#just easier to put her on a multi!

[love-byers]

the first time i saw this, when i was NOT a byler shipper, i thought el was running TO mike. i thought we were getting a sweet moment where el runs to mike and he puts an arm around her or hugs her.

then i realized she was running away from him. 

and i was like, why?? they're supposed to be the couple why does she not want his comfort??

and even after will calls her out on doing mike wrong by lying to him, even after she sees that mike is attempting to talk to her and comfort her, that he's not angry at her, she still tells angela to lie to mike. more lies. that's how much she cares about keeping up the persona. had angela lied to mike, el would've continued lying to him the entire week. something she knows in her heart is wrong and not fair to mike.

this is a theme in s4. putting who you want to be seen as before being honest with your bf/gf. going above and beyond to preserve your lie, to be seen as who you want to be.

chrissy does that with jason. who she portrays herself as is completely different than who she really is and what she's really going through. jason has absolutely no idea chrissy is struggling and refused to believe chrissy would buy drugs, because chrissy didn't want to tell him. who knows how jason would've reacted if chrissy was honest, we don't know because chrissy didn't trust him enough to tell him. that's not love at all, that's sad.

this is a point in s2 as well. murray calls nancy out for being afraid to be her true self, and she stays with steve because she doesn't have to be her true self around him. she is her true self when she's with jonathan, and that's why they worked together. that's love.

the exact same thing happens with chrissy. the first time we see her genuinely smile is when she's with eddie. she's sweet and charismatic, and had she lived she totally would've gone to eddie's show, something you never would've expected from her, something her boyfriend, the person she pretends to love, would NEVER do.

robin and steve reinforce this too

you fall in love with the person who makes you feel accepted, the person who makes you feel like you can be who you are. the person you trust with your true self.

mike and el don't trust each other enough, they don't understand each other well enough.

they would have to change their behavior towards each other by leaps and bounds, and we're already at the last season. there is no time for that. stranger things isn't a multi season show about the complexity of romantic relationships and the healthy way to resolve problems. there is no time for that in just about any movie or show, especially a sci-fi show. you know what's way easier and way more likable? pairing your character with someone they naturally click with, who bring out the best in each other and for some reason can't help but be their authentic selves when they're with each other.

did it with jancy, like i said earlier

did it with lumax. when lucas and max talked on the bus max found herself spewing about things she'd never even said out loud before, and she had to stop herself. something about lucas just made her feel comfortable, like she could be herself and tell the truth. she trusted him.

"You're nothing like your brother, okay? You're cool and different, you're super smart, and you're like, totally tubular."

jopper too! joyce constantly had to hide things from bob, she was insecure about their family not being normal.

"This is not a normal family."

"It could be."

though bob had good intentions, the message of the show is not trying to be normal when you aren't. whatever it is about you that makes you weird or different, whatever you've been through that changed you, stay true to it. dont bottle it up and try to be someone else. all of vecnas victims in s4 were doing this, and it didn't end well for them.

they even did it with dustin and suzie. dustin constantly tries to impress max with his teeth, then in season 3 he says suzie thinks kissing is better without teeth. he doesn't have to be insecure about that or try to impress her. she likes him for him.

mike isn't comfortable being his true self around el either. he's insecure about his interests, he feels like he has to act older and cooler to impress her.

you shouldn't be with the person you feel you have to impress. you should be with the person who relieves that pressure, who makes you feel like being the authentic you is enough.

jonathan and nancy, lucas and max, joyce and hopper, dustin and suzie,

cough WILL AND MIKE cough...

[belovedivies]

Gurl imagine, just imagine a rejuvenated peter with his three ducklings, bumping into raphael's older sibling how would that go?

a/n: THREE DUCKLINGS LMAO- i had too much fun writing this piece. this should have came out on a while back but uni whipped my ass rip- anw, enjoy!! cw: minor spoiler, minor character death, they have fun clowning around and absolutely nothing bad happened. wc: 3.6k m.list

offshore ft. multi

The sky above is pitch black by the time Soongu leaves his dorm and heads to their promised spot. He goes for a casual look that evening: gray hoodie, black pants, a pair of Sketcher that soon gathers dust on the outsole when the guy navigates his way through the city’s park, dry leaves crunching with every step. 

His long legs eat up the distance rather quickly, and there isn’t much until a right turn at the local pub leads Soongu down a dimly lit alley. The streetlights on both sides flicker; it’s a beautiful moonless night. He isn’t on his way to another meeting, not really. There’s a certain ease in his movement, fingers drumming slightly against the lining fabric where he digs his hands into his pockets. Soongu feels lighter, easier to breathe somehow. When he crosses by a traffic mirror attached to a rusty-looking post, a young man stares right back at him. He can almost pretend he’s just another boy; no debt of blood and death marring his youthful features.

The exterior of the convenience store looks tame, but his comrades are already there: lazing around on a long bench that overlooks an empty parking lot through a fairly new chain-link fence. They remind him of a bunch of high schoolers. People with obligations rarely extend outside of the established social circles. It’s Simon who sneaks up to him first, wrapping an arm around the boy’s neck with a cocky smirk.

“Sheesh, took you long enough brother. ” His voice booms against Soongu’s ears like bus tires. “We’re about to ditch your ass.”

“As if,” Soongu replies in faux-annoyance, though there’s no denying how his lips curl up into an amused smile. The years have taken a toll on his old pal, but it’s still Simon at the end of the day and no one else. Lost an arm, chipped a tooth, but still ever the loudmouth who fought with him through life and death during their time as Apostles.

One meter away, Jiwon—the woman of their little team—crosses her legs with a wistful look while Alexander McKing rests his head on her thighs, basking in the little head scratches his owner delivers every few seconds. Simon might have always been the boisterous one, but Soongu was surprised to learn that the hangout today was actually her idea. For someone who constantly fusses and loses her cool over the smallest of mistakes that might give away his true identity, trading her usual gold-plated sanctuary for some simple bonding time on a Friday night is a bit… questionable, if not to say downright odd. 

“Jiwon~” Simon sing-songs, still keeping his arm looped around the boy’s neck as his old pal drags him towards the bench. “Bo— I mean Soongu is here, what are the plans?”

“Shut your goofy ass up.” Ah, there is she. Their blind grumpy old mom. Jiwon uncrosses her legs with an irritated face, brows drawn together behind her near-transparent glasses. “I’m trying to remember the name of that BBQ.”

Simon’s face falls at the insult like a child just got robbed of his favorite toy. Soongu lets out a quiet chuckle this time, and it isn’t long until the two of them jump at each other’s throats for another round of bickering. But tonight isn’t about just that. They are here to hang out, as Jiwon has put it—

(—wasted out of her mind halfway past a bottle of Château Margaux. She lamented through the phone about the horrible hangover she had in the morning, yet somehow the suggestion remained.) 

“You wounded me!” The gray-haired swordsman exclaims. He’s feigning hurt obviously, but it’s those next words that manage to get on Jiwon’s nerves. “Didn’t you remember how you used to hang around little ol’ me and fawn like a pup—ow ow!”

“I. Was. Young. And. I. Was. Stupid!” With each syllable, her hand strikes down Simon’s back in a poor attempt to chastise her jerk of a comrade. “I’d never date you in a million years, not even Peter—“

Soongu cocks an eyebrow at the mention of his infamous codename. Jiwon clamps a hand over her mouth as the realization of what just slipped out hits her. Peter. It would have been fine to mention it if all of them were lazing around in her fancy lair with ice whiskeys on the stainless marble countertop, but here they were out in the open. Not to mention the mutual agreement to only refer to Soongu as… well, Soongu.

“Shit, my bad.” She gulps, a drop of sweat rolling down her forehead. The dog continues to curl up and snuggle her lap.

“Careless, aren’t cha?” Taking the chance to tease, Simon bends his knees and flashes Jiwon a toothy grin that she luckily can’t see, but pisses her off enough to the point her jaws clench, ready to wipe it off his stupid face with another punch.

“You little—”

“Alright, break it up.” As fun as it is to watch the shenanigans carry on, that brief mention of his name reminds the boy to interfere in the little fight. He puts his hands on either of his friends’ foreheads, creating some distance lest they decide to headbutt each other into concussion. “You’re forgetting someone.”

Kageo tenses up ever so slightly in Soongu’s peripheral vision, not used to being the center of attention now that the spotlight is suddenly on him. In his white T-shirt and 6’7 frame, their new companion still ominously blends into the background and contents himself watching every interaction. Old habits die hard, Soongu supposes. Back then those shoulders were unshackled by the weight of hatred and revenge, Kageo was but a shadow standing behind Yuika, serving the girl with all his might. Now with the corpse of his first love rotting on the seabed alongside what’s left of their ship, Kageo is forced to be who he thought he has never been before.

Someone who actually matters.

“I’m fine with whatever you suggest.”

It takes a while for a response to come. Humble and demure, typical for the guy. Soongu can’t blame him; it’s hella awkward for four of them to just stand here and do nothing but stare at each other. 

Simon, unsurprisingly, is the one to break the silence. Taking a step forward, the old man pats Kageo on the back. A classic bro move to let him know there’s no hostility between them anymore. 

“C’mon kiddo,” he clicks his tongue playfully. Simon talks to Kageo like an uncle does his nephew, and Soongu can’t help but wonder if it’s a direct result of months of being an undercover guard at that local grade school, “we’re gonna let loose just this one night. Show a little more enthusiasm, will ya?”

The boy in question tenses up, clearly not used to the casual skinship between friends. Then again, he has only ever been with Yuika, and even then there wasn’t really a time for them to “hang out” between the constant killing and running from authority.

Kageo ducks his head with a loud “Y-Yes, Uncle! I’ll try!” that makes Simon’s smile grow impossibly wider around the edge. Almost hard to believe that the swordsman himself was seconds away from slashing the younger boy’s hand back then. Truly the development of all time.

The atmosphere seems to ease up a bit with that interaction out of the way. While the two of them are busy in their bubble, Soongu turns his attention to Jiwon—who somehow chose to stay quiet throughout the past few minutes. It isn’t very much like her, so he takes his spot on the bench next to the woman.

“Are we going in?” He looks over to his comrade, obviously referring to the store next to them.

“Yeah,” Jiwon hums with a smile, sounding happier than what Soongu usually hears from her. The German Shepherd hops off her lap, instead running up to nuzzle against his legs, which the boy happily rewards the dog with more head scratches.

—

This 7-11 smells… nice. Just the usual cleaning chemicals and lavender spray, but still nice. Anything is better than that funky smell of burnt cheese and melted slurpees.

Soongu hasn’t been to that much to draw the conclusion, honestly. Even back then, all he did as a young and invincible Peter was going on missions from one country to another. Between the seemingly endless list of targets to take down and people to protect, his meals only ever consisted of instant noodles and takeouts. Sitting down at a restaurant to enjoy the food was rare, going to a convenience store for it was even rarer. As an Apostle, the boy doesn’t want to risk a mass shooting that would harm innocent citizens. But as a now just-another-D-rank-Glory-killer…

“Danbi!” 

His mom-comrade calls out an unfamiliar name before rushing past him to reach someone. He turns around to see a girl, the store’s logo plastered on her red apron as well as a beverage-filled box in her hands. Interestingly, she doesn’t end up toppling over despite how quickly the woman sprints in her direction to pull this Danbi into a bone-crushing embrace. 

