#fully aware i am posting this at a horrible time but i assure you i will force it upon you at least once more

[crowcryptid]

curated post

[magnhild]

Nora Valkyrie, Identity, and Purpose

Hey everyone, Blaire here, and almost exactly a year ago, I made this mess of a post where I laid out all of my thoughts on Nora and what I thought the show could have in store for her.

And honestly, most of my ideas were way off, and not at all correct. Also, the post kind of flopped.

Thankfully, Volume 8 has given me a chance to redeem myself, and write another, more coherent, essay about my favourite RWBY character; where this Volume seems to be taking her character, and what it means to me, personally.

Buckle up.

To the vast majority of people in the RWBY fandom, Nora is the least-developed character, and the one most lacking in dimension. Most of her character seems to be defined by two things; her energy and love for fighting, and her relationship on Ren.

Volume 8 took note of these conceptions, and addressed them head-on.

Of course, any keen-eyed viewer will have noted Nora’s hidden depths even before this volume, which I noticed in last year’s post. She is perhaps the most perceptive of the main cast, at least, when it comes to people’s feelings and relaionships. She was the only one to really comment on Pyrrha’s crush on jaune, and the first to bring up Blake and Yang’s growing relationship. It was also her level-headedness that resolved RNJR’s argument in Volume 4, Chapter 9.

Volume 7 also showed us her innate desire to protect the weak, and her disdain to those who have the power to help, but refuse. I personally get the feeling that this was her driving motivation in becoming a Huntress; to protect people who cannot protect themselves, perhaps because she doesn’t want anyone to have to grow up as she did. Nora’s fury at Ironwood in V7C7 is esepcially signifigant, because it’s the angriest we’ve ever seen her before, even more so in that this anger is directed at someone with much more authority than her.

But these little details were only the tip of the iceberg. These were traits she already had, and while they help to add layers to her character, they’ve done very little in terms of her actual development. 

This is where Volume 8 came in stronger than any other.

Volume 7 hinted to us that Ren and Nora’s relationship was beginning to get more complicated, between their bickering, Ren’s dismissiveness at Nora, and their kiss in V7C6. By the end of the volume, it was clear that they were still struggling, despite their clear love for each other. Volume 8 carried this thread along, having them split into different parties, and Nora giving Ren a bit of attitude we’ve not really seen her direct at him before. 

She’s frustrated with him, and disappointed that he can’t see what she sees. But despite her tough front, V8C2 then hints that she’s sadder about the split than she’s letting on, after May brings up Nora’s ‘friends’. C3 then brings this to a head, where we get a conversation that sees Nora opening up to Blake and Yang, and revealing a deeply sad truth about herself- that she has no idea who she is without Ren, because she’s spent so much of her life with him and him alone, and her feelings for him have shaped so much of who she thinks she is. We’ve never seen her so hopeless and lost, especially after she reveals that, as far as she’s concerned, all she’s good for is hitting stuff.

Right in these few minutes, the show takes how the audience percieves Nora, and reveals to us that those two core traits are the gateways to a far deeper insight of her character. She’s known for her relationship with Ren, but wait- what about when he’s not there with her? She’s known for hitting stuff, but wait- that’s all she thinks she’s good for. 

It’s revealed to us that, not only is this how most of the audience percievs Nora, but it’s how she percieves herself. And for all her energy and upbeat attitude, deep down, she thinks incredibely lowly of herself. For all her confidence in her fighting abilities, she lacks confidence in herself as a person. 

Surprisingly enough, the ‘who am I?’ character arc is one that was hardly explored at all up until this point, despite it being one of the most common and signifgant character arcs in fictional media. And I don’t think many of us at all could have imagined that Nora would be the one to get that arc, when she’s always seemed so self-assured on the surface.

And then, when Penny is in need of help, Nora takes Weiss’ advice to heart, and does the one thing she believes she’s capable of- being strong, and hitting stuff.

Nora overcharging her Semblance to take down the wall is seen by a lot of the fandom as some kind of win for Nora; as her ‘big moment’. But while it’s certainly a really cool and badass scene, it was far from a triumph for her.

This was Nora at perhaps her lowest point so far in the series. This was Nora figuring ‘well, if this is all I’m good for, I’ll do it to the extreme’. This was Nora thinking her only purpose was to greatly endanger herself for the sake of others, because she figured she was the only one who could. And she almsot got herself killed for it. 

While certainly a defining moment, it was far from triumphant. It wasn’t a win. It was a self-destrcutive act that reflected how little she thinks of herself; that she’s not worth anything unless she’s pushing herself to the limit doing the one thing she thinks she’s good at.

And to drive the knife in harder, it backfires horribly. 

Because now she’s bedridden and critically injured, with scars that are probably permanent; a reminder of her lowest point, forever marked on her body. She can’t fight now, can’t help at all, and Salem has launched her attack on Atlas.

And in her half-unconsious state in V8C7, she realizes this, delivering an absolutely heartbreaking line:

As far as she’s concerned, her last attempt at doing what she thinks only she can do- what she thinks is all she can do- has prevented her from doing anything of worth at all. She lost one half of herself when she split from Ren, and now she’s lost the other half too. The two things that she defines herself by are gone. And the worst part is, we don’t know if she’s awar of the fact Salem has begun her attack. We could very well see her fully wake up, only to realize that the world has begun ending while she was unconsious, and she can’t do anything about it.

Now, this scene, and Nora’s struggle in this Volume as a whole, hit home for me in particular.

If you follow me on Twitter, you’re probably aware that Nora is only of my hightest- and only- kins. And I’ve only been able to relate to her more and more after what we’ve got of her in this Volume.

I am chronically disabled. I have a connective tissue disorder known as Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which fucks up my body in a multitude of different ways, but signifigantly affects the joints. For me, it hits worst in my back, ankles, and my fingers. The fingers are my main problem. To make matters worse, I’ve also been victim to intense pains in my shoulder, which came out of nowhere a couple of months ago and have only gotten worse since. The slightest movement aggrevates it. As any follower of mine would know, I am both an artist and a writer. I create both for fun, and I’ve studied writing as a profession. It is these things I’m known for being good at, and not much else. 

Thanks to my disability and my shoulder though, I have to do these things less. Even on perscription pain medication, it still hurts. It hurts to write this even now; my shoulder feels like it’s burning up from the inside. It will only get worse over time.

So, I’m finding myself in Nora’s position. I can’t do what I’m good at anymore, and I don’t know what to do with myself as a result. Not doing these things makes me feel lazy and unproductive, and makes me feel that the people around me will abandon me so long as i can’t keep providing them content. And I’ve gotta say, it hurts a lot, and I don’t just mean physically. 

Because of what I’m going through, it’s especially important to see my favourite RWBY character just so happening to be dealing with the same problem; the same loss of idenity and purpose. We don’t know who we are or what we’re good for without the things we think define us.

While I’m unsure of my own future though, I find comfort in knowing that Nora’s problem will be tackled and addressed; that her friends will help her to rediscover herself and find her true worth. And while we’ve got a while to go until we’ll be able to see the Volume continue, I’m incredibely excited to see where Nora’s arc goes, especially if we can get some backstory along the way. I find myself wondering if her life before Ren is part of why she thinks so little of herself without him- was it the way she was raised to think? Is this the fault of her childood circumstances? Or is this just something she developed on her own, after becoming too dependant on Ren for comfort?

Whatever answers we get, I have faith that Nora’s story will be told well, and I’m very sure that it’s only just beginning. Even if she finds her worth before the end of the volume, her story won’t be over yet, not when we’ve still likely got at least four more volumes to go after this one.

In just seven episodes, Nora Valkyrie has gone from one of the least developed characters, to one of the most interesting and relatable, at least, in my eyes. There is so much more depth to her character than having a crush on Ren, and being the strong girl who hits stuff. There’s a layer of tragedy to her character that we’re touching upon now, and I’m excited to dive into it.

Thank you all for reading!

[beckydoesthings]

I spend far too much time on AO3 to let it all go to waste, so here’s a collection of ABO fics that I thoroughly enjoy. These are all hxl unless specified otherwise. I tried to condense my total list into one post, but I very quickly realized it would be waaaaay too long, so I split it up. 

*will continue to update this. also if i mistagged an author, i deeply apologize, i do not know how to tumblr*

sleeping on our problems

E | 67k | @falsegoodnight

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down.  There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word. His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared. - Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

this is everything i’ve ever wanted in an ABO fic and i’m genuinely in love with this. i think i cried reading this lol and i’m not ashamed of it. also the smut!

A Distant Hazy Light

E | 198k | @greenfeelings

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

this is part one of a three part ABO series that also probably made me cry at some point. chock full of angst and heartbreak with an (eventual) happy ending. also the side ziam is just *chef’s kiss*. 

pray for some sweet simplicity

E | 237k | @eeveelou

Louis is the only omega to ever make it in the cut-throat world of competitive motorcycle racing—that is, he would be if anyone actually knew about his identity. Now, his sights are set towards competing in—and winning—the European Grand Prix, the biggest and most difficult race of the entire year, so he can disappear underground for good. He’s close enough, too, until an alpha sports journalist is assigned to follow Louis’s every move as he prepares for the event of his career.

Or, an AU where motorcycle racing is the biggest sport in a heavily divided world, Louis is trying to take control of his own destiny, and Harry is in for more than he bargained for.

it’s just so beautiful. their relationship development was soooo good and i adored reading this piece. i never thought i could enjoy a motorcycle racing story so much!

A Sea Without Water, A Compass Without Direction

T | 84k

”Tell me, Louis,” Captain Styles said, leaning forward a little. ”D’you think I’m an idiot?”

”I—what?” Louis asked, surprised by the blunt question. He had expected something different, something along the lines of how he learned music, or how he ended up as a prisoner on the other ship.

”Do you think I’m an idiot?” The captain repeated, putting emphasis on each word as though Louis couldn’t understand him otherwise.

”Of course not,” Louis said, shaking his head. He’d be a fool for thinking such a thing, and an even bigger fool for saying it out loud. ”Captain.”

Captain Styles nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. ”Then why did you lie to me?”

”L-Lie?”

”Out on the deck. You lied to me,” he said. He held up his hand, three fingers up. ”Three lies total. I hate liars.”

i think i’ve read this like a dozen times and it’s still. so. good. probably the first pirate fic i read and i love it so much! the dynamic between them is awesome to read.

Seeing Blind

E | 46k | @that-idiot-overthere

Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”

OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

the smut in this fic is absolutely filthy and i love it ;). but watching the two boys be idiots in love made this fic for me.

The Space Between

E | 40k | @alltheselights

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

i wanted to smack harry the entire time i was reading this, but in a cool way obviously. it’s quite fluffy but it’s got enough angst to make it suspenseful.

Face Your Fears

E | 92k | @sadaveniren

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

this fic is a rollercoaster of emotions from beginning to end and it’s amazing to read. i’m not sure what i love more, the fact that harry’s a baker or half the plot being based around wikipedia being false.

The Compulsion to Find Love

E | 140k | @toomanydreamers

The most prestigious English third-level institution, Candling University, accepts omega students for the first time and Louis Tomlinson applies with bright eyes and brighter ambitions. There he encounters personal obstacles, traditional mindsets and a beautiful boy who inverts every prejudice Louis has ever known.

it is quite a lengthy story but totally worth it. i adore louis’ fierce determination in this! 

We Both Got Nothing to Hide

E | 43k 

“Talk to me, Lou.”

“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”

“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”

Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.

“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”

“Kind of…”

//

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

personal favorite because i have a soft spot for nesting. but i love the relationship between the two and it’s. so. fluffy i could melt.

lemon eyes

E | 50k

It's not proper for omegas to mess around with alphas before finding their bondmate. But Harry doesn't give a damn what's proper and fully intends on getting as much experience as he can before even trying to find one. As far as he's concerned, the right alpha won't care, and he'll have some fun on the way.

And who better to start with than Louis Tomlinson, the alpha with the worst reputation on campus?

ah yes a fic where Louis is an alpha and both are versatile?? wack. anyways, the smut in this is awesome and harry’s an idiot. what’s new?? (jkjk)

A Taste of Desire

E | 104k | @casuallyhl

“As forward as I have been with you this evening, I am also aware this dinner party isn’t the place to conduct business.” Mr. Tomlinson chuckles quietly to himself, shooting a subtle glance across the table towards their hostess. “And besides, I am sure our hostess would be horribly disappointed to learn that we went away this evening with a business agreement and not a mating one.”

Harry, who had been sipping his wine, coughs harshly at this. He splutters, unaccustomed to such blatant statements about mating.

Mr. Tomlinson continues to laugh quietly, clearly pleased at Harry’s reaction.

“Mrs. Humphreys promised that there was an alpha attending the dinner tonight that I would certainly get on well with,” Mr. Tomlinson continues, voice teasing. “She assured me that we would have much in common since we both work with mills.” Mr. Tomlinson glances at Harry, eyes flashing with mirth. “Little did she know that would be where our mutual interests began and ended.”

Or, a Victorian ABO where Harry is the owner of the most successful cotton mill in Manchester, and Louis is an opinionated social activist about to disrupt Harry’s world.

one of my favorite historical AUs! i love how strong and opinionated Louis is and how Harry comes round to follow. 

Canyon Moon

E | 40k | @eeveelou

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

An A/B/O Lion King AU

disney AUs are the shit! i’ve got a small love for werewolf fics and this is one of my favorites. love how this takes the story of lion king for a spin.

Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds

M | 38k | @2tiedships2

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

i love how just sappy and sweet this is, like there are just hearts pouring out of my eyes as i read this. also broadway!

*updated 2/15/21*

[dotnscal]

BAD THINGS HAPPEN FILL - TAKING THE BLAME

this is my first ever fill for @badthingshappenbingo ! the prompt was obi wan + taking the blame -- it sort of ended up being very oddly cody centric, but i still hope you enjoy!! also send more prompts (characters or ships!) they’re fun!!!

fandom: the clone wars, prequel trilogy

featuring: cody, obi-wan, and a bit of anakin

words: 2.9k

“Cody breaks the news about casualties to General Skywalker. Obi-Wan steps in.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29349840

OR READ IT HERE! :

disclaimers: i know NOTHING about war and it shows. no idea how battle strategy works so if you know anything about that... close your eyes for that part.

anakin might be ooc. he has issues and in this case they come from a good place but they’re just... misdirected

have fun reading! send me prompts!!

also if you want to read with italics and fun formatting please read on ao3. it is 1:23 am and i want to post this but i have class at 10 and no energy to add italics into this </3 sorry i love you </333

Cody takes a deep breath, straightens his posture, and reaches forward to turn on the holo.

Almost immediately, blue light flickers to life in front of him, casting the inside of the empty command tent in its glow. It might have been enjoyable to look at—far more enjoyable than the mud and dirt Cody’s been dealing with for the better part of two weeks now, at least—but what takes up his attention are the two figures now projected before him, one with arms crossed over his chest, the other standing at attention a step behind and to the left.

“General,” Cody greets, the eyes under his bucket glancing from one figure to the other. “Captain.”

Under more relaxed circumstances, he might’ve risked using the name of the man he’s known since birth, the brother he’s fought beside for some time, now—but these aren’t relaxed circumstances, and Cody’s better than most at sticking to formality.

“Commander,” General Skywalker greets, the corners of his lips turned down in noticeable wariness. If only he knew. “You have a report for us?”

Right to business. It’s necessary, in a campaign like this, but that doesn’t make it any easier to brace himself for what he’s about to disclose, or for how he knows Skywalker will react. He takes a moment to breathe in the safety of his bucket, the solitude of the command tent, before he nods an affirmative.

“Yes, sir.” Get it out, Cody, just get it out. “We managed to take the hilltop about two standard hours ago, and the Separatist forces have been drawn back to a new front. However, we… encountered strong resistance, and we suffered severe casualties as a result.”

