun and taeil in my place. i have some business to attend to here. i’ve already spoken to them about this. i’m sure you already know i’m sending yuta along from japan also, yes?” ten hummed quietly, acknowledging the fact. “he was supposed to bring doyoung with him as our financial advisor since i need jaehyun here in seoul. the problem is, however, that yuta told doyoung that he wasn’t needed in beijing since you, him and yukhei would be there and would be able to handle it on your own. and while i agree with that, he’s disobeying my orders.”

ten sighed, taking in the information. the two boys who had leaned in on him had not moved a muscle since. he tried his best to ignore their presence and listen to what taeyong was saying.

“i spoke to mark and he confirmed that two people boarded the flight in tokyo. you understand what you need to do, yes?” taeyong finished. ten gathered that he liked asking questions. nonetheless, he nodded.

realizing the man couldn’t see him, he answered, “i’ll look into it.”

[jan 17, 08:31]

“on your toes, boys,” ten commanded his ‘thai trio’ as he calls them. he put on his brightest smile. standing before them. he turned sharply on his heels, now facing the large double doors of the dining room of one of nc tech’s newly constructed hotels in the beijing area—where one can live the dream. ten didn’t fully understand why they bought a chain of hotels but made a mental note to ask kun when he sees him next, which in any case, is in less than thirty seconds.

he pushed open the doors to the dining area to be met with a beautiful face. she was almost the same height as him, her brunette locks falling effortlessly on her shoulders. she held what he assumed was a menu in her arms, against her chest. smiling at him, she moved aside, making way for the four men, and following them as they walked to the centre of the dining room.

the scent of fresh linens whirred through the room as they walked past all the empty tables to the one at the very middle of the hall. the white tablecloths spread across every table with the sun’s electrifying brightness from the skylight above the entire room, made the space look much more open than it really was. they arrived at the table that sat the two men, dressed in jet black suits and slicked back hair.

the hostess stood at the table and motioned for them to sit down, saying that she would be back shortly for their orders. the table was round, large enough to sit eight people but had been adjusted to seat the six men, and so they were spaced a little further than usual. ten sat first of the four, taking his seat next to kun, with taeil on the right of them both. sicheng sat beside ten, johnny on the right side of taeil, sandwiching haechan between them at the only other seat.

“you’re a minute late,” was the first thing kun could say to great them all. typical, ten thought.

“i’m sorry, hyung. i was a little delayed by these three here. you see, they all somehow called ‘dibs’ on the front seat. but it was clearly mine,” he joked with his elder. he laughed delightfully. it was airy and sweet, much like kun himself.

qian kun was one of the initial investors in neo culture technologies. he’d been friends with taeyong for a long time before, as he visited south korea often with his family when he was young. no one is completely sure, but most of the company believe that he’s the reason neo culture even exists as it is today. he was persistent and always was looking out for his brother, and well—his investment. like a lot of the other ‘founding members’, he worked hard to reach where he is now. kun was the director of all drug and narcotics operations for all of the region. technically speaking, he held the same amount of power as taeyong did, just in his division.

“i remember back when we were still young and stole taeyong’s car that one time, we all fought over who could get the front seat. i guess things don’t change sometimes.” taeil chimed in, holding his arm out on the table, toying with his wine glass and letting out a light chuckle. the light from the skylight above them made taeil’s faded orangey-brown locks look a little more golden than usual. the sunlight was the reason the moon shone anyway, wasn’t it?

moon taeil was the stone-cold softie at nc tech. he was one of the two rare people who taeyong held more respect for. both taeil and johnny were the only two people older than taeyong and it showed in the way they were treated. both him and johnny rose ranks easily and was also always the ones their CEO would come to for advice. taeil, however, was kept nearby. he had an insane mind for war tactics and had a knack for things that involved a fight. it’s not quite the personality that suits his features. he was gifted, to say the least—nimble fingers that wrapped easily around the handles of guns, small lips that hid the glints of mischief that shone through the darkness, perfectly round and sharp eyes that ever missed a target. moon taeil was as celestial as the name suggests, and taeyong noticed that the moment he laid eyes on the elder.

it was easy to fall.

“hyung? you stole a car? i never thought you would ever do that!” the youngest jumped at the opportunity to learn about his seniors and all the bad things they’ve done.

“oh no, channie-ah. you see, that was taeil hyung. we all knew if any of us had done that taeyong would’ve blown a fuse. he just likes to include us in his childish endeavours since he misses his youth so much,” ten defended himself. taeil scoffed at the mention of him missing his youth. it was true, but he’d long forgotten about that.

“ya! don’t lie! you were just as much a part as any of us,” kun piped in again, defending taeil. they all laughed at the comment. truth is, everyone except donghyuck knows the story. it was one of those memories that had made them as close as they are now and something they bond over often.

