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petrichorium · 2 months

Note

also on my hands and knees dying to know about ur divorce (and perhaps reconciliation maybe…) with sir croc

Firstly I wanna say croc is THE reason for the divorced tier I had everyone in the husband/fiance/bf (and cusp + complicated) tiers I had the list downloaded and then I looked at croc in the husband tier and I was like no. Divorced………

Anyway I think you’re a marriage of convenience at first. Crocodile needs a wife to look more like An Upstanding Citizen Ready To Settle Down for his plans in Alabasta, you need the stability and rapport for your own reasons. A deal was struck (including a nice shiny prenup and an easy way out for both of you), the wedding goes off without a hitch, and now you’re cohabitating.

You’re all but a stranger, truthfully, though he’ll admit you were one of the most beautiful brides he’s seen walking down the aisle. And he finds your presence in his home less distracting than expected—you stay out of his way mostly, though the pair of you eat meals together and sleep in the same bed and you are always expected to be on his arm for formal occasions. You’re more than decent company, slowly warming to him and growing more open; willing to give advice on occasion, even, and it’s good advice he’s prone to heeding.

Which is why he’s blindsided when you drop the papers on his desk. There’s little he can do—they were practically already signed before the wedding, and in the surprise he can’t compose himself enough to think up a proper protest. All he can do is fold his hands together as you turn to leave, clear his throat, and call out, “Might I ask why?”

You shrug. It almost seems sad. “I want something more. You’re a very busy man, I don’t think you can give that to me.”

And those words haunt him, all the more because every trace of you is gone in the span of a few days. He lays in his bed, alone, pondering how much you truly lived in his home and how much he truly had to give you. He thought he made sure you wanted for nothing—but, clearly, that wasn’t the case. And if he’d known you’d be gone in the span of a few years…

In hindsight perhaps he’d been a bit distant. His work took up the vast majority of his time. All those meals were more often than not spent in silence, with Crocodile leaving long before you finished your food; you were often asleep before he came to bed, still slumbering when he woke; he’d arrive to those formal events with you on his arm and part ways almost immediately, drawn to meet with some politician or another and leaving you on your own.

The bed feels empty.

And then he gets a report about Nefertari Vivi. It all goes downhill from there. The empire he spent years building crumbles beneath his feet, toppled by that godforsaken princess and the upstart pirate with a straw hat. And as he’s carted off to Impel Down… he still thinks of you.

It’s perhaps a good thing that you left when you did. In a certain sense it saved you, severing ties with him when you did. But foolishly he wonders about the timing—wonders if it would have happened at all if you’d stayed. Logically he knows the rationale is anything but sound.

Instinctively… whenever he gets out, whatever he intends to do next, he thinks he needs you at his side again.

So when the break-out happens, and Crocodile is given a freedom he’d nearly given up on, the first thing he does is begin to track you down.

It takes more than he thought it would. His web of informants isn’t half of what it once was, and his name no longer pulls as much weight, forced to remain in the shadows as he now is. You, meanwhile, catch onto the mystery person trying to keep tabs on you far too quickly for his liking—flighty thing, never quite setting down roots, quick to flee at the first sign of danger. A trait that has only seemed to worsen in his absence, it seems.

But it’s only a matter of time. He’s Sir Crocodile after all, back from banishment to the depths of the ocean, sure to see the sun again. His men close in on you within a year as he builds up his numbers again, but Crocodile ensures he’s the first to make contact.

He intends to show you immediately how things will be different this time.

You’ve made temporary home on a quaint little island, sharing a house with a little old granny who lets him in eagerly when he presents a bouquet and says it’s for you. There he waits, served tea and biscuits that he doesn’t taste.

And then the door opens. You pause when you see him, eyes wide—donning a breezy sundress you’d never have worn for him in Alabasta, your hair wind-tousled so unlike the meticulous updos he always saw you in, with a basket of produce under arm—and the sight of you has his chest unwinding. It’s like he can breathe again.

Not that he had any intentions to before, but the smell of your familiar perfume steels his resolve to never let you disappear again.

#one piece x reader #sir crocodile x reader #ask.🌧#saintshigaraki #char.🌧 sir crocodile #mine.🌧#concept heavily discussed w kae and alec on discord LOL so ty if u see this 🫶🏻#maybe tomorrow I’ll write reader’s side of the reunion but I am Eepy so I leave it there LOL #but just……. him being a bit neglectful the first go. kinda taking you for granted #and then having the shock of his life when u leave + he is taken down #and it turns into this almost psychosexual thing where u represent that success & power & being on the top #so he Needs you again and this time he will Not ignore u he will cherish you and hold you tightly and shower you w whatever you want #(unless you want a longer leash……… he will not give u that. u will be staying close)#(on his lap ideally)#anywayyyyy #did NOT proofread I am so tired LMFAOOOOOO #cw.yandere #I suppose LOL

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varpusvaras · 3 months

Text

Fox is being punished.

That has to be it. He had been a bad Commander, a bad soldier, a bad brother. All he had ever done had been mistakes, one after the other, leading up to his miserable end.

But even after that, even after his body had been broken, even after he had had to lay there, in pain and numb, slowly choking out because no matter how much he had wanted to, his lungs would not draw in another breath. The only mercy he had been granted there had been the fact that he had lost consciousness before the end had actually arrived, so he had not had to actually see it.

Fox had known when the end had come, though. There had been a flash of something, a landscape of rivers and lights he had fallen through, all the way back towards the hard ground beneath him.

Then, he had stood there, watching himself laying on that hard ground, unmoving and cold.

Fox had watched as his men had gathered around him, how they tried to find a pulse, even though Fox himself could tell it had been too late just by looking at himself. He had looked like a doll that had been played too harshly with, and then left behind, once his owner had grown bored with him.

Fox had watched as his men had gathered his body and covered it, despite the fact that he had still had his entire armor on. He had watched them carry it away.

Fox had not followed them.

He knows what happens to all the bodies already.

He did…he did not want to see himself go through it.

It is selfish of him, he knows. He should’ve followed them, should’ve watched himself burn, like all of his brothers before him, who had been fortunate enough to make it back. It shouldn’t have mattered.

He is already dead, after all.

Still, he had not followed them. Instead, he just continues to stand there, at the foot of the Temple, where he had taken his last breath.

He had thought he would see his brothers again.

He had thought that he would finally get to apologise to Thorn. He had thought that Thorn would throw his arm around his shoulders and call him stupid for thinking that he had something to apologise for.

He had thought that he would get to run to Ponds’s arms again. He had thought he would get to be held, and his older brother, always forgiving, would tell him that he still loved him, no matter what.

Fox stares at the ground, where his body had fallen.

It seems that once again, he had thought he deserved more than he was ever meant to.

— — —

Fox is being punished.

That has to be it. He is being punished for all his failures, by having him witness the same things happen over and over again, but this time, he is even more helpless than ever before.

He watches as his brothers continue to die. He watches as bolts that he could’ve warned them about hit them over and over again, because his voice doesn’t carry anymore.

He watches as his brothers continue to lose themselves, pulling the triggers of their blasters over and over again, because his hands are as much nothing as the air around them is.

He watches as the Galaxy continues to fall deeper and deeper into the darkness.

He watches it all, and he knows it is his fault.

— — —

Fox thinks about visiting Alderaan, sometimes.

He misses it. It’s weird. He misses a place that he has never been to. He misses a place that was never his home, and never would be.

He misses-

Fox pushes the thought away from his mind, frightened of the possibility of what will happen if he thinks about it, thinks about them too much. He is not tied to the laws of regular travelling of the Universe anymore, and he is afraid that if he thinks too much, the next thing he knows, he will be standing there, looking right at them.

He can’t do that.

— — —

Fox watches Bly die.

His screams don’t reach him before he is gone, and they don’t reach him after.

— — —

Fox watches Stone die.

He screams, again, even though he knows it’s pointless. He screams at him, orders him to get up, orders him not to leave Thire alone to this place.

Stone doesn’t hear him. He dies, bleeding out in front of Fox, his blood flowing through Fox’s hands, no matter how hard Fox tries to hold it all in.

— — —

Fox watches his brothers die.

He still tries, for some reason. Tries to hold them, tries to keep them from falling apart, tries to tell them they aren’t alone as they fade.