“You brat—” Jiwon grits her teeth, squishing the younger girl’s cheeks together like Play-Doh. Soongu can’t help but wince just by watching the interaction; she really loved to pull this move back when he first revealed his rejuvenated self, “—where the hell were you?! I called you ten times and you didn’t even answer!”

Her aggressive yelling manages to get the other two’s attention, who up until now were eyeing neatly arranged lines of alcoholic drinks inside a freezer at the back of the store. Kageo gives Simon a mild questioning look when they draw closer to the source of drama, an expression that the old swordsman mirrors. Now it just seems like all three of them are at a loss for this new girl’s identity.

“Ow, ow— unnie!” Danbi squeals like an injured animal. With her hands already occupied, she’s helpless against the onslaught of Jiwon’s pinching. “You’re so mean! You know I can’t use my phone during my shift.”

The blind woman clicks her tongue, unimpressed. “I texted 30 minutes ago too, and you left me on read!”

If she plans to guilt her, it works. Danbi deflates with a sigh. Just before she can say anything else, however, Simon chimes in with a question they’re all dying to know.

“Um… who are you, Missy?”

Danbi’s eyes snap open at the unexpected inquiry. She looks like she doesn’t realize they are right there. Soongu notes how her gaze travels from Kageo’s neutral face to Simon’s amputated arm and then—

—to Soongu himself.

She lingers on him for longer too. Three seconds too long, he counts, with just her blank, doll-eyed stare boring holes directly into his skull.

But then the girl shrivels up, bowing until the box in her hands sweeps the ground, bottles of fizzy drink inside clicking together when she says, “I’m Ahn Danbi, nice to meet you!” then proceeds to straighten up her back with a smile so bright it immediately makes Soongu second guess his decision, but to what?

…to what?

Jiwon grins, the joy evident in her voice. Her affection is softer this time as she returns to wrapping her arms around Danbi’s shoulders. 

“Danbi, these idiots are under my care. Idiots, Danbi here is my cousin—“ Alexander walks up and nuzzles its face against said girl’s legs, “—and protégé, too.

Simon looks shocked by the reveal. “We never knew you had one!”

“Now you do~”

The old man just rolls his eyes before turning to the girl, a big smile on his face as he introduces himself. “Nice to meet ya too, kiddo! I’m Simon.”   

“Hello~” Danbi, still holding onto the box, manages to shift its weight into one hand while squeezing out of her cousin’s embrace just enough to catch a handshake, “Unnie told me a lot about you!”

Uh oh, that scratches a spot. Soongu watches as Simon’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree before his old pal makes a smug face.

“Oh, did she?” The guy pretends to his stubble thoughtfully, though not without the smirk still plastered on his face. “I hope she didn’t blast your poor ears off talking ‘bout me. You know how obsessed she is—”

Jiwon does end up punching him in the face this time. 

—

“So you drain the noodles with these right here…”

Danbi gestures to the tiny dots at the edge of the sealing lid. Using the tip of a wooden chopstick, she pokes three holes before lifting the cup noodle up and tipping it forward so the water can escape through the small space. Above her, Kageo looks strangely out of place as he towers over and watches with hawk-like attention. 

“Here you go!” The girl turns back to him, presenting the now soft instant ramen inside. “Now you just need to add the seasoning.”

Kageo tilts his head. He’s more of a lost child than the unfeeling giant Soongu saw on the Ghost Cruise weeks back, void of Yuika’s cunning giggles or million-dollar chandeliers that render him stationary in the golden lights. When she drowned, a part of him no doubt went down along. But here, there’s a small yet still-there glow in those inky eyes when his friend takes the cup, voice filled with curiosity.

“There’s no water?”

“I saved a bit for easy mixing. Other than that,” Jiwon’s cousin gives him a kind smile. Despite the less-than-ideal introduction to their little team, she seems to have no trouble breaking the ice, “this is a type of 'stir-fried’ dry noodle. You picked Buldak Cream Carbonara, which is usually prepared with just the sauce and powder.”

A small hum leaves Kageo’s throat as he takes in the new piece of information. He then gets to work, finishing the rest of the preparation by mixing two said packets together. The fusion of butter and cheese gives Soongu’s nose a funny tingle, though he isn’t that hungry yet to ask for a bite.

Kageo looks quite amazed at his handiwork, watching as the ramen turns from platinum blonde to a shade of amber—coating in the Buldak sauce and cream powder. Unable to resist, the boy digs in. The flavors left an instant impression on his taste buds, and Kageo’s eyes widened almost comically.

“This is amazing!” 

Danbi beams at the heartfelt praise, even if it isn’t directed at her. “I’m glad! This brand is popular worldwide. Let me know if you need anything else!”

The conversation ends on a comfortable note, with Kageo giving her a quick thank you before heading out to join Jiwon and Simon on the tables outside, whose heads are probably buried in another meaningless argument. Danbi, all smiles and relaxed shoulders, turns back to arranging the drinks into the freezer. She doesn’t seem to mind the silence that follows, nor the fact that Soongu is still here, leaning against the wall a few steps away. She doesn’t even spare him a glance. 

And he isn’t paranoid, definitely not—anyone and anything he’s wary of always turns out to be a threat in the end. Soongu just can’t let loose; he doesn’t know how to. The cool tiles tickle the Apostle’s scalp, his ears buzzing with soft mechanical hums from the AC running above. It’s awfully bright in here, and the more he looks, the more spots and afterimages blind his vision.

Fuck, he needs some nicotine to think. 

And a beer. 

Nicotine and beer.

Soongu fishes into his pants pockets for a nonexistent cigarette, his chest rumbling with a quiet groan. Of course it isn’t there; he barely smoked this month. He sees Danbi in the corner of his eyes, hands on her lap while she sits on her haunches. She stares at him unblinkingly like he’s strange. Like he’s not a real person. And maybe that’s all he needs. Maybe Soongu doesn’t want to drag the painful interaction out longer than a few surface-level exchanges. 

Maybe he’s just that pent-up.

But Danbi smiles again with a glow of satisfaction. She gets up and makes her way towards him, spreading her palms out to reveal a pack of Zest like she’s treating Halloween’s candies to the neighbor’s kids. 

“Last one in stock.” The girl goes on like nothing happened; the same customer service smile with a small hint of sugary emptiness. “Enjoy.”

And Soongu doesn’t know how to feel. He’s very much skeptical, some part impressed, yet not at all touched by the deceitfully thoughtful gesture. There’s a stark difference in how Danbi hugs Jiwon back, shakes Simon’s hand, and guides Kageo through a simple routine versus the stench of death she has been subtly reeking from every small pore on her body.

“And,” the corner of Soongu’s lips curl up into a smirk. It takes two to tango, “how exactly would you know?”

Danbi lets out a small sigh, tilting her head slightly to the side with her arms crossed. A wistful look graces her face, and only there does he finally pick up the first glimpse of blood relation between her and his blind comrade. 

“That was all the guys in Glory ever bought when they crashed.” The way she sounds it out genuinely feels like a complaint. “Lo Crux isn’t out of the equation, but that’s for older men.” 

What a theory. Soongu’s fingers graze one edge of the pack. The sticker and thin wrapper are already peeled, though the whole thing inside remains untouched. 

“Why not?” He quips. “Can’t a young man enjoy his cigar?”

“Not really...”

Danbi giggles, leaning closer.

“Unless you’re Peter.”

Soongu froze, his spine growing cold just as the tiles behind him.

But she provides an easy out, clasping her hands together with a sheepish smile. “Welp, that’s just me though! Everybody has their own preference.”

She places the empty box on the ground aside, leaving him to comprehend her words. And that’s it. The girl crouches down and grabs a few cans of beer when she opens the freezer door with one hand, balancing the drinks in the other. Danbi looks at him with a cheerfulness that is hard-wired into her facial muscles, just the right amount of casual insanity to keep the Apostle guessing.

“Give these to her, ok?” She nags him in an easygoing voice, passing them after she dumps the cans into a 7-11 plastic bag. And Soongu takes it. It’s mainly for Jiwon, but they are all likely to share everything later. One look inside reveals more and more boozes, some brands he vaguely recalls to be his friend’s favorites two decades ago before she trades them for high-end goods.

Eating at a well-known local BBQ and hitting a karaoke booth until morning are their ultimate goal for tonight. He’s sure swinging by here has just been an added bonus for Jiwon to see her sibling and grab beers on the way. Soongu stops humoring Danbi’s mind games for a while, opting to let his gaze trail naturally along the see-through glasses that wall this place with the world outside.

 The moving smudges of brown, gray, and white in the distance are his friends. Comrades. And he appreciates them. He really does. There’s always more to their bond than that of people who share a mutual goal to take down Glory—there’s a common ground too. A dynamic he finds himself growing comfortable with. They knew who he really was, and Soongu thinks it’s nice: he doesn’t have to put up a mask like he does around Yuna and the Doggo brothers. Around them, he can just simply be him.

A dysfunctional family, but still a family nonetheless.

Danbi watches in his peripheral vision, a curious look etched on her face. When the Apostle pulls up to the counter to check out, she waves her hands dismissively with a smile; Jiwon slipped her something much more valuable under the table.

—

You click the door shut behind you, staring up at the ceiling.

They gang up, and you can mostly get behind that logic. 

Kageo is little more than emotionally driven at the moment, but there is plenty of room to grow once the pain mellows out. Simon, too. Goofy and unserious as he is, the man was Peter’s best student back in their days. Even if Jiwon is no match for Johan and his god-like echolocation, she’s still a formidable opponent on her own. Overall a team… a strong one. If they can make it work, they’re bound to be an eyesore for Glory in the long run. 

Then why the hell is he there?

That guy is undoubtedly Kim Soongu, the face you saw digging through the pile of documents one night after Nathaniel’s comment about a certain newbie piqued your interest—you weren’t impressed with what you found. Average stats, average height, no remarkable features. What potential was there to tap into?

Washing down the budding bit of annoyance with a huff, you lean against the hollow metal surface of the door.

“Danbi, is there really no cigarette left?~”

No answer.

“Oh.”

You let out a soft chuckle. 

A few footsteps forward, Danbi’s body rots away near the entrance leading to the store’s dumpster area. She was like that when you first found her—on her stomach with cheeks caked in a thin layer of mud and rainwater. She’s neither moving nor breathing—her skin grows cold and her muscles become stiff. Even then, Jiwon hadn’t been able to pick up the telltale signs of strangeness and death in your movement—letting her guard down around the ones she called family. 

“Huh,” you nudge her corpse with one foot, just enough to get her lifeless eyes to meet yours. “a seizure it is. That surgery sure fucked you up.”

Well, not that’s any of your business!

She’s dead, the security camera is down, 7-11 is empty, and you have a new bedtime story to tell Raphael tonight. Leaving through the door in the back, you bid Danbi farewell with a smile.

Her body is found in the morning.

[total-dxmure]

✦ MARLEY AND ME →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER FOUR

pairing: modern!ellie williams x single mom!reader

summary: you’re a single mom just doing the best that she can to make ends meet. ellie can’t help but think that you're the kindest, most beautiful girl that she’s ever met. compared to taking care a little girl that's in her terrible twos, coming to terms with the fact that you’re a lesbian is a walk in the park. awkward first encounters, ellie’s broken gay-dar, and her overwhelming urge to take care of the care-giver. . . the road to domesticity is a long one, but it’s well worth the pining that it takes to get there.

warnings: eventual substance use, no use of y/n (you have nicknames/petnames), the reader is marley’s biological mother, talk of coming to terms with ones sexuality, mention of a shitty baby daddy ( though there is no co-parenting between them), ellie is a total girl mom, lots and lots of fluff, ellie is an anxious dork in this fic, reader is broke but happy, ellie takes pride in being a provider, this is going to be a multi-part fic, ellie is an absolute simp for the reader since chapter one and will remain her #1 fan.