It was already silent, but now, tension seeps into the air. Behind Skywalker, Rex shifts almost imperceptibly— imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t a brother, maybe, who didn’t know him so well, but Cody sees it, and he, too, braces himself.

Skywalker doesn’t miss a beat, frown deepning. “How severe?”

It’s moments like these that Cody is beyond glad for his bucket. “Severe, sir,” Cody repeats, unwilling or unable to say much beyond that. He hasn’t even written the formal report yet, the casualty forms and the requisition requests for the new shinies—he’s just coordinated the digging of the graves, the making of the memorials. “It wasn’t—”

“Commander,” Skywalker interrupts, a certain intensity to his eyes that Cody’s seen only a few times. It still makes him feel breathless, and not in a good way. “I want a number.”

A number. Cody has the numbers in his head, has already committed them to memory, but speaking them aloud…

“Fifty-three confirmed, sir,” he says, as evenly as he can manage to. “One hundred thirteen unaccounted for.” Idly, Cody remembers that he’ll need to start organizing the search effort for the bodies, once the burials are done—if they’ll even have time for a search effort before their next deployment, but Cody hopes they will, hopes they’ll be able to find and bury each brother properly—

“How many from the 501st?” Skywalker’s voice is curt, and Cody sighs a silent sigh.

This had been his worry, at the outset of this campaign. With their own numbers down, the GAR had approved the 212th to temporarily borrow some of the 501st’s men—men who were now dead, who had died away from the brothers that meant the most to them.

Kriff it all.

“Twenty-nine confirmed,” Cody managed, ignoring how dry his mouth, his throat, felt. “Seventy-two unaccounted for.”

Something changes in Skywalker’s expression. A flicker of something Cody’s only seen once or twice shines in his eyes, in the sudden stiffness to his body. The first time he’d seen it, he’d quietly patched into Rex’s HUD channel, asked if there was something that he needed to know about the General, if Rex needed transfer forms—but he’d been promised that everything was alright, that whatever was going on with Skywalker, it wasn’t being taken out on Rex.

Unfortunately, it looked like the time had come for it to be taken out on Cody.

“Commander.” Deep breaths, Kote. Skywalker stands stiff as a tower, arms crossed firmly over his chest, lips almost in a scowl as he stares at Cody as though he’s nothing at all. “Do you want to tell me why my men are dead?”

It comes from a good place. Cody knows this. Skywalker cares for his men, the same as Kenobi does. Rex has told him as much, and any man in the 501st would promise the same. Only he cares for them differently, and it’s a difference that Cody isn’t used to, no matter how hard he tries to catch up. Kenobi cares for his men, does all he can to protect them—and Skywalker does all he can to hurt whoever’s hurt them.

In Skywalker’s mind, behind the anger Cody can feel even through the holo, Cody is the one who’s hurt them. Forget the clankers—Cody might as well have been the one to take a blaster to them, for all it matters to Skywalker.

He takes another deep breath.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Start with the condolences. It makes things easier when he has to give this news to Kenobi, and Cody hopes it’ll do the same job now that he’s breaking it to Skywalker. “As I said, we were facing heavy opposition. There was artillery positioned at the top of the hill while we were attempting to take it.” Cody forces himself through the words he’s rehearsed, the words he’s carefully chosen and prepared, but Skywalker’s expression doesn’t change one bit. “We had planned a flanked approach, but found that it wasn’t suited to the terrain, and I decided—"

“Forgive my commander, Anakin.”

A voice, melodic and smooth, speaks from behind Cody, and he might’ve jumped, alarmed at how easily Kenobi’s entrance slipped under his radar, were he not so utterly focused on trying to minimize Skywalker’s anger.

Obi-Wan steps forward, standing now at Cody’s side, and Cody’s grateful for his bucket again as he gives the Jedi a bewildered glance.

“And forgive me for my tardiness. I’m afraid I was held up, helping with the wounded.”

Tardiness. Cody blinks. Kenobi’s not late to this meeting.

Kenobi wasn’t invited to this meeting. Nor was he supposed to know about it until after the fact.

It hadn’t been a deliberate exclusion on Cody’s part. But Obi-Wan was taking their losses hard enough already, and Cody was convinced that the last thing he needed was to be met with anger from the one person who meant more to him than anything else in the world. It was an easy conclusion to reach—Cody would take care of it, bear the brunt of Skywalker’s anger, and inform Kenobi after the fact. It was, after all, just another duty.

Now, though… despite how careful he’d been to keep Kenobi out of this conversation, Cody can’t help but be selfishly, horribly relieved that he’s here now.

“Obi-Wan,” Skywalker greets tersely, Rex giving a nod from behind him. His posture hasn’t lost any of its stiffness, but the curve of his lips is somewhat less severe. Kenobi nods at each of them in turn, and Cody stands dumbly at his side.

“As I was saying,” Kenobi picks up, smooth and calm and polished, ever the negotiator, “you’ll have to forgive my commander. I’m afraid that we’ve seen quite a lot of action in the past few days, and he may have forgotten some of the details of our campaign.”

Cody hasn’t forgotten shit. Somehow, he gets the distinct impression that Obi-Wan is fully aware of this—but he doesn’t challenge his General on his words, instead remaining cautiously silent, waiting to see where he’s planning to take this conversation, while Skywalker casts a wary glance Cody’s way.

It’s better than the glares he’d gotten before, at least.

“I believe Cody was detailing our efforts to recover the hilltop from Separatist occupation,” Kenobi begins crisply, pausing for a moment to wait for Skywalker’s nod before he continues. “As he mentioned, the terrain complicated our initial plans of a multifaceted approach. Due to this and many other complications, I made the decision to utilize a forward charge.”

For one long, long moment, Cody is utterly thoughtless, struggling to process what Obi-Wan’s just said, what he’s just done.

After another moment, he has the sense of mind to brace himself, to prepare for the full extent of Skywalker’s upset, to hear whatever harsh criticism and rebukes he has to offer.

Nothing comes. Instead, Obi-Wan clears his throat.

“At the moment, it was the only maneuver available to us.” Cody dares to look up, dares to take in the way Skywalker’s expression has softened just barely, the way even Rex, stiff and still, seems slightly surprised for Kenobi’s words to not have been met with an outburst. “I deeply regret each and every life that it cost, but I assure you and your captain that your men died as heroes, fighting alongside their brothers, and that the others and I will do all we can to ensure that they are treated as such.”

Another beat of silence. Cody watches Skywalker’s throat bob as he swallows, and then watches as he nods just once. He still doesn’t speak.

“I’ll be able to discuss the matter in more detail later,” Kenobi promises, and Skywalker deflates a little bit more at that, some more of that stiffness fading away. Silently, Cody marvels at how the hell his general is accomplishing all this. “Until then, though, my commander and I have some more business to see to. I trust that you understand, Anakin.”

“I understand,” Skywalker repeats, his gaze wary but not overly hostile as he looks over at Obi-Wan. He glances at Cody for a moment, expression hardening just so—but when he looks to Kenobi again, the hardness melts away once more, leaving just a solemnity that still feels out of place on Skywalker’s face. “I’ll talk to you later, Obi-Wan.”

Skywalker turns, gives a nod, and behind him, Rex moves to a panel, presses a button. The holo in front of Cody flickers out a moment later, Rex and his general just gone, just like that, and Cody finds himself staring at the space their blue projections previously occupied.

What the hell had just happened?

Beside him, Kenobi sighs, lifts a hand—then rests it on Cody’s shoulder, just for a moment, over his armor as though to console him, before letting it drop and stepping away, and finally, finally, Cody snaps out of it enough to find words.

“General—” Kenobi’s already moving to slip out of the tent, but he pauses at Cody’s voice, leaving Cody to tense up, realizing at once that he hadn’t actually planned what he was going to say.

“Wait.”

He hates how foolish his own voice sounds, so uncoordinated and unlike himself. Kenobi turns, but his brow is furrowed with that concerned look he wears more often than not, and he blinks at his commander as though nothing at all had just happened.

“Is everything alright, Cody?”

Again, Cody feels himself grasping for words, struggling to speak what he feels. In the end, he goes for simplicity.

“You didn’t have to do that, sir.”

Kenobi raises an infuriating brow, his expression the picture of innocence. “Do what, exactly?”

Cody’s confused, and his heart is still beating too fast, and all of it makes him far less careful about what he says, more willing to speak freely in the way Obi-Wan always insists he feel free to do. He swallows.

“Lie, sir,” he replies, somehow feeling a need for breath. “It wasn’t your decision to attempt that charge. It was mine.”

He’d been the one to first bring up the idea, huddled with the General and five other men behind an outcropping, knee-deep in mud with blaster fire ringing in his ears. He’d suggested it, trying desperately to find a way out of their current predicament. It had been his plan.

Obi-Wan’s expression softens, just for a beat, and he steps forward. “You may not see it that way, Commander,” he says softly, too softly, just soft enough for something in Cody’s chest to twist, “but I do.”

Cody’s at a loss for words again, but he can tell that if he doesn’t say something, Kenobi will turn to leave once more—so, desperate, he says the first thing that comes to mind.

“But I brought it up, sir.” He’s not usually so insistent in any matter, and certainly not in front of his general, but there’s something in the other man’s eyes that makes Cody’s throat feel thick with the need to speak, to say something to take away the distance in his gaze. “It was my suggestion. I made the plan. It’s—” A heartbeat, loud and clear in his chest. “It’s not your fault.”

Fault. It’s the trickiest part about war. Cody likes to think he’s come to terms with the fact that no matter what choices he makes, no matter how many hours he spends poring over strategy, his men, his brothers, are going to die. It’s what they were made to do, and he grew up knowing it—though that doesn’t make it any easier to face, any easier to silence the what ifs that come at night, all the ways things might’ve been different, the ways he might’ve saved just one more brother—

But Kenobi. Kenobi takes it harder than Cody’s ever seen, and now, it seems, is no different.

He almost flinches at Cody’s words, and the commander sucks in a breath at the sight, at the flash of vivid hurt he sees on Obi-Wan’s face before he quickly recovers, before he covers it up again. One deep breath, and it’s like Cody never said anything at all, Kenobi’s face returning to a practiced, careful calm.

“I appreciate your sentiment, Commander,” he begins, voice still quiet and distant in a way that grips Cody’s heart. “Truly, I do.” Cody doesn’t doubt it, not when he can see the sad sincerity in Kenobi’s eyes—but there’s more coming, and Cody braces himself.

“However,” Kenobi says, swallowing again, almost imperceptibly. “I’m afraid that I was the one to give the order to initiate that charge. I believe that makes me far more culpable than you.”

Cody blinks, unbelieving, because Kenobi can’t be serious about this—but kriff, that look is still in his eyes, shining blue-grey and looking right into Cody’s heart.

“General.” Cody puts the same intensity behind the word as he might’ve if he were admonishing him for escaping medbay again, or trying to evade the medics. “It was my plan.” At a loss, he shakes his head again, staring at the other and imploring him to feel his sincerity even through the bucket, to see the truth of the matter as it stares at both of them. “If anyone is to blame, sir, it’s me, not you, and—” He swallows hard. “General Skywalker should know that.”

For one brief, fleeting moment, Obi-Wan smiles—a sad smile, with none of his usual lightness. Somehow, it’s worse than the sad look he’d been wearing before. “It was my order, Commander,” he says faintly, meeting Cody’s gaze head-on. “And it is my responsibility to accept the consequences.”

Cody stares, baffled—accept what consequences? General Skywalker’s anger, or the burden of requisition forms, or the guilt, the kind that’ll suffocate you at night—before he can manage to respond.

“But sir,” he insists, that boldness from before back, boldness that he would never dare to utilize were it not for stakes like these, for something as important as his general is to him. “General Skywalker—”

Again, Obi-Wan smiles sadly, giving just one mild shake of his head to cut Cody off—and again, a careful hand raises to rest on his shoulders.

“Better that he’s mildly upset with me than putting an undue burden on you,” Obi-Wan says gently, with a ghost of that mirth he usually carries so effortlessly. It fades after a moment, just as his hand falls away from Cody’s shoulder, and Obi-Wan replaces it with solemnness. “I’ll deal with him,” he promises. “And I’ll see that your brothers are taken care of.”

His words strike something deep in Cody’s heart, something he hadn’t known was there. He knows, of course, what Obbi-Wan means—the burials, the recovery efforts, the wounded, all of it. He’s done as much before, has always cared for his men deeply enough to help with that sort of thing, but now—now, it’s so much more, and Cody doesn’t know what to say.

“General,” he says, something in his tone pleading, hoping that Obi-Wan will hear him, will break free of whatever burden he’s placed on himself, or at least let Cody carry it with him—

But Obi-Wan’s eyes only sadden further, and he bows his head just so, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry, Commander.” Another step away, and Cody’s words burn at his throat, the urge to tell him not to go, to wipe away all of his doubts, all of the blame he carries, to tell him that there’s nothing to be sorry for, it’s not his fault—

Obi-Wan manages a weak echo of a smile, meeting his gaze one last time. “I’ll do better, next time.”

A promise—a promise that he doesn’t need to make, something Cody already knows, deep down in his chest, but before he can tell him that, his general’s gone. The tent’s entrance flap swings slightly in the wind, and Cody stands, alone and with a soreness in his heart that hurts more than he can explain.

[missfangirll]

Hi! I saw the prompt post. Idk if you’re into kid fics, feel free to ignore! I would love Shen Wei/ Yunlan, established relationship, with a lil kid =) Thank you!

Since I have never ever written a kid fic, all my first attempts turned rather silly, so I had to change the situation a bit.

I had to make the kid a bit older (imagine her about 13) and throw them into a situation where they could be super-dads 😁

I hope you like it regardless. 😊

A million thanks to @mllorei for pushing me to write a proper ending. Title is taken from the song "Superheroes” by The Script.

Learning to fly

“Hello, is this Chief Zhao I’m talking to? I couldn't reach Professor Shen, that’s why I’m calling you instead. It’s about Jia.”

Zhao Yunlan had to hold onto the edge of his desk. With only this one sentence the school secretary had said, a myriad of scenarios whirled through his brain, one more horrible than the other.

“Yes”, he managed, “speaking. Did something happen to my daughter?”

There was a pause on the line that made his knees buckle. Eventually he heard: “How fast can you be here?”

Zhao Yunlan didn’t even bother to answer. He ended the call, flung the file he had read before on the sofa and sprinted out of his office, through the bullpen and was out of the door before anyone of his team could as much as blink.

The ride to Jia’s school was the worst seventeen minutes of his life. He tried to call Shen Wei a dozen times, but to no avail, and finally sent him a voice message. The answering silence was almost too much to bear, his mind racing and his hands sweaty.

When he arrived at the school, he just left the jeep at the entrance – they hopefully would recognize it as an SID vehicle – and sprinted up the stairs to the principal’s office.

Upon entering the corridor he almost fainted with relief. Outside the office, on a wooden chair sat his daughter; a grim expression on her face, eyes red, her black hair an angry cloud around her head. Her t-shirt – her favourite, the superhero one – had a large dirt stain on the shoulder. Next to her Zhao Yunlan noticed three more students, looking equally mangled. All four turned their heads when he entered, the boys staring curiously at him, while Jia’s face lit up in visible relief. He smiled at her, and before he could knock on the door, it opened and the school’s principal appeared, seemingly stressed and thoroughly furious. He glared at Zhao Yunlan and waved him in, nodding at Jia to follow.

When they both had sat down, he took a meaningful breath and looked accusingly at Zhao Yunlan.

“Chief Zhao”, he began. “I am well aware of the fact that our government has made an effort to welcome all Dixingren here in Haixing, and show them they are”, he made a dramatic pause and cleared his throat, “accepted here, but this”, he waved a hand at Jia, “is too much. I won’t accept this!”