He tries, because he has to. Because he didn’t try hard enough when he still had the chance.

— — —

He thinks of Rex a lot, whenever he sits by one of his brothers during their last moments.

He thinks of Rex and the ARC Trooper in Rex’s arms and with a hole in his chest, and he sees himself holding the weapon.

Fox is being punished.

— — —

Fox watches his brothers die.

He stays with them until the end.

All of them leave Fox after.

— — —

Fox surrounds himself with his brothers.

He sits there, among them, the living and the dead. He listens to their voices, he watches their faces, he searches their eyes for recognition as they look towards him.

It never comes. They can only look towards Fox, but not at him.

Fox doesn’t know if he even wants them to see him.

He doesn’t want them to leave him.

He closes his eyes and listens to his brothers’ voices.

— — —

Fox watches Wolffe.

He follows him around as he goes across the Galaxy, and closes his eyes whenever he pulls the trigger.

Fox watches Cody.

He follows him around as he goes across the Galaxy, and holds his hand whenever he pulls the trigger.

Fox watches them destroy themselves, and all he can do is cry silent, invisible tears.

— — —

Fox watches his brothers die.

As he sits there, in a pool of blood that cannot stain him any further, he knows that he is being punished.

He can’t take it anymore.

Fox is being punished, and there is no place left for him that won’t hurt him further.

He still goes, wishing for the reprieve of a different kind of pain.

— — —

The sun is setting when Fox arrives to Alderaan.

He stands there, at the gates to the Palace, and watches the sun disappear behind the mountains and paint the sky with the colors of the warmth he can not feel anymore.

He only has enough courage to enter through the gates once the sky has begun to turn dark.

He remembers the stories Bail and Breha had told him. He remembers the terraces Bail had told him about, the ones where he would sit with Breha whenever he was back home. He remembers the halls Bail had described to him, the ones where he and Breha would dance in when they had the time, when they had a moment just for themselves to enjoy.

He remembers the corridors and hallways Breha had told him about, the ones she had grown up running through, her shoes forgotten in the haste of seeing the ships leave in the morning.

With the stories playing in his mind, he wanders through the Palace, all the way to the living rooms of the Queen and her Consort.

Fox can hear them, through the door. He recognises the low, gentle sway of Bail’s voice, and he knows the melody of Breha’s voice as she speaks.

He stands there, outside their door, and listens to them speak words he cannot make out.

Bail says something. Breha laughs.

Fox smiles. His tears don’t burn his eyes anymore.

He sits on the floor and leans against their door, and he listens.

— — —

When the morning comes, Fox hides.

He’s not hiding because he fears they will see him. He knows painfully well by now that he is invisible to the Galaxy as it is now.

No, he hides, so that he can’t see them.

So it goes. Fox hides in the halls and rooms of the Palace, living as a shadow in the house that was never his home, and he listens to the voices of the people he had once hoped would be his home.

He knows the sound of Bail’s footsteps already, and he quickly learns Breha’s as well. Sometimes, he catches a glimpse of them, and he averts his eyes, no matter how much he wants to do nothing else than just look at them.

There’s pain waiting for him in their faces, and there is pain here, where he doesn’t see them.

Fox is being punished, after all.

When the night falls, he sits by their door and listens to them talk.

Bail says something. Breha laughs.

There is silence.

Breha cries.

It’s an awful sound.

Fox thinks that it’s his fault.

— — —

Breha is not back to the Palace yet.

Fox still sits in front of their door, even though there is no conversation going on on the other side.

It’s silent, for a long while, but then there is noise.

Bail is crying.

It’s an awful sound.

Fox thinks it’s his fault, too.

After all, had he not ruined everything that Bail had worked so long for?

— — —

They have a child, now.

It’s impossible for Fox to not know that. Everyone around him is talking about her.

The little Princess of Alderaan.

Fox knows that they always wanted children. They talked about it often. So often, that sometimes, when Fox had been foolish enough for a moment, he had imagined a little girl himself, a little girl with dark eyes and dark hair, with a toothy smile and bright laugh.

A little girl, just for them.

He’s happy for them. He really is. He knows how much they wanted to have a child. A little girl, just for them.

Fox had always known that he had been nothing more than a pawn on the board of war.

Somehow, there is still a new pain to be found, from the realisation that the Galaxy and the lives in it would continue to move forward even without him.

They have a child, now. A little girl, just for them, like it had been before Fox, and how it is now without him.

— — —

The little Princess has not been sleeping properly, lately.

Fox doesn’t know a lot about babies, but he has heard some say that it is quite normal for them to sometimes go through periods where they seem to be doing nothing more than cry, day and night.

The little Princess has certainly been doing that for the past week.

Her cries always start the same. First as a few hiccups, that will eventually grow to sobs, and then to loud, demanding and shrill screams, that will go and and on, before she grows tired, and her little voice becomes hoarse, until she has the energy to just whimper.

Fox hates the sound. He hates every second of every part of it.

There is a need inside of him. A need that tells him that he must stand up, that he must walk through the door, that he must take the child and soothe her until she stops crying, that he must do so until she is happy again.

He wonders if this was what the Prime felt like when he had been given his son.

The little Princess cries. Fox listens to it, his teeth drawing blood that will not flow from his lip as he bites down on it, in order to keep himself composed. Breha and Bail sound both exhausted, as far as Fox can hear through the door, but still, they carry on, trying their best to soothe their daughter, as she continues to cry.

Eventually, a silence falls.

It draws on, far longer than it has in many days.

Fox listens to it for a while, until it becomes simply too much. For a week, he has been holding himself together, and now, during a moment of peace, he has run out of any patience he had still had left.

He stands, and moves into the rooms on the other side of the door.

He moves slowly and quietly through the dark living room. It feels appropriate, still, even though he makes no sound anymore for anyone to hear. He glances at the marks of a long life together, a life that he was just a small, brief moment in, and makes his way to the bedroom.

Fox does hesitate for a long moment before he actually steps in. It feels like he is intruding, no matter how many times there had been promises, promises of this place, promises for his place exactly here. After all, those promises had never been able to come through, all because of Fox himself. There is no place for him here, anymore.

Bail and Breha are both asleep. Fox can see them lay on the bed, turned towards each other in their slumber. Breha is curled against Bail, and Bail is curled around her, his back to Fox, like he is protecting her.

Fox finally looks at them properly, now that they have their eyes closed.

He feels like a stranger, stumbling upon a picture of a perfect life. It has been a while since he has wished for anything else than the final mercy of true death be granted upon him, but now, there is a longing for a life inside of him, burning him cold.

He stands there and he longs, longs for two things he cannot have at the same time.

Fox is being punished.

There is a small, dim light on at the nightstand on the other side of the bed, and next to it, is a small cot.

Fox tiptoes around the bed, and he slowly, so slowly and carefully, makes his way to the cot and looks in.

She is sleeping there, the little Princess of Alderaan. She has a round face and small body, and tiny arms and legs with even tinier hands and feet.

There is a tuft of brown hair on top of her head.

Fox has a feeling that if her eyes were open, he would see that they were also dark.

A little girl, with dark eyes and brown hair.

A little girl, just for them.

There she is, just like Fox had imagined her.

There she is, now that Fox is not.

She makes little sounds when she sleeps. Tiny gasps and soft sniffles, and even tinier whines every now and then as she shifts around a bit, her eyelids fluttering for a second before she settles back down.

Fox cannot look away.

He stands there, looking at her, at her round cheeks and tiny nose, at the tiny shadows her little eyelashes are casting on her skin, at the way her hair is longer at her forehead and curls ever so slightly towards the left side of her head.

She whines a little, then again, a little louder. Breha shifts a little on the bed behind Fox.

She needs her rest.

Fox knows it doesn’t matter, but he hums.

There hadn’t been any songs for them when Fox had been little. No lullabies or nursery rhymes. The only songs that had been sung to them had been the endless melodies of the ocean and its waves, and the songs of war, of bravery and brotherhood.

None of them are suitable to be sung to a little Princess in the dead of the night, to lull her back to sleep.

It’s a good thing, then, that she cannot hear him.

Still, despite all of this, Fox hums the song to her, the song of his brothers and their hearts. He hums the song over and over again, with his voice that cannot tire anymore, as it is as soundless as it was eternal.

The whines stop. She squirms around a bit, before she settles again, and stays there for the rest of the night.