The knock on the door is to the tune “Head Over Heels”- or at least you think it is. Ellie doesn’t have enough time to fully get through the chorus before you’re yanking it open, cheeks flushed all pretty and eyes wide. They glitter in the dim sunlight like jewels, staring up at her like she was the one that hung the moon. Ellie’s got that same dumb look on her face; mossy eyes wrinkled at the corners from the force of her smile. You would never know that she’s been up since seven o’clock in the morning, cramming for an exam that she had aced. She’d talked to Joel for the fifteen minutes that it took to get to your house, bragging on and on about how much easier it had been than she’d initially thought that it would be.

He let her brag. Of course he did. She wasn’t quite as talkative as she had been when she was a teenager, but she was still famous for her little tangents. Joel was good at listening, and Ellie? Well, she was a professional yapper. It was a match made in heaven.

Ellie smells like lavender, musk and patchouli incense. The scent of it clings to her hair and clothes. She’d mentioned a couple of times that she was a daily smoker, but she made sure to go out of her way to never smell when she was over at your place. The thought of your daughter cuddling to her when she smelled. . . funky made her cringe.

There’s a moment of appreciative silence as she stands on your front porch. The two of you just stare at each other, breathing the scent of each other in. The novelty still isn’t lost as far as your courting goes either. You can’t imagine the nervous butterflies ever going away. They’ve made a cage out of your ribs, fluttering away madly in your chest.

“Hey,” She breathes through her smile, her eyes dancing over your features. “Did I miss anything exciting?”

You look absolutely exhausted. Gorgeous, but exhausted nonetheless. Ellie has noticed that you do a very good job at putting others' needs before your own. You’d been at work for two whole hours before Ellie had even woken up this morning, and now you felt like you were on autopilot. You’d walked to your mom’s to pick Marley up, gotten her bathed and dressed in little play overalls and now the two of you were spending some quality time together. You could barely keep your eyes open, and yet you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get your screaming toddler to sleep for at least another three hours.

“Marles and I are making homemade play-doh right now,” You opened the door wider, tempting her into the house with a sweet smile. Who was Ellie to deny you of all people? “She’s been excited ever since I told her that you were coming over.”

Marley had taken to Ellie like a bee to honey.

The college student hadn’t had too many opportunities to be around children- especially ones as young as Marley was. She was unfamiliar with the tiny sticky hands, drooly mouths and unpredictable attitudes. Still, she was a natural. Marley gravitated towards her. Ellie was sure that the constant presents and sweet treats buttered her up, but she would be selling herself short if she claimed that those were the only reason that your daughter loved her so much.

Your three year old babbled from the kitchen, excitedly trying to piece together a sentence. Ellie closed the door behind herself, only to sweep you up into a bone crushing hug. Your laugh was muffled by the fabric of her soft cotton button up as you nuzzled your face into her neck. Closer, closer, closer. If she could absorb you into her body she would. It was hard to describe the level of admiration she felt for you. It was too early to classify it as “love”, but she supposed she did love you and Marley. Being in your house, as small as it was, felt right to her.

“I missed you.” You mumbled, arms fastened tight around her waist.

She barely had enough time to brush a gentle peck to your lips before Marley was bounding around the corner, bare feet slapping against the linoleum floors. You’d recently learned that wearing socks wasn’t a good idea. Your poor little girl had slipped and fallen far too many times for your liking.

Marley had become more comfortable in her body, which meant she was now running, jumping and climbing. Just a year ago you had been relieved that she could walk by herself without you holding her hand, and now keeping her off of your furniture was an impossible task. Nothing had prepared you for the constant changes that came with motherhood. You blinked and suddenly she was sassy and genuinely funny. She complimented you when you were wearing something unusually flashy and wanted you to put blush on her while you were getting the both of you ready so that she could “look like mommy”.

You never expected anyone outside of your family and close friends to appreciate your daughter in the same way that you did.

But then there was Ellie.

Self indulgent. Waking up this happy felt sinful.

Your fingers gently glide over her gentle planes and curves, making a map in your mind of every inch of her. Each freckles a continent, each line a river.

You didn’t want to wake Ellie, too frightened that you might break whatever magic spell was currently suspended in the air between the two of you. This moment between you felt too good to be true, and that scarred little voice inside of you that you loathed so much was begging you to enjoy this while it lasted.

You were always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Happiness was fleeting. You felt like you didn’t deserve whatever was going on between the two of you. Your entire identity for the last three years has been summed up in a singular label: “ a mother”. You were a sexless, wantless, selfless creature meant only to teach and please. How dare you need a night off. How dare you choose yourself over an abusive relationship. How dare you need, want, desire, change.

But this? This was nice.

No, it was better than nice. Great? No. . . It was perfect. She was perfect. And that terrified you. Ellie scared the absolute shit out of you, and yet you couldn’t take a step back. It was like you were falling head first for a very, very long time. The ground is nowhere in sight.

You were free falling and you had no clue where you would end up when all was said and done. It felt selfish to put so much effort and care into so many new things at once. Especially since those new things could shatter your heart into a million pieces at any second. You knew that Ellie didn’t owe you anything. She was nice enough to give you a chance despite all of your faults. Your baggage had become too heavy for you to hold at times, so how could you ever expect someone else to help pick up the slack?

You weren’t even sure what the two of you were doing together. The two of you hadn’t put a label on your relationship, but she’d brought you flowers yesterday when she popped by for a movie night. She’d even gotten a small bouquet for Marley, who was far too small to appreciate them for longer than five minutes.

Ellie wasn’t your girlfriend, but she’d slipped Marley’s shoes on for her before you’d all left the house last night to pick up dinner. Ellie wasn’t your girlfriend, but she’d spent the night with you last night in your bed. Ellie wasn’t your girlfriend, but she’d held you all throughout the night.

She didn’t even try to get handsy at all last night, probably having seen the exhaustion written all over your face. She kissed you because she wanted to show you affection. She held you because she wanted to be close.

What you didn’t know was that Ellie felt the same way that you did. She was lost as to when to ask the dreaded “what are we?” question. The thought of pushing you away or losing you was agonizing, so instead she had deluded herself into thinking that she didn’t have to define things. It was clear that she liked you, right?

She’d never felt this way about anybody before. This wasn’t like any other crushes she’d had in the past. She felt fresh and new. Ellie even felt like she looked a bit different when she looked in a mirror. There was a glow to her; a sense of happiness that wasn’t just rare for her but something that she had once deemed an impossibility. She felt changed for the better.

It was easy to love Marley. It had happened naturally- like breathing. You don’t have to remember how to breathe. . . it just happens. With you it was different. Obsessive, maddening, all inhabiting affection. You’d wrapped your dainty hands around her heart tight, tight, tight. Every skip and butterfly is a gentle reminder that this was something. The both of you are something, and that is enough.

She smiles before she even has her eyes open. She can feel your fingers on her bare arms, and for a second she ponders whether or not she’s in heaven. . . or perhaps still dreaming. Waking up in your bed, the scent of your shampoo on all of the pillows and your soft hands on her- she could die right there, your room, her tomb. The headboard, her headstone.

“Are you real?” She whispers, her voice hoarse and still thick with sleep. She’s looking at you with those great, big green eyes. Your eyes are glued to the small collection of freckles just above her top lip, but you hear her.

“M’ real.” You mumble out a confirmation, propping your head up on your hand so that you can lean over her. You know your hair is a mess. . . but she’s studying your face with a silent sort of appreciation that has your throat feeling thick with emotion.

She’s soft. Ellie’s soft and wants to take care of you. She showers you and your daughter with affection without ever having to be asked to. Why? Because she wants to do it. You find it hard to believe that anyone would want to go out of their way like this. Especially for someone like you. You were a young mother who hadn’t gone to college. You lived in a tiny house, operated paycheck to paycheck, and had a few stretch marks on your tummy. You weren’t perfect. Not like Ellie deserved.

So why was she looking at you like that?

Oh god, how she stared at you. Her eyes were velvet soft as her eyes flickered over your face, taking in every feature. She’d never woken up next to you before. Your bedhead and glassy eyes had her heart blooming with warmth. The ceiling fan had a few strands of your hair falling into your eyes. She took the opportunity to tuck them behind your ear, feeling the softness of your skin. She committed that to memory too.

“I really like this.” Ellie finally admits, bottom jaw quivering a bit. She fiddles with her fingers under your comforter, a nervous habit.

“What?” You ask her incredulously. If Ellie’s eyes weren’t open she’d still know you were smiling. She could hear it in the way you spoke, and it had her seeing stars. And Ellie really, really loved stars. “Looking at my bedhead? You better not take any pictures.” You were already smoothing your hair down with your hands, brushing through a few tangles.

She caught your arms, shaking her head the best she could with it still resting on your pillows. “Waking up next to you. Being here with you two- this is really nice.” It was more than nice, but she didn’t want to scare you away by coming on too strongly.

You opened your mouth, getting ready to agree with her, but the familiar sound of tiny feet had you sitting up fully so that you could turn and face the doorway. You shot Ellie an apologetic smile, but she merely shook her head, sitting up as well with a small smile. She didn’t seem burdened by the existence of your daughter, which was something you weren’t used to.

Marley’s hair was an absolute disaster, per usual. It looked like she’d been caught headfirst in a tornado,wispy hairs bobbing as she shuffled closer to the bed in her footie pajamas. She had insisted on wearing them last night despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly cold enough for them. Her cheeks were pink and it was obvious that she had sweat in her sleep last night. You felt a tinge of guilt for letting her get her way, praying that Ellie didn’t think you were a bad mother for giving in so easily to her sweet demands. Sometimes it was impossible to say no to her.

She stood at the side of the bed for a few seconds, eyes still half lidded and dazed with sleep. For a second she just stared at you and Ellie, as if trying to connect the dots that someone else was in your house. It was incredibly unusual to have guests over at the house. . . well, that was before Ellie. Marley climbed up onto the bed, pushing away your eager hands when you tried to reach out for her.

Your little girl was headed straight for Ellie. You bit the inside of your cheek, feigning a look of jealousy when Marley wrapped her tiny arms around the other woman’s neck. Ellie’s eyes widened as she held the small girl to her chest, cheeks growing warm when she realized just how much your daughter liked her. She wanted to blame the constant presents and sweet treats, but that wasn’t the case. Marley loved Ellie because she was patient with her. She took the time to sit down with her, ask her questions- hell, Ellie even played with her, which your own mother often wasn’t in the mood to do.

“I can’t believe you, Marles.” You gasped out, nose wrinkling in faux dismay. You rubbed her arm up and down, trying to gently get her attention. Marley looked up at you through her long lashes, plopping her head down on Ellie’s shoulder in a very dramatic, very Marley fashion.

“She chose me fair and square.” Ellie boasted, using her hand to try and smooth down her crazy bedhead.