“but we all pinned the blame on taeil anyway,” he finished, quickly taking a sip of his water, and looking away from the death glare taeil shot his way immediately after. all defence down the drain, they all chimed in with their laughter again.

it was a blissful moment in retrospect.

their conversation had gone along smoothly, laughing about old memories as they waited for their orders. but even amidst the chatter and banter, there was still that little bit of suspicion in sicheng’s mind about all of this.

honestly speaking, did ten, kun and taeil need to be here? this was a regular transaction that was supposed to occur just like normal. did taeyong suddenly doubt sicheng’s ability to do his job on his own? and why the hell was yuta flying in too? none of this made any sense but he couldn’t exactly right out ask them about it.

“why are you guys here?” sicheng asked, picking at his steak with his fork, not looking at them. the table fell silent. there goes not ‘right out’ asking about it.

“i’ve been wondering that too, since i don’t usually follow my shipments. that’s a winwin thing, not me,” johnny added.

ten lowered his fork from his hand, placing it down with a clank. kun and taeil looked up at them both—unreadable, while poor donghyuck just reached for his water glass, pretending to drink from it to avoid the situation.

“i hadn’t even thought about that part. so, tell me, does taeyong not trust us anymore? or do you not trust us?” sicheng continued. he looked up at ten, meeting his eyes and leaning into his seat, waiting for his answer.

“this has nothing to do with you—” ten started, cutting himself off to glance at kun for an answer. he sighed in defeat, not knowing how to explain this. his weakness for sicheng gets to him easier than he thought.

“what ten is trying to say is that it’s none of your concern why we’re here. we’re following orders just as you are, that’s all,” taeil spoke calmly.

sicheng tensed. none of this sat right with him. “am i not allowed to know why you’re on my ass about this shipment? obviously there’s something else that i need to know about it if you’re here, am i wrong?”

“it’s not—”

“ten, don’t,” kun stopped him again.

“what’s going on here, seriously? do you not trust me? us?” sicheng asked again, calmer this time. johnny held off on the questions, knowing how ten would react just by gauging the situation.

ten turned fully to kun now, eyebrows furrowed, and shoulders raised. what was he plotting?

“hyung, we should at least—”

“no, ten. you’ll be disobeying orders too,” taeil stated plainly.

“too?” johnny and his damn good observation skills.

“so, we’ve done something wrong?” sicheng’s persistence had become a bore to them now.

“winwin, remember who you’re speaking to,” taeil warned.

he murmured a soft ‘sorry, hyung’ while bowing his head. he knew very well that he was pushing his limits, but he needed to know. he wracked his brain for answers for the past day and a half and he just couldn’t stop now.

“hyung please, just tell me. does taeyong not trust us anymore?”

“it’s not you he doesn’t trust,” kun started, exasperated.

“it’s not who, who doesn’t trust?” a new voice spoke, emerging from behind donghyuck—who’d been ‘drinking’ water this whole time.

“nakamoto.”

next

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 18

Read on AO3

Read chapter seventeen (NSFW)

Title: More Trouble

Words: 6600

Summary: Yeah, just add it to the list at this point.

Warnings: Mild descriptions of medical trauma

ST Rambles:I admit, my note last week was a bit ominous. But for good reason as I am the biggest blabbermouth when I'm excited/nervous/dreadful over something. And I can't explain how I am very much all of those things about this fic. I spent two days plotting the next few chapters and I had to stop a few times because I got overwhelmed. I think it's a combination of things I've had planned finally coming to fruition and the knowledge that I'm the one that has to write them.

Leaving you with a less chaotic message this week, but please please tell me what you think! I love hearing everyone's thoughts and theories about it all. I never imagined that we'd be here four months ago, but I'm so super stoked that we are.

[MASTERLIST]

The villagers stood in contained crowds, barricades of stormtroopers detaining them with weapons raised as they looked on in horror; behind them, their homes were set aflame and their resources run dry at the hands of the First Order, their livelihood decimated in the early hours of the morning. War was an ugly, retched thing, though it always appeared necessary, at least when it was presented by the media. As a nurse it was nearly intolerable to watch these people, see them as they held tight to their lives as Kylo Ren, the Commander of everything unfolding before you, drowned their world in chaos.

The taut skin of your knuckles, nearly bound to the frame of the Command Shuttle, thrummed in beat with your pulse as you peered into a reality you never imagined you’d bear witness to; of course you’d known your Master was a powerful, feared man, but you’d never seen him in action. He was outfitted in his robes again, a cowl draped around his helmet and hanging asymmetrically from his shoulders as he terrorized the village. The wind seemed to frame him with an additional aura of death, his mere presence commanding even the elements themselves. Looking at him, one eye glued to the potentiating terror just beyond the descended ramp, you empathized with the villagers, knowing he had no bounds, understanding he couldn’t recognize them to begin with.

The month since he’d stripped you of your free will had passed quickly, spending the first half cooped up with Mason, helping him catch up on patient cases; not that you felt any loyalty towards Ren, you knew you couldn’t tell Mason about the incident, leaving its memory to strangle you when there was nothing to fill the time. After the first two weeks, Mason had healed in time to attend his spin-off residency on the Finalizer, his absence leaving you with too much silence, too much spare time to overanalyze the last time you’d seen your Master.