Fox flees when the morning comes and he hears Bail awaken.

— — —

Now that Fox has given a part of himself, he cannot take it back anymore.

He goes in the next night, stands there next to the cot and looks at the little Princess, and he hums the song for her. She sleeps through night after night.

Fox knows he is only deluding himself in thinking he is actually helping in any way.

He still leaves every morning.

— — —

Babies grow fast.

Fox notices it all by himself without anyone having to tell him. She seems to get bigger after every week.

Leia. The little Princess. A little girl, just for them.

She is five months now, Fox had heard Breha mention it the day before.

Fox realises that she must’ve been born right after the Rise of the Empire.

It feels like it has been a lot longer than that.

— — —

Fox hums. Leia had fallen asleep an hour ago, so it was still early into the night. Bail and Breha were also in the bed already, trying to catch as much sleep as they could.

Fox had really thought they were asleep.

Until he hears a quiet, choked sob.

Bail pushes himself up instantly at the sound. Even though Fox could disappear instantly from where he stood, his mind had stopped working for a moment right then, and it’s already too late when the thought to do so finally crosses him.

“Breha?” Bail murmurs.

Breha doesn’t answer instantly. Fox hears her draw in a deep breath that comes out accompanied by another sob.

“I-” She says, and tries to breathe in deep again, but her voice just wavers more when she speaks after it. “I miss him. I miss him so much. He was supposed to be here.”

“I know”, Bail says. “I know. I miss him too.”

Breha buries her face into Bail’s chest and cries.

“He was supposed to be here”, she sobs, digging a hot, burning blade of pain deeper into Fox’s chest with every noise. “He was supposed to be here, with us.”

It takes Fox a moment to realise that they are talking about him.

He looks Bail in the eyes properly for the first time since before his death.

They are full of tears, already making their way down his face, steadily and quietly as he holds Breha through her cries, steadfast and strong as always.

Fox remembers how much he loves them again.

He wants so badly to reach for them in that moment, he wants so badly for them to see him, to hear him, like he is still there.

But he is not there.

He continues humming, through his own, quiet and weightless tears, and Leia sleeps through the night.

— — —

Fox stays when the morning comes.

He cannot look away from them anymore, either. So he watches as they dress themselves and then dress Leia, and he follows them when they walk out of the Palace and through the gardens, down the hill and to a smaller garden, away from the main one at the central courtyard.

Fox didn’t remember either of them ever mentioning it to him. They had both talked so much about all the plants and flowers of the Palace in detail when Fox had asked, in wonder of having living things in such abundance all around, even indoors.

The little garden looks new, as Fox takes a better look at it. The stones around the flowerbeds have no weather to them yet, and the ground on which the flowers themselves stand is dark and loose and looks like it has just been placed there.

There are young trees at the center of the garden, their blooming branches arching over white stones in the middle.

It takes a Fox a moment to realise that it’s a grave.

There are some petals that have fallen on the stone in the middle. Bail sweeps them away, before resting his hand on top of the stone.

“Good morning, our love”, he says, and with air that he doesn’t need to breathe stuck inside his throat, Fox reads the writing on the stone.

Where he lives now is in our hearts

Eternal, everlasting

Like love

Fox Organa

Remembered and lived by his wife, husband and daughter

Oh.

Fox had thought- he had thought-

Breha takes Leia’s little hand to hers, and she presses both it and her own hand on top of the stone as well.

“Good morning, love”, she says. “Say good morning, Buir.”

Leia is five months old. Fox knows that she is too young to know how to speak yet.

Still, she babbles happily, her little fingers curling against the stone, and Fox-

Fox stands beside his own grave and cries.

— — —

He looks at Leia that night as she sleeps. He looks at her round cheeks and tiny nose, her dark hair and tiny hands and feet, the way her chin is shaped and the way her mouth curves.

He looks at her, and hums a song for her, to their little Princess. To their little girl, a little girl who is just for them.

Fox sits on the edge of the bed once Bail and Breha are both asleep, and he feels like he somehow belongs, even though he is not there.

— — —

Leia is six months old.

She is still rather small, as far as Fox has understood, but Bail and Breha are not worried by that. Fox trusts that they have a good reason.

He is sitting on his spot on the edge of the bed, humming the song, as Leia suddenly scrunches her face, looking very much like she is about to cry.

Fox stands up in a hurry and leans over the cot.

“Shhh”, he hushes. “Shhh, it’s alright, it’s alright.”

He only realises that he is trying for nothing, like all the times before, after he has already said the words.

Indeed, Leia does open her eyes, her face still scrunched up and her mouth drawn tightly, and she blinks rapidly, and-

She looks up, her dark eyes locking in on Fox’s.

Fox freezes.

No. No, she is not looking at him, he reminds himself. She cannot see him, since he is not actually there-

Leia’s face relaxes as she continues staring at him. Her mouth goes lax for a moment, and then it curls into a toothy smile, and she reaches her hands towards him.

Fox cannot help it. Readying himself for inevitable disappointment, he reaches his hand into the cot.

Leia’s hands reach for his. First they don’t seem to be able to grasp on anything, but then, all of a sudden, they curl around Fox’s thumb. It feels like there is static between them, as a layer on Fox’s skin, but he can still feel the pressure and a hint of warmth through it.

Leia looks at him, and smiles.

Fox smiles back, wavering and on the edge of tears yet again, but he smiles back at her.

“That’s right”, he says. “It’s alright. Buir is here.”

Leia falls back asleep that night holding onto Fox’s hand.

— — —

There are limits to what Fox can do.

He cannot lift Leia up properly. He can put his hands under her and lift her maybe half an inch for a second or maybe two, at max. The static feeling is always there whenever she touches him, but Fox can let her hold onto him, and he can lightly brush her head to soothe her. Leia giggles every time Fox runs his finger down the bridge of her nose.

Fox has no other option than to exist with the fact that there is one person in the whole Galaxy who can see him.

He cannot touch her as much when she is being held by someone else. He cannot pry her away from Breha or Bail, not that Fox even wants to.

Breha is holding her on her shoulder as she mixes her a bottle. Leia is a little fussy, hunger making her impatient.

Fox calls to her, and when Leia looks up at him, he sticks his tongue out at her.

The fussiness and the hunger are completely forgotten. Leia laughs and clumsily claps her hands together. She shrieks out a louder laugh as Fox does it again.

Breha turns, and looks around the room. There is still a bang of loss in Fox’s chest as her eyes pass right by him.

“Something caught your eye?” Breha asks. She is smiling as she looks at Leia, and Fox loves her immensely.

— — —

Bail stands next to Fox at Leia’s cot.

Fox had always leaned against him whenever they had stood this close to each other. It had been a habit, born from the fact that Fox had always run cold while Bail had always run warm.

Fox misses that warmth.

Bail looks at Leia, who stares right back at him.

“The last time I checked”, Bail says slowly. “It was way past the bedtime for little Princesses.”

Leia only grins at Bail, who looks extremely dejected. Fox cannot help but laugh a little.

Leia’s eyes move to Fox, and she laughs back at him.

Bail frowns, and turns to look. For a moment, it feels like he is looking straight at Fox, but his eyes never stop searching.

Fox wants to just lean forward and fall against him.

He stays put, until Bail’s eyes turn away.

— — —

Leia stands up against the couch.

Carefully, she lets go of it. She looks at Breha, who is sitting just a few meters away from them, and then she looks at Fox, who is sitting on the couch.

Fox smiles at her.

“Go on”, he says. “Go on, Leili’ika, you can do it.”

“Come on”, Breha says, extending her arms towards Leia. “Come on, you can do it!”

Leia takes one, hesitant step away from the couch. Then another, and another, until she has made it to Breha, who catches her in a hug.

“There you go!” Breha laughs, and kisses Leia’s cheeks. “There you go, I knew you could do it!”

Leia giggles, and then looks over at Fox.

Fox claps his hands.

“Good job!” He says. Breha puts Leia back down, and Leia turns around, and makes her way towards him with small, wavering steps. She grabs at the couch right in front of Fox, and looks up at him, with a wide, toothy smile.

Fox glances at Breha.

Breha is looking at Leia, but slowly, her eyes move up, following Leia’s gaze.

She doesn’t see him, but she keeps looking, almost like she is expecting to see something there.