You took a mental picture, eyes pinching at the corners with the force of your smile. Marley had curled herself up into a ball and didn’t seem prepared to budge any time soon. Ellie didn’t even attempt to hand her off to you. Instead the woman stood up with a small groan, her black sweatpants hanging low on her waist. You tried not to stare at the exposed flesh of her stomach as her tank top rode up but failed miserably. The brunette turned her head to face you, having felt the heat of your gaze, and the both of you exchanged a knowing smile.

“She has her legs pulled up to her chest,” Ellie said with a chuckle, her arms secured tightly around your child. “You’re like a little potato.” She pressed a quick kiss to Marley’s hair when the tiny girl started giggling at the comparison.

“M’ not!” Marley squealed, sticky hands tanging into Ellie’s cropped hair. You watched as she gave her hair a tug, your stomach tensing in panic.

You started to stand up, ready to scold your daughter for her rough treatment, but Ellie was already walking down the hall. You sat in disbelief for a second, questioning whether or not you should go in and check on the two of them. You so rarely had time to yourself like this. It felt wrong to take advantage of this opportunity, but you had a feeling that Ellie had done this on purpose.

Was she trying to drop hints that you looked bad? You were absolutely exhausted last night, so you wouldn’t be surprised if your face was a mess and your clothes in disarray. You anxiously raked through your hair, kicking the tangled sheets off of your legs so that you could run to the nearest mirror.

“Are pancakes for breakfast alright?” Ellie had ducked her head back into the bedroom, a beaming Marley still propped up on her hip. You jumped at the sudden voice, glaring in her direction as she chuckled at your expense.

You weren’t used to being so hard on yourself as far as your appearance goes. Impressing people, these days, was the last thing on your mind. Ellie felt the same way though. She’d be a liar if she said that she hadn’t checked herself out in the mirror you had in the living room, anxious that she looked like hammered dog shit after drooling all over your pillow.

The weight of your head on her chest had her sleeping like a damn baby last night. Marley had acted as a wonderful distraction from her own embarrassment, especially when she realized the back of her hair was practically sticking straight up.

What you didn’t know was that she’d never spent the night with a girl. Not romantically, at least. The both of you were in the exact same anxious boat, and while Ellie knew that she was your first, you had no inkling that you were a lot of her firsts as well.

“Pancakes?” You parroted back to her, wetting your dry lips.

You began tallying up totals in your head, trying to figure out whether or not you had the cash to grab breakfast. You would like to treat Ellie and Marley. . . but after paying the water and the power bill two days ago, you barely had enough to put gas in your car. You felt your cheeks heating up as you tried to come up with a nice way to say “I don’t have the money for pancakes” without sounding like a shitty adult and an even shittier mother.

Ellie could see the way you were over thinking things, her eyes nervously flickering to your closet. You only had a few articles of clothing for yourself, and yet she’d never seen Marley wear the same outfit twice. She’d seen you with your calculator at the grocery store, nervously staring at a total. She knew that you weren’t financially secure- you were a young single mother. The brunette smiled at you, shoving her hands in her pockets as she leaned against the doorframe.

“I make really good pancakes, and it looks like you have everything I need. Marley would be an amazing help too. She’d make my job a lot easier.” She rocked back on the heels of her gray socks, biting the inside of her cheek as she looked at you.

You looked nervous, tired, and adorable as hell. Your band t-shirt was rumpled with sleep and you were standing in tiny white socks, all self conscious and overly critical. She wanted to kiss you… but she hadn’t brushed her teeth.

“Let me go ahead and take her to the bathroom first,” You ran through your daily checklist in your mind, though not forgetting to flash her a thankful smile that nearly had the girl’s legs buckling. “Oh! Uh. . . I have an extra toothbrush. You can have it. Do you want to use the restroom first? It’ll give me some time to get her outfit together for the day.”

Ellie wanted to be selfless and tell you that she didn’t want to go first, but her breath was probably stale and the last thing she wanted was for you to be grossed out by her. She couldn’t fuck this up. She refused to.

You found Marley in her bedroom, having already strewn toys around the room. You let out a small huff of breath, realizing that today was probably going to be a rough one. Each day was different with your little girl. One day she was a perfect angel, only doing what she was told. Other days. . . well, rambunctious didn’t fully encompass her level of energy. Today was going to be one of those days.

“Alrighty, Marles! Let’s pick out a pretty outfit, alright?” You started to walk to her closet, but froze as she began shaking her head. “You don’t want to put on a dress? Or what about some overalls so you can play better?”

“No!” She screamed, running to the other side of her room so that she could grab a few more stuffed animals off of her bed. She tossed those on the ground too, even going as far as to plop down on the floor.

You had hoped that Ellie wouldn’t see this. At least. . . not so soon into the relationship. If she couldn’t accept Marley on bad days like this then you knew she wasn’t the right person for you, but still- you had hoped to slowly introduce this lifestyle to her. Not flat out throw her to the metaphorical wolves. Or. . . to Marley. You felt your bottom lip quiver, but you caught it between your teeth, giving it a few nervous chews before you sat down next to her.

“Do you want to stay in your pajamas?” Your tone was nothing but loving and patient. You were used to this, but Ellie wasn’t. You could only pray that she could accept you. All of you.

“Yes! Please, mommy.” She was getting better at articulating her thoughts and feelings. You found it impossible to deny her when she spoke to you like this. Especially when she asked politely.

So you found herself nodding, flashing her a megawatt smile that she happily returned. You could make a special day out of this. Pancakes and pajamas? It sounded heavenly.

“You’re so polite, baby girl! Alright, we’ll stay in our pajamas today. How about that? And Ellie said that you’re going to help her make breakfast. Are you going to be a big help?”

“Yeah.” She replied, already focused on the baby doll in front of her.

Her hands were still stained a little pink from making the play-doh last night. Once she remembers that she has that to play with too, you can only imagine the mess she’ll make on your dining room table.

You’re beautiful and patient. Ellie watches the two of you interact from the hallway, her breath all minty and her smile all wide. She thinks that she can live like this forever.

And she prays that she gets to.

@viswifetotallyreal​  @lillysbigwilly​  @overtrred28​  @corpsebridenightamare​ @jokerpokimoon @macaroni676 @eveshyper @lil-elliesgf @fuckingstarellie @gold-dustwomxn @madislayyy @moonbluz @vianna99 @sawaagyapong @mrsromanoff @glory-grl @sadeyedsugar @inf3ct3dd @teatimedisaster @laucalo @ellieswilliamsgf @machetegirl109 @moonchild184 @onlinelesbo @lasting-lover @luvrrcharr @koremis @elsmissingfingers @whoreshores @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @circe-is-struggling @cqrrnts @elliewilliamsmiller0 @harrysslutsstuff @shewantstoknow @laundrybag29 @darkerstarsstuff @elliesdesperatewife @rulerzreachf4n44 @eviestevie-14 @deliriousrn @diddiqueen @bready101 @felsweb @jaeminpookie @elliesswearjar @2012wannabe @abbysbae @boobabietch @amorqts

[bonefall]

Bonus Moonpaw

So like I got carried away when I got to FlipBay Moonpaw in my little hypokit sketches, because I realized that BB!Bayshine's family trait could resemble a phantom of the opera mask.

And then it hit me harder. BB!Flipclaw's great x3 grandfather is Redtail, who was the brother of Spottedleaf. I can bring her bones and blight theme back.

I don't know if it will be final or not, BUT, I ended up sketching a couple of Moonpaws with Spotty's old death theme. They look RAD in any case, so I HAVE to share them even if I don't use them

My first take make half of her face orange, that one right in the center there. I like it a lot, but decided to try and stick to canon by making sure half of her face is black.

The blight spots actually came from me realizing that she has some Ferncloud in her thanks to the BB Family Tree rework (great grandmother), so I tried to put some rosettes on her. Then realized that it looked like good ol' Spotty so I leaned into it.

If I do take another stab at this one, I might try to not do the blight-thing and instead try to channel more Phantom of the Opera. For some reason that just stuck to my brain REALLY hard.

I know general fandom consensus is hoping she's kind of distant and strange, but honestly I'm really hoping she's a bit of a brat who insists upon her destiny.

Manifesting Villain Moonpaw. I want her to insist the moonpool must be saved, and then when there's an inevitable multi-chapter argument about making the plot move she just completely snaps and drowns their ass in the once sacred sludgewater.

If these demands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur!

If Moonpaw ends up as Firekin in BB because of my family tree reworks, it would be SICK AS HELL for her to be the first straightup VILLAINOUS member of her bloodline.

AND to bring back sweet Spotty's theme for such a character? Man. It would be so cooool

But, hey, even if she's not a villain, it would be nice to see such a metal theme come back. A cat born so special that she is both reviled and revered, death and decay expressed on both halves of her body.

I'll probably try making the spots easier to draw with a second pass. I just slapped them around randomly because these are sketches.

[nian-7]

Hello! I really appreciate your writing, I've been reading your works from your PJSEKAI and BANG DREAM masterlist and I've fallen in love with the way you write such scenarios. And as a multi fandom, I'm so glad you're writing for HSR! When I saw that your requests were open, I took the chance to make this request. Please, take all the time you need to write and don't rush, author! 😊

I would like to request The Herta and Firefly for SFW Alphabet, letters: E, I, J, P, V (Emotions, Impression, Jealousy, Patience, and Vanity).

Thank you so much! 💙

the herta, firefly x gn!reader

-> sfw alphabet (E, I, J, P, V) -> a/n: so glad you like my works, anon!! hope you enjoy this one too<3

please do not repost any of my work without my permission, thank you for reading.

the herta

Emotions (how are they with dealing with their emotions?)

-heavily depends on the emotion. herta tries not to show when her emotions get the better of her like when she's jealous. she'll usually hide it and not tell you that she's jealous. when she's particularly upset though, it's not hard to tell.

Impression (their first impression of you)

-not notable. she spared you a second glance which is more than she usually would but other than that, there was nothing notable. at least, that's what she told herself.

Jealousy (are they easily jealous? when do they get jealous?)

-yes, but it also depends. usually, she won't get jealous of a random person flirting or even just getting too close for comfort. it's more so when you're not giving her enough attention and giving something else your attention. that's when she usually gets jealous.

Patience (are they patient with you and others?)

-with you? yes. more so than others. for the most part she has no patience with others and that's because she knows exactly what she wants, how she wants it done, and when she wants it. with you though, she tries to be more accepting that you might not understand or can't do something right away.

Vanity (how much do they care about their own appearance?)

-herta, of course, does care a lot about her appearance. it takes time and energy to look that good, you know! she can't just half ass it and call it a day. she wants to look good and puts effort into looking good.

firefly

Emotions (how are they with dealing with their emotions?)

-when it comes to you, firefly finds it relatively easy to control her emotions. she never wants to get mad or upset with you and she can deal with it relatively well. no yelling will ever be directed at you and if she ever does, she regrets it immediately.

Impression (their first impression of you)

-your personality was something that just drew her in. maybe you just had an infectious laugh or your smile just seemed to brighten the room up. she thought you were a good person who she wouldn't mind getting to know.

Jealousy (are they easily jealous? when do they get jealous?)

-firefly has a normal amount of jealousy. of course, if you're giving someone more attention than her when your main focus is supposed to be her, she'll feel a little left out and jealous. if you're in a group of friends though, it's less likely for her to feel jealous since you're all friends.

Patience (are they patient with you and others?)

-she's patient with you and others. always caring and taking in others opinions. she tries not to be impatient because she'd like others to be just as patient with her too. it'd be rude of her to want something from others that she doesn't give to them!