Zhao Yunlan raised an eyebrow. “First of all, I would appreciate it if you didn’t call my kid an ‘it’.” He sat up straighter. “And secondly, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Jia, who hadn’t said anything, looked down at her lap. Zhao Yunlan reached over, taking one of her hands in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

The principal inhaled meaningfully, probably in order to continue his tirade, but Zhao Yunlan just fixed the other man with a death glare that he normally reserved for unwilling suspects. “Just tell me what happened. Slowly.”

The principal huffed indignantly and looked condescendingly at Jia, who still hadn’t moved. “That...kid of yours”, he said grandly, “has endangered and traumatized other students.” Zhao Yunlan raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent and motioned him to go on. “She has used her powers on them! She could have killed them! She is to be expelled, I am not –”

Zhao Yunlan silenced him with a wave of his hand, turned to the girl and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You tell me.”

Jia inhaled shakily and looked at him, balled fists, barely holding back tears. “They were bullying A-Yao again”, she said angrily. “I just wanted to help him, Baba. I told them to stop, but they laughed at me. And then they asked what I wanted to do, and then one of them shoved me, and….” She took a shaky breath. “And then I made a shield, like Da showed me. They kept hitting it and it kinda…backfired?” She was close to crying again and Zhao Yunlan stroked her head. “It’s alright, darling, you didn’t do anything wrong”, he assured her.

At that, the principal bristled and loudly cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he began, but before he could say anything more, the air next to his desk began to sizzle, a portal flickering into existence. Before it had fully materialized, Shen Wei stepped through it so hurriedly that he almost collided with the desk, while the teacher next to him squealed in shock and pressed a hand to his mouth.

Shen Wei shot Zhao Yunlan an alarmed look, then let his eyes wander over his daughter, taking in her tousled hair and red eyes and frowned. “I received your message”, he explained shortly, “and came as soon as I did. What is so urgent?”

The principal apparently saw a chance to save his case. “Your daughter,” he pointed a finger at the girl, “has used her…magic”, he spat out the word with visible disgust, “on other students and almost killed them! This kind of –“ He interrupted himself suddenly, because Shen Wei had taken a step closer, looming over the smaller man with a withering glare. In the following silence, he turned around and raised a questioning eyebrow at Zhao Yunlan, who just shrugged. “She protected someone with a shield and the recoil hit them when they kept throwing punches”, he explained.

Shen Wei turned back to the principal, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You call me here for an emergency, just to tell me that my daughter heroically saved another student from some bullies – which would have been your obligation – and you want to punish her for it?” Before the other man could get a word in, he continued, ice in his voice. “Isn’t it more likely that you are…biased in that situation because of my daughter’s heritage?” He took another step closer. “Because of my heritage?”

The principal shrunk further into his chair, shaking his head furiously. “No, Hei Pao Shi, no, I would never –“ Shen Wei interrupted him. “Then I take it we are finished with this matter. I expect you to punish the bullies that almost hurt my daughter.” The man wilted further, but didn’t object as Shen Wei took his daughter’s hand and nodded to Zhao Yunlan, who had grinned silently at the exchange. With his free hand, he waved a portal into existence and the three of them stepped through.

When they emerged in their living room, Shen Wei turned around, pulling the girl in a tight embrace. Pressing her face into his chest, she couldn't suppress the sobs anymore. Zhao Yunlan stepped closer and hugged both of them from the other side, soothingly stroking Jia’s hair.

“Hey, darling, it’s alright. Shh, you’re safe now.” She hitched a breath and nuzzled into her father’s chest. “Of course I'm safe, I..I...I could have kicked their asses!"

He grinned. “You did! I am proud of you. You stood up for a friend, that’s what superheroes do, right?”

Jia snuffled and wiped her nose at Shen Wei’s shirt, tightening her arms around him. He smiled affectionately at her, his hand reaching for Zhao Yunlan’s waist to pull him closer into the hug. When the girl pulled away to look up at him, he met her gaze.

"But… but Da, I… I used my powers. And you told me not to. I..."

"It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong here, sweetheart." With Shen Wei stroking her back, Jia snuggled back into the embrace and let out a sigh.

 After Jia had changed – and Zhao Yunlan had remembered the jeep still in the school parking lot and sheepishly had asked his husband to portal him there to get it –, they sat down for an early dinner. Jia was still tucked under Zhao Yunlan’s arm, while Shen Wei filled her bowl with her favourite pieces.

When she dug in, they smiled at each other over her head and Zhao Yunlan leaned in to press a kiss to his husband’s lips.

“You know, Hei Pao Shi, that was really hot how you crushed the principal”, he whispered loudly against Shen Wei’s cheek.

“Yunlan!”

“Eww!”

Zhao Yunlan laughed at the outraged expression on both their faces and pressed a kiss to his daughter’s hair, then one to Shen Wei’s nose.

“I love you both, you know? So much.”

[i-am-a-hog]

lol i am just someone who's followed you for some time, but you tagged a post earlier about recognicing your ancestors when looking in the mirror (and this being a good thing) and you tagged it with "maybe one day, i look into the mirror and see my mother and i hate it so much i wanna scream until i throw up, but one day" and the last part made me think of how t changes your facial features to some extent (which you've also talked about) and idk made me think that t is also a way to escape your mother from looking back at you in the mirror. And don't get me wrong she seems like a horrible person and i am so sorry for the way she has treated you and the scars that has left, but you bring her up a lot in relation to your transition (or things like this which can be seen as body image and adjacent to transition) where it really does come of as escaping being/looking like her and oposition to her opinions (of you) is an important drive for your transition. I've had this hunch for a while now but those tags earlier today felt like a confirmation. And again we all have issues which we deal with in different ways but this sounds like an unhealthy motivation to tangle up in transition which can believe could have potentially unforunate effects in the long run, especially if it is a motivation you're not fully aware of. love and peace &c to you tho

Well, it's not your place to question these kinds of things, simply put. But since you're apparently worked up about it, let me assure you that this is the very first thing i spoke to my gender therapist about.

[skypagex]

let me see you get yourself out of this situation

aka three unlikely allies ditch detention and go on an adventure

word count: 2320

trigger warnings: stds (aids mention), drugs, nsfw mention

Okay, so maybe the detention is fully deserved. Sky probably shouldn’t have hotboxed his bedroom and expected to get away with it. In fact, he was pretty lucky to get away with detention, although he suspects that’s related to his mother’s call to the school and probable sizeable donation. (He should never have texted her. He knows that’s a bad idea. Thanks for the soccer team uniforms or whatever, mom.)

But regardless of how much he deserves to be in detention, he can still think of about a billion things he’d rather do than come into an almost empty room to the sight of Jack fucking Kelly (or is it Fielding? To be honest, he remains wilfully oblivious to the Jack updates. Like if he ignores him he’ll cease to exist) sprawled across the back row of seats with a smirk on his lips that so obviously says that this is his domain and Sky is trespassing. As if he owns the whole fucking room.

(Knowing Jack, he probably thinks he does. Not that Sky has had much personal contact with the boy besides an odd rumour that he died. But the boy’s reputation seems to carry through the school like a biblical plague of locusts. And besides, Sky’s friendship with Juliet gives him equal parts way too much information about Jack’s personal habits and currently, post break up, far more information about how disgustingly horrible he is. Either way, he’s well aware that there’s a sizeable ego present. He’s almost jealous, to be honest. Sometimes Sky feels like if he had Jack’s ego he’d probably be a rock star already.)

Still, he’s hoping that maybe he can pass under the radar of the British boy long enough to make it through at least half of the detention, maybe more, considering that the teacher has already apparently left - probably done with the delinquents before having even begun to lecture them on their crimes - so if Jack so much as starts a conversation Sky’s pretty sure there’s nothing present to hold him back from absolutely verbally annihilating Sky, which will therefore mean there’s nothing present to hold Sky back from tears and public humiliation. It’s hard being a crybaby, you know?

Such hopes are almost immediately dashed when Jack turns and gives Sky the most ravenous look he’s ever seen another human come up with, like Jack is starving and Sky is a walking hamburger about to satiate him. Yum.

“Pagey,” well there’s a nickname Sky didn’t know he had, and to be honest it makes him feel slightly nauseous even knowing that Jack has whole separate nicknames for him that he doesn’t even know about. How the fuck does Jack know everyone at the fucking school anyway? “How’d you end up here? Cried so much you flooded your bedroom?”

(Which would be insulting enough even if it wasn’t a plausible suggestion and didn’t need the rude addition of Jack proceeding to laugh at his own joke.)

Fortunately Sky’s saved from the perils of having to answer the question by the slamming of the door, which indicates the arrival of a third addition to the detention squad: a blonde girl, he thinks he’s seen her in a shared class (Helena or something along those lines, definitely the same name as a My Chemical Romance song since he remembers thinking that at registration) and a disgusted look upon her face as she has the same realisation as Sky upon seeing Jack’s face: that they are well and truly fucked.

“God,” Helena (if that’s really her name, Sky hopes it is because he suspects from her demeanour that she’s not the type to take a misnaming incident lightly) “was detention itself not punishment enough? Are they truly going to make me  look at your ratty little face for an entire forty five minutes? I feel ill just thinking about it,” she placed a hand over her chest as if the sight of Jack was causing her physical pain. Relatable, to be honest.

“I know,” and in that moment Sky feels more grateful than ever because it’s clear from Jack’s tone of voice that his admirably short attention span has now passed Sky straight over in favour of a pretty worthy opponent. “You really should complain, love. Like, how is getting to look at me for free a fucking punishment? It’s like getting to go into the Tate Modern for nothing.”

“The Tate Modern is already free,” Sky says helpfully. He is ignored.

“Your confidence,” Helena blasts back, “is truly insane considering how absolutely disgusting your physical appearance is. Have you considered being committed to a mental asylum at any point?”

“I would,” Jack counters, “but how could I? When the population of Luxor would just pine for me. Nothing would be interesting if I left.”

“Contrary to your totally unfounded belief, not everything in this school involves you.”

“Possibly,” the boy reasons, and then the smirk returns. “But you have to admit the majority of things do.”

Seemingly done with the conversation, Helena stomps over to the desk next to Sky and sets her things down. Her meaning is pretty clear to him: you’ll do, in comparison to being sat next to rat man.

The ticking of the clock succeeds in covering for their lack of conversation for all of about five minutes before Jack apparently just cannot keep words in his own head anymore and has to interrupt the perfectly nice silence again: “so how did you end up in detention, princess? Kiss a frog?”

“I don’t recall having any physical relations with you,” Helena says haughtily. “If I did, I can assure you I must have been under some sort of influence unwillingly and therefore I shall be suing imminently. And if you must know, I am being unfairly victimised for skipping my medieval lecture for a perfectly valid reason.”

“To get a nose job?” Jack asks innocently, “or was it Botox?”

That elicits a slight smile from Sky, which reminds the other two that he does in fact exist and it’s almost funny the way they both turn to face him as Jack continues his questioning, “what about you, Pagey?”

“Uh,” his mouth goes dry and he gulps, “weed… stuff,” he finishes lamely, shrugging as if that’s completely self explanatory. It should be. He damn well hopes it is, because frankly Sky does not have the strength to take part in this conversation and he’s really hoping that Helena can carry the anti Jack side of it without him. “You?” He asks hopefully, as if turning the conversation back to Jack will immediately throw him out of it and he can go back to his people watching.

“Oh, I jumped out a window,” Jack says airily, apparently oblivious to the looks of total confusion both Sky and Helena give him. The resulting silence proceeds to allow the clock ticking to become audible again.

“Are you seriously telling me,” Helena asks after about ten minutes have past and Sky can just about see Jack, out of the corner of his eye, beginning to meticulously colour in something which looks suspiciously like a poster, “that I have woken up today and willingly come to this godforsaken room and sat in the company of absolute dimwits and the teacher in charge is not even going to deign to show up?”

“Sometimes they just don’t,” Jack shrugs as if this is a usual occurrence. “Especially if they see me on the list.”

“Can’t blame them for that,” Helena mutters.

“Well, it would be hard not to treat me like the god I am. Can’t be unfair to the other students.” He grins. “Nah, guess they get lazy. I dunno. Most of the time I just leave.”

“Well that’s a wasted day of mine then.” She scowls. “Don’t they know time is money? Although I do have plenty of both.”

“That was the most ungraceful segway into a brag I have ever heard,” Jack observes, “and this is coming from me.”

“What can I say? I’m pretty, it allows for more leeway.”

She actually gets a laugh out of Jack from that, and it kind of fascinates Sky. Partly because he’s always assumed that Jack was more aggressive. He gets into enough fights for that. But he seems more… amused than anything else by the back and forth. Like he’s less of a punching devil and more of the type of person to push buttons out of enjoyment and amusement. He supposes that’s one way to get out of boredom.

“Hey, crybaby,” he’s so caught up in psychoanalysing the other two that he doesn’t realise for a minute that Jack is addressing him, and before he can say anything the other boy is waving a hand in front of his face. (He flinches back, predictably. God, he’s always so fucking predictable.) “You got any weed?” Jack asks, his face inches from Sky’s, close enough that Sky can see a stray eyelash on his cheek (would it be ridiculous to point it out considering that Jack would undoubtedly take that as Sky confessing his undying love for him?) and the freckles littering his cheeks.

“Uh.” Truthfully, Sky’s pretty sure this is going to end in him having to share so he’s really not willing to answer, but he’s never been good at lying so instead Jack gets a slow nod by way of response.

“Well there we fucking go,” Jack takes a step back thankfully, so he’s no longer close enough that Sky can literally smell whatever cologne he puts on (ugh, straight men) and glances back at Helena, gesturing wildly to Sky. “Don’t have to be a fucking waste of your day, princess. Or are you too good to come smoke a joint with me and Page?”

“My name’s Sky,” Sky offers. He is ignored.

“As long as nobody sees us,” Helena sniffs, but she gets up all the same, sliding her things into her bag. “And for the record, I’m a Queen, not a princess. I understand that your male mind finds words difficult though,” she adds with a condescending smile.

“I’m the British one,” Jack argues. “I’d know about fucking Queens.”

“I’m literally half English, you absolute cretin. My surname is literally Spencer. Like Princess fucking Diana? Ring any bells?”

“Nah,” Jack says with absolute conviction, “her surname was Wales.”

“No she was the Princess of Wal- oh my god,” Helena rolls her eyes with such energy that Sky is amazed that her eye muscles don’t straight up propel her out of the door. “Sky, can you please back me up?”

“I’m from Chicago,” Sky says helplessly, and gets two very dirty looks as they leave the classroom.

“I’d suck your dick,” he’s lost count of how many hits he’s in and the rooftop is starting to take on a hazy quality, which Sky attributes to the fact that he’s actually confident enough to laugh out loud at Jack’s comment, leaning back and looking up at the sky, “no you wouldn’t.”

“Sure I would,” Jack insists. “I’d try anything fucking once. And I never sucked a dick. Maybe it’s my fucking talent.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Sky’s words are coming out sing song and he lays back on the roof now, shaking his head still, “you’re such a straight boy it’s not even funny. Straight, straight, straight,” he takes a long drag on the joint and holds it out between two fingers to Helena, who is giving both of them another disgusted glare.

“Two boys talking about their penises. Exactly the company I desired. Not.”

“We could talk about vagina instead,” Jack offers diplomatically, so Sky mimes gagging. “Yeah, okay crybaby. We get it. You patented the fuck a boy at church camp vibe, we understand.”

“I didn’t fuck a boy at church camp,” Sky says indignantly.

“No, he probably fucked you,” Helena hisses.

“I thought you were too good for this conversation,” Jack observes.

“Do you see another conversation happening?”

“You could just shut up.”

“And let your disgusting accent ring in my ears? Horrific.”

“My accent is sexy.”

“I like Kai’s more,” Sky gets a glare from both of them for that. Oops. Supposes that’s what he gets for interrupting the bickering. “Yours is fine too,” he says quickly.

“God, just take a side,” Helena mutters. “It’s fine to admit Rat sounds like a coal miner, you know?”