She is not smiling anymore. Fox swallows, and turns to look back at Leia.

Leia is still smiling, and Fox quickly smiles back at her.

“Good job”, he says again, and runs his thumb over her cheek. “Good job, Leia.”

Leia giggles again. Breha is still looking when Fox looks back at her.

— — —

“Sometimes, it just…” Breha trails off. “....it just seems like she’s really seeing something we’re not.”

“I know”, Bail says. “But…she always looks happy, correct?”

Breha nods.

“Yes”, she answers, and then pauses. “...do you think it’s because of…”

Bail takes her hand into his.

“Maybe”, he says, almost whispering. “Maybe. Though I…I cannot imagine what she is seeing. I’ve never heard of anything like this. Obi-Wan or Master Yoda could know, perhaps, but…”

He cuts himself off, and shakes his head.

“It’s too dangerous”, he says.

Fox stares at his hands as he listens to them speak, his mind trying to catch up with what had just been said.

They aren't all gone. The Jedi are not all gone.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is alive.

— — —

Fox goes to see Kenobi that night, after Leia has fallen asleep.

It’s the middle of the day there, with two suns blaring down on the desert. Fox finds Kenobi easily enough.

He looks like he has aged several years in just a span of one.

Fox cannot blame him.

He watches Kenobi for a while, looking for any sign that he can see Fox.

When none come, Fox steps closer.

“General?” He calls. “General Kenobi?”

Nothing.

Fox tries not to feel disappointed.

There’s a strange feeling then, like he is being watched. Fox turns around.

No one around him is looking at him.

— — —

Fox goes to visit Cody after.

He watches as Cody cleans his blaster, just like he always does. He looks like he usually does as well, with his helmet off, and his brows creased in a gentle, concentrated frown.

Fox wonders what Cody would do, if Fox could tell him that Kenobi is alive.

Perhaps it’s for the best that he can’t.

Fox returns to Alderaan, and sits on the edge of the bed. Leia makes a sound, and he hums her song to her to settle her back to sleep.

— — —

Kids are fast.

Much faster than they have any right to be. Leia especially, because she is still tiny.

“Leia!” Bail calls after her, as she speeds off. “Leia, slow down!”

Fox can move a lot faster than anyone else. In less than a blink of an eye, he is in front of her, and she hastily slows herself down to a stop.

“You heard your papa”, Fox says. “Slow down.”

Leia has the gall to pout at him.

Bail has now caught up to her as well, and he scoops her up.

“What are you pouting at?” He asks her, tickling her stomach lightly.

Leia laughs.

“Buir!” She giggles, which makes Bail stop immediately.

He looks at Leia, looking a bit confused for a moment, and then glances towards the small garden.

“Do you want to go see Buir?” He asks her.

Leia turns to look back at Fox.

“Buir”, she says.

Bail doesn’t notice her looking, because he just nods, and starts to make his way towards the garden. Fox decides it’s for the best if he follows them.

Bail puts her back down on the ground in front of the grave.

“There we go”, he murmurs. “Say hello to Buir.”

Leia frowns at the stone, and then looks at Fox.

“Buir”, she says. She sounds rather confused now.

Bail looks at her, and then up, straight at Fox but straight past him.

Fox makes himself smile at Leia.

“It’s okay”, he says. He brushes his hand across the top of her head. “It’s okay, Leili’ika. Buir is right here.”

Leia looks at him, and then reaches her hand.

“Buir”, she says.

Fox lets her grab onto his hand. He watches as Bail looks at him, still straight past him, with a lost look full of grief in his eyes.

Once again, Fox wishes nothing more than to be able to speak to him, make him see, make him hear him, so Fox could tell him that he is right there.

But he cannot.

Because even when Fox has found his place, even when Fox has found happiness, even when Fox has found a home, even when he has been granted a reason to be here.

Even then, Fox is being punished.

#this DEFINITELY got away from me #so this is part 1/chapter 1!#part 2/chapter 2 coming tomorrow #I need a break from crying while writing okay #anyway: have force ghost fox and baby leia who is the only one who can see him #enjoy #Force Ghost Fox #sw #tcw #Star Writing #my writing #my fics #Commander Fox #Leia Organa #Bail Organa #Breha Organa #bail/breha/fox

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ghost-proofbaby · 11 months

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my little scaredy cat

request: [anon] i would love to see watching horror movies with best friend!eddie and reader instinctively grabs his arm and hides herself against him and it leads to feelings and confessions haha

warnings: none! except it's unedited, which would be scary if that wasn't 90% of my writing on here lmao

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k+

i had a lot of fun busting this one out. it's just so cute and certainly how i wish i was spending my halloween! also, rest assured, i am also eyeing the other request you submitting anon. <3 happy haunting, my friends.

This was such a stupid idea. Such a stupid, stupid idea.

You’ve always been a scaredy cat. Everyone in your friend group was well aware of it – you loved the idea of Halloween, but your poor heart just couldn’t take most of the frights that came with the eccentric holiday.

It was fine, most of the time. If anyone had the urge to plan out a day at a pumpkin patch, you were eagerly accepting the invitation. If anyone wanted to bake any sort of sweet treats laced with pumpkin spice or caramel apple flavor profiles, you were already in your car and armed with the perfect recipe to help them. Someone wanted to peruse the decoration aisles of various stores? Wait no more, the perfect shopping buddy could be found in you. You, who could handle most of the trivial and sweet aspects of the holiday. You, who divulged in the more aesthetic side of it all rather than the scary side of it.

Your distaste of being jumpscared or unnerved by gore and ghouls alike only really caused issues when it came to your best friend, Eddie Munson.

His taste in experience of the frightful time of year was entirely the opposite of yours. It’s not that he didn’t like decorating caramel apples with you or that he didn’t find your choice in decorations cute, because he did. But he liked the terrifying aspect of it all – he liked the adrenaline rush of fictional danger.

And friendship, in all its glory, is about give and take, is it not?

Compromise. That’s what he called it when he’d begged and pleaded for you to join him in a movie night. Because the moment the suggestion fell from his lips, you both knew he had no intentions of watching one of your usual festive movies that only teased about the creatures that crept through the night. PG-13 films that didn’t really do it for him. No, Eddie Munson had insisted you join him for a movie night, and you both knew exactly what kind of movie he intended to play.

You just hadn’t anticipated the scariest fucking movie you’d ever endured for the boy beside you on the couch.

“Shit!”

Your squeak is muffled over by the crescendo of creepy instrumental echoing from the small TV across the room. A cycle had quickly been found during this movie night; the movie would fall eerily silent as a tense scene arrived, you’d tense every single muscle so hard that Eddie could feel you shaking from the other side of the couch, and then once the jumpscare occurred and your small squeals were let out involuntarily, his own laughter would follow.

“Oh, come on,” he coos a little, leaning closer to the middle of the couch, still a fair distance away from your figure bundled up in blankets that were being used more as shields than anything at this point, “That one wasn’t even that bad!”

“To you!” you snap, yanking the fabric back down from your eyes only to glare at Eddie rather than look at whatever grotesque was plaguing the screen, “I’m a scaredy cat, remember?”

And oh, remember he does. In all your years of friendship, Eddie had called you that nickname more times than either of you could count. He never meant it with ill will, but it was easier to tease you than to admit just how adorable he found your small reactions.

Easier to tease than to admit just how badly he wishes you would seek protection or refuge from him during the scares he put you through.

His face falls slightly, but he doesn’t let his small grin slip up, not wanting to give himself or his twinge of guilt away, “I’m sorry, kitty cat. C’mere – I can protect you from all the big bad monsters-”

Eddie’s opened arms are only met with one of the pillows you’d stolen off his bed to make the couch more comfortable. It smacks into the center of his chest with deadly aim and ferocious power, making him let out an exaggerated oomph.

“Fuck you,” you grumble, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders now that the scare had passed. You almost tack on a comment about how he’s lucky you like him, because you would never endure this for anyone else.

Robin had tried. Steve had tried. Nancy had tried. They’d all tried to entice you in the scarier, classic Halloween experiences to no avail. Every offer of going to a haunted house, or attending the premiere of the newest horror movies at the local theater, were shot down before they even finished their sentences.

Only one person could break your staunch demeanor on your limits. And right now, you sort of hated his guts.