Vanity (how much do they care about their own appearance?)

-she cares when she's going to see you. always checking her hair and making sure that there's nothing off about her appearance. she wants to look good for you! she doesn't mind as much when you're both in private and finds it easier for herself to

[sah1x1s-archived]

Law & Order: Sah Edition

“She looks sad. She looks angry. She looks different from everyone else I know—she cannot put on that happy face others wear when they know they are being watched. She doesn’t put on a face for me, which makes me trust her somehow.”

Updated rules for writing with this RP blog! Please like it when you've read them!

Rule 1: Multi-Fandom, Multi-Verse, Multi-Ship, and OC Friendly.

Please note that I am open to a wide range of fandoms, universes, ships, and original characters (OCs). However, for a smooth and engaging interaction, I need to feel that our muses are compatible. If it seems unlikely that our characters will connect meaningfully, I may not follow back. This isn't personal—sometimes muses just don't align. Additionally, if you are using a side-blog, kindly inform me so I can make sure to follow your RP blog directly. Thank you!

Rule 2: Post Formatting and Reply Ettiquite.

I strive to respond to threads in a timely manner, but please understand that muse can be unpredictable at times. If it's been about a week or so without a reply or update on a particular thread, feel free to reach out to me here or on Discord— I'm more than happy to hear from you! Regarding writing format, I tend to write longer replies, but please don’t feel pressured to match that length. As long as you provide a paragraph or two in return, that’s more than enough. When I post from my laptop or desktop, I might include banners, GIFs, and occasionally style the text, though I keep it simple overall. I don't mind how you choose to format your replies—whether using icons or not, or with or without formatting. I’m here to write with you, and I’m sure you have great aesthetics! Let’s just enjoy the process together.

Rule 3: I do not forget people on purpose.

I understand that it may appear as though I’m consistently replying to certain individuals, but I want to clarify that this is often due to personal connections or close affiliations with those writers. Sometimes, I may simply have more creative energy for one thread at a given time, while others are on pause. Please know that I do not intentionally ignore anyone. If you ever notice me engaging with a specific person and want to check in or ask how I’m doing, feel free to reach out! I’m always happy to chat. Thank you for your understanding. :)

Rule 4: Type of RP blog I run and who are welcome to intereact and how!

This is a mutually exclusive, multimuse, multiverse, multiship and crossover-friendly RP blog. And for the safety and comfort of all involved, I kindly request that all interactions be with individuals who are 21 or older. The mun behind this blog is 25+, so this is a necessary guideline for both the mun and muses. While anonymous asks are welcome for lighthearted scenarios and skits, I do require knowing who I’m writing with before engaging in any threads, whether through asks or posts. Please feel free to introduce yourself in whichever manner you feel most comfortable. Thank you for understanding!

Rule 5: Ask Memes.

Feel free to send as many asks as you'd like—I truly enjoy them! However, please keep in mind that it may take me some time to respond. I appreciate your patience! I do reserve the right to delete any asks that I deem inappropriate or if I simply feel I lack the inspiration to respond to them. For Ask Memes, they will be posted in their own separate threads and considered as thread starters for those specific characters. I view these memes as a great way to break the ice and make it easier to continue interactions! If you’re running a multimuse blog, please be sure to specify which muse you are writing as when sending asks or starter calls. It helps me to respond more accurately! If you're unsure, feel free to provide a couple of options, and I’ll do my best to choose or reply accordingly. If this isn’t specified, I may either disregard the ask or respond with a random muse. Thank you so much for your understanding, and I look forward to interacting with you! <3

Rule 6: Plotting and Thread Content.

I enjoy pre-plotting threads, so don’t be surprised if, when we first start discussing potential interactions, I suggest talking things through in detail. While I’m open to winging things as well, I do want to note that I’m not the best at writing starters, so I tend to ask my partner to initiate the first post! Please be mindful that I prefer not to be pressured about specific ships, plots, or ideas. If I express that I don’t feel something would work well, I kindly ask that you respect my decision and refrain from bringing it up repeatedly. Your understanding and cooperation are greatly appreciated!

Rule 7: Shipping Muses and Thread Content.

I’m a big fan of shipping and exploring different dynamics, but I believe that chemistry between characters is key. Please don’t take it personally if things don’t develop as we initially expected—sometimes, muses just don’t align the way we hope. I truly appreciate your understanding! I'm not just looking for romantic relationships but familial ones as well as friendships and platonic ones. However, I do not very often change a muse's sexual orientation, so if they identify as "Straight," then that's how I'm writing them, and so on and on.

Rule 8: Approaching different verser or crossovers.

I recently came across a plot idea that I thought was really creative and wanted to share. "An AU where our muses discover the ability to jump into any book they choose. They can explore different worlds, until one day, they land in a fandom where they get stuck. Now, they must navigate the story, avoid being noticed, and figure out how to fix things without meeting a grim fate." This concept is how I approach crossovers, so if you're ever interested in exploring something similar, that's the kind of framework I enjoy! It's a fun way to blend fandoms and create unique scenarios where our characters have to adapt to unfamiliar settings.

Rule 9: Sah's State of Mind.

I want to be transparent about my mental health, as it can sometimes affect my interactions here. I have been diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, bipolar disorder type 2, severe depression, schizoaffective disorder, and borderline personality disorder. Despite my best efforts, these conditions can influence my actions, and at times, I may need to take a step back or become quieter for a few days. I never anticipated needing to outline this as a rule, but it's important for you to understand that these health challenges are part of who I am. If you're unfamiliar with borderline personality disorder or any of my other conditions, I encourage you to learn more about them to better understand my experience. I tend to become anxious and worried that I may have unknowingly offended someone, particularly if there’s a delay in communication, like not receiving a reply OOC (out of character), or feeling like I’ve been ignored or ghosted. If you’re someone who struggles with directly telling me if you're no longer interested in talking or writing with me, I kindly ask that you reconsider approaching me. I deeply value the OOC relationships I build with the wonderful muns behind the muses, and I invest a lot into those connections. Please know that I won’t apologize for caring about our interactions.

Rule 10: The Trigger Tagging Situation Here on this RP Blog.

If someone specifically requests that I tag something, I will make every effort to ensure it’s properly tagged. However, I do want to be transparent and say that, more often than not, I can be a bit forgetful when it comes to tagging. I apologize in advance for any oversight. I do my best to keep everyone’s rules in mind, but with the number of people I interact with and my own memory limitations, it’s not always feasible to remember every detail. Because of this, I offer flexibility with my own rules and would greatly appreciate it if the same understanding is extended to me. Please know that I never intend to violate anyone’s rules or cause discomfort, and I’m always open to communication if something needs to be addressed. Your understanding and patience mean a lot!

Rule 11: The content and warnings that come with this RP Blog.

I don’t have many specific triggers to list, but I’m generally open to exploring a wide range of themes. I make an effort to tag all darker threads accordingly, so if you’re interested in exploring content of that nature, please feel free to add me on Discord or DM me directly to discuss. However, please be aware that there may be taboo ships featured on this blog, such as those from Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon, and these themes may extend to other fandoms as well. Some content I may engage with includes, but is not limited to: gore, horror, smut, incest, assault, violence, blood, mental and physical disorders, pain, drugs, and alcohol. This list may expand over time as new ideas emerge. If any of these themes make you uncomfortable, I completely understand if you choose not to engage. Your comfort and boundaries are respected, and I won’t take offense if you decide to step away.

Rule 12: When FOLLOWING me or UNFOLLOWING me | When to Soft Block vs Hard Block.

We all know that Tumblr can be glitchy, and things like being unfollowed and refollowed can happen unexpectedly. If you've soft blocked me and I unknowingly re-follow you, I realize that may cause some discomfort for both of us. While I understand that there may be reasons behind this, I’m not entitled to an explanation, but I would prefer it if, in cases where you feel the need to soft block me, you simply hard block my RP blog instead. This way, we can avoid any confusion or awkwardness. Additionally, I regularly clean up my followers list, so if you notice I’ve unfollowed you and it seems random, it could be because I mistakenly thought we were no longer mutuals. If this happens, especially if you’re following me from a side blog (which I have no problem with at all!), please feel free to let me know. I’d really appreciate it, and it will help clear up any misunderstandings. Thank you!

[doberbutts]

The Flying Trot is just as much of a specialized gait as the Double Suspension Gallop and it annoys the bejesus out of me when people mistakenly label it as "regular movement".

A GSD in movement at a dog show is actively pulling at the end of its leash, out in front of the handler, in a flying trot which requires more power and less energy from the dog than most other breeds in the motion portion of a conformation show. Sushi- my GSMD- by comparison trots slowly while next to me, loose leash or with any tension coming from *me*/her handler, while just sort of moseying along. A GSD is encouraged to hover just before breaking into a full run- a pace faster than most humans can keep up with which is why the dog is out in front instead of beside the handler- while appearing effortless and without overly tiring the dog.

This is because as a herding breed, the GSD is intended to be a living fence, circling the flock in the pasture for hours at this pace, without tiring or losing strength and stamina.

The GSMD is also a herding breed- but as cattle drovers they are intended more for pushing stock that actively fights back, and can be a bit hard on sheep as a result. As a multi-purpose utility farm dog created on mountainous terrain, their movement is more thoughtful and sure-footed. I have marveled many times about the way Sushi moves while on mountain hikes, how she quickly finds the safest path even in hazardous conditions, how following her literal footprints has gotten me through mud and ice I thought would leave us trapped or force us to retreat.

I've also watched her chase off coyotes who wiggled their way into my fences yard, and I've watched her cut sheep. She works totally differently to the GSDs I've seen on sheep, both in a sport sense and in everyday farm life. Her gait is specialized for her work, it just doesn't have a fancy name to go along with it.

Someone I know once said that a malamute and a GSMD could probably pull the same freight run, as both are breeds intended for heavy pulls in extreme winter conditions. But the GSMD would not arrive at destination anywhere nearly as quickly. This is echoed by Sushi's breeder, who quips that a swissy will do anything you ask, but don't expect it to be fast and don't expect nice scores on timing in sport venues. The purposeful and sureness of their movement comes at the sacrifice of their speed. They think about the best place to put their foot down, and they think twice if they've slipped or fallen already in the same area.

The GSD is intended to fly. And the GSMD is intended to plod.

Believe it or not, but I have had people ask me if something is wrong with Sushi or if she's hurt when they watch her move on slick or unsteady surfaces. I've had people, general dog owners, say that she looks like she's waddling or like she can't get her feet under her quite right. I've also had these same people shocked at the speed and efficiency she displays while out on a hike as she quickly picks the best path up a steep incline. They're surprised to discover that if they just follow her path, it's usually leagues easier and safer than any other way they could have chosen to go up or down.

Sushi broke her leg at 3 months old when she bit my intact dog in the testicles and he stomped down in his attempt to escape sharp puppy teeth on sensitive organs. I've had her to many, many specialists regarding canine movement including orthopedics, chiropractics, and rehabbers since then and all of them have told me that her joints look great and her range of movement is not impeded at all. She's passed her orthos with flying colors and several vets have confirmed that her movement is exactly what we'd want to see out of a giant breed. I did this actually to ensure that her broken leg as a puppy did not impact her as an adult as I was worried about the arthritis concern in a giant breed with a compromised hind, and mostly for my own peace of mind.