It felt like he’d taken something from you, even as your autonomy had returned it felt defaced, an uncomfortable reminder of the control he’d stripped you of. What kept you up at night was trying to understand his reasons behind the act; there was too much between you and him for it to be a natural inclination on his part. It had been such a paradigm shift, one week he’d left you with a pair of his briefs, the next he was using your will to prove his point. It didn’t make sense, and that fact bothered you. What changed so drastically in the week you’d spent away from him? You weren’t ignorant that he could take what he wanted, but maybe you were naïve in thinking he wouldn’t take it from you. Foolishly, perhaps, you’d convinced yourself that – even for the shortest, most minuscule period of time – you’d meant something to him as he’d meant to you.

The thoughts bombarded your foggy head as your watch had pulled you from whatever distorted amount of sleep you’d obtained last night, the red face blaring into your puffy eyes less than thirty minutes ago. Its incessant chirping was accompanied by a cryptic message scrawling COMMAND SHUTTLE LEAVING. TEN MINUTES. in too-fast a cycle for four in the morning. This was the first instance you’d been called to work unexpectedly, the first time the watch had served any other purpose than to track you. It was an unwelcome reminder that, for the time being, you were still chained to the life of Kylo Ren.

As of late it seemed like you’d been yearning for the trial to start, exactly a week separating you from complete severance from your Master or even the First Order. That’s how you had to look at it, though, growing tired of wasting time worrying about something you couldn’t control, its date creeping ever closer as you fought to convince yourself everything would be okay. That was the farthest thing from the truth, you knew, taking into consideration you would soon either be dead or an unemployable bum being antagonized by an unhinged stormtrooper and exploited by a man who would never respect you. Truthfully, nothing was okay and nothing seemed like it would be okay any time soon or any time ever.

“I know where you come from, before you called yourself Kylo Ren,” an old man said, bringing you back to the scene at hand.

The man seemed docile, his only intention being that of speaking to the Commander, his demeanor calm even surrounded by chaos. But what he said was ludicrous; taking a moment to think about it, you realized you’d never thought about a time where Kylo Ren wasn’t anthropomorphized fear. There was a time before he headed the First Order’s troops, a time where he was younger and maybe even attainable. According to the old man, strangely enough, it seemed as if Kylo Ren didn’t exist during those times, but what did it mean? The sentence begged the question if Kylo Ren’s name was even more of a mask than the one he outwardly wore.

“The First Order rose from the dark side. You did not.” The gentleman was so assured in his tone, but how could he be? Who was he, and how could he know these things?

“I’ll show you the dark side.” The assertion in your Master’s voice shook you, your pulse elevating as you spied his hands coil into black wrath at his sides.

“You may try, but you cannot deny the truth that is your family.”

“You’re so right.”

The emblazoned shaft of the red sword lit instantaneously as the last word fell from Kylo’s tongue, the weapon slicing through the old man’s chest and leaving an orange stain of fatality burning away at his flesh. Before you could turn away, you saw him crumple to the ground, body lifeless as you caught view of his eyes; they were open, bright even, red glinting over his face and onto the still-wet surface of his sclera. Burying your face into the durasteel, catching your breath, you hid from the truth you grew closer to accepting every day: there was no redemption for a man who didn’t want it. The only thing Kylo Ren had shown a consistent desire for was power, and surely this was just another egregious show of how he continuously attained exactly that.

There were only a few stormtroopers scattered throughout the Command Shuttle, one swiveling his head towards you when you gasped in rejection, wishing you could erase the memory of the fading eyes before the one who owned them became cold. It didn’t matter if these people were supposedly enemies, they were people; innocent people who existed as no threat to the one jeopardizing their lives. The true punishment of being associated with Kylo Ren would never be the indignity or pain he caused you, but knowing and even seeing that which he wrought over others.

“What are you looking at?” you spit, the white-armored onlooker quickly flinching back to attention. The earlier mistrust you’d developed for the entire stormtrooper population had recently been replaced with distaste, an acrid film covering your tongue whenever one was within your vicinity. It was easier to be angry with all of them than to be in a constant state of fear, so whenever a moment presented itself, you tended towards confrontation instead of cowardness.

“Put him on board.” The modulated words spun you back towards the night, seeing two stormtroopers handling a different man, both his arms entangled into their grips.

He was rugged; a leather jacket covering his arms, a head full of deep browns curls framing his squared face. There was dirt covering his cheeks, a thin film at least, you assumed from being on Jakku for however long he had been. Everything about him screamed Resistance. Even so, much like the old man and the villagers, he was a person, and you knew what awaited him when the Command Shuttle landed on the Finalizer. A reluctant pang of protection constricted your heart as you watched him struggle against his detainees, his head flying back to catch one last glimpse at the village as they faded out of his view.