“Isn’t that a bit….” Sky searches for the word. “Classist?”

“No, it’s a fact. Anyway,’ she points to Jack accusingly, “he didn’t even know Princess Diana’s surname. So his national pride is absolutely a farce.”

“She died in like, nineteen ninety whatever? That’s old news,” Jack argues.

“She,” Helena says hotly, “remains an international style icon.”

“Can we get back to vagina and/or dick yet?” Jack enquires hopefully. Sky resumes the pretend gagging.

“You become more disgusting with every waking moment,” she mutters under her breath. But Jack will probably take that as a compliment either way. “And I need to go.”

“Don’t miss me too much,” Jack looks up to bat his eyelashes at the girl, resulting in her flipping him off.

“I think I would miss the dog shit I stepped in more than you,” Helena informs him, before glancing at Sky. “You, though. We’re going shopping tomorrow.”

He gives her a confused look.

“You have potential,” she decides. “Like style wise. As an aesthetic and thankfully quiet sidekick.” He can take that. “Like a Harry Styles vibe but unattractive.”

Okay, Sky’s starting to regret listening.

“Or Timothée Chalamet minus the bone structure and redeemable features.”

He really regrets listening now.

“Doesn’t Timothée Champagne have chlamydia?” Jack asks with a gleeful smile.

“Didn’t everyone say you have AIDS?” Helena snaps. “Goodbye, male specimens. It is starting to rain and this blouse is vintage.”

[thorinthehottotty]

May 30th - Lyn's Writing Event - Thorin

Prompt - I royally fucked up

A/N: A day late, but here it is. I'm about to write the next one so expect two posts.

Summary: Thorin's wife goes into an early labor. Modern!ThorinxReader

Warnings: Mildly graphic depictions of child birth. Fluff.

"Thorin," calls a meek voice, making the man stiffen and glance toward the woman behind him. "Don't be mad," she murmurs, bracing an arm against the door. It wasn't often his outspoken wife asked for him to calm before telling him something was wrong. The way she called his name had him on edge. The anxiety she gave him lately was enough.

He sets his tools to the work bench, stepping away from his project and toward the woman who had a sheen of sweat across her face, pain etching into her features.

"My love," he murmurs, feeling the spike of adrenaline. His heart stops when blood suddenly splats to the floor below her, trailing down her inner legs. He launches toward her, hands pressing on her enormous belly as his horror soars to new heights. "Y/N! What is wrong?! What's happened!?" His normally low, gravelly voice becomes loud and frantic as she grips his arms for support.

"I royally fucked up. I thought they were just the braxton hicks," she groans through her teeth. "But- ugh!" She grunts and grips his big, tattooed arms hard. She tries to breathe through the pain. He feels his lunch climbing into his throat. "My water broke on my way out."

"You're in labor," Thorin concludes and glances back at the nearly finished crib he'd been slaving at with every spare moment for months. Had his wife not fallen in love with an ancient, splinted crib they'd found at a garage sale back when they'd first discovered they were expecting, Thorin would have just bought one. He was so close to having it ready for the tiny babe he'd dreamed of having his whole life. But that babe was not due for another two weeks! And he was never told that blood was supposed to be flowing from her before the birth! Something had to be wrong.

"We need to get you to the hospital!" He scoops her up from the doorway and into his arms, watching her breath puff in the cool winter air. She gives another pained groan and tucks her head to her chest as he sweeps her from the opening of the barn, carrying her toward the car.

"I was stupid! I should have realized-" this time she cuts herself off with a pained cry Thorin freezes in his horror.

"Your contractions are closer than five minutes!" He nearly shouts. "Much closer."

She gives him a teary look. The closest hospital was nearly forty minutes from their home. "Take me inside," she heaves.

"No! There is so much blood!"

"That was my mucus plug! Please, take me inside. I won't make it to the hospital and I am not birthing him in the damn car!" He was never happier that his wife was a labor and delivery nurse. How many times had she walked him through the process?

"You should have told me!" He roared carrying her toward the house instead. She'd left the back door open in her haste.

"My water broke in the doorway, careful." He moves around the puddle carefully. Knowing his wife was okay, he felt more comfortable helping her deliver in the house.

"He's coming fast," she whimpers and Thorin settles her on the couch before darting to grab her supplies. They were fully aware that this was a possiblity and Thorin knew she wanted to do a home birth.

What was it his wife always said to him? Nurses were always the worst patients. He was a horrible mix of anxious, angry and excited. The whole experience dragged and blurred at the same time. One minute he was trying to set up her tools and the next he had his wife's legs over his shoulders. He barely had time to call an ambulance.

The fire department showed up when he was already supporting the head of his child as it hung out of his wife. The firefighters guided him through the rest of the process, which was fairly quick. Once those shoulders where through, it just kind of... Slipped out. And Thorin was covered in blood and amniotic fluid, holding a tiny wailing babe that the firefighters assured him was a healthy son. The ambulance finally arrived shortly after and there were so many congratulations given as his exhausted wife heaved on the couch.

He didn't even realize his tears until his wife was wiping at them and praising him for doing such a good job. "You delivered him," she whispers.

"Does this mean your going to stop making tuna mac n' cheese?" She laughs through her tears of joy and kisses him.

"As long as you eventually have sex with me again after seeing the atrocities afflicted to my vagina," she heaves. Thorin chuckles and gives his wife a kiss as they wheel in the cot for her.

Taglist: @dabisburntnut @dumbassunderthemountain @fizzyxcustard @tomisbaeholland @queenofmankind

[kirishwima]

CFD Anon: I am not sure if I worded this well, but my follow up request is treatment is going super well for MC and has placed the CML in remission. So head-canons with RFA+V either with the news of the remission, her follow-up care, survivor-ship care plans and/or her worrying about the cancer coming back if treatment stops working.

(2/2)

Got it! This is actually a great prompt; my mom works in the hematoncology and genetics department back home, so I’ve been helping out and meeting patients with leukemias and other conditions frequently since I was a kid. 

YOOSUNG:

* He’s been with MC through it all, through every failed and attempted treatment.

* He saw MC get weaker by the day, frailer, only to then have a few weeks of stillness, before acute bouts of the disease resurfaced, making her spend days in bed, too tired to do much else.

* And suddenly, it all just...phased out. She seemed better, stronger slowly, and they were both confused, scared of what’s to come, what’s going on.

* Even her doctors seemed surprised, running test after test, taking so many blood samples Yoosung thought they’d run MC dry. But then her supervising doctor came back with a smile on her face, explaining the situation to them.

* Remission, she’d called it; not cure. It’s the best they could hope for, she said. Yoosung held MC’s hand in his, tight as he carefully listened to the doctor’s explanation and detailed follow-up plans.

* Whilst MC’s blood results were seemingly back to normal, the cancer wasn’t quite gone; she’d still have to continue some of the treatments she’d been undergoing, mainly medications and injections-Yoosung pretended not to hear the shaky sigh of relief when MC was told she wouldn’t have to undergo any further radiation treatment, that they’d still have to have monthly check-ups until they can no longer detect any genetic abnormalities in her white blood cells.

* Yoosung was thrilled at the news-MC was getting better! She’d slowly reover her energy, return to the bright excited girl Yoosung had fallen in love with!

* And yet she didn’t seem nearly as thrilled as he felt. He didn’t ask anything, not until they were back home, late at night when he held her close to him, fully aware than neither of them was asleep.

* He didn’t say anything, simply held her by the waist as she hid her head into his chest. “What if it comes back? Again and again? What if-I’ll never go back to how I was before?”

* He..didn’t have a response to her question. Yoosung whished with all his might that he could find an answer, a definitive one to ease her mind, but there wasn’t one; neither of them could know what the future had in store for them.

* All he could do was kiss her forehead, pull her as close to him as he could.

* “I’ll be there with you. Through it all, no matter what.”

ZEN:

* Honestly, MC’s ups and downs had taken a toll on both of them.

* The Zen that always took care of his pristine appearance now had dark eye bags, his skin taut as he spend nights worrying over MC’s sleeping form, constantly terrified she’ll slip through his fingers.

* When, after her usual check-up, the doctor called them the very same day to ask them to come in for a meeting the next day, they both looked to each other, fearing the worst; why else would the doctor call them this hastily?

* He didn’t let himself appear weak or scared at that time-he put his best acting skills to work, working up a smile on his lips as he eased MC’s worries, telling her he’s sure it’s no big deal, that the doctor might just want to discuss a few things she forgot to mention in their previous meeting.

* He only let himself break down at night, only after MC was fast asleep. He sneaked up to the rooftop, stealing one single cigarette that shook between his lips as he took ragged breaths, ignoring the wetness that trailed down his cheeks.

* The next day as they sat across the smiling doctor behind her desk, Zen had his hand firmly gripping MC’s thigh, a gesture that was less-so romantic as it was meant to be reassuring, a quiet ‘I’m here whatever may come’ sort of thing.

* When the doctor explained the remission to them-how not only MC’s blood results were getting better, but that the amount of mutated cells had significantly dropped, when she said the word remission-Zen couldn’t help the happy tears that escaped his eyes.

* He turned to MC, his smile shaky but sincere. “You hear that baby? You’re getting better! You’ve been so strong, and now you’re being rewarded for it!”

* Even the doctor couldn’t help but smile at the couple in front of her, how MC immediatly ducked into Zen’s embrace to hide her laughter.

* “This is really great news, and I’m happy to see you both excited, but please remember that this isn’t a cure-it’s remission. We still have a long way to go, but MC, you can definitely expect an improvement in your energy levels and for some of the more severe symptoms to slowly fade away. We’ll discuss follow up treatments and arrange future check-ups, but if all goes well, we can expect a full remission soon” the doctor said, and it was music to their ears.

* Zen took the whole rest of the day off of work-rehearsals could wait, today he had to celebrate the good news with his baby! He took her out to their favorite ice cream parlor, walked lazily for a while around town before heading back home, where he had MC sit beside him on the kitchen counter as he cooked her her favorite meal. 

* “Zen it’s-I’m happy too but please stop pushing yourself this much for me” MC asked, guilt pooling in her stomach. She was no fool, she knew the toll this had taken on Zen, and she didn’t want him to get his hopes up only to have them crushed again if there was another acute bout of her disease reappearing.

* Zen shook his head, leaning close to MC to give her a chaste kiss. “We’re allowed to celebrate small victories my love, and this is one of them. For today let’s stop thinking of what the future holds, and just enjoy the good news, okay?”

JAEHEE:

* When Jaehee’s stressed, she plans. She cleans, she arranges, she needs to put structure into everything she can so that at least everything else in her life is controlled.

* So when MC told Jaehee of her diagnosis, when Jahee started living with MC and saw the impact this leukemia has on MC; she got to planning, researching, strategising. 

* She’d read every resource available when it came to CML, what the phases are, what to expect in each phase; every medication MC took, Jaehee looked up, reading on their effects and side effects, how to best combat post-chemotherapy nausea, everything she could learn, she did. 

* She was on a first-name basis with MC’s doctors, always coming in for check-ups and treatment rounds, writing down the dates and dosages in her calendar-the nurses were honestly in love with Jaehee, asking her if she’d be willing to come work with them lol

* She’d put up a strong face in front of MC, but everytime she saw MC cry because of pain or fear, everytime she’d hear her vomit in behind closed bathroom doors, she’d allow herself a moment of vulnerability, letting out a shaky breath before composing herself again.

* Jaehee would look through each of MC’s blood test results everytime they were available, and within a few months she noticed the pattern of improvement-how her white blood cell counts were returning to normal, how the last specialised blood test showed a decreased count of mutated cells.

* She was aware MC was going into remission even before the doctors told them, but still, to hear it from a professional-she was so relieved she could melt right into that hospital office chair right then and there. 

* She knew the risks of course, how remission doesn’t equate cure, how MC would still need to take medications and return for frequent check ups, the risks or relapse per percentage and what not.

* But still, this victory-they could allow themselves to relish in this.

* As soon as they exited the doctors office, standing in front of that door-before MC could turn and utter a single word to Jaheee, Jaehee whirled around, grabbing MC’s face and kissing the heck out of her, earning a few ‘awws’ and coos from passerbys. 

* Even through her furious red blush she looked to MC with a confident smile. “I’m so, so proud of you” she said and kissed MC again for good measure.

JUMIN:

* Similarly to Jaehee, he’s a man who needs structure, especially in stressful times, unable to allow himself to drown in emotions. Unlike Jaehee though, he’s unable to even recognise those emotions at first, not until one day he feels such a horrible stomach ache he decides to stay home for the day.

* MC asks him how he’s feeling, if he needs anything-when he explains his pain to her, how he feels this constriction in his chest, his stomach pain a nuisance; MC smiles, soft and sad as she strokes his hair. “That’s anxiety my love” she says, “And I’m afraid I might be the cause of it.”

* Jumin takes some time, acknowledging the feeling, but tells MC to never blame herself again-if he’s feeling this way it’s not because of any wrong-doing on her part, it’s simply another manifestation of his love for her.

* He too closely monitors MC’s progress, inviting the best of the best hematooncologists to monitor her, gets her the latest and most improved treatments they can offer.

* He learns all there is about CML, and talks with her doctors on the daily-nothing slips by Jumin, not when it comes to his beloved MC.

* When the doctors explain remission to the couple, the stages of it and how they’ll modify MC’s future care accordingly, he patiently listens, and does some further research himself before he can feel even a little at ease-only facts and numbers can sooth this mans’ mind, and when he sees how low the relapse percentages are in comparison to the 5year survival rates-over 90%, medical papers assure him, only then does he smile, telling MC the good news.

* MC is worried, and rightfully so-even as Jumin tells her all he’s learnt, she’s gnawing on her lip, her hands firmly clasped on her lap.

* “I-what if luck isn’t on our side Jumin? What if I’m one of those few numbers that do relapse?”

* Jumin didn’t miss a beat. He kneeled in front of MC, taking a hold of her hands. He stroked her knuckles with his thumbs, stopping to take a hold of her hand where her wedding ring sat perfectly on her ring finger.

* “Even then, we’ll face it together. Through the good and the bad, in sickness and in health. That’s what we promised, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her knuckles.

* “You’ll find I’m a man of my word MC” he added with a smile, and well, it’s impossible to resist kissing that smile off of his face now isn’t it?

SEVEN/LUCIEL/SAEYOUNG:

* Believe it or not, he’s the one that lets his anxiety show the most out of all of the RFA.

* Thing is, when stressed, sad, overwhelmed-Saeyoung becomes closed off, distant and cold, his only defense mechanism given what life has thrown at him.

* He tries to be strong though, for MC. He’s there with her through every session of chemotherapy, and even if he can’t be there for the whole duration, he’ll send her memes and silly jokes to distract her, and will always come pick her up from the hospital when she’s done.

* If she gets anxious or sad, he’ll take her for a ride in one of his babies, finding the best secluded viewpoints he can-he’ll lay a blanket on the ground in front of the car, take another to cover them both as he holds MC close, looking to the city skyline at night-sometimes they’ll stay there, talking until daybreak, and if MC falls asleep in the car on the way back, he’ll drive a little slower, avoiding any bumps in the road so she can get some peaceful rest.

* you fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time, but that’s ok I’ll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine, I’m driving here I sit, cursing the goverment, for not using my taxes to fill holes with more cement-

* When doctors speak of remission and stages and treatments, Seven honestly zones out-not because he’s not interested in what they’re saying, but because he just can’t help but focus his attention on MC���s face, how her eyes light up at the doctors explanation, the little tremble of her lips that split into a smile as tears well up in her eyes;

* “Excuse me doc, I just need to do something mildly indecent for a moment-” he speaks up, and shifts from his seat besides MC in the doctors office, cusps her cheeks in his palms as he gives her a quick kiss on the lips, knocking his forehead with hers as he whispers “You’ve made it baby. You did it.”