This does not mean that I think the GSMD is a perfectly healthy breed with no problems- epilepsy and bloat claim the vast majority of dogs within the breed, with arthritis and cancer as they age claiming the bulk of the rest. Sushi has some pretty gnarly allergy concerns which is why we stopped showing her and will be spaying her as soon as I find someone who will pexy at the same time, since the vet I work for won't. The COI is astronomical- with an average in the 50% range [note- 25% is the amount of relatedness for siblings] and while the breed is relatively long-lived for a giant [average 10-11 with 13 not being unheard of] it's still fairly short compared to other breeds.

Nor do I think the GSD is without its problems. I've had GSD. One lived to the double digits. One died from a boarding kennel's neglect. And one died young to bloat. HD and DM runs rampant in the breed. Cancer and bloat deaths are soaring. Allergies are everywhere. ED is becoming more and more common. And, what's concerning is that this is across the board. Everyone loved to hate on the show line GSDs but refuses to acknowledge these same problems exist in equally high numbers in the working lines.

I do working line and working bred dogs myself- GSMD have no breed split, and chihuahuas don't have working lines. My dobermans? Have all either been entirely working line or a working/show cross to try to bridge the gap of the breed split. I work my dogs in protection sport. 99% of the dogs that I encounter in my protection sport friend groups are working line dogs.

I watched as a friend got a working line GSD as his next service dog after his show line GSD needed to retire due to her age, and that dog turned out to have HD. Now he does malinois. I watched as a former friend who breeds entirely working line GSD began encountering HD and ED in droves in her progeny despite breeding parents free from these degenerative joint diseases. Now she does malinois. I watched as a friend bought a puppy from a breeder who found out the stud she used had forged papers and his dog is at high risk for DM and is likely going to lose all function in his rear, also working line. His other working line dog has such bad allergies she scratches herself bald and bloody regularly even on medication. I watched as a friend with a working line dog searched and searched and searched for another to fill her first dog's shoes as he retired from sport due to age and ended up getting a malinois because she couldn't find a breeding she liked that wasn't filled with these concerns. I watched a friend cycle through working line GSD after working line GSD because he couldn't find one that had both the working temperament he needed in his military contracts *and* decent enough health that the dog's body wouldn't fall apart the second they committed to working. Now he does labradors instead. I've watched multiple friends go back and forth on whether they're staying in the breed because of the health and temperament problems they're continuously encountering in their own dogs.

I got out of GSDs because I lost my Queenie in such a heartbreaking way and couldn't find a breeding I liked that didn't have a significant risk of the same thing. Of course, I hopped to a breed that has even more health problems in the doberman 🤪

Blaming the flying trot as showcased in the show ring when this is a systemic problem within the breed itself just makes you look both silly and ignorant to the true problems within the breed *and* to the differences in canine structure as they relate to a job. It sounds as uninformed as people still using the ELISA test on all dobermans and refusing to listen to a VWD clear genetic result.

And personally it doesn't really make any sense to me- a person who has had two different severe bilateral HD dogs, both of whom had extremely straight rears and tight ligamentation because HD is dependant on the shape of the pelvis and hip joints and not on the angles of the legs that stick out of it. Both of whom were also mixed breed rescue dogs obtained as puppies, with horrific allergies, and incredibly fearful temperaments.

[marlynnofmany]

Singing and Other Noises

If you have to clean the bathroom on a multi-species spaceship, you can at least take the opportunity to annoy your coworkers with some high volume space shanties. The acoustics of most bathrooms I’ve been in are great, and this one was no exception.

“If you find snacks in high places, adhesive eyes making faces…” I sang, passing the sanitation wand over the floor. “Someone gives thanks to the void, and knives to the droid … Then you might have some humans onboard, onboard, you might have some humans onboard!”

Paint laughed in the hallway. “I don’t think anyone would miss the fact that we have a human onboard.” When I leaned out to grin at her, she continued, “You’re very loud.”

“This is the perfect place to sing!” I said, leaning back and switching to a different song. “You’ll hear us singing loud and proud, in halls and hulls and ventilation chutes. You’ll know us by our range and joy, and we sing better than you!” It echoed nicely.

Paint was shaking her lizardy head. “Are there any quiet human songs?”

“Oh sure,” I said, looking for spots I’d missed. “Calm melodies for a relaxing afternoon, lullabies to soothe babies to sleep, plenty of those. They’re just not as fun. I like the ones where you can really feel your lungs vibrate, you know?”

Paint was giving me that cocked-head look that said she wasn’t entirely sure what I was talking about, but didn’t feel like saying so. “Right. I think that one made the floor vibrate too.”

“Oh, you should meet an opera singer. They can shatter glass.”

“What!” Paint stepped closer, switching her tail. “You are making that up.”

“No, really!” I said. “It’s very impressive. A rare talent for sure.” I got to my feet and emptied the sanitation wand into the trash chute. “My voice is nothing special. Pretty good, I like to think, but no kind of superstar. Still, singing is fun.”

Paint seemed to be having trouble coming up with a compliment. “Your voice is very… clear? Low? Is that a good thing?”

“I like to think so.” I put the wand away and washed my hands. “I can sing the low notes easier than high, which is great, because I enjoy them more. I think that makes me an alto? Contralto? Something like that. Not a soprano, at any rate.”

Even with her orange scales, Paint’s expression was a distinct mask of polite blankness. She nodded, hands clasped together.

“Not much for singing, I take it?” I asked.

Paint exhaled and dropped her hands. “I just don’t see the appeal,” she admitted. “It’s only talking! In a distorted voice!”

I switched off the light and joined her in the hall with a head bob of agreement. “Yeah, I suppose it is. Some of it’s fast and good to dance to, though.”

She pointed at me in excitement. “The dancing does make sense! That’s fun! But I just cannot understand the noises that go with it.”

I shrugged. “Eh, don’t worry too much about it. There’s bound to be lots of things that any given species does that makes no sense to others.”

“Like those shiny rocks you insisted on keeping?”

“Hey, that’s not just me,” I protested. “Zhee and Trrili both wanted some too. And you’ve still got those smelly seed-things that you liked so much.”

Paint raised her snout in pride. “They remain beautiful. Coals, Eggskin, and Captain Sunlight will agree with me!”

“And those are all the Heatseekers on the ship, which is exactly my point.”

A high-pitched noise that I’d been barely aware of grew louder, drifting down the hallway all faint and screechy. I had no idea what it was, and judging by Paint’s expression, neither did she.

“Is that metal scraping?” I wondered.

“I don’t think so,” Paint said.

The sound continued, changing in tone like an alien violin. I turned in place, trying to locate it. “Is that music?”

Paint rubbed her earhole. “It’s unpleasant.”

“C’mon, let’s make sure it’s not actually a problem of some kind.”

“Yes,” Paint said with a sigh. “Ignoring a mechanical failure because we passed it off as horrible music is not something I want on my record.”

I started off down the hallway. “I think it’s this way.”

Ready as I was for a long and mysterious hunt for the quiet shrieking, I was almost disappointed to find it coming from the third door we reached. This was the door to Coals and Trrili’s translation workroom. It was shut. I hesitated over the opening panel, then knocked instead.

The noise stopped.

When the door slid open, it was to a vision of exoskeletoned nightmares, shiny black and red, with pincher arms, mandibles, and a pair of antennae angled into a very irritated expression.

“Hi Trrili,” I said. “Everything okay in there?”

Paint added, “We heard a noise—”

The door shut in our faces. After a moment, the screechy serenade resumed.

I blinked. “Rude.”

Paint had her hands over her earholes. “What is it??”

“Probably not a machine failure,” I said, wincing as the noise approached nails-on-chalkboard levels. “Let’s go ask Zhee.”

We walked very quickly away, and found Zhee outside the kitchen talking to Eggskin. The sound was faint here, but still audible.

“Hey Zhee,” I said cheerfully. “Can you tell us what in the seven spherical black holes Trrili is doing right now?”

Zhee threw his own purple pincher arms in the air. “Butchering a classic,” he exclaimed. “I’ve told her that she’s got the middle part backwards, but she insists it’s a regional variant!”

I glanced at Eggskin, who was just shaking their scaly head. “So it is music, then.”

Zhee folded his pinchers with a flare of antennae. “There’s a skreeking competition at Basal Station,” he said. “She’s under the impression that the judges there will enjoy regional variants that are wrong.”

“I see,” I said, wondering if I should ask the obvious question.

Paint beat me to it. “What’s skreeking?”

“Leg-singing,” Zhee said. “You know.” He moved a hind leg in a way that made a brief screech.

I knew I was staring, but it was either that or burst out laughing, and that was rarely complimentary. You’d think I’d get used to discovering ways that my alien crewmates resembled Earth animals, but you’d be very wrong.

Paint let out a gusty sigh. “I don’t understand that kind of singing either,” she said. “This makes even less sense than the other one!”

“Remember, there’s always dancing,” I told her. “And if it makes you feel better, I have no idea how to dance to the noise Trrili’s making.”

Zhee hissed quietly. “No one could dance to that. Not without tripping over every other limb.”

Eggskin spoke up. “Well, I’m certainly not going to try. Would you three like to help me settle on the primary meal for tonight’s dinner?”