The man was led past you, your eyes catching his for a second too long, studying him before he was strapped into a holding seat, hydraulic cuffs hissing over his wrists, ankles, and abdomen. He seemed too unphased for the predicament he’d walked into, his face nearly amused, like this was typical for him. Looking at him you felt a need to watch over him, the ways of guardianship and advocacy that’d been instilled in you during school; though they were entirely misplaced, him being a prisoner of the First Order inciting a vague sense of dissonance, you couldn’t bring yourself to see him as a threat. There was too much kindness in his eyes, a sense of trustworthiness about him you couldn’t quite explain.

“Kill them all.” Another interruption, this time sending knives through your lungs.

It was too quick, the orders registered and implemented simultaneously before you had the thought to turn around. Instead, your head jolted into your shoulders at the sound of blasters firing, heart rampaging as the consequential screams echoed after them. The villagers’ shrieks continued, their pain tangible even without seeing them, the images of their earlier faces haunting you as you realized none of them would ever leave this dreadful night. Vomit rose in your throat, your legs barreling forward towards stability, coincidentally landing you in the seat next to the prisoner as you swallowed against your throat.

“Hey, watch it, alright? Keep your breakfast to yourself,” he leaned away from you as far as his restraints would allow.

“No, I’m good. I’m-,” you dry heaved over your knees, the screams fading into silence when your head came back up. Luckily, you hadn’t had time to eat said breakfast.

“Okay, yeah, that’s great. Just how I thought today would go.”

“In all fairness, if I had actually thrown up on you, would that have been the worst part of your day thus far?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

He studied you, appraising, glimpsing the red embroidery and then forming your last name into a question. “First Order care provider, huh?” He read off your uniform. “Oh, Commander Ren’s care provider. Excuse me for the informality.” He was making jokes while detained by his enemies. It was impossible not to like him.

“Between you and me—” you peered around, noting the rising volume of boots approaching the ramp before looking back at him and whispering “—I don’t really enjoy the title either.”

The prisoner’s face broke into a broad smile, his eyes narrowing at your admission. “Well, I could offer you a new one. If you wanted.”

Incessant, angry heat bit at your cheeks, eyes blaring at him. “Oh, no. No, no. I just don’t like-,”

“Don’t like what? Your boss? Neither does anyone else.”

His audacity mixed with his dazzling expression inspired one of your own, cheeks rising at the thought of the entire galaxy pitted against Kylo Ren. “I don’t think I can argue with that fact.”

“I think we’re on the same side, kid.” He looked down at his hand and then back to you. “Poe Dameron. I’d offer you a handshake, but I’m a little tied up right now.”

“What makes you think I’d accept your hand?” He reminded you of Mason, his wit impeccable just the same, a giggle pitching your tone upwards.

He was about to speak before his eyes dropped and his face followed, your own head turning to learn the cause. With a smile still splintering over your face, Kylo stood at the threshold watching you, your heart sinking when you felt the unabashed show of happiness still tight over your cheeks. To be caught not even consorting, but laughing with the enemy? Not the best thing for you right now. Swallowing, you relaxed your face and nodded at your Commander, sitting with your back flat against the wall with forced posture as you watched him in your periphery.

Five more stormtroopers piled in behind him before he took another step, finally moving towards the control panel. The hatch ascended and the engines vibrated through the floor, a rising pitch ringing into the ship as it prepared to propel into the sky. Unthinkingly, you’d forgotten to strap in, but when you went to fumble for the belts, your arms couldn’t move. Scrambling, you fought against the invisible constraints, fearing the headache that would transpire should the ship take off before you could secure yourself.

The engines came to a peak, their tremors jolting through your entire body, and when the red-paned windshield fled into the stars, you clamped your eyes shut, preparing for the collision. After a share of time which seemed too generous, you popped one lid open, testing to see if you had just blacked out during the event. But you were completely fine, finding the Force was back to working for your advantage, even if that wasn’t its primary intention. From the corner of your eye you saw Dameron observing you, his face bearing the confusion you were containing.

“That was lucky,” he said, half grumbling to himself.

“Yeah, l-,”

“No talking.” Kylo bit off your words, acid seeping through the vocoder from the head of the ship.

The rest of the trip was silent, no person wanting to shatter the shallow patience of the pilot. Just before the ship landed in the Finalizer’s docking bay you stole one last look at Dameron, seeing his throat bob, watching as the hinge of his jaw twitched against tension. Maybe his earlier nonchalance was a coping mechanism, choosing only to accept a situation when it was necessary. It was strange how much you shared with someone you were supposed to hate, someone you should want to get punished. Against your better judgement you found yourself worrying for him, imagining whatever hell he would shortly be introduced to, knowing which devil would be delivering it.

With a slightly rocky landing the Command Shuttle docked, engines coming down as the ramp did. Clearing your throat, you caught his attention.