Eddie softens a bit, watching the way you pout and curl into yourself just a little tighter.

“Sweetheart,” he finally drops the cool guy demeanor, his voice gentle as he leans over with genuine concern, “We can turn it off, if you really want. Hell, if you want me to, I’ll put on something in your taste. Little Shop of Horrors, or maybe Beetlejuice? Those don’t usually scare you.”

The offer is enticing. But you have a point to prove.

“No,” you sit up a little straighter, square your shoulders with a little more defiance and faux bravery, “No, you wanted to watch…”

You pause, and Eddie smiles softly as he supplies the title of his film of choice, “Poltergeist.”

“Right, yes, Poltergeist. You wanted to watch it, so we’re gonna watch it.”

Your stubbornness is admirable.

Even when it falters. Even when another jumpscare has you ever so slightly scooching towards the center of the couch, no longer pressed to the opposite arm from Eddie in defiance. Even when Eddie spreads his legs casually, and you bump your knee into his thigh, the slightest touch bringing immense comfort.

Once you discover that, it all seems downhill from there.

A press of a knee against the side of his thigh turns into your side brushing his. Suddenly, the blanket you’d wielded like a weapon becomes shared. Moments where you try to hold up a barrier between your eyes and the screen cause slight disturbances in Eddie’s own vision. And then, it happens.

The thing he’d been diabolically planning for years. The one scenario he’d dreamt of every Halloween season, the one intention he’d held secretly every time he’d put your through endless scares.

The one touch that could send him into cardiac arrest.

He almost missed it, it happens so suddenly. One moment, you’re just curling up a little bit closer to him. The next, your arms fully wiggly their way around his bicep, capturing his arm in your grasp as your face buries into his shoulder. He can no longer smell the buttery popcorn or faint chocolate on his breath as you invade his space. It’s all sweet shampoo and subtle perfume that tickles his nose, skin against skin in a quick flush as he can hear the vibrations of your predictable scream against the fabric of his shirt.

You hardly seem to notice the sudden entanglement of your bodies in all your fear — your knees practically in his lap and your torso clinging onto his forearm for dear life. You’re acting on instinct, seeking out humane comfort without considering what you were doing.

When you do notice, you don’t let go, only slacken your grip.

“Oh, I-“ you stutter, pulling back slightly to look up at a stunned Eddie, “I’m sorry, that’s- I just- I was scared and-“

“It’s fine,” he cuts you off, eyes blown wide, “It’s… it’s fine.”

It’s more than fine.

His heart races in a way no horror movie or haunted house could incite. Every nerve ending tingles, everywhere his body connects to yours burning in delicious warmth. He wants to spend an eternity like this — you, curled up to him, clinging to him like your holy savior.

Years, and years, and years of wait pays off. Patience is surely virtue as those big eyes of yours look into his.

After a couple awkward beats of silence, you whisper, “I don’t think I like Poltergeist.”

Just like that, you have him laughing again. It’s slow and steady, a gentle chuckle that stirs from his chest in disbelief as he tries to thaw from his shock and yearning.

“You think?” he breathes out, tone not nearly teasing enough to cover up the shakiness.

He swears he can feel your heart pounding against his shoulder.

“Don’t be mean,” you start to scowl, slowly unfurling. But he stops you — angles his arm so you can’t slip your arms away as easily as before, tilting his head in closer.

“Mean? I could never be mean to you, my little scaredy cat.”

“You’re literally being mean as we speak-“

And so, he decides to stop speaking.

It’s impulsive and an even dumber idea than you enduring such a scary movie to be around him. But you look so fucking cute, his heart is tearing up his throat, and suddenly his lips are on yours in his largest spurt of bravery to date. Even more brave than the time he’d made himself a human shield between you and that dude with a chainsaw at the local haunted house, despite the way chainsaws actually kind of made him shit himself.

You don’t fully reciprocate at first. His lips are pressed hard against yours, tips of noses crushed and eyes fluttered shut, and he starts to believe he’s made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake that just washed years of friendship down the drain.

Until your hands tighten on his bicep. Until that soft squeeze comes, and it feels like he can breathe again despite sharing the air with you.

He breaks away for just a second, “I-“

“Don’t be mean,” you repeat your earlier words with entirely new meaning now. He opens his eyes and finds yours already pleading up at his face, glossy and desperate, movie forgotten.

Those hands once squeezing his bicep let go and move to the collar of his t-shirt. Normally, he’d make a comment about you stretching it out, deforming the perfect fit that took him ages to wear in, but he can’t be bothered to feel anything but delight when you’re tugging him back in for another kiss.

And the last thing he wants to be is mean. So he kisses you kindly, kisses you with all the care in the world that he had buried beneath his skin since the day he met you. Kisses you like it could scare away all the monsters that wait in the shadows. Like he’d lay down his life to protect you from the very frights he’d been subjecting you to for far too long now.

“Hey,” he mumbles, pulling back briefly, “Hey.”

This time, his forehead doesn’t leave yours as he pauses the kisses.

“God, Munson, I’ve waited for this God knows how long, sat through so many fucking scary movies, and you’re really going to-“

“Hold on, what?”

He’s grinning so hard, it aches. In his cheeks, in his chest, in the back of his head. Your words sink in and he relishes each syllable, even in your frustration.

“I- Uh,” you pull back suddenly, fingers still loosely tangled in his t-shirt, “I-“

“Enlighten me, sweetheart,” he insists, eyes finally fluttering back open to catch the embarrassment painted plainly across your face. You wear a nearly painful expression that only tightens as you know he’s watching you, “Just how many scary movies have you sat through wanting me to kiss you?”

“Fuck off,” you sigh out, shaking your head a little, “I mean it. Fuck right off-“

“Cause I could probably give a ballpark number for how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you during them,” he continues on quickly, “Actually, I bet I could count how many times I suggested watching these fuckin’ films just for this moment only to chicken out.”

Your eyes are open again in an instant. Sparkling with hope and realization of what he was getting at. “Excuse me?”

“Do you really think I’m that mean?” he scoffs, finally reaching up for your hands, surprisingly calm despite the delightful storm wreaking havoc in his chest. He takes your knuckles in his and lets his thumb trail right over them, “No offense, but if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have-“

“You like me?”

Your voice is sweet as honey, bright and drowning out the horror movie still playing.

He smiles, boyish glint and all, as he confirms, “I like you.”

You put the first real amount of distance between the two of you since you’d started to cling to him out of fear, almost as if signaling that bravery beginning to bubble over in your chest, “You actually like me?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I- Well, maybe,” you bite your lip, and he’s suddenly dizzy with the need to capture it between his own teeth, “I just… I always thought you might like someone a little braver.”

His nose wrinkles, hands still twisting yours in his, “Excuse me? I think you’re plenty brave.”

“Eddie, you’ve said it yourself, I’m a goddamn scaredy cat.”

“So?”

“So,” you persist, shuffling so that your legs fold beneath you and you gain some leverage over him, “You’re the exact opposite. You love scary things. Not even just during Halloween, but year round. And you’re telling me you like me even though I’m a scaredy cat.”

“I like you because you’re a scaredy cat, thank you very much,” he corrects you immediately, “I love the way you always need me to protect you. I know, I know — not very feminist of me. I’m sorry. It’s just- it’s really fuckin’ cute, y’know?” now that his floodgates have opened, he’s pouring out all the words he’s held back for so long, “And besides, you’re more than just a scaredy cat. You’re also so smart, so beautiful, so funny. Yeah, you scare easily, but you’re also the same person who is the first to put me in my place when I’m being an absolute little shit. And don’t even get me started on all the cute faces you make when you’re talking about things you actually like, or when you’ve been baking with Nance and have flour all over your cheeks-“

“Okay, okay,” you stop his rambling before he can embarrass you any further. Any more affection, and your face might end up buried in his shoulder again, “I get it. You like me.”

It’s quiet for a few moments. The two of you only stare, both smiling stupid, the screams of whatever climax occurring in the movie not even reaching your ears. All you can hear is the echo of his words, of his admission. And all he can hear is the pretty way your breath catches when he gives a small squeeze to your palm.

It’s nice. It should be more anxiety inducing, it should be more dramatic. Eddie Munson should be absolutely losing his mind right now because he just kissed his best friend he’s been in love with for ages, but he isn’t. Actually, for the first time in a while, it feels as though he’s finally found it — he’s found his mind, he’s found his peace as he’s staring at your shy expression. It just feels right. Like a sigh of relief from the Universe.