* The doctor politely coughs, unable to hide her smile as Saeyoung gives her a sheepish smile, returning back to his seat, his hand still gripping MC’s tight.

* The explanation of follow-up care is a blur for Saeyoung-he has a photographic memory though, so when the doctor gives them some leaflets and a detailed individualised plan for MC’s follow up care, he reads through them, and ticks a mental note to drive MC to her next appointment.

* When outside at the hospitals parking lot, Saeyoung walks ahead to unlock the car, feeling MC snake her hands around his waist, knocking her head on his back.

* He smiles, covering her hands with his own.

* “Thank you-being there for me, even though you’ve been going through so much yourself I-thank you, Saeyoung” she mumbled on the fabric of his jacket. Saeyoung simply turned, pulling her close to him as he looked into her gleaming eyes.

* “No, thank you, MC”, he started, wiping stray tears from her face, “for choosing to be with me. Thank you for everything you’ve given me. If-if you’ll have me” he looked away, his cheeks a fiery red, “I want to be there with you through anything and everything else that’s to come.”

* MC poked his ribs, a smirk on her lips. “Sae, that sounds just like a marriage proposal.”

* Saeyoung...he was thankful she didn’t move her hands lower on his back, that she didn’t feel the box-shaped lump in his back pocket.

* “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t-you’ll just have to wait and see now won’t you?” he teased back, letting go of MC to hop into the drivers seat.

* Soon, he promised her quietly, soon.

V/JIHYUN:

* Oof...honestly...this man has been nothing but supportive through it all.

* He researched everything he could about CML, politely asking doctors and nurses whenever he could about things he didn’t understand or things he wanted to fact-check that he’d read online.

* It could’ve been annoying were it not for his dang politeness, the worry in his eyes as he asked his questions. No one had the heart to dismiss him, and MC’s supervising doctor even set up a seperate time to meet with Jihyun and answer any questions he may have about CML (so long as they didn’t directly relate to MC’s condition-we ain’t about to violate HIPPA y’all)

* MC and him quickly become the cutest couple the hospital has ever seen-he’s always there with her through every chemotherapy session, holding her close as he quietly reads one book after another to her, his voice lulling her into a brisk sleep while the IV drained in her veins. 

* Nurses and other patients would greet the two, stop and whisper-talk with Jihyun whilst MC slept, and he was always so happy to chat and remembered everyone’s names and conversations they’d have had the weeks before-he quickly became everyone’s favorite person to roam the hospitall halls lol

* With every new developement, every up and down, he’d face it together with MC, her hand clasped tight in his.

* When the doctor talked to them about remission, how her latest blood results looked better and better-how another bone marrow biopsy could tell if she’d gone into full remission or not, Jihyun sat beside her with a smile. 

* He didn’t even notice he’d been crying until the doctor politely pushed a box of tissues his way, earning a giggle from MC as she turned and saw Jihyun’s confused tear-eyed expression at the offending tissue box.

* During her bone marrow biopsy, he stood by her side, let her hide her face into his shirt as the doctor plucked the thick needle onto her hip. He held her hand, letting her dig her nails into his skin, ignoring the crescent shaped dents that remained on his skin for days afterwards-this was nothing, nothing in front of what MC had underwent.

* They celebrated the news of her full remission by cooking her favorite meal, then going to a late-night summer drive-in cinema, where he removed the cloth-plastic covering of his old Volkswagen car’s hood, letting the summer breeze in as they watched a cheesy romance film, holding MC close and kissing her temple every once in a while. 

* Honestly...he was so happy, and they’d both been strong for so long through it all, they deserved these quiet vulnerable moments, and Jihyun wanted nothing more than to stay here with MC healthier and happier, in his arms.

-send me mystic messenger headcanons for character reactions-

-masterpost-

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Mystery, not a question or anything, but I’m just at my wit’s end. There’s been more and more covid cases in my state, more deaths/murders in general, less food/supplies for everyone, people are being less and less healthy, kids/teens have been getting kidnapped left and right, and people are abusing their cats for fun now....where did all the love go?😔😭

Alright, I need you to breathe for a moment,

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.

I know that I say this a lot. I know that I assure everyone who messages me that it will be okay in these many posts that I make. I know that I know that I sound like a broken record. It’s hard. Believe me. 

I know,

I need you to focus on something here with me here: I cannot have you give up. Giving up sounds nice right about now, I know. I have had days where I’ve had an emotional breakdown with all of the things going on in the world. The USA’s coronavirus numbers keep skyrocketing, my state governor--Florida--wants us all to stop counting cases and tests because it “makes him sad.” It’s hard to stay positive... especially in a time like this. I am very aware of this.

I remember when there was a time when the people of this world were quick to show love, I remember the Tiktok videos of people doing acts of kindness, or Skype calls to loved ones, and even YouTube videos that showed individuals being creative for the first time in years. For one second... there was silence. For one second... people were being seen as people. When we were closed off from material goods, or “stuff” as people would say, we were genuinely nicer human beings. The Earth’s O-Zone was clearing up by 40% in several regions around the world and blue skies could be seen again. We had wildlife flood into cities that we haven’t seen in years return to greet us with their presence, we saw rainbows and mountain tops and polluted skies were clearing up. If there were some families starving, we shared food. If there was an issue with money, we quickly spared what we could to keep others afloat. For the first time in years, the Earth could breathe and the humans were happy.

The Earth isn’t of Her fault. She was doing her job. It was our fault for making Her so sick. We, as human beings, realized that we were the abusers in the relationship and begged for forgiveness.

So what happened?

Why did we all change within a snap of our fingers?

We opened up again.

We had stuff again.

We have access to curbside pick-up, Amazon, access to order things online and pick-up-in-store, we even have more access to DoorDash. We have quickly migrated back to our old ways of of division; we are quick to abuse our powers and find a need of comfort with anything but each other.

What the hell happened?

There has always been a sense of ugly behavior in the world, I will not doubt you on that. It’s feels unbearable now because we’ve allowed it to get worse rather than call out the action. I do not believe that we weren’t aware of the abuse of what a human being can do to another, we know when we’re being bullies and being treated poorly. We haven’t taken a stand to it until now. That’s why it feels gross to those that are experiencing it. We are feeling the guilt of allowing it to continue on for as long as it has been and we are tired of not standing up for ourselves.

The United States of America is in one of the weirdest economic crises that we have seen so far in the 21st century. Millions are out of work, but not everyone qualifies for a few hundred dollars. Not everyone can find a job, if they can it’s only for a few hours. Companies like Netflix and Apple are profiting big on situations like this and not giving back. People are hungry, people are dying from famine, and I’m tired,

I remember when acts of kindness went a long way. We were decent, now we think it’s okay to discriminate others. We are okay with an unspoken segregation, we are okay with proclaiming, “I don’t see color, I don’t see gender, none of it.”

Don’t say that. You need to see color and need to see gender in order to fully appreciate the diversity of color and uniqueness of a person. We have to see all that to understand why we face hardships and why many want to fight for a chance of equality. Why there are peaceful protesting, why it’s a huge deal to remove confederate statues and other nods to slavery and horrible treatment of people of color and gender. That is not what America is supposed to be. We are supposed to be a melting pot of cultures that recognizes individuality and praise each person for their successes in life. We shouldn’t have a divide in any of this. This is not okay! And to those who riot, those are not people protesting... those are people that are abusing the purpose of the situation. They do not belong with those that want to spark change. They are not the people that you want to draw in to help bring a revolution of change, they are the barriers that block you from your success.

It sucks. I know.

I hear you.

I see you.

I want you to know something; you are not alone.

You are not alone in feeling this discomfort in the country, you are not alone with feeling defeated and useless in wanting to help, you are not alone. You are not an island. There are many, many others that feel the same.

It’s perfectly okay to feel what you feel deep down in your heart. Those are very valid feelings that no one on this Earth can take away  from you. If you need to feel sad, feel sad. If you need to feel angry, feel angry. However, the most important thing to do afterwards is to get back up.

You need to get back up. 

The only person who can control what you do as of now is you. And if it feels impossible, it’s okay. There are many people out there that want to help you. We are always there. Help comes to those that ask for it. You can do this. I know that you can. You are the one that can draw back in your own power. This is your power, you’re not allowing it to anyone else to have, you’re using it to become something better. You can take that power back and do something worth wild for you. I know it feel helpless and redundant to say now, but in order to feel a bit better, you must call it back.

That is your power.

Use your power for something good. Take what I’ve said and use that energy to bring forth a powerful force of change to your life. You are allowed worth. You are allowed to have something good and genuine. You are.

You can do this.

I believe you.

It will be okay. Hold the memories and the good feelings to your heart and let that be the creative outlook you need to make something more. Do it. I dare you. You’ve got this... and I can’t wait to see what you’ll do in the future, my friend.

It’s going to be okay.

[stardancerluv]

All Flowers Must Bloom Even In Winter

Part 4e

Summary: John, finally tells everything before leaving town.

Warnings: angst, Something About Us by Daft Punk (I do not own this song)

@theblackmaskclub 😬 hope you like these turns of events.

After taking care of his needs, he walked out to wear you and him played in the snow. He still could hear the peel of your laughter, how you looked up at him before he had kissed you in the snow.

Leaning, against the tree he lit one of his cigars. He thought of his life up to this point. He had been a bastard. Leaving, this town he would still be one. For these last few days he had felt so different.

He pulled on his cigar a few more times before he banged on the door, of the general store’s private quarters. “Are you aware of the time?”

“Since you know who I am, open your business or I will.”

“Don’t have to be nasty.” The man grumbled.

“You didn’t have to make assumptions about my purchases.”

A short moment later, John looked around the store. He grabbed some food he knew would bring comforts on the journey ahead. He grabbed some undergarments. Grabbed some bars of soap. He grabbed a few more items.

“Let’s see, because of your actions Y/N was screamed at, that owner he forced himself upon her and I am terribly put out.” He brought out enough to pay for half. “Here.”

“That is not close to enough.”

“If you had not made assumptions, I would give you the full amount plus more. Now I don’t care. Be grateful I paid at all.”

Grabbing a few cotton sacks, he stuffed in all of what he bought. Which till he got to the stable he realized just how much. Well, it was all needed.

“Thank you remaining honorable.” He gave him the money promised, plus the additional amount. He packed away the rest of his purchases into a trunk. “My brother will be back to pack up the rest.”

Grabbing a larger sack, he put in a few of the necessities in it and affixed if to his saddle. Climbing up, onto his horse, he rode to the edge of town. Vic, rode up. “Did you talk to her?”

“When did you become such a nag.”

Vic, chuckled. “We don’t have a sister and mother is too far away. Someone has to do it.” John rolled his eyes, half the time he wanted to kill his brother. The other half, well they were like this. It was something he needed.

“Alright, now there is a trunk in the stable pack the rest of it and then put it into my personal wagon.” He smoothed his mustache. “I will go and talk to her.”

******

Stirring, the room was silent reaching out on either side of you, the bed was cold.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” His words echoed, in your head. But the bed was cold.

Where are you, you thought.

No one answered your thoughts. Except swirl of the icy wind.

Not, really knowing how you felt other then cold you got up. You slipped on your chemise, your other undergarments then your dress. Grabbing, your boots you headed back to your room after closing the door to his room.

You made it to your room. A part of you wondered if you should just go out like this, and just walk. You had heard, freezing was not terribly painful. Perhaps a final snow angel before becoming one. You shook off the depressing musing. John had assured you, that you would have nothing to worry about. But he also had not returned to bed. Last you heard he had needed whiskey.

*****

As you opened your door, a gust of wind almost pushed you back into the hallway. With the onslaught of the wind and cold, you dropped your boots and went to close your window. When, John went downstairs you had completely forgotten your window. As you neared it, you saw that where you had thrown up was covered by fresh snow.

Something caught your eye, as you went on your tip toes to close the window. Looking out, you saw John on his horse. You immediately put a hand over your heart. The sudden pain that went through you was sharp and intense. You brought your window down and on shaky legs you sat down on your bed.

*****

Hitching, his horse to the post, he went in. Seeing your boss he walked over to him. “Here is what I owe you.” He did not add extra.

“Have a good day.” Your boss said.

John, grimaced and nodded. Going to his room, he vaguely hoped you were asleep. You were not there. He hoped you had gone back to your own room when you discovered that he had not returned.

Grabbing, what few things that remained in there that were his, he stuffed into a sack. Walking down the hall, he rounded the corner and was in front of your door.

Having not returned while you slept, he figured he had better knock on your door. He did so.

He heard the bed creak and and some shuffling. He smoothed his mustache and took his hat off.

“John!” You exclaimed, and before he knew what happened, you leapt and he caught you. “Y/N.” He said, in your hair. He could still smell its freshness from the bath you had a short time ago. Holding you, he kicked the door closed behind the two of you.

Once fully into the room, he put you down. “Oh, John, I saw you leave but you didn’t...” He let you talk, as he tried to find the words he wanted to knit together.

“Little flower,” He began. “I am leaving today.”

You pressed your lips together. “When I saw that only a wind blew with no ice or snow, I had an inclining.”

“The plan was to wait it out. We did.” Glancing down, he saw your hand beside his gloved one, he was delicate compared to his.

“Do you know where you are headed?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps El Paso, maybe Yuma.” He cleared his throat. “Y/N, there was no hiding what I was from you. Though,” he added with a smile. “I will admit, when I saw you for a moment I wanted to be someone else.”

“What?” He glanced at you but he continued, nodding.

“I wanted to be the man I was before the war.” He laughed, It sounded as dark as he thought it would. “But no dice, you went off and found out who I was.”

A small smile played on your lips.

“So I was surprised when you didn’t care.”

That’s when you grabbed his gloved hand.

“I didn’t and I still don’t.”

“Y/N, I will always be an outlaw. I have done horrible things before the storm brought me here. I will do more what is needed before I take my final breath.”

You nodded. “Ok.”

“Little flower,” He cleared his throat. “I had thought by now, my chances of finding one that captured my interest would have been taken away.”

He saw that you wanted to say something. He held up a hand.

“It would have been a fitting punishment for things I’ve done.”

He looked again at you. Your hair untamed from last night or your lips that truly were as soft as flower petals. Your eyes that twinkled with happiness and a passion that grabbed him in his gut.

“Originally, I was teaching you how to feel good while also having the ability to make another...another man feel protective of you, to appreciate your enthusiasm and love you till their final breath.” Damn, he thought to himself, this hurt worse then went he got shot outside of Pawhuska, Oklahoma. “I was hoping perhaps, he’d be a match in your beauty so when looking at him it would please you. That one day, you’d burn my wanted poster for you would no longer need the memory of me.”

“But John...”

He put a gloved hand over your mouth. “As much as I enjoy the sound of your voice, please allow me to finish, ok?” You nodded under his hand. “Thank you.” He let go of your mouth.

“I tried hard to keep you away. But, little blossom, for the first time in my life I lost.” Taking your hand, he pressed your knuckles to his mouth. “I want you to come with me. Be mine. And promise me, that when I am dying put my head in your lap so I can look at you one last time.” He looked at you over your hand.

A pang of uncertainty nudged him, when took your hand away so violently. A chuckle, came from the bottom of his stomach as he smiled up at you as you straddled him.

“Yes, John I’ll be yours.”

@shantellorraine did you need tissues?

[the-lupine-sojourner]

The Tale of Astoria Kenobi [Prologue] [Obitine and Anidala featured] [Dad!Obi-Wan/Daughter!OC]

Please be aware before you read this that I am by no means an expert at all things Star Wars, much as I would like to be.

So please understand that there are more than likely errors in what I've written, especially with the timeline.

Please don't jump down my throat, as the errors are unintentional. I tried to make it as accurate as I could, with my current understanding of the Star Wars lore. If you spot anything wrong, please gently point it out so I can correct it and be patient with me. I'm still learning the lore.

Okay so the initial post I made about Astoria got some interest, so I’m putting in an impromptu taglist. Let me know if you want to be added! 