“Good luck,” you mouthed, face full of ill-timed pity, hoping the maroon shadows cast a veil of protection over your gesture.

He looked over you, mouth quirking in one corner, eyes scanning the ship before returning to yours. “Offer still stands,” he mouthed back, raising a brow.

Pointedly, you looked back at him, slowly and subtly shaking your head. A silent declination. Though running away with the Resistance seemed a nice alternative to what life currently offered, it wasn’t probable to believe you’d be successful in evading the entire First Order, let alone your Master. With a final scan over his features, you committed his name to memory, determined not to let his life be in vain if he was fated the same as the villagers.

“Take him to interrogation one. Standard procedures before I take over,” Kylo instructed, two stormtroopers grappling Dameron from his seat. He was gone before you had thought to move again, finding the restraints still present over your upper body.

When the last of the mission crew descended into the docking bay, you waited for your freedom, sure it would come at the expense of either your time or your patience. Kylo stalked towards you, purpose in each stride, leaning against the wall from your seat, leathered fury flexing over his robes. The cowl created a hood over his helmet, the chrome bars of the visor barely glinting in the poorly lit ship.

“Do you have a death wish?” The question was born through hidden gnashed teeth.

These were the first words he’d directed solely at you since that day, his audacity no longer shocking, only aggravating. “Depends on the day at this point, I guess.”

“The First Order tends to be less lenient when it comes to treason than they are with larceny.”

“Noted.”

“What happened to getting your license back?”

“I realized it doesn’t matter what I want. You made that exceptionally clear.”

He shifted in his stance, your apathetic candor catalyzing his irritation. There was no other way to interact with him anymore; if he would never acknowledge or respect you as an autonomous being who held her own thoughts and made her own decisions, what could you do other than placate him? You were numb, acting like it at least. Giving him a reaction would only allow him a sense of gratification.

“Allow me to make one more thing clear,” he said, the Force leaving your chest before his hand encircled your wrist and guided you away from the wall.

With no further explanation he led you into the docking bay, the freezing air biting at you past the threshold. Your wrist was freed once you were twenty paces from the Command Shuttle, Kylo’s strides unrelenting as you passed through crowds of workers at a half-jogged speed to keep up with him. It was pointless to disobey him, to not follow him; there was no challenging someone who didn’t fight fair. However reluctantly, you were working on accepting that fact, too.

Through unfamiliar halls and a few flights of mesh stairs you looked out at the bustling expanse of the Finalizer, taking in the hoards of organized stormtroopers, a vague sense of panic seemingly quickening every workers’ steps. The morning had already begun in emergency, though it seemed it wasn’t going to settle down any time soon. Today felt different, like it was important, like you weren’t supposed to forget it. However strange it seemed, the day had barely started and yet you found yourself dreading what it had in store.

After turning down a final indiscriminate hall, Kylo initiated a door which stood directly parallel to a second, the two rooms seemingly intended for each other. Inside the threshold was a singular metal desk with a matching chair, every wall solid and soundproofed except one. To your right was a mounted set up of four monitors, screens illuminated with the images of camera footage; taking a closer look, you recognized the main subject, strapped into an upright position against a flat adjustable table outfitted with a plethora of mechanics you could only assume were intended for harm. Following in after Kylo, your heart fell as you saw the prisoner’s face had already been marked with injury. It was subtle, but whatever light he’d held in his eyes when you’d met him had left, face solid and tight as he stared across from him. Following the direction of his glare, you looked at a second screen, a new angle offering insight into the subject of his hostility. A black armored soldier stood across from him, a table of various instruments to his right. You looked between the two men as each one settled into their situation, both ignorant to your digital presence.

“Why are we here, Kylo?” It was rhetorical, tone exhausted with his games as you turned away from the screens.

“I’m showing you what you’ve obviously forgotten, what I allowed you to forget.” He looked down at you, hand reaching to turn you back to the screen.

Shifting away from him, his fingers only grazed your shoulder. “No, this is not in my job description. If you have anything physically ailing you, then fine, I’ll stay, but I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

“Your objections only prove me right. You need to be reminded that-,”

“Alright, this is getting old. If you want to talk, let’s talk. But I’m not addressing you with that helmet on.”

“Officer,” he growled, “this isn’t your ch-,”

“I can’t understand you over that ridiculous scarf. Just give me that last part again, hm?” Maybe it wasn’t smart, but he needed a reminder of his own: you weren’t taking his shit anymore.

His fist collided with the table, the monitors rattling against their fasteners. “I don’t want to-,”

“What? You don’t want to hurt me? You don’t want to force me to do it? That’s a change of pace, isn’t it?”

Kylo met you through the mask, the slight sound of his gloved thumbs rubbing over his knuckles filling the silence. His chest fell as his arms rose, fingers disengaging the muzzle before it hissed away from him and he slid the cowl down to his back. When he pulled the apparatus from his head, you took the opportunity to search him for that empty person you’d met the last time you’d seen his eyes. The bright glow of the screen lit half his face, casting a dim shadow across the other as he shook his hair free from the helmet’s confines. There was a veil of confusion in his expression, like he couldn’t accept your outburst or understand why you’d say such things.