“I like you, too,” you break the silence, unable to meet his gaze, “I mean, you probably already got that, but-“

“Say it again.”

“Huh?”

“I did gather that, but my God, please say it again.”

Your eyes meet him, and another piece clicks into place.

Right. It’s so fucking right.

“I like you,” you repeat yourself, a smile beginning to dance on your lips. He can’t help himself — he leans forward and pecks the corner of your upturned mouth, “I like you,” the repetition is music to his ears as he plants a second kiss on your cheek, “I like you, Munson.”

His peppered kisses mark every inch of skin available to him, making giggles begin to escape you. You even try to hide from his onslaught, but it’s no use. He’s quick to drop your hands and wrap his arms around you, tugging you in close and trapping you against him as each kiss grows more obnoxious. Loud smacking sounds, deliberately leaving spit behind that has you squealing. It’s nothing like the squeaks from when you were watching the movie; these small noises are filled with a little more joy, a little more happiness that only fuels Eddie.

“Eddie!” you try to scold, placing two hands on his solid chest, “Oh my God, stop it. You’re gross.”

“You love it,” he mutters with his mouth fully pressed to your temple, nose buried in your hair. That sweet, sweet shampoo intoxicating him.

You like him. He didn’t fuck it up.

You finally go slack in his touch, succumbing and letting him place you in his lap, curled up comfortably as you sigh, “Yeah. Okay, maybe I do. Whatever.”

“Oh, don’t act all tough now, kitty cat.”

Your hands are curled back in the fabric against his chest and you share the wonderful ache he had been feeling in his own cheeks and bones as you look down at him with playfully squinted eyes.

When he ducks down for another kiss, you stop him easily, “Nope. First, I have a request.”

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. Name it, and it’s yours.”

“Please turn off that goddamn movie.”

He throws his head back in laughter that shoots straight for your heart. The kind of laughter that haunts a chilled autumn night as children prance the streets for candy, as teenagers get into mischief in distant bonfire parties, as elderly couples enjoy morning coffees over eerie fog.

It kind of feels like home. It kind of feels like everything is as it should be, finally.

“I suppose I can do that for you, my little scaredy cat,” he muses as his head tilts back forward, chest swelling with affection, “Besides, I think I know something we can do that’s a little more fun than watching the Poltergeist.”

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be?”

His arms tighten around you as he suddenly throws the two of you to lay down on the couch, his body hovering over yours and pick necklace nipping at your chin while he reaches out to click off the TV. The weight of him between your hips feels even better than either of your wildest dreams.

Years. You couldn’t believe it had taken years for this, and neither could he. But patience is virtue, and he probably would have waited another thousand years for this feeling, truth be told.

“This,” he says boldly once the TV buzzes in sudden silence, dipping down and continuing where the two of you left off. Two sets of lips fit together like the world’s easiest jigsaw puzzle.

It’s safe to say the rest of the night, any further squeaks and squeals you let out aren’t due to ghosts.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #ghost's writing #ghostly halloween #seriously not edited #i have to be up in mere hours to get dressed up for work haha #but i HAD to write this goddamn #i had another idea where the roles are reversed in a different scenario i might try to write and post tomorrow #most unrealistic thing is that reader didn't immediately cling to him for comfort like i would lmao #i love scary movies even when they terrify me #i bid you all a very spooky night as i go pass out now #sorry if it's bad and sorry for the unoriginal title but my brain is just mush right now waaaaah

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buglaur · 11 months

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this is kit, please commission some art from them on social bunny 🙏

#ts4 #sims 4 #just wanted to test out relight but now i have a whole new gameplay i wanna do #my house wifi's been down since friday so i'd nothing better to do lol #assignments shouldn't exist. i should be able to play video games all day >:(#i think i'm going to remove this font replacement cus it can't do accented letters :(#i had to uninstall wickedwhims cus my uni friend wants to play sims on my laptop tomorrow LOL #anyways kits cool though #they're in the same save as virgil's tjol :)#so they might meet him!#uuughhh i fuckin hate thursdays. i'm out of the house for like 14 hours :((#going to england in 8 days tho i'm so excited to see my family again :) they got a new dog too!! a jack russell named paddy lmaooo #i got tagged in kmik posts but i'm saving them for friday night when i'm not busy <3 #goodnight simblr #it's 11:50pm and i need to start writing my essay due tomorrow D:

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cerise-on-top · 9 months

Note

Hi!!

I really love your works and writing on cod! I really enjoy reading it! ❤

Can I request Konig, Nikolai, Rudy and Alejandro reacting to reader speaking to their native tongue?

Take all the time you need! ❤🐱

Hello, I'm glad I can write something people can enjoy! And of course you can, even if I'm not sure I understood this ask perfectly! I wrote it as reader speaking the native language of the lads with them, so I hope that's okay! If you wanted reader simply speaking their own native language, please let me know! Thank you for the request, this one was very fun to write for!

Alejandro, Rodolfo, Nikolai and König with an S/O who Speaks Their Language with Them

Alejandro: He’d definitely be surprised if it comes out of nowhere, but he’s anything but mad. He can speak English fluently, has no problems whatsoever with it, but if he can speak Spanish then he definitely won’t mind either. If you’re a beginner and it’s evident by how you stutter in Spanish, then he’ll be patient with you. He’ll speak slowly and clearly so you can follow while also getting a good feel for the intonations the language has. However, when he just wants to tease you a bit then he’ll speak the way he’d usually speak while also not shutting up either. Alejandro can be eloquent in Spanish if he tries, but he barely ever does, only when he wants to confuse you with words you’d likely only hear from people who are 100 years old. The more you look like you’re in despair, the more it cracks him up. He will apologize afterwards, though, and give you a kiss on the cheek. If your Spanish is already pretty good, however, and you just wanted to surprise him, then congratulations, he’s likely going to speak a whole lot more Spanish with you than before. Just because it’s a popular language doesn’t mean everyone speaks it, so when he wants to tell you something for your ears only while there are people around, he’ll say it in Spanish. It’s comfortable for him, getting to speak his mother tongue with you. He thinks in Spanish, so it’s a whole lot easier for him as well. Tells a lot more jokes in Spanish too, even though they’re some of the worst ones the language has to offer. While they may not be Ghost-level lame, they’re something else still. Come up with your own and he’ll be so proud of you, rewarding you with more awful puns he came up with. He’s just happy he gets to share his language with you.

Rodolfo: As soon as you come up to him somewhat timidly and strike up a conversation in Spanish he’ll be a bit surprised, but absolutely smitten. Since it’s obvious you’re still learning he’ll try to use “nicer” Spanish on you, so more words that aren’t just exclusive to his dialect, or Las Almas in general. Very supportive, he would never judge you for making grammar mistakes while speaking, taking a while to remember a word or mispronouncing something, it’s part of learning a language, after all. Might nudge you in the right direction or correct you gently, but he’d never mean it in a bad way, he just wants to help you. He’ll speak clearly to you, slowly as well, so you can learn from him. It’s not often he gets carried away, but sometimes hearing you speak Spanish is just so cute that he might chuckle a bit or be a bit more excited than usual. A very patient teacher, who can appreciate you trying to learn something new. Now, if your Spanish is already pretty good then he does like holding a conversation with you in Spanish every once in a while. It’s just nice to turn your brain off without having to translate every other word into another language since he, too, thinks in his native tongue. Soft petnames from time to time, or maybe just mixing English and Spanish together when he can’t think of the word immediately as well. Somehow, as soon as he knows you speak Spanish, he’ll believe you’ve taken an interest in the corresponding culture, so he’ll teach you more about Mexico if he can. Teaches you how to cook the food, the customs, what the people are like in general. While he may not be as connected to his culture as Alejandro, he does like talking about it from time to time.