Tagging: @forcearama​ who created the Scandalore/Obitine Secret Marriage AU I’m using in this story, @elite-guard-hardygal​ for being the first to express interest in my OC, @sunshineisdelightful​ for being supportive about my Obitine baby lol, and @fwtcanimelover​ for also being interested in being tagged in this fic. 

You guys honestly helped me not be as nervous about diving into this story. 

Anyway, I will let you guys read the story now and I hope you all enjoy it!

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

(I think I’ll let this GiF kinda serve as the cover, I guess. I love it!)

Meetings in back alleys and secluded corners of Mandalore was not uncommon, a pair of hooded figures no exception as they near each other.

"Is it true?" A man's voice asks, simple hooded robe around his shoulders, the hood lowered as he addresses the woman before him, who smiles in greeting as she lowers her own, more ornate, hood.

The woman, Duchess Satine of Mandalore, knew what this meant, for both of them, but she didn't care. It was well worth it.

"...Yes, love. It is. I'm 3 months along now."

The breath the Padawan before her, Obi-Wan Kenobi, releases is full of terror of the unknown, wonder at the power of creation, and anxiety about their next move.

The man she loved was always so conflicted, it seems. She puts a comforting hand on his cheek. "Darling, we'll work it out. Somehow." She assures him, wishing she knew the words to ease his worries and fears.

"I fear this is an impossible task."

"Nonsense. We've been married six months now and no one's the wiser, not even your Master Qui Gon."

That was a valid point, but Obi-Wan suspected Qui Gon either knew or was growing suspicious.

There was another problem Obi-Wan saw arising in the future… "But when the child is older, when they connect with the Force, how will we-?"

"You once said the Force connects with random people, correct? If that is so, we'll pretend it is a miracle and she'll report to the Jedi Temple for training. She'll be- -"

"It's a girl?" Obi-Wan asks, breathless, hardly aware he was interrupting in his excitement at the news.

His hand goes to feel the slightly swollen stomach, eyes on his wife's abdomen as if to see his growing child.

Satine smiles serenely, hand over her husband's. "Yes. I just found out the gender myself, actually. And if she is to be a Jedi, I'll act as if I have no idea how she developed these powers."

Much as he wanted that to be enough, Obi-Wan knew better, his smile faltering before leaving altogether. "That won't work. The Council will know as soon as she steps foot in the Temple." He takes a breath. "I fear they could already have their suspicions."

Satine breathes a heavy sigh. She loved Obi-Wan, truly she did, but he could be rather paranoid sometimes. "We won't feed any rumors. We'll act innocent."

Obi-Wan smiles almost sadly, knowing it won't do much, if anything, to delay the truth coming out.

But, for Satine's sake, he could act like it would work.

So he puts a tender hand on her cheek, easing her in for a kiss. "Let's hope that's enough."

=#=#=#=#=

"Mommy mommy!" A five-year-old voice cries out, the only warning Satine had before she was pounced on by her daughter, Astoria. "Wake up, Mommy!"

Satine groggily sits up. "What is it, Astoria?" She asks, rubbing her eyes as Astoria burrows almost painfully into Satine's lap.

"The funny man says there's a ship here. He says it's a Jedi ship." Satine's heart skips a beat. Obi-Wan wouldn't appear unannounced like this without something dreadful happening. He'd done this when Qui-Gon was killed and he was suddenly Knighted with a Padawan to train. She'd been woken up by him easing himself through her window. He'd arrived in the dead of night and snuck past her guards.

She hoped it wasn't too serious this time. "Really?" She asks, managing to keep a level voice, scooping her daughter up and setting her on the floor as she stands to get dressed.

"Yeah, but not Uncle Obi's ship." Over the brief five years Satine had been blessed with Astoria, she had always told Astoria that Obi-Wan was something of an uncle, since Obi-Wan was such a close friend of hers. The truth about Astoria's father was a topic Satine avoided almost at all costs, unwilling to have that conversation with her child yet.

It pained both Satine and Obi-Wan horribly to not be truthful with their daughter, but they agreed it was better for everyone that they not tell Astoria and maintain their lie.

"Oh?" Satine turns as the door opens to reveal the 'funny man' Astoria had mentioned. Astoria was still too young to fully understand why the armored men followed them around, and as such referred to the guards collectively as 'funny man'. Especially the captain, whose helmet seemed to amuse Astoria.

"Afraid not. A Jedi by the name of Master Fisto wishes to have an audience with you, my lady." The captain reports, having stepped into the room moments before. Satine is intrigued, but also has a gut feeling she knew why the Jedi had shown up so unexpectedly.

Hurriedly, she dresses in her usual green, purple, and blue outfit, wanting to appear presentable to the Jedi Master.

Then, she takes Astoria's hand and follows the captain to the throne room. There was a member of the Nautolan race, his tentacles serving as a kind of hair halfway down his back. He turns as the doors open and greets the Duchess and her daughter with a warm, wide smile, nodding and half-bowing in respect to Satine and waving kindly at Astoria.

"Ah, Duchess Satine, what an honor." He says with a deep, charming voice. His eyes were large and black, subtly unsettling at first, but his personality soon set Satine at ease.

"Master Jedi. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Satine asks, accepting a kiss on the knuckles from the Jedi, who seems to ooze manners and charisma.

"I'm afraid it's official Jedi business, madam. Regarding Astoria." Satine's heart skipped as Astoria, settled in her mother's lap as usual, looked at her mother with curious eyes.

Satine had known this day would come. Now came the part where she acted clueless.

"What about my daughter?" She asks and gets a feeling this Jedi knew that she knew what this was about, but humors her with an explanation.

"Are you aware of the Force?" He asks.

"In some aspects, yes. I understand it's what you Jedi use to keep the peace, correct?" Satine replies. She'd picked up much of the Jedi customs during her time under Jedi protection and marriage to a Jedi Padawan, and didn't need to act like she didn't.

"Yes. The Force guides every living thing, and reveals those it has chosen to be future Jedi. Those who have a strong connection to the Force ought to be trained how to use it properly, at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant." Satine frowns, arms around Astoria protectively.

"And you believe my daughter has this connection to your Force?" She asks, knowing the answer. After all, there were already signs Satine had seen of the Force within her daughter.

Astoria had once drawn herself with Jedi robes on, saying she wanted to be just like Uncle Obi one day. She'd then stated that she could make things move like her 'uncle' and proceeded, after several moments of intense concentration, to make her drink move the short distance to her outstretched hand.

There were a few other instances of precise throwing of toys that shouldn't be possible in a girl her age.

How the Jedi knew Astoria had a Force connection was beyond the Duchess.

"We've seen it, Duchess." Master Fisto replies as if he had heard the Duchess' thoughts. "I understand your hesitance but believe me, it is in Astoria's best interest." He explains, and Satine reluctantly decides to hear him out before making any decision.

"How so?" She asks, "As I understand it, the Jedi go to unknown worlds and oftentimes are involved in combat and war. I hardly see how that is in Astoria's best interest."

"As a mother, I can only imagine how difficult this is for you." Fisto says placatingly and Satine could tell he meant every word. "However, we Jedi go through much training as younglings before we are assigned to a Master for further intense training. Astoria will not see combat for many years."

"Mommy, are we going to Coruscant?" Astoria asks excitedly. "Are we gonna see where Uncle Obi works?" Satine had explained briefly about Obi-Wan's status as a Jedi, referring to it as a job.

Astoria had heard of Coruscant, but had never left Mandolore.

"...I'm...not sure, darling." Satine replies, mind stormy with indecision. Kit Fisto hums to himself in thought.

"Perhaps the Counsel would allow you to come with Astoria and me, so you may see for yourself where Astoria will be staying and training." He suggests. "Would that help ease your conscience, Duchess?"

"If it could be done, that would greatly ease my mind." Satine concedes, thinking it highly unlikely the Jedi Counsel would allow an outsider, much less a Mandalorian, into their secret temple. Obi-Wan had told her how carefully the Temple was guarded.

Kit Fisto bows at the waist, smiling happily at this turn of events. "I will contact them right away, if you like."

Satine nods. Best to see what arrangements might be made for Satine going to the Temple or not before she made a decision. "Astoria and I must excuse ourselves for our breakfast. Perhaps you can join us when you are through with the Counsel?" She offers, wanting to make a fresh start between Mandalore and the Jedi. Kit Fisto smiles brightly.

"I would like that very much. I'll step outside for a few minutes, and join you shortly." Satine rises, nodding to the Jedi before walking out of the throne room.

"Can I bring my toy blaster?" Astoria asks excitedly as they walk. "I can show Uncle Obi!"

Satine chuckles. "We have to see what the Jedi says once he's talked to the Counsel, Astoria." She explains gently. "But if we do go to Coruscant, you may take your toy blaster. I cannot guarantee we will see your uncle, but if we do, I'm sure he'll love your toy."

=#=#=#=

Kit Fisto, on the other side of the doors to the palace, chuckles to himself.

What he had thought was a simple negotiation for a future Jedi was turning out to be something very intriguing.

For one thing, the Duchess was surprisingly civil and courteous with the Jedi, beyond some understandable doubts about what he was suggesting.

For another, Astoria held a connection to the Force that surprised him. It felt...well, it felt exactly like the new Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi's connection.

That meant Obi-Wan had some explaining to do.

Fisto then had a realization; Satine and Obi-Wan, if they had indeed formed enough of an attachment to each other to have a child together, they would know better than to let anyone know of what they'd done.

Fisto found that he couldn't see himself turning them in. He rather liked Obi-Wan and didn't want to see the look on the boy's face when it was discovered that he had violated the Jedi Code. Especially since Obi-Wan had just lost his master and barely begun training that new Youngling, Anakin Skywalker.

Kit Fisto decided he would do what he could to make sure his friend's secret remained hidden.

His conference with the Counsel was short. They were in agreement that it was best for all parties if Satine came with her daughter to Coruscant. The tension between the Jedi and Mandalore had been high until Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been assigned to protect the new Duchess. If they wished for true peace, they had to be willing to make a few concessions.

Normally, the Force-sensitive child was brought back to the Temple without family members, but refusing to allow Satine, such a high-ranking official of Mandalore, to accompany her daughter may raise tensions again, undoing the progress made toward peace.

Fisto thanked the Counsel and once more entered the palace, asking a guard where Satine and Astoria would be eating breakfast.

A few minutes later, he found the pair eating and laughing together. He chuckled as he walked closer. "I have good news." He calls, and the laughter slowly dies. Satine motions for the Jedi to sit on her other side, across from Astoria, who smiles at him around a mouthful of fruit.

"Chew and swallow, Astoria." Satine orders gently before turning to Fisto. "They'll allow me to come with you and Astoria?"

"Yes, in the name of peace between Mandalore and the Jedi. You understand this is an exception to the rule."

Satine nods, unable to believe her luck. "Yes, I am sure. I will tell them how grateful I am when I meet them." She replies.

"I would hate for Astoria to have any trouble adjusting to life in the Temple. It seems harsh to separate you two immediately, given how old Astoria is." Kit Fisto continues, looking at Astoria kindly.

Satine frowns. "What is the average age of the children you bring to the Temple?" Obi-Wan mentioned he was very young when he was brought to the Temple, but he'd never given an exact age.

"I'm afraid it's a deal younger than Astoria is, but the Force doesn't always select the new generation of Jedi at the same ages. However, she is still young enough to begin her training."

"I see."

"Madam, if I may, I have watched a few classes of Younglings from arriving in the Temple to being selected by a Master. All of them have been treated very well and grow up with everything they need provided to them."

"I know, Master Jedi." Satine replies, eyes still sorrowful. "As a mother, however, it pains me that I won't see her grow up." Kit Fisto feels an immense sympathy for Satine. He knew it was a very difficult thing, giving your child away like this.

"Believe me, I understand how painful this must be, but there is hope. We are not forbidden from contacting our families if we choose. Astoria will be permitted to talk to you at fairly regular intervals, and even perhaps make a few visits."

Satine finds that comforting and nods. "Thank you."

Fisto smiles (an expression he used often, Satine notes). "Not at all, Duchess."

By noon, Astoria was ready to go. Fisto had explained that she would be provided Jedi robes, so there was no need to pack clothes. However, he conceded to let Astoria bring a few personal things and two pieces of jewelry.

Satine took off a necklace around her neck when they were left alone.

It was a simple crystal, purple in hue, and still in perfect condition. Obi-Wan had found the crystal, claimed it was a good luck charm, and strung it craftily on a strong chain, putting it on Satine when he first confessed attraction to her. It seemed fitting she pass it on to her daughter now.

"Come here, Astoria." Satine calls and Astoria comes over from deciding what three toys she'd bring. Astoria spots the necklace and seems to know her mother wanted to put it on her. "Your father would want you to have it." Satine says, remembering the way Obi-Wan had smiled at her as he proclaimed it would bring her good luck and protection.

"Really?" Astoria asks eagerly, drinking up any information about her father like a dry sponge.

"Yes. He is so proud of you, you know." Satine felt suddenly ready to cry, even though they would not be separated yet. She desperately wished Obi-Wan were here. He'd make this so much easier.

Astoria slips the necklace under her shirt before hugging her mom. "Thank you, Mommy!" She chirps and Satine felt the sadness temporarily ease as she hugs Astoria.

"Come along now, darling. Let's not keep Master Fisto waiting."

=#=#=#=#=

The trip to Coruscant was rather uneventful. Kit Fisto was in his own ship and could not answer Satine's burning questions about what Astoria was getting into.

She did, however, have an opportunity to slip into a small side room and contact Obi-Wan to tell him the news.

"Darling, I have news." She says when he picks up. Obi-Wan smiles at her and walks a few paces, probably to get somewhere a tad more private.

"What is it?" He asks.

"Astoria and I are on our way to Coruscant." She says. Obi-Wan frowns.

"Is everything alright?" He asks.

"Quite. We had a visit from a Master Fisto, and it seems the day has come for Astoria to begin her Jedi training." Obi-Wan's eyes go wide. Neither of them had much of a clue as to what they'd actually do when the time came for Astoria to begin training.

"I see. Unfortunately, I won't be able to train her myself. I have Anakin to worry about." Satine nods. Obi-Wan had told her all about Anakin.

"Not to worry. Master Fisto assures me she'll be well looked after, no matter who she's trained by."

Obi-Wan nods. "Oh, I'm certain she'll fit right in here at the Temple." His eyes turn sad and Satine knows duty called. "I'm afraid I have something to take care of. Send me a signal when you make the final approach and I'll see if I can meet you." Satine nods, blowing a kiss in their traditional farewell before ending the transmission.

Suddenly, Satine didn't feel as upset and anxious as she had about this development. She'd soon see her darling husband, leaving their daughter in him and Fisto's more than capable hands.

Perhaps one day Astoria would learn the truth about who she was and would forgive her parents for their deception.

[upstartpoodle]

I love your Poldark stories. I was wondering, if you are taking any requests, would you consider writing a story on the following: George is seriously injured (either during the finale when he saves Ross, or afterwards when Ross and Dwight return from France) and is treated by Dr. Enys, who saves his life. He'll have the chance to thank Dwight for saving him from himself during his mental ill-health. Dwight, Ross and Demelza will see George as never before, perhaps giving way for reconciliation.

Hi, thanks for the ask! I’m always open to fic requests, and I’ve started writing a fic based on this prompt. I’d hoped to keep it as a one shot and post it fairly soon but, as so often tends to happen when I end up with ideas, it’s turned into a ridiculously long monster which will probably take me a while to finish since everything’s a bit hectic irl at the moment. I’ve put an extract of what I’ve got so far under the cut, just so I don’t end up leaving you waiting for ages. I hope you like how it’s shaping up! :D

                                                            ***

The first thing George noticed when he came to was that he was in no small amount of pain. He screwed his eyes tight shut, gritting his teeth against it, but he couldn’t quite muffle the discomforted groan, quiet and hoarse though it was, that escaped his lips. He tried to shift, to identify the source of the pain, but all of a sudden, a gentle yet firm hand planted itself on his shoulder, stilling his movements. With a soft murmur of protest, he peeled his eyes cautiously open. For a long, horrible moment, his vision swam and blurred incoherently before he image coalesced into the kindly but concerned face of Dr Dwight Enys.