The helmet met the table in a loud clang, unnecessary force behind the placement. “I never wanted to do those things,” your last name was stale from his mouth, corporate in its annunciation.

“I really don’t get it. If you don’t want to, then why? I’ve considered every possibility for the last month and I can’t see why you’d ever do that to me,” you said, fingers wrapping around the top rail of the chair.

“I’d been too lenient with you. You’d forgotten your place.” There was no conviction in his tone, almost like he was reciting a script.

“That’s such bullshit! And you know it is, too.”

“It’s inconsequential if you don’t want to accept my explanation.”

“Do you even accept your explanation?” In your periphery you noted movement on the screen. “Seriously, you knew you didn’t have to do that, but you still did. I need to know why.”

“I couldn’t allow a subordinate to speak to me like you did. It was inappropriate.”

“Are you- subordinate? Is there someone telling you these things? Like, if I looked in your ear would there be a speaker?” This was not who he was, not in the slightest.

“Contrary to what you may believe, officer, I can form my own thoughts.”

“But these aren’t yours! What the hell happened? I don’t know this—” you gestured over his frame, face twisted with disbelief “—this person.”

“You don’t know me. Good to see we agree on one thing.”

He was being exceedingly dramatic today. “That’s not what I said. I do know you, but whoever you’ve been since that day… I hate it.”

“Please,” he said, taking a step towards you, “tell me who I’ve been recently.”

You mirrored him, stepping from behind the chair, seeing his eyes darken as you did. “In short? An ass who treats me like an object he can throw around whenever he wants.”

Beside you came a shriek, both echoed through the wall and crystal clear through the monitors. The flinch it inspired stole a portion of power in your admission, your head shunning the screens completely as to not see the cause of the terror. It was too familiar to the sounds Mason had let out, the memory flashing as Dameron came down from his pain with heavy, fast breaths. It sounded like another scream was brewing, but just before it came to fruition the screens cut out, the audio following simultaneously. The monitors settled into a red display of the First Order’s emblem, its cast blaring over your eyes the same as Kylo’s.

He stared at you and then down at the table, throat bobbing as you realized he’d turned them off purposely. He cleared his throat. “And that’s not who I usually am?”

“Before now, my free will had remained in-tact when I was with you. So, no. That’s not who you are.” You looked away from him, chewing your cheek.

A strong hand ran through his hair, the other firm against the table, back hunched down as he looked over at you, your eyes peeking over at his as you felt him scanning over your face. “How are you so sure of that fact?”

Shutting your eyes, you ground your teeth together, hands coiling over the sharp metal ridge of the desk. “Do you actually want to know, or is this just’,”

“I want to know.” The interruption prompted your eyes back to his, genuine attention and almost concern etched into his expression.

“Fine,” you breathed, pushing off of the desk to cross your arms and face him. He fixed his posture as you did, hands open at his sides. “I could get over the drowning, and I didn’t protest the blood – I actually kind of liked it, but no matter that fact –” you shook your head “—everything else I could move on from. This, stripping me of choice when all I wanted to do was understand why you’d gone to such lengths to protect me? I truly don’t know how I can move on from that, or how I can forgive it.”

“Forgive it,” he echoed introspectively, taking one more step closer.

“I know that you couldn’t care less if I do or not, but how can I respect myself if I just accept it when I know I don’t have to?”

Not leaving your eyes, he spun the chair and walked around it before taking a seat and leaning forward onto his elbows. Still you were only a few inches taller than him as he sat, his head angled up to yours just slightly while he kept steady in his gaze. He chewed his tongue for a moment, looking at you with concentration, considering his next move. “I can’t change what I did to your friend,” he said, the first time he hadn’t referred to Mason as the physician. “I can’t rationalize allowing you back into general practice, because-,”

“Are you kidding me, I-,”

“Because,” he said, voice rising with his brow, “there are too many factors to consider when taking the surveillance detail into account.” The effort he was making to actually explain himself was obvious in his voice, the words leaving unsteadily as he looked over your face.

“Half of those factors would disappear if you would trust that I’m professionally competent.”

His head tilted and his eyes narrowed, appearing like he didn’t understand you, rejecting your words like they were frivolous in nature. “Why would I think anything other than that?”

“Some of the things you said. Mainly being you can’t mess up and how’d you get here in the first place. It’s obvious you don’t think I know what I’m doing.” A slight warmth came over the helices of your ears, just the thought of his demeanor that day was enough to fluster you.

He sat back in the chair, face splayed into earnest. “I understand you don’t think it’s protection, but knowing what I do, I’ve seen how vindictive the Board can be. They twist things to fit their agenda. When I looked through your file I did actually make sure you knew your stuff.”