Nikolai: The second you greet him with a cheerful privet he knows you’re in for something. You should have expected such from him as well, though. It’s a gamble with him, he’ll either speak more quickly than he usually does just to mess with you or he’ll hold a prim and proper conversation with you and it all depends on how playful he’s feeling that day. Overall, he’s pretty chill about it, though. You wanna know how to pronounce something? You wanna know what gender a noun has? What his neighbor was yelling about again? He’s got your back. You can ask him the most embarrassing questions a million times, he won’t mind. Besides, if you want to then you can come to Russia and experience everything there first hand. Nikolai knows all the good places in Russia that are suitable for someone who’s not usually there, so you won’t have to worry about anything either. If you want to hold a whole conversation about how tortoises have survived for millions of years, then you can. Besides, hearing you botch the pronunciation from time to time is just the most precious thing there is. Will smile a bit when you pronounce something incorrectly, but won’t ever outright mock you for it. As mentioned before, he just thinks it’s cute. And when you know Russian very well, then he still won’t speak it too often. Nikolai knows eight languages, he doesn’t always think in Russian, usually in English since that’s what most of his closest friends speak with him. If you really insist on speaking Russian with him, he will, but won’t think too much of it. Many people know the language, Russia is a big country, after all. If you want to, then you can spend some holidays there and he’ll show you around since there likely isn’t a better guide in the whole country than him. But he will not make a big fuss out of it.

König: German isn’t a very popular language due to its grammar, so you can imagine his surprise when you walked up to him with the most adorable Grüß Gott he’s ever heard. He could just squish you then and there, but he refrains from doing so and instead focuses on trying to have a meaningful conversation with you. Doesn’t matter if it’s good, doesn’t matter if you’re just asking him how he’s doing, a conversation is a conversation and you’re learning. Besides, you learning German, especially if it’s just because of him, does move him just a bit. Might not always initiate a conversation in German with you because what if you’re not in the mood? But you can always just talk to him in German, he doesn’t mind it at all. Though, he might not be the best person to learn German from since he uses regional words that people his age use. While he does try to speak high German with you, he does not really care much for it, so his dialect slips in every once in a while. But hey, at the very least you get to learn his dialect. As soon as he hears you call someone Hawara he becomes oddly proud of himself, thinking he’s doing well as a teacher even if he barely does anything. He loves Austria, so if you really want to see it, he’s more than happy to take you home, show you Vienna, Styria and Lower Austria and make you try some good old Brettljause. If you already know German, then chances are you’ll only know high German, which is alright too, but please know that from time to time, König will speak his dialect with you, which you might not always understand. He barks quite a bit when he speaks too, making it a bit harder to understand him as well. However, he’s always more than happy to play translator for you and teach you words no one uses anymore, such as hal. Austrian words are a must know for you, therefore you’ll learn fairly early on what a Seidl or an Erdapfl is.

#cod #cod x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra x reader #cod nikolai #cod nikolai x reader #konig #könig #konig x reader #könig x reader #I go just a bit feral whenever I get to talk about König's culture and I think it sort of shows haha #not my fault though! I'm just really glad people like him! Even if he may not have too much to him as a character!#give me an opportunity to talk about Austria and I will talk your ear off #anyway thank you for the lovely request this one was really good and fun to write for!#something short and sweet since I had a rough and long day at work today!#tomorrow likely too but tomorrow is Friday so there's that!

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pain-in-the-butler · 1 year

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A compilation of art for my Dadbastian fanfic Coattails that I commissioned from the incredibly talented @tomoyoo! They went above and beyond with the details... Each picture feels as cozy and warm as a storybook, right? I'm so delighted with how they turned out!! Thank you for making each one so beautiful! 🥹🥹🥹

#coattails #not sebaciel so please don't tag as such! thank you!#kuroshitsuji #the backgrounds are just gorgeous.. thank you for your research and dedication to them #the outfits in the first one are amazing! I love Ciel's shirt and Soma's whole ensemble is so cozy yet regal #look at Ciel in the cardigan in the third one though? he is cozy #the expressions are my favorite. they're so animated! just as I imagine them to be..#I really like Ciel's in the first pic because I imagined him looking annoyed but you actually made him seem curious #and I actually like that more I think it's cute... he really does want to be friends with Soma huh 🥺#Sebastian's expression in the third picture is great. >:o #he's about to throw hands with an old lady #Edward and Ciel's competitive faces! being silly... I love Them #Ciel needs to get swept up in silly competitions more often I think...#and then the last one!! bonding over tea! it's so amazingly tender 😭#I don't think I imagined it coming out so calming and gentle... it's so emotional #it makes me want to keep writing!#if you are a Coattails reader I hope you love these as much as I do!#and if you aren't a Coattails reader... maybe these will convince you to become one? 😏 because they are so full of personality!#thanks times a million tomoyoo!!#(I should wait till tomorrow to post but I want to do it now...)#Coattails fanart #(adding to the fanart tag even though I commissioned it just for convenience's sake)

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relicsongmel · 3 months

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Something I've always found fascinating about Raymond Shields is that despite seemingly having altruistic reasons for being a defense attorney, his reasons for trying to convince Miles to be one are anything but.

It seems understandable enough on the surface. After Ray comes around and agrees to work with Miles in The Imprisoned Turnabout, he sees remnants of Gregory shining through him despite von Karma's influence. Whether or not he recognizes that Miles' decision to become a prosecutor wasn't just born from that alone—that it was in tandem with wanting to distance himself from anything that reminded him of his father to alleviate the burden on his heart—is up for debate, but regardless: he acknowledges Miles as Gregory's son through and through and wants to capitalize on his dedication for pursuing justice in a way that he knows would make his father proud. He wants to let Miles in on the life he was robbed of at 9 years old—the life he once dreamed of living, where he follows in the footsteps of his father by giving everything he has to save people, by fighting like hell for the vulnerable and the condemned.

That said, as much as Ray dresses up his proposition by making it out to be as if he's looking out for Miles' best interests (and the best interests of society, even)...his motives for trying to get Miles to switch sides are almost entirely selfish. Ray's efforts (and most of his actions in general, really) are ultimately a product of his desperate attempt to cling on to anything related to Gregory out of an inability to move on from his death. Wearing his hat and coat, leaving the name of his office unchanged...and now, requesting that his son literally change jobs just because he can't bear the weight of his own loneliness anymore. Because he can't bear to think that the damage done by DL-6 is irreversible and Miles has moved on while he has stagnated for the past 17 years. Because he has an idealized vision of what he thinks Gregory would want and fails to realize that his son's occupation wouldn't matter to him as long as it brings him happiness and fulfillment. In his mind, letting Miles go means accepting the circumstances that brought him where he is and allowing both of them to move on. And that terrifies him.

It's even more deceitful when you realize that Ray's pitch comes at a very opportune time for Miles given his circumstances at that point: that is, he's under threat of investigation for prosecutorial misconduct and at risk of being stripped of his badge. Ray might fake incompetence, but he's not stupid—and he takes full advantage of Justine's warnings to try to sway Miles when he's in a more vulnerable position in terms of his job. Which is...pretty fucked up, to put it lightly. Despite having a better idea of where he came from compared to most people, through this Ray shows a lack of understanding of who Miles truly is and a lack of respect for what he's come to value, even if his path toward obtaining those values had some bumps along the road. But he's so blinded by his grief that he doesn't even stop to consider how much he's really asking of him, or what Miles is really searching for.

Ray was moved by Gregory. He values saving people. Defending the weak is an undeniably noble endeavor. But to ask that of someone else without consideration for their best interests is decidedly less so.

For all his occupation requires a certain selflessness, Raymond Shields is far more selfish than he lets on. And I for one find that contradiction fascinating to unpack.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright ace attorney #pwaa #aa #ace attorney investigations #aai2 #raymond shields #eddie fender #<-i'm not calling him that bc i strongly dislike that name. but just to prevent confusion #miles edgeworth #gregory edgeworth #aai2 spoilers #meta #my meta #hopefully this is coherent. i am currently at war with my fog headaches as we speak #aai announcement means i've got ray on the brain again. surprise surprise #sometime in the near future i also want to explore the possibility of ray losing his altruism at some point after gregory's death #or at the very least how it becomes less genuine. and he only keeps it up because it's what he thinks gregory would want #i have a LOT of feelings about how his need to keep up the good person act is EXTREMELY reminiscent of sister iris in that way #but this post is already long and if i write any more i may not have a functioning brain tomorrow soooo. another time unfortunately #↖️ this user is NOT normal about raymond shields ace attorney and you best BELIEVE she's going to make it everyone's problem

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crybaby-bkg · 1 year

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cw: you two have a son together, mention of being married, old man Bakugou

older retired pro hero Bakugou, who you find hunched over his desk one night. it’s late and the day was long and your son was whinier than he usually is. you’d think the old man would be in bed right now, but alas—he’s not beside you.

instead, as you round the corner to get a full look at him, he’s wearing his reading glasses, adorning an old ratty tank, his arms still big but softer than the years from before. he has a book open in front of him, desk scattered with pictures you can’t see from your angle, scissors, stickers, glue sticks.