“Try to stay still,” the doctor said, frowning. “You still have a long recovery ahead of you, I’m afraid, and I do not wish for you to aggravate your injury.”

“Wh—?” George attempted to speak, to ask—good God, who knew how many questions, but all his parched throat could produce was a kind of faint croak.

“Ah, one moment. I shall fetch you some water.” Dr Enys disappeared briefly from his field of vision. There was some clinking, and the sound of liquid being poured, before he returned with a cup of water in his left hand. His right moved to lift up the back of George’s head and, ignoring his patient’s quiet noise of indignation at being directed like a sickly child, raised the cup to his lips so he could drink from it. The cool liquid was a relief to his dry throat, but he was mindful enough only to swallow in small sips. Once he had taken his fill, Dr Enys set the cup aside and lay his head carefully back onto the pillows.

“Wh-what happened?” he asked faintly once the doctor had settled himself once again; though the water had restored his voice a little, he still felt weak and tired and altogether distracted by the pain which seemed to be coming from the region of his abdomen.

“You were shot,” replied Dwight, “by Ralph Hanson. Do you…recall the incident?”

Had George not been so caught up in precisely everything he did recall of said incident, he might have noticed something significant in the tone of the doctor’s question, but as it was, he was far too occupied with the sudden memories of racing to get to Nampara in time, of Ross and the Frenchman, of the gunshots and then Hanson—

“What? Are they—? Did I—?” He stumbled over several questions at once, unsure which he wanted the answer to first. Dwight opened his mouth to reply, but another voice cut across him and, for the first time, he became aware that he and the doctor were not alone in the room.

“If it is any consolation to your pride, you shot Hanson too. He will be fine, unfortunately.”

“Oh, good God” George muttered instinctively on hearing that voice. Into his vision, behind Dr Enys’ right shoulder, stepped a distinctly amused looking Ross. George stared at him, dumfounded. What was he doing here? Surely he wouldn’t be—? It was then that he realised, with a jolt of alarm as he took in his unfamiliar, somewhat rustic surroundings, that he hadn’t the slightest idea where he was. “Wha—?”

“You are at Nampara,” said Ross, correctly interpreting the look on George’s face. “We carried you in from the barn after you were shot.”

“Good God” George repeated, fighting back a wince as another sharp pang of pain shot through his abdomen. Well that was the last time he ever tried to do a good deed if his reward was to be trapped in a sickbed and subjected to the tender mercies of Ross Poldark.

“Oh, and you also shot the General, if you recall. He is dead. Personally, I would have rather you killed the other one, but we mustn’t be greedy.”

“Good God!” This was the most vehement curse yet. In response, Ross’ eyebrows travelled up his forehead at lightning speed.

“Well, I am glad to see that that bullet has not addled your brain at least, George” he said drily.

George scowled at him. Somehow, he doubted Ross would have been any more coherent if he had woken up to discover that he had been shot by a former business partner and the man who had come far too close—he shuddered to think—to becoming his father-in-law, taken to the home of his longstanding rival to recuperate, and—as if that had not been enough—had killed a man.

“And I see that your close encounter with death by Frenchman was still not sufficient to bestow you with any measure of tact” he replied caustically, before he could quite stop himself. He half expected Ross to fly into a rage at his words, but instead the man’s usually frowning countenance broke into a wide grin as he, much to George’s bafflement, let out a loud snort of laughter.

“Now that sounds more like the George Warleggan I am acquainted with,” he said. “For a moment, I was afraid I had broken you.”

“I assure you, Ross, if anyone were to succeed in destroying my faculties, it would not be you” he retorted, pointedly avoiding Dr Enys’ gaze, lest he think of another doctor, of beatings and ice baths, of waking, frightened and sore, to the feeling of unyielding leather restraints biting into the skin of his wrists, of the wind whipping through his dishevelled hair s he stood at the edge of the cliff, wanting desperately for it all to be over—

He hissed through his teeth as the pain of his bullet wound once again chose to make itself known. Despite the unpleasantness of it, a part of him was grateful for it—at least it distracted him from those horrible phantom pains and memories that, no matter how hard he tried to bury the incident, he could never quite seem to forget.

“Unfortunately, the rest of me does not appear to be quite so intact” he remarked, a little wryly, in the hope to distract the two men from his momentary relapse—though Ross, to his understanding, was unaware of what had occurred, the doctor would probably be able to guess at the discomfort such a line of conversation would cause him at the very least.

“Your wound was quite serious,” Dr Enys replied with a frown. “You caught a fever from it after the initial surgery. We were concerned for a while that you would not…”

He trailed off, but George caught his meaning nonetheless. He swallowed convulsively.

“How long have I—?,” he began. “How long has it been since—?”

“Five days, more or less” replied Ross grimly.

“Five days? But I— Hanson…what has—?” He tried, without thinking, to sit up, only to be reminded by the sudden sharp pain in his side why that course of action had been inadvisable. Once again, Dr Enys placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down onto the bed.

“What has happened?,” supplied Ross. “Very little so far. Hanson has been recovering from his wound, but I intend to make sure that he shan’t remain in comfort for much longer. Nor his brother.”

George nodded slowly. He wanted to mull the situation over, come up with some sort of solution—Merceron would know what he had done by now and was surely even at this moment attempting to realise some form of retaliation—but the tiredness he had felt deep in his bones when he had first awoken was beginning to overcome him. Fortunately, Dr Enys seemed to have sensed this, as he jerked his head at Ross in a clear shooing motion. Surprisingly, the man left with little fuss, leaving the doctor and his patient alone.

“Would you mind if I performed a quick examination?,” Dwight asked. “I should like to be assured that you are on the road to recovery before I depart to Killewarren.”

George had never liked being touched—with a few notable exceptions—and that was truer than ever in the wake of the…incident with Dr Penrose. Still, he couldn’t very well refuse, and so he gave the man a sharp, curt nod of assent, preparing to endure his pokings and proddings as quietly as he could.

To his credit, the doctor was quick about his work, and was soon declaring himself pleased by his findings.

“All things considered,” he said, “you seem to be much improved. Nevertheless, it will set my mind at ease if you were not to be moved for the duration of your recovery.”

George, now caught fully in the grip of his exhaustion, could not manage much more than a disgruntled “hmm” in response, heavy eyelids fluttering closed.

“Now, I am aware that this situation is hardly ideal, and I—” Glancing down at the bed, Dr Enys cut himself off. His patient was already fast asleep.

[darlingpetao3]

Cursed (Ed Stevens x Reader)

Rating: G

Summary: Without being fully aware of it, you seek out Ed for comfort on an issue that had been eating away at you until you broke.

A/N: hey everyone. So, you all know that I like to write things that I think people would enjoy. But I also write things that I just need to write - sometimes just for me, to get out everything that’s in my head and feel a little better. I also write these stories so that I can come back to them and read them at a later date, again, to feel better. This one I’ve written here was something that I felt like I needed to write for me the other night. I don’t really know if anyone can relate to the issue in here (or even knows Ed Stevens very well - if you don’t, and would like to, start here), or if it’s any good, but I decided to post this in case it comforts someone else even a little too.

Warnings: Emotional Hurt/Comfort fic (with a sweet ending)

***

It’s dark out, but you’re unaware of the time. You open the door to the building, but you don’t register where you are. You don’t know anything right now. It’s dark, it’s late, and you have been walking around for God knows how long in this strange sense of limbo.

But if there’s one thing you do know, it’s that the overwhelming sense of sadness - loneliness - is inching up from your heart to your eyes where it will inevitably erupt in the form of wet, salty tears.

Scuffed, tiled floors?

Lemon Pledge?

Nacho cheese?

Did you hear your name just now?

“(Y/N)?”

There it is again.

You look up to find your good friend Ed standing in the doorway to his office. So you’re in Stuckey Bowl… You can’t even begin to wonder how you got all the way to this part of town on foot. Ed smiles at you at first, but when he takes a much better look at you, his expression turns to worry - dread, perhaps.

“Ed?” you ask, totally out of it still.

“Is everything-?”

He never gets to finish his sentence because the tears have already begun to fall, accompanied by a choked sob - the first of many. You feel like your legs are going to give out from under you, but Ed has rushed over the few steps to keep you steady in his arms. You hold on for dear life.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on?” he asks softly.

“I- It’s- Never- I-” Clearly you are incapable of forming a sentence.

“Come here,” he says, helping you into his office and whether it’s your friend’s kindness, his soothing voice, or just actually having someone there for you when you need it, it sends you into more vocal cries.

Ed is watching you so intently, attempting to get a better look at your face. Knowing him, he’s probably wishing to make everything you’re feeling disappear just by willing it away. Trying to be brave, you go to look him in the eye, but that just makes it worse. It seems far too much like pity, and you are already feeling too much of that for yourself.

He takes your hands in his and silently offers for you to sit down on his office’s sofa. A ball of tension forbids you from sitting back and relaxing, so instead you sit rigidly. You sniffle loudly, and Ed wordlessly hurries over to his desk to fetch a box of tissues for you.

“You probably know this already,” he starts slowly, “but you can tell me anything. And if you don’t want to talk, I’m still here for you anyway.” He places his hand on your arm. You nod, then inhale. Talking. Talking is good. You can get this out.

“You’re probably busy with a case if you’re here so late,” you say in an attempt to back out.

“Screw the case. You’re more important.”

“You’re not getting paid to watch me be a mess, though.”

“(Y/N).”

“Okay…”

In the most hoarse, wavering voice, you begin to tell of your inner sorrows.

“I am… Ed, I am so, so lonely. I know that sounds pathetic. Horribly pathetic and stupid, and I am ashamed, believe you me. And I realize that people are having real, actual problems that matter. But, you just have no idea as to the extent of this loneliness and sadness I’ve been feeling and how it’s been affecting me. Especially lately.”

“(Y/N)... you know you’re not alone,” Ed tries while he rubs circles on your back. “We’re all here for you, every day. Mike, Nancy, Molly, yours truly of course.”

“I know, I know. But that’s not what I mean, and I think you know that too.”

“You mean having someone? A significant other?” he clarifies. You nod, then look him dead on.

“Ed, have you ever seen me with anyone? Have you ever known me to have a boyfriend over the course of our friendship?”

“Well, yeah, I… hang on.” Ed stares off to the other side of the room.

“Coming up short, right?” you give a small wry laugh.

“But that can’t be right.” He’s frowning, he can’t believe it. “It can’t be.”

“Well, it is, believe it or not. Because I’m cursed. I have been cursed and no man - no decent man - has crossed my path, let alone attempted to cross my path. It’s like I have an invisible sign over my head saying STAY CLEAR OF THIS ONE. Or NOTHING SPECIAL, MOVE ALONG.”

“Stop it,” Ed orders you. His hands fall to your shoulders and he gets you to face him. “Don’t you ever say anything like that. You know that’s not true.”

You scoff.

“Except if you’ve lived this long, being lonely for this long, you start to actually believe it.” You think you’re about to start crying again, but Ed has you in a tight hold close to him. Your tears leak onto his T-shirt.

“You can’t give in to those thoughts, (Y/N).” His hand feels so nice on your back, and you almost think that maybe it’s rubbing every bad emotion and thought out of your body. “You just can’t. You are so worthy of love and it hurts me that you can’t see it. You are amazing and smart and funny and kind- I can keep this going all night. Just watch me!”

You chuckle the slightest bit.

“See? There you go. You have so many wonderful qualities that could take nights to rattle off and someone is going to see them all. ...You never know, someone already might have noticed.”

“Ed, this is Stuckeyville, are you kidding me? Do you not know all the men in this town? They are shit. You and Mike notwithstanding.” Ed opens his mouth to say something, but you accidentally interrupt. “Maybe I should just leave. I’ve lived here all my life, but what good has that done me? I mean, yes I have my job, and I love it. And generally life is alright, but what good is any of this without someone to spend your happiness with? Maybe they’re elsewhere. Because, you know, I don’t even know what that’s really like, Ed!” you cry. “What’s it like? What’s it like to have someone? What’s it like to be in love?”

Before he can answer, you dive in again for another hug, desperate to feel some more comfort from him.

“It’s… indescribable,” he says, words muffled in your hair. You don’t really have anything to say to that. That’s what everyone you’ve asked throughout your life has said. Indescribable. There are no words. Just once, you’d like to experience this mythical thing called love so that you can have no words to say about it too.

You give a little tired sigh, relieved even just the tiniest bit for at least having got those spiralling thoughts out. You just needed a sounding board. What on Earth would you do without Ed?

“Well, I’m sure I’ve bothered you enough already, so I should probably go home. And oh- I’m sorry, I totally ruined your shirt.”

“You have not bothered me in the slightest,” Ed assures you, “and I have plenty more of these shirts at home. Bought them in bulk. Not even remotely an issue.”

“Ha… okay, then.”

“Let me drive you home,” he offers.

Naturally, you let him because now it’s somehow the middle of the night, and neither one of you would feel comfortable with you wandering home on your own. When he reaches your place, Ed even walks you to your front door. Honestly, sometimes you wonder how this guy is single too.

“Thanks for the ride, Ed,” you say, “You really are the best. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“Let’s not think about that, but I’m glad that I was there to help you,” he says softly, pulling you in for a goodbye hug. “If you ever so much as feel even slightly upset again, I want you to call me. Find me. Track me down, I don’t care. I need to know you’re alright. Promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Thank you.”

You pull away from the hug, but before Ed lets you go, he says, “And (Y/N)?”

“Yeah?”

“About what you said earlier. Don’t leave Stuckyville. Just… just don’t. At least, not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t bear it if you did.”

“Oh. Well, then I won’t. At least, not yet.”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

“...Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Ed.”

***

In the morning when you go downstairs to fetch the paper, you are startled upon opening your front door.

“Jesus,” you say with almost no breath left. Ed sits mere feet away from you, slumped over in one of your porch’s chairs. He stirs awake at the sound of your voice.

“Ed, what are you doing here? Were you here all night? You’ll catch a cold!”

He rubs his eyes awake. “Ah, don’t worry about me. I have the good ol Stevens immune system.”

“But why are you here?”

He stands. “I was afraid you’d skip town first thing in the morning. I wanted to stop you in case you did.”

You laugh. “You should know me better by now. I’m all talk, with no follow-through.”

“Well, I’m glad in this instance.”

There’s something in his voice. It’s not just relief, but something else that you can’t put your finger on.

“Do you… want to come in? I can make you the most caffeinated coffee or tea ever. You couldn’t have slept a wink out there.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I’ll take you up on that.”

You open the door for him after grabbing the newspaper and soon getting started on the coffee. Once Ed finally has a piping hot cup in front of him, he takes a sip, then immediately puts it down.

“(Y/N)? This is terrible coffee. Simply atrocious.”

“Gee, thanks,” you laugh.

“Something has to be done about this. Would you like to get a cup of real coffee with me?”

“What? Now?”

“Yes, now. I’m pretty near falling asleep here. You may need to help me get to the cafe.”

“Okay, then…” you agree. But as you walk away, you stop and frown, and end up spinning around to face Ed.

“Ed. Did you…”

“Did I what?”

“Is this a date?” There’s a pause.

“I was kinda hoping it would be.” His little smile speaks more than words. “It doesn’t have to be though if you don’t want it to be.”

“No, no. I um, I want it to be, too.”

Ed tries to suppress his growing smile. “Good. Great. That’s great. Do you want to…?”

You follow his gaze and see what he’s referring to - your big fluffy robe.

“Oh right!” You giggle. “I’ll just be a minute.”