Looking at him, seeing how stern his face was, how much his body language had shifted since you’d entered the small observance room, you knew he was being honest. “Okay, that’s good, I guess. But how does that have anything to do with the Board and your protection?” Air quotes framed the last word, your arms returning to your sides after the gesture.

“I can say you’re the best nurse throughout every system there is”—his eyes went wide—“but if the Board has a set verdict in mind, it won’t matter. They’ll look at every meticulous task you’ve conducted between the incident and the trial and they’ll dissect it until it turns into something they can accuse you of.” Even in the red haze of the room you could see the blood bite at his cheeks. It appeared he did actually believe he was protecting you.

Shaking your head, you rolled your eyes and hiccuped out a breathy laugh, looking down at him with incredulous eyes. “All you had to do was tell me that instead of…” you avoided mentioning the act as it sickened you to even think about it.

He swallowed and dipped his head away from you momentarily, his face meeting yours with something you could only name as guilt when he returned; however vague it was, it was still set in his eyes, even in the way his mouth set slightly lower. “Don’t forgive me.”

It almost made you trip backwards how open the request was. Not even the fact that he didn’t want forgiveness, but the knowledge that he understood there was forgiveness to be granted at all. Mindlessly you took a step forward, your shoe catching on the tip of his boot before inching your step back. This was something you hadn’t considered; the idea that you didn’t have to move on from it, that you didn’t have to accept his actions or swallow back the hurt they’d caused. You could allow yourself the grace and time to heal without disregarding yourself or your beliefs. It made your heart skip, an invisible wall collapsing as if he’d said the magic words.

“I… don’t think I will.” There was apprehension in the admission, still not fully sure how to look at him, conflicted by how you wanted to reach out to him.

His face didn’t move, guarding you from any reaction he might’ve had. “You were right earlier.”

“Can you be more specific?”

He shook his head and stifled a smirk, his own hands awkwardly reaching out over his knees like he, too, wanted to feel you. “Someone was in my ear.”

Shifting your stance just slightly, his knees met your thighs and your balance stuttered, his hands steadying you at your sides; quickly after your equilibrium returned, though, they were gone as fast as they’d come. An incessant ache stupefied you as it resonated both in your chest and between your legs. It was unsettling how easily you could switch between wanting to rid this man from your life and wanting this man to quell your need for him. Maybe against your better judgement, you allowed yourself a small indulgence.

Trailing the tips of your fingers along his hairline, you pushed them over his scalp, thumbs rubbing into his temples before you leaned down into his neck and pressed your lips against the warm tip of his ear. With his throat so close, you heard him swallow, felt the rise in his temperature as his body heat twisted into yours, his hands still keeping to his own legs. Taking a minute, you pressed your nose into his hair, smelling him as you leaned away and traced the tip against his jaw before finding his eyes once more.

“I mean, I couldn’t see anyone in there, so.” You teased him as your face warmed, thankful for the screens’ red camouflage, your fingers still slightly holding his jaw.

His lips parted as something of a faint smile tried to form, a small gust of amusement blowing over your wrists and in turn sending shivers down the backs of your legs. You wanted more of him, still. He was here, seemingly for the taking for however long time would permit at the moment, and you wanted him. After a month of spitting silent curses over him, searching for an explanation you didn’t think would come, you found yourself overtaken with a yearning you’d never experienced, like your skin was pulling you into him. Basking in this feeling – whether it was freedom or assuredness or desire, or all three – you placed one arm around his shoulders and sat your legs perpendicular over his own, fingers tugging at the cowl around his neck.

“Where did this come from?” You traced the edge of the article while your knuckles grazed his throat, your mouth twisting into a telling smirk.

Finally he took a hand and coiled it around the back of your neck, his gaze attracting yours as electricity buzzed beneath his hand. “I don’t know, I just grabbed it before leaving earlier.” His other hand came up to your cheek, its gloved warmth only adding to your need.

He didn’t initiate it, his lips only meeting yours when you leaned into him, your other hand ravishing into his hair for stability. It was a slow, building encounter, his mouth melting into yours as you breathed against his cheek, angling your head into his in an effort to keep him as close as possible. Below you, you felt him growing harder, cunt pulsing at the knowledge as a slight moan sank into his mouth. Shifting on top of him, you held his face as you worked to straddle him, legs framing against his hips as his hands held both your hip and your hair.

“I’ve missed you,” you said while taking a breath, feeling a sense of familiarity with him after so long, finding the man you’d slept next to, remembering the way he’d held you.

He grunted before gifting you the longest, deepest, nearly skin-vibrating kiss, his hands landing to grip over the tops of your thighs before he pulled away and looked at you. In his eyes lied an endless amount of reciprocation, an abyss of amber you’d never be able to forget as it consumed you in the carmine room. “You cause more trouble than you know.” He was fond in tone, eyes lazily moving between your own.

“I think you forget yourself, Commander.” It felt silly to think you held even some semblance of power over him as he did you.