“What are you getting up to at this hour, old man?” You ask softly, smiling when Bakugou doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing. his tongue is sticking out in the corner as he cuts a squiggly line on a picture, posing it beside another on a blank piece of paper.

“Therapist said I should get into crafting,” he grunts, finally looking over at you from over his glasses. “Do things with my hands, feel busy, get my mind off’a shit.”

you pad over to where he sits, the overhead lamp on his desk focused on the big baby blue book with white pages. peeking over his shoulder, you rest your head on top of his, chin nestled in the still unruly blond and silver locks, overseeing his work.

and honestly? it almost makes you wanna cry. it’s a scrapbook, the page open to pictures of your wedding day, how pretty you looked, how big he smiled at you. you can see other scattered pictures on his desk—when you got a promotion at work, when he was number one for seven months in a row, a positive pregnancy test, the cutest baby you’ve ever seen, two little teeth coming in, baby being held in dads big ole arms that will always protect him.

“After this page, I gotta do the honeymoon.” Bakugou speaks gruffly, setting down a picture to wipe a hand down his face. “And then life accomplishment shit, the baby, his first steps.” He sounds so tired, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, sliding down to smush your face against his own.

“You always have tomorrow. Come to bed.” You say against his cheek, squeezing him when you feel the rejection start up in his belly. But he deflates, pulling his glasses off, reaching around to pull you in his lap. He looks so grumpy, with his frown lines and crows feet, and yet so handsome with his small smile and soft eyes.

“I’ll print more pictures tomorrow. And maybe go by the store to get some more stickers, too.” He tells you in between kisses, his words soft, his hands rough through your pajamas. You hum against his mouth, holding his nape, afraid to ever let him go.

“You do that. Now let’s go to bed.” You whisper, standing up and pulling him with you. He closes the scrapbook for now, and you glimpse at the cover, heart melting at the picture of you two holding up your son, both kissing his cheeks. The picture is captioned with “Our Life” and you don’t think you’ve ever been more grateful to have met him.

#I feel like you can always tell what I’m doing bc I end up writing about bkg doing it ajsjdkd #I AM SCRAPBOOKING!!!! and it’s more stressful for me than it should be 😔#it’s fun tho!!! and nice to see it come together!!!!#but I think he’d hate it and be all grumbly about it #until it starts coming together and he’s like ‘🙂 I made this and it’s fuckin awesome’#loves putting in every single memory and every single picture of you #bc he can’t decide which one looks better bc they all look good to him wksjdk #ends up having to get more pages or a whole other book entirely bc he runs out of pages #all dedicated to you and baby #why am I crying #okay bye I sleeby #also should I write tomorrow or do my makeup 🤔🤔🤔 cause I won’t be able to do either until Monday 🤔🤔#bakugou treats! 🍬#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#dad bkg

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pepperyhoney · 4 months

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COLLEGE END TERM EXAMS ARE KILLING MEEEE but

I saw someone saying that he is blaming himself for something that is not his fault completely because he always does (re: AM retirement), and that katsuki is showing how much he is a soft person at heart. And how he is not to blame for this. But i have a slightly different interpretation from this.

i think Katsuki was not a soft person. and I think that here was not a show of how much he loves to blame himself. it is stated again and again how much of him is brash and callous and arrogant, and like his mother and himself said, he is given too much praise and never really tasted rejection or failure—except from himself. and even then, he never dwells too much on it and just keep having the mindset of improving and one upping everyone including himself. the sigma grindset, if you will. Even though his outward theatrics shows how explosive he is and how he gets so agitated at many things, he has shown that he has more emotional control in battle than even Midoriya-I-Will-Go-Berserk-Over-My-Endangered-Lover-Izuku. like he even has to remind Izuku to not dwell on things lest it kills him.

Then he came back from the dead.

The death itself is a significant factor. "Can I still catch up to you?" as one of his last thoughts, was something he now consider his reality, his acceptance of himself and Izuku. He reframed the way he tasted failure and rejection of what he thinks the way he is - of how he perceived Midoriya and that what he rejects about him in the first place then came to reject him in return-into something that once again motivates him to win and to always have a goal, his newborn northern star.

When All Might retires, he blames himself because all might is the symbol of peace and people around the world now lost it and there's a new imbalance that he feels are a part of his responsibility. But truly, regardless of anything, all might will retire anyway due to his injury. It is not his fault. He just hates the feeling of "failing" to save himself, that he needed to be saved. He doesn't want to accept that.

Then we get a narrative of how quirk is viewed by the world, the sides of it, and the darkest part of it. Izuku is shown to be affected by this too, while relying on his own belief that stems from all might idealism (the vigilante era). But then his class shows how much that idealism is no longer sustainable, and repeating the same things aren't going to do anyone any good. Katsuki, despite the lack of narrated inner thoughts, is a part of crowd who instill it to izuku as well. Then he apologized. He knows that Izuku is this self sacrifical because of him. That he thinks he can't truly save anyone without giving a part of himself. Which circles back to how he accepted izuku as a rival and a partner. He now see him as he is and accept the part of it was his fault. Katsuki went on with life because he thinks that now Izuku can always change for the better, like he always do, and he will be there on his heels, to be with him and to accept his hand, and i quote, "for the rest of their lives".

When izuku has to give up OFA to try save Tenko, when he really showed how much he is willing to give up anything- even the greatest gift and his raison d'etre that is propelling him to this point along with Katsuki himself (because you know, izuku extend his hands to everyone and that starts with his extension to Katsuki), That is really what hits home to him. That they're so interwined with each other, that izuku has always been a hero to him as much as he is to Izuku, that the extended hand he swatted all those years ago, is the same hand that still give a part of himself away to tenko shimura in an attempt to save him. Izuku was always a hero because he will not hesitate to save anyone.

Now that he saw Izuku as a rival, and saw izuku as what he is, he truly sees how much saving is tied to the act of being saved, that everyone has to help each other to truly win, that to protect someone, you have to be willing to be protected to save yourself, too. Now, the hand he rejected all those years ago, the person he rejected again and again, is unable to save himself from fate, and the worse part, he can't protect him from fate and himself. He saw how much his actions truly meant, he saw how apology only grazed the surface wound of the consequence of a childhood ignorance. Now he truly understands that all he wanted was to protect Izuku; that it was all a misdirection of what he truly wants, to be a hero that protects people. that misdirection in turn bites him in form of losing his hero that saved him from himself. So, with tears of realization too late, "no... just what the hell did i do to you?".

the despair he feels is because he has so much respect for izuku and that bittersweet feeling of knowing that izuku choice is going to change everything, as well as knowing he has a part on it. He can't take back anything, and izuku has to live with it, and how does it truly feel to see the one you now saw as your equal, goal, northern star, to rise and dim because of you?

Katsuki was not a soft person. he is, now. Because he is saved by the people around him. Thats why his wish was to save izuku, too. He wishes there was another way, he wishes that the fate izuku has didnt have to enforce izuku's already self sacrificing beliefs. He wish that he is saved from the fate. He cries because he knows he is inseparable from it all-even if it wasn't truly his fault. He loves and respect him and knowing he is inseparable of what makes him love and respect him is making him realize the gravity of the situation. He changed so much from the brash and arrogant kid he was, that now instead of being angry and challenging at fate not going his way, he yearns for them to change so that the person he truly cares about is saved. His admittance and heartfelt confession is one hell of a leap and show how much he changed, and reducing it to him blaming himself for something not his fault is kinda redundant and insulting to his character development.

#katsuki bakugou #izuku midoriya #bakudeku #mha #bkdk #oh my god i took an hour to write this all #please this is so long #its currently 2 AM #tomorrow i have to deal with anatomy exam #please wish me luck i really choose the worst time to be brainrotting #i have poor self control #i love him so much tho what can i say #please pray for me lmao #is this even coherent

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