I smiled. “Oh, I’m sure we won’t disagree on anything there.”

~~~

Keen eyes might recognize the shanty lyrics from a couple older posts. I even used one song in The First Time Traveler to Survive, which is a different storyverse entirely, but it's too much fun to leave there. I'm going to say humans invented it twice, and no one's going to stop me!

Anyways, this is the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[finniestoncrane]

🩷 Connie (OC) x Riddler x Boomerang, multi-part fic 🩷 constance dorothea drum (connie/conundrum) is my sorta self-insert OC who i like to put into situations!! i'm finally getting around to writing out her backstory and her love triangle and it is filled with fluff and angst and good old smut based in the arkham!verse in terms of character/place design, but divergent as far as the timeline goes fic masterlist • AO3 link • tag: auc fic • plushie doodles by @/march-harrigan

💚 Chapter 1: The Decision Is Made For You, word count: 2.5k 💚 present day: connie is meeting up with a friend to vent about her life (spoiler: it's not good). she has some decisions to make, which is typically pretty hard from her, so it's a blessing when the decision is made for her... right? request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: angst, career changes, kidnapping, ex-librarian is SUFFERING thanks, boomer and eddie aren't explicitly in this chapter but they will be soon!!

There was no reprieve for the wicked, and even less for the good. That was all she could think of as she looked out the window and to the sky, ruminating on the faux philosophic thought and trying to pretend that her suffering was poetic instead of just shit. Christ, even that was depressing. The endlessly grey clouds were beginning to feel claustrophobic, no longer a blanket of safety, a gothic romance waiting to happen. Now they felt like an old rug, and she was being swept up under it with everything else that was easier to forget about than deal with. Rain drops that might as well have been perpetual tears, rolling thunder like pained groans, gusts of wind a mockery of lamenting wails, and flashes of lightning that reminded her of the beginnings of her tension migraines. Gloomy. Grainy. Gotham.

“Hey! You good, Bubby?”

Despite the sorrowful mood that longed to be wallowed in, it did seem impossible not to smile when Harley spoke, her voice high pitched and lilting on the nickname she reserved for her oldest, continuing, friend. And even though she wanted to remain miserable, to allow herself a little bit of a pity party, Connie found herself smiling in response to the question, hoping that she could convince Harley not to worry too much.

“I’m ok. It’s just the same old stuff.”

Harley reached across the table, bruised fingers with red and black chipped nail polish at the ends delicately gripping Connie’s hand. 

“Y’want me to psychoanalyse ya?”

Connie almost regretted the snort of laughter, worrying that Harley might be offended, but she could see by the mischievous grin that she was happily mocking herself.

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll let the struck off criminal with no medical license poke around in my brain to see if that helps.”

Across the table, Harley shrugged and took a long sip of the colourful cocktail in front of her.

“Couldn’t hurt!”

It was obvious that the matter was going to be discussed, inevitable really. Connie wasn’t getting easily, especially not after how long she’d frowned for as the two of them sat together in the seediest bar in the most dangerous neighborhood in Gotham. “People don’t tattle in here!” Harley had said. The only reason they had to choose somewhere as terrifying, given her new career in criminality. Three very long years had passed since Harley had left the Asylum, following a love that Connie couldn’t talk her out of, chasing a dream that she couldn’t hear anything negative about. There had been apologies, of course, for the fallout of those events, and Connie had accepted them wholeheartedly, not wanting to lose the only friend she had. But it still weighed heavily on Harley, who seemed to have a compulsive need to make sure Connie was happy, or at the very least, surviving. 

“The motel. Prices went up again.”

“Well, maybe you gotta move to a worse one. No hoity-toity, upscale, fancy living conditions for you. Bed bugs a must! No view, in fact, no windows! Rooms by the hour, discounts if you clean the mess that the last person in before you left behind! And dinner on us if that mess contains bodily fluids of any kind! Dinner will be provided by the vending machines, $3 dollar maximum .”

“Harley… I don’t think there’s anywhere that shitty even in Gotham. And I really am on the lowest possible rung of the budget ladder. Work is slow, the shifts are almost non-existent at the diner, and-”

“What happened to the cafe?”

“Explosion.”

“Typical!”

Harley rolled her eyes, trying to make light of the situation, but her forced smile turned quickly into a frown when she looked into Connie’s eyes, the telltale shimmer of tears beginning to form. 

“Oh, Bubby, no! Listen, why don’t you come stay with me for a while, huh? I’m sure Mister J would-”

“No! No, thank you. I mean, I appreciate it, but I want to… I want to make it on my own. And you keep forgetting that I forgave you. You don’t owe me anything, ok? I’m just glad to still have you to talk to, when things get rough. Or rougher than they already were.”

Harley’s hand gripped Connie’s fingers, a reassuring squeeze that said she understood, but wasn’t quite ready to give up her crusade for punishment for her actions. 

“Doctor Quinzel, at your service.”

Connie raised an eyebrow, curling her lips into a silent question.

“Ok, ok! Harley Quinn, at your service . I was good, you know!”

“You were. The best. You still are.”

They kept their grip on one another, two hands reaching across the table, meeting in the middle in a firm but caring grip. They stayed that way for a few minutes, the world around them seeming to disappear. None of that meant anything to them when they could be together. They needed one another, seemingly had done all of their lives, so these moments were like a recharge for their souls. That was until Harley squealed in delight and her hands shot up, dropping Connie’s to the sticky table with a thud. Several of the more intense looking patrons of the bar turned around to eye them up, all of them awkwardly looking away when they realised who the noise had come from. 

“Hey! Oh my god! I can’t believe I didn’t think about this before, but it just. Makes. Sense!”

Connie felt her chest tighten. Anything that Harley was this enthusiastic about could only be a bad idea. That was almost a given, and Connie had known her well enough for long enough to see it coming a mile off. But rather than interrupt, she let Harley continue. 

“You should get yourself a little criminal gig! There’s always guys looking for new goons. I could make a few calls, see if there’s anything going. What kind of crimes would you be ok with committing?”

“Harley…”

“Oh c’mon! Don’t act like you’re above it. You’re in Gotham, Bubby. You gotta play the game .”

She sat with that thought for a moment. It was the last opportunity available, it seemed. And perhaps she was always heading towards this fate. Like destiny, calling her. No one survived Gotham long, and sometimes the only way to prolong your existence was to fall in with the most lucrative career going. But it didn’t sit right with her.

“Harley, I really don’t think I’m suited for a career in enforcement, do you?”

They both looked at her, sitting there in the booth. Her chubby, rounded face could provide ample opportunity for playing herself down and being an unassuming assassin, but she lacked a lot of physicality. Connie wasn’t strong, and she wasn’t quite as nimble or coordinated as was required. At university, Harley could be seen on weekends doing gymnastic training. And Connie could be found in the audience, cheering her on and managing to trip herself up while clapping. And while she was enamoured by other fat women who were athletic, attending Harley’s roller derby games if only to watch the gorgeous, large women engaging in intensely physical activity, Connie’s body betrayed her every attempt at running or fighting. She’d managed to get a bout of motion sickness from her first go at roller derby, and she couldn’t even muster the grace to walk from one place to the other without tripping or skipping. There wasn’t a lot she could say about herself that was kind, but when it came to her physical prowess, that was where she struggled the most.

“An assistant then! People are always looking for assistants. Answer the phones, smuggle the drugs, sell the firearms, sometimes, if you’re willing, they even need people to-”

“I am begging you not to finish that sentence, I don’t want to know.”

“Alright, alright. But it might be your only option, that’s all I’m saying. I mean, I did, and look at me! I’m… well, I’m doing alright, is the point I’m trying to make! Maybe you should do what I did?”

“What? Fall in love and become a criminal sidekick? Ouch!”

Harley kicked Connie under the table, laughing as she did so, immediately forgiving her for teasing that sensitive spot.

“Not quite , but…”

“Harley, did you learn nothing from our course?”

“I learned plenty, Bubby. And look where it got us.”

There was no arguing with that. Years of hard work, masters, doctorates, the professional progress between them impressive on paper before everything that happened. And yet here they both were. A criminal clown’s chew toy and a soon to be homeless loser. Gotham State University should use them both as success stories in their next newsletter, she thought, managing to find a smile for her own joke.

“Ok, I’m sorry to have to break us up, but I gotta be going. You gonna be ok?”

“As ok as I ever am.”

“And you’re gonna be fine walking home?”

Harley raised an eyebrow this time, aware that while she had a reputation, and her baseball bat, Connie was a fairly easy target for the thugs that lurked around every corner between the bar and the motel. 

“I’ll be fine, you go do your thing, but be safe, ok?”

With a gleeful wink, her tongue sticking out of her mouth, Harley got up from the table and left the bar, hood up on her black jacket as she retreated into the cold, wet night. And before anyone could say anything to her, crowding around her either for conversation or cruelty, neither of which she was particularly open to, Connie left the bar as well. 

Her coat barely kept the wind and the rain from her, cheap as it was, and it was around two sizes too small, so there was no point in trying to pull it around her for extra warmth and comfort. Her face was damp, the freezing cold gusts biting at her cheeks and nose and lips, the almost frosted rain only salt in those wounds as she tried to keep herself sheltered and covered, foregoing her usual attempts at staying alert and vigilant. She wondered why that might be? Had she given up entirely? Probably. Inconsequential, that would be the way to go. She wasn’t out looking for her exit, not actively anyway, but it happened upon her she doubted she would put up much of a fight. 

For the briefest of moments, she considered standing there in the street and yelling to the skies “Just come and take me then! I won’t even make the papers! I won’t put up a fight! I’ve got less than five dollars in my pocket and I’m worth more dead than alive! Come on and put me out of my fucking misery!” but she stopped herself, if only because she knew she would barely be heard above the wind and the rain. And there was also a little part of her that worried who might hear. A claim like that might merit her a little vacation to Arkham, and it was far better to rot in the cold of her shitty motel room than be cooped up in there. She’d witnessed it first hand, it was not an option. Never an option. 

As the thought of what it might be like to truly succumb to either death or the asylum, a cheerful focus for her on this dreary night, she had all but given up on watching out for those that lurked. So invested in her own little “this or that” hypothetical was she that she hadn’t heard the faint footsteps behind her. Boots on gravel, the light clanking of metal, the shallow breath of someone trying to conceal their nerves. 

Even if she had noticed, even if she’d had time to react, it would have made no difference. Her screams would have gone unnoticed against the driving rain and the background cacophony of the myriad other yells and cries of the streets. And whatever weak puns she could throw at her attacker would have likely missed anyway, a lucky one that landed offering no more than a mild irritation to the situation than a deterrence. 

No, it was just Connie, oblivious to everything but her own misery, suddenly experiencing true darkness, before she had even registered the pain at the back of her head, the dull thud almost fictional as far as she was concerned in her unconscious state. And she drifted in and out as she was transported by her assailant until she blacked out entirely. 

Her first thought upon waking was disappointment that she wasn’t actually dead yet. It felt like a waste of her time. Her bleary vision steadied, focusing in on the view immediately in front of her. A room lit with almost clinical lighting, but it wasn’t clean and it certainly wasn;t somewhere to receive any kind of treatment. It was damp, worn, clearly long abandoned before Connie was left in here. There was a switch on the wall labelled with a piece of paper, and as she stood up to take a closer look she realised first of all that she was seated, and second of all, that she was tethered to the chair she found herself on. Wrists and ankles and her waist, all bound by leather restraints that were a little too tight for comfort now that she was paying attention to them. 

“What… the actual fuck?”

If they weren’t going to kill her, she assumed they were going to torture her, and the thought alone was so absurdly perfect. Of course this is how it would go. Of course her life would end in drawn out, pointless agony. Just like how she’d been living it. And with that thought, she laughed out loud, either trying to find the humour in the situation, or finally losing her mind, she couldn’t be sure which and she suspected it might be both. 

“This really isn’t funny, you know. Although, you’ll realise that soon enough.”

The voice surprised her, cutting off her laughter and making her sit up straight, back tense against the chair as she strained her neck to see where it might be coming from, and who it might be coming from. There was something familiar about it. Not a known person, not someone she felt she had heard physically. Something she recognised from a recording, perhaps on the news or from her studies. 