He lifted your left wrist and checked the time on your watch. It was five, now, your interrogation-turned-tryst lasting nearly thirty minutes. He looked back at you, thumb tracing your cheekbone. “When I’m done, I want to come home to you,” he hummed, voice nearly too low to register, “naked in my bed, understood?”

Flames took residence over your entire face, cheeks burning at his bluntness. Stifling a giggle, you leaned into him once more and nuzzled into his nose before brushing your lips against his. “Understood.”

As he stood, he kept his lips on yours, your feet meeting the ground as he held your hips. You were reluctant in breaking away from him, standing on your tippy toes before he was too far out of reach. Sometimes it was unfair how much power he had just in his height. He turned to leave but you needed to get something clear.

“Kylo,” you blurted out, waiting for him to turn back around. He looked at you with intent, watching you chew your cheek. “This doesn’t fix everything.”

He considered you, peering at your nervous face in the fiery cast. “Understood.”

Quickly, he gathered his helmet and placed it back over his head, making a show of returning the cowl to its original state before exiting the room completely. Taking a breath, you ran your hands through your hair, eyes squinting as the screens returned to their live cast of the prisoner, his face now spattered with a red that hadn’t been there before. A few minutes passed as you watched him, face sweaty and tired, guilt filling you as you regarded the inevitable when the door hissed open to the expansive frame of your Master.

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board,” Kylo said, Dameron leaning forward to acknowledge him. “Comfortable?”

“Such an ass,” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head before leaving the room, evading the sight of another torture.

You backtracked your way through the halls, only getting lost once as you made your way to your quarters. Home to you, however unthinkingly he’d phrased it the words still sang in your veins while you trekked towards the Elite lobby. The Finalizer was bustling with an influx of workers you’d never seen, bodies rushing past each other, every one tripping over the next as they fought towards their own tasks. Though still crowded, the lobby offered more clarity in the faces running through it, allowing you to easily spot the pallor plaguing Talia’s face across the expanse.

“Talia?” You said, not knowing if she could hear you. When she continued to make her way through the room, her gait unsteady in her wake, you shouted after her. “Talia! Hey!”

Her face turned towards yours, shocking you in its unrecognizable shade of pale green. She looked like she could keel over any second. Pushing past crowds of people, you met her as fast as you could, your hands stabilizing her shoulders when you did. “Hey, hey are you alright?”

She couldn’t focus on you, her eyes spinning, barely settling on one solid place for more than a second. Following her focus with your face you eventually caught her attention, her lips dry and pale. “Hey, Harper, c’mon. Sit down, okay? I’m gonna help you.” She barely nodded in response, diaphoresis obvious over her colorless face as you lowered her to the ground.

“Can you tell me your name?”

She patted at the floor, legs trying to stand back up. “I need to see Armitage,” she murmured as you pulled her back down.

“General Hux? Talia, do you know where you are?”

“I need, I have to… I have to go.”

She had to be dehydrated at the least, but this seemed much more intensive, almost like a metabolic imbalance if you had to guess. “Talia, hey, listen to me. I’m gonna get some help, alright?” You kept your hands coiled into her shoulders as you screamed for assistance, multitudes of faces turning to you, more jumping away than running to help. An older worker came to Talia’s right side. To your surprise, he whipped out a penlight. Upon further examination, you recognized him from the night it all went wrong. He was the physician who’d switched spots with you so you could run for the blood.

“How long has she been like this?” He asked, tilting her head back and feeling her pulses.

“I spotted her not even two minutes ago, she was pale and diaphoretic. She’s disoriented and insists on seeing General Hux.”

“Hux, yes I need to see H-,”

Talia’s eyes rolled into the back of her head before the tremors began, drool slipping over her bottom lip before you could get her completely on her side. Keeping your hand under her face to protect her from concussing herself you watched as vomit hiccuped onto the reflective tiles. The physician spoke into his pager, requesting a transport team and a stat order for phenytoin upon arrival and a standing order for maintenance fluids upon regulation. The crowd buzzed, more people joining the scene and forming a semicircle to view your friend’s trauma.

When a hand met your shoulder you felt a surge of relief, locking eyes with the physician to inform him to keep his hand under her head. When you stood, you looked up to find two red armored guardsman standing in front of you. These were Snoke’s men, you’d recognized their uniforms from the stories you’d heard. Not even ten seconds after crawling up from the floor were your hands twisted behind your back and fixed into handcuffs.

“What the hell? I can’t leave her!” The scream tore over your larynx, your arms attempting to break free of their hold. “Let me go!”

Two hands, one from either of the Praetorian guards, took residence atop each handcuff, their other grips coming over your shoulders to detain you further. They began to lead you away from the scene, your head contorting back to steal a last glance at your seizing colleague, a fleeting sense of consolation emerging at the sight of a uniformed team of medical professionals blocking her from your view.

“Tell me what this is about!” Your face burned with fury, feet dragging below you as they propelled you towards their destination.

“The Supreme Leader commands your presence.”