After you’ve ditched the robe and freshened up a bit, you head back downstairs to a waiting Ed Stevens. And now you can’t help but have a sliver of hope that maybe your curse has been broken.

[nancydrew65]

SKAM Austin Season 2 Episode 9 Thoughts

So, I thought this was the last episode, but then a clip was released today. I’m guessing there will be ten total episodes in this season. Like I said before, Daniel is officially canceled in my book, so if you don’t want to hear me ranting about what an asshole he is... maybe don’t read this.

Home

Grace had to drive out to Clay’s school just to talk to him. God, can she get a break?

Clay is trying to laugh things off, but Grace is serious AF.

And then that asshole calls Grace a slut. He is such a horrible human being. Why does Daniel believe him over Grace? I will never understand this storyline. He knows his brother is psycho, why would he believe anything he says?

Grace “apologizes” to Clay and he says: “It is a scary time to be a guy, you know?” I thought that was an especially good line to put in to SKAM Austin. Men in the United States say that all the time now that #MeToo is a thing. Heck, even our president says it. It is disgusting. I mean, you think it is scary to be a guy and be accused of sexual harassment? How about being a woman and experiencing sexual harassment. That is a hell of a lot scarier.

Then Grace goes off on him, exposing him for the terrible person he is. She is such a badass in this scene. I missed this beautiful, strong woman.

Clay rushes to assure Grace that he didn’t do anything to her, but it is hard to believe him. Grace just threatened to report him to the police. I am willing to bet he would lie to her, just to get her off his case.

But I have to say, my favorite part of the clip is when Grace walked away and Megan was waiting for her on the curb to drive her home. This brings up a small issue I have with Austin. It is not even really an issue, but something I would have liked to see. I wish we could have seen Megan and Grace’s relationship more this season. Last season, we didn’t really get much and we didn’t this season either. I think it is a problem with the remakes in general. The Eva character kind of gets sidelined in Noora’s season. The remake that portrays these girls’ friendship the best is SKAM NL in my opinion. I love seeing scenes of Isa and Liv together because they are just so close.

That being said, I adored this scene. I think it may be my favorite iteration of the confrontation scene yet.

Ready to Talk

Grace texts Daniel about everything, explaining that she might never know what happened, how terrifying the whole ordeal was, that she might have been drugged. Daniel starts texting back, but never sends anything.

This is the point of no return for me. Let me tell you a story. When I first watched SKAM Season 2, I didn’t find anything too inherently wrong with it. At this point in time, I wasn’t aware of the whole social media and text aspect of the series, so I was just watching the full episodes without any of the context of the instagram posts or text messages posted. Sure, I definitely felt uncomfortable about some parts of the storyline, like William constantly pressuring Noora to go out with him or come to his parties. Even when the scene came out where William confronted Noora about the Niko situation, despite how awfully he treated her, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I thought, “Well, he doesn’t know the whole story. Who knows what Niko told him and Noora really didn’t get a chance to explain herself.” I finished off the season with this mindset. It was only later that I learned about the text messages posted online. I learned that Noora had explained what happened to William, telling him that she had most probably been sexually assaulted. This is where the character of William lost any sympathy I might have had for him. Going back to SKAM Austin, Daniel disregards his girlfriend’s feelings when he has full knowledge that she might have been drugged and sexually assaulted. He treats her like shit after this, not texting her or talking to her. Nothing he does can ever redeem him in my eyes. Grace deserves better.

God is a Woman

The girls are all chilling, getting ready to go to Prom later. Kelsey waltzes in, looking gorgeous in her pale blue prom dress. She talks about she used to feel that she had to be skinny to be successful, but now she realizes otherwise. She pulls out a water bottle that is filled with alcohol.

Megan refuses a drink when Kelsey offers, saying she wants to take a break from drinking - and from Marlon.

Kelsey whole heartedly agrees, stating that they don’t need boys to validate them. This is one of the most flawed parts of Season 2 for me. Kelsey and Megan realize that they don’t need boys to have self-worth (which is such a great message for teenage girls), but Grace (the lead of this season) experiences the opposite of that. She is strong and confident without a man in the first season and the beginning of this season, but by the end she needs Daniel to be happy. There is so much disconnect between the two messages this season is trying to put forward.

Jo complains about her boy trouble with the guy she’s been talking to online and the girls assure her she doesn’t need him.

#Prom

OK, well this Prom is a hell of a lot nicer than the one my school offered. We actually had Prom on the exact same night, so…

Pen-Joe comes up to Jo and Grace, asking Jo for a dance. Like the boss lady that she is, Jo replies “I already have a boyfriend” in Spanish. That is right, Pen-Joe. You lost your chance with the beautiful woman that is Josefina Valencia.

Back inside the dance, Abby announces Daniel as Prom King, but apparently he didn’t show up. This reminds me of yet another awful thing Daniel did to Grace. He said they were going to Prom together, but then he never shows up. Dude.

Zoya wins Prom Queen!!!!! I wasn’t sure if we were going to get this scene, but we did and I am so damn happy for her. She deserves it.

Grace asks Pen-Joe where Daniel is, but he just says that “family stuff”. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Out on the dance floor, Kelsey is dancing with a nice-looking dude, Zoya and Megan are dancing together, and Jo accepts Pen-Joe’s offer for a dance. You better make him apologize for the rude way he treated you, girl.

Aw, Grace posts a selfie of herself looking happy, but you can tell it is all a facade. She goes to join Megan and Zoya.

Welcome to My Life

It is the middle of the night and Grace gets a message on instagram from xxtrinity2121 about Clay.

A conversation ensues between the two girls. Apparently this mystery instagram girl is their version of Mari, telling Grace nothing happened between her and Clay. Obviously, this news is a great relief to Grace.

They also talk about how stressed they both are, with xxtrinity2121 confessing that she is very depressed and sometimes thinks about killing herself. Since this clip was posted, a chat was posted on SKAM Austin’s website between Grace and this girl which leads me to believe she has a more important role than just being the Mari stand-in. I have heard a lot of theories of who she is. A lot of people think she is Tyler, who is either trying to fool Grace or he was actually the person in bed with her and Clay. I don’t think the latter option is true because it looked like a girl in the bed to me when I re-watched that clip. Another interesting idea is that she is the Austin version of Even. I mean her username xxtrinity2121 has the number 21:21 in it. I really like this theory and hope it is true. That would be so interesting.

Usually Never Wrong

Zoya and Grace are walking down the hall, when Zoya pulls Abby over. She apologizes for not believing Abby about what a bad guy Hunter is. Abby tells her no problem and says she is really happy how everyone came together to support Zoya as Prom Queen, how it would have been racist if Zoya hadn’t won. Now, I don’t think Abby was trying to be mean. I genuinely think she was trying to be nice, but obviously it really hurt Zoya. She walks away. God, I feel so bad for Zoya. She deserved to win Prom Queen on her own merit, not because people think it would be racist for her not to. I think this is really gearing up to her season and I really hope she gets to have one.

Grace spots Daniel in the quad and rushes up to him, asking where he’s been. He says he’s been to see Clay. No elaboration. Then he tells her he’s going to New York for the summer. Well, I guess it’s not as bad as moving to London permanently like William was planning on doing.

Grace says she wants to talk and Daniel says “I’m done talking. It’s too much.” Too much? For you? Grace could have been sexually assaulted and this asshole has the nerve to claim it’s too much for him?God, I hate Daniel.

Grace runs after him, yelling her most iconic line yet. “Daniel, stop being a little bitch.” She tells him off. She says that a lot of stuff happened and it sucked. For her. I’m really glad they gave her that line. Because it is so damn true. Then she starts talking about how no one has loved her like Daniel has, blah, blah, blah. I wish we’d gotten more of Grace’s parents backstory because that would have given better context to this scene.

Daniel still gets in the car and drives away. As Grace is crying at the curb, we see him run back to her and they embrace.

She says she can explain everything, and he says she doesn’t need to. A lot of people were overjoyed at this line, but…. She already explained everything in the text she sent him and he ignored her and treated her like shit afterward when he finally saw her. This line makes no sense to me.

Whatever, I know a lot of people were happy they finally got together, but I can never fully forgive Daniel.

General Thoughts

This was a weird week because we got a bunch of clips on Saturday and then on one Monday and nothing else the entire week. I do think there were a lot of good parts of the clips, aside from Daniel drama. Also, the clip where Grace and Clay talk might be my favorite clip this season or for SKAM Austin in general. I think they executed it beautifully. See you next week for the last episode of this season!

[shinneth]

Gem Ascension Tropes (5XF-specific: G - J)

Primary General Post ✦ Full Article ✦  Primary Peri Post ✦ Primary 5XF Post 

Get a Hold of Yourself, Man!: Hilariously shares this trope with Peridot and even invokes it on the very same person: Steven. During Chapter 2 of This is Who I Am, after Peridot is poofed via gator ambush, her gemstone – while thankfully undamaged by the gator – drops straight into murky waters and sinks out of sight. This prompts Steven to cry out for her and panic; he impulsively attempts to dive into the water unprotected to retrieve Peridot, but 5XF is quick to stop him and doesn’t hesitate to give him a stern slap while denouncing him for wasting time with his sentimentality when he should be going after his girlfriend in a sensible way that won’t get him killed.

Green-Eyed Monster: 5XF is extremely jealous of Peridot, and the rest of the Crystal Gems by proxy. Peridot, however, is the biggest offender by far. See The Resenter for the multitude of reasons why 5XF can’t stand her little sister. It’s actually somewhat justified.

Grew a Spine: A bit of a misguided variant that was triggered from living through years of Homeworld’s oppressive society rather than being fed up with Peridot and Steven’s antics. Though 5XF’s lack of faith in them did play a role in how she took this trope a little too far at first, it’s noted in the narrative and stated by 5XF herself that she was sick of being cautious and playing by the rules all the time. 5XF had to live that way her entire life in order to survive. Now, 5XF realized she did want to take her life back, but couldn’t bring herself to trust anyone other than herself in that endeavor (which was problematic, as 5XF was stranding herself on an alien planet she knew nothing of and had no home to return to). It was definitely to her benefit that 5XF worked up the nerve to finally act on her desire to be independent; though she initially stumbled a lot due to unfortunate circumstances coinciding with her nervous breakdown, she was able to meet Sphalerite due to this – and in more ways than one, 5XF finally found someone she could trust who could help rebuild her life.

Had To Be Sharp: Much like Peridot, 5XF had a strategy she stuck to in order to stay alive in Homeworld society. Unlike Peridot, 5XF’s method was more passive. While both saw no value in having “friends”, 5XF was content to just keep to herself and do her job rather than to go beyond her means. While Peridot aspired to dominate her kind, 5XF opted to blend into the background to ensure her safety.

Handshake Refusal: Not only does 5XF staunchly reject Peridot’s offer of a handshake greeting when she’s first released from her bubble, she doesn’t hesitate to slap that hand away from her.

Heel Realization: Hints of it were shown when 5XF got extremely upset at Peridot nearly killing herself just to keep her dark self from killing both sides of Steven. It wasn’t until the situation was entirely resolved when 5XF watched the fully restored Steven and Peridot cling to each other and sob out the mutual trauma they went through to keep each other alive against the odds that she realized she had done a very awful thing on par with 5XG’s level of brutality that 5XF so desperately wanted to avoid. Feeling shame and guilt rather than satisfaction after seeing what she put the couple through is what really made 5XF realize she screwed up and wouldn’t be able to live with herself until she properly atoned for this. Surprisingly, Steven and Peridot getting back at her earlier wasn’t punishment enough in 5XF’s eyes – she knows that alone won’t absolve her of wrongdoing, which is why she confessed her crimes to Garnet later and accepted whatever punishment was handed down to her.

Hyper-Awareness: Discussed by many characters throughout This is Who I Am. While she possesses no inherent supernatural abilities like her sister, 5XF has unusually exceptional observational skills and can easily pick up on details that often get overlooked. No doubt her insatiable curiosity is a factor here, but 5XF also has very sharp instinctive skills, reflexes, and deductive reasoning. These abilities are how 5XF could piece together that Peridot repressed a certain traumatic moment of her life that would be to her detriment to ignore. It also plays into how she of all gems was Genre-Savvy enough to implement an Opponent Switch on a scheduled Mirror Match, as 5XF applied what she learned in an earlier Info Dump to realize playing the latter trope straight would immediately backfire. And while 5XF is fully aware how rushed her relationship with Sphalerite is, she actually has a logical justification for indulging in it: she already pieced together that their relationship will be difficult to maintain due to Sphalerite being a fusion, which severely limits the time the two can be together. She rightly assumes Steven and Peridot won’t be okay with their relationship, either. Therefore, she intends to make the most of the time she does still have with Sphalerite, which requires them to rush through what few steps they didn’t skip. This way, 5XF can rest assured knowing she made the most of her limited time with her lover.

Identical Stranger: Aside from having loose-hanging sideburns instead of curls framing her face, 5XF looks exactly like Peridot prior to her reformation at the beginning of the story. However, Peridot never acknowledged 5XF’s existence during her Homeworld days, while 5XF only knew of her second-hand from other Peridots she terrorized directly, as they were assigned to neighboring workstations.

If You Kill Her, You Will Be Just Like Her: Seeing firsthand how badly she physically, mentally, and emotionally damaged Steven and Peridot made 5XF feel horrible inside when she expected to feel validated and fulfilled. Only then did she realize the elaborate trap she forced the couple into was incredibly cruel and sadistic; a trait scarily similar to 5XG’s approach. The last thing 5XF wants is to become anything like her little sister’s past life, so this revelation really forced her to reevaluate the decisions she made. 5XF came to the conclusion that she not only did wrong by Peridot and Steven, but needed to do whatever she could to redeem herself in hopes of distancing herself from being anything like 5XG as much as possible.

Ignorant Minion: Like the rest of her kind, 5XF has no idea what’s going on during Gem Ascension, and is only beginning to learn the details of her situation when she’s brought out of stasis on Earth in This is Who I Am. The very concept of being able to discover her own identity on Earth is something she’s still uncomfortable with.

Jerk-to-Nice-Gem Plot: While her actions in This is Who I Am Chapters 4 and 5 made her pretty damn diabolical, the circumstances of how it happened were pretty unavoidable; 5XF didn’t trust Steven or Peridot, and it’s technically their fault for not doing a good enough job making their guest feel comfortable in this strange new world (releasing her in some of the most dangerous locations on Earth certainly doesn’t help), while failing to properly foster a trusting relationship. And it turns out in the final chapter that 5XF legitimately feels terrible about her prior actions and is committed to atone for them, because the last thing she wants to be is a monster who gets away with her crimes like Peridot used to do regularly in her previous life. Now that Sphalerite succeeded where Steven and Peridot failed in helping 5XF understand how exciting and liberating her new life on Earth will be, she’s much more agreeable and compliant with the other Crystal Gems. She still hates Steven and especially Peridot, unfortunately, but hopefully future story arcs will show her gentler, more considerate side that has already been present in her introductory story arc.

Job Mindset Inertia: Granted, it hasn’t been that long since 5XF’s career (that she’s basically had since her emergence) ended abruptly, but even later chapters of This is Who I Am show her still worrying about her productivity/work rate.

Jumping Off the Slippery Slope: For the first three chapters of This is Who I Am, 5XF appears to gradually warm up to Steven and Peridot after immediately deeming them untrustworthy and incompetent when she’s first set free. She even acts selflessly for their benefit by urging the couple to discuss a difficult topic neither would have thought to do on their own. However, by Chapter 4, she’s back to doubting the couple’s integrity and honesty while questioning her own actions. Her snap decision to only trust herself leads her to stealing Peridot’s tablet and running away. She ends up in a temple, accidentally gets infused with power from a questionable source, and when Peridot and Steven nearly corner her to bring her back, she trusts the random voice in her head to give in to power so that she can instead capture both and force them into deathmatches while she watches with glee. She gets better.