Footsteps approached from directly behind her, just out of her line of sight with her neck turning both ways, and as her captor continued speaking, she began to place the elements of speech. The tone, the words, the cadence, the dictation, all of it so obvious when she could dedicate her brain to that alone instead of fear and panic and pathetic self-pity at her less than ceremonious end. 

“Allow me to introduce myself, only polite after all. Although, I would expect you would know who I am, after all, I make no enigma of myself.”

[wurrrmlyy]

Solitary Bee!Autobot High Command

vague as hell descriptions for these guys. Sorry! The specifics are subject to change but it's okay. Earthspark is the background of this AU but I make up my own designs... I'm so cool like that. Also deepest apologies to any screen readers I'm not sure how legible the alt description is!!!

i am essentially playing toys here. i have taken earthspark apart at the seams and then remade it. S1 is mostly canon compliant though. probably

Information dump under the cut ↓

Pre VS Post-Earth AB High Command

The Autobot High Command was once much, much larger. At its peak, it consisted of:

Optimus Prime

Elita One

Ironhide

Prowl

Jazz

Ratchet

Red Alert

and more!! I havent figured everyone out yet

Currently, it's just Prowl, Elita, Megatron and Optimus. The Earth mecha previously hypothesized that Cybertron is dead and any mecha inhabiting it is also dead, but then Prowl showed up!

ELITA ONE

Elita is a very capable SIC, but has a sharp attitude and while alluring in general, is not exactly charismatic. She has fantastic war stories and took part in the original rebellion against the senate before the factional split.

She is a highly decorated general with several monstrosities under her belt.

With the limbo that came from Megatron joining and then immediately getting unofficially integrated into the HC, Elita has become a little bit pissed off. Optimus, you can't just do that! That's stupid!

General snippets:

Elita was handmade by a blacksmith during an economic lapse. She originally was a dual-wheel model with heavy armor and strength. In Functionist Cybertron she tested, ran and operated heavy equipment. In wartime models like hers would probably be enlisted as multi-use canon fodder because theyre just so durable

She has a vague moral backbone... her strongsuit was doing all the things that made Optimus queasy. This was a lot of things in the early days of the war.

Elita was the one that found Bumblebee when she popped out of the hotspot

Very angry. Elita crashed out several times during the war. Jazz so eloquently put it; "when she was mad, the world around shrunk away in fear!"

Earth needs has led her to adopting a somewhat sillier behavior. Frankly, it has not mellowed her intense personality out in the slightest. Bumblebee remains terrified of her to this day, but that might be a Bumblebee thing. It does make children more receptive of her, though.

Jawbreaker thinks Elita is SOOO cool. Elita has tried her hand at being some kind of mentor to him. Unfortunately, Elita is no exception to the 'terrible with children' rule of HC. As evident by Bumblebee.

She is a TANK. She is the heavy hitter and the hit taker!! She has a big heart but its also full of nails and ash

OP has probably destroyed his friendship with Elita. Communication faltered on Earth. Is Megatron in the HC? Is he a co-leader? Is he the new SIC? Elita doesn't think he should have the power he has at all!! Not this early, at least.

Probably the most 'on task' out of the Big 3 (OP, Megs & Elita). She doesn't think Optimus is taking this seriously, and is also convinced that Megatron is still malicious even if she respects his attempts at 'doing better'

elita should also probably be trying to 'do better' though... looking at that war criminal resume

PROWL

Prowl is the Autobot paperwork guy. He makes everyone's life easier, and is also the Chief Tactical Officer. He's polite to a fault, and somehow comes off as a prick all the same, which probably has to do with his unnerving gaze. Those eyes pin you to an operating table, it's extremely unpleasant. Nobody has ever told him this.

He's level-headed and neutral toned, and most of his emotions have to be picked apart through knowing him for a long time and being receptive to micro-movements.

When he showed up to Earth, he immediately crashed upon seeing Optimus and Megatron in tandem with each other. He does not trust Megs at all.

General snippets:

The reason nobody has told Prowl he has a clinical stare is probably Jazz's fault. Jazz wholeheartedly believed that Prowl would tear his own face off if it came to it.

i drew his lineart with the wrong brush

Has an unspecified history with Tarantulas as a reference to IDW. Uhhh he hates the guy and does not trust him anywhere near the Terrans. He's definitely scared of him but the whole thing is in the background

Prowl's extreme caution was given to Bumblebee. There is a running gag in my head about Bumblebee's hab on the Ark being in multiple places at once. Prowl approved of this. HC rule of 'being atrocious with kids'

Prowl is disabled. He has 'crashes' pretty infrequently, but they build up and can be perpetuated by stress. Lengthy crashes can cause processor damage through heat so he has several cooling mods. Crashes make him extremely disoriented.

His existence as a tactical officer was top secret for a very long portion of the war. this made him very isolated

i have genuinely no idea where i got the 'polite, terrifying, comes off as a prick' interpretation of prowl but its there and its not leaving

okay thats it i dont have anymore energy left to pump into this thing

[reginadeltrash]

New AU just dropped in my mind but I can't take care of it now cause I have two multi chapters I'm working on, so I'm gonna info dump about it for a little while!

So, Gorgon Annabeth! My idea is basically that in this version of the story Athena gets quite pissed that Frederick isn't treating Annabeth as the gift she perceives her as so when a little bit of Minerva leaks through she ends up cursing Annabeth to teach her father a lesson.

And now 6 years old Annabeth is very confused on what the hell is happening to her, and she's starting to grow scales over her body, but when she complains to her father about it he just brings her to the doctor and either The Mist covers the situation by making it seems like she has a rash or growing scales just looks like that on its own (still unsure about that) and so she isn't belived by anyone.

And then she starts sprouting fangs, her hair are slowly being replaced by snakes and by that point she is sure that her father is purposefully ignoring the situation and she's rightfully very mad about it and so she runs away.

Fate wants it that while navigating through the woods Annabeth ends up meeting a little someone (Yes, she meets Medusa) who immediately adopts her, like on the spot, she's like "Cool, looks like we have another victim of Minerva here, let me just...ops did I just become a mother figure to her...?"

And so Annabeth never actually goes to camp in this version (not until later, at least) and she's just the weird girl that lives in the woods with the weird lady that has that statues emporium.

Also she doesn't have her invisibility cap here, because Athena is too ashamed to meddle into Annabeth's life anymore, but to balance it out she gets a veiled cap by Medusa, because yes, she also has the petrifying stare (A later gift from Athena, because gifting your daughter you cursed a magical power is easier than saying sorry)

Also, yes, I find the idea of Percy 'Perseus' Jackson dating a Gorgon very funny.

And also because this Annabeth is like ten times more unhinged and low-key feral by the time of their first quest.

Also for no other reason than it's funny Annabeth doesn't have normal snakes for hair but this specific kind and she still keeps them in a ponytail that she puts inside the back of her veiled cap

And so yes, that's basically it, if you have questions or options my inbox is open and I would really like to talk about this AU cause it's consuming my brain but I don't really have the time to write seriously about it!

[spnjediavenger]

I Need My Brother (Chapter 6)

Title: I Need My Brother (Chapter 6)

Type: multi-chapter; matt murdock x sister!reader, some foggy and karen x teen!reader (platonic!)

Warnings: canon-typical Daredevil situations/injuries, blood, angst

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: none

Spoilers: S1 SPOILERS

Notes: As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Word count: 1304

Need to catch up? 

(Chp 1) (Chp 2) (Chp 3) (Chp 4) (Chp 4.5) (Chp 5)

“Guys, stohop!”

“Get her, Foggy!”

“She’s closer to you, Matt!”

“Ah!”

“Yeah, bet you wished you didn’t mess with our drinks now, don’t you?”

“Ok ok, I’m sorry!”

Karen walked into the office, bags of food in hand, with a smile on her face. She set their dinner down and walked over to the others, shaking her head. She grabbed Foggy’s ear and pulled him away to give Y/n a break from being harassed by the boys.

“Ow ow ow ow ow!”

“Leave her alone. And don’t be a baby,” Karen chuckled.

“Hey, she’s the one that messed with us!”

“Doesn’t mean that us girls can’t stick together” Y/n said with a smirk, taking a big step to stand next to Karen, avoiding Matt from grabbing her in Foggy’s place.

Karen put an arm around the girl’s shoulders and smirked as well, raising an eyebrow.

Foggy waved a dismissive hand and walked over to start getting the food out. Matt ruffled Y/n’s hair as he went to join his friend, avoiding his sister’s swatting hand, and placed a kiss on her head as he passed. 

Y/n smiled and went over to help them. It was another Friday and Y/n decided to stay late at the office with the trio. With Fisk in prison, Nelson & Murdock was busier than ever. It had been a few months since Matt came back to the apartment bleeding to death. He spent his time healing and working on his relationship with Y/n. He was trying to spend more time with her and also trying to be more careful while he was on the streets; thankfully that had been easier since Fisk was locked up. He had also kept Foggy up to date on how things were going since he was reliable to help and was close to Y/n as well. Though he didn’t realize just how important his help would be until a new threat was introduced to Hell’s Kitchen.

“Hey, Matt…it’s me again…it’s getting pretty late…just…you know…”

Y/n sighed and hung up the phone. To Matt's credit, he had been better recently with getting home at a decent hour and not leaving Y/n in the dark. But with the Punisher going around and creating so much carnage, Y/n couldn’t help but recognize a pattern. And she was afraid of what the outcome would be. She had texted Foggy, hoping he knew something, but was lost in all the ‘what if’s. 

Her phone buzzing interrupted her thoughts and she was quick to answer.

“Matt?!”

“Sorry, kiddo, not Matt,” Foggy’s voice came from the other side of the line.

Y/n closed her eyes and sighed. “Sorry, Fog.”

“No problem, kid. I just wanted to let you know Matt is crashing at my place for the night.”

“What? Why? Is he ok?”

On the other line, Foggy took a deep breath to steel his emotions. He hated lying to Y/n. But he knew it was better than the alternative. “Yeah, he’s fine. Just ended his search closer to me tonight. He’ll be back tomorrow, ok?”

Too tired to question him, Y/n sighed again. “Ok.”

“Sleep tight, trouble.”

“Night, Fog.”

The next morning, Foggy was freaking out. He had run all over Hell’s Kitchen trying to find Matt. When he finally did, he had one hell of a time getting him back to his apartment without being seen by anyone. He would’ve taken him back to his own apartment but with it being a weekend, he knew Y/n would be home; and this didn’t seem like the kind of thing that needed to be reintroduced when she and Matt had been doing so well. 

After they arrived at Foggy’s apartment and he got Matt settled in and taken care of, he thought he was in the clear until his phone went off. He hesitantly took it out of his pocket.

Y/n/n

Foggy suppressed a groan and answered. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey, Foggy. It’s…officially tomorrow,” Y/n noted from the other line, trying not to sound testy or smart. She was just anxious.

Foggy glanced over to his bleeding friend and sighed, wracking his brain for another lie. “Yeah, sorry, Y/n. We ended up getting some new info for a case we’re working on and wanted to hash it out before Matt headed back.”

“It’s Saturday, Foggy.”

“I know; we’re really sorry. It’s just starting to become a bigger case than we initially thought.”

Y/n sighed. “He’ll be home soon?”

“I promise.”

“...Ok. Thanks Foggy.”

Foggy sighed and hung up.

“That Y/n?” Matt asked from the couch.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to her again,” Foggy said, ignoring his friend’s question.

“Doing what, Foggy?”

“Putting yourself at risk like this! Being reckless! You got shot in the head, Matt! She depends on you, you know?! And you promised her you would be more careful.”

“I know that, Foggy! But what do you expect me to do with this guy going on a rampage around the city?! Just let him go and pray Y/n never does anything he decides is bad enough to kill her over?!”

“No, Matt! I expect you to be smarter about how you go after him!”

Both men sighed, Foggy running a hand through his hair as well, turning to face away from Matt. He looked at him again, hands on his hips. “You need to get back to your apartment soon. She’s expecting you. And I suggest you get the blood off your head so you don’t add to her trauma any more than you already will when you tell her what happened.”

“I’m not telling her,” Matt said immediately.

“What?!”

“I can’t tell her, Foggy. What do you expect me to tell her? ‘Oh hey, Y/n, sorry I didn’t come back last night, I got shot in the head point-blank and didn’t wake up until Foggy found me on a rooftop unconscious and took me home this morning.’”

“If you don’t tell her, Matt-”

“You can’t either, Foggy.”

“You’re kidding me, right? I already lied to her last night so she didn’t freak out! And you want me to keep lying to her?! It’s bad enough that you do it!”

“Foggy, please. You know she won’t handle it well if we tell her.”

Foggy groaned and gripped his hair in his hands before looking back at Matt again. “You can’t keep doing things this way, Matt. It’s not right. I won’t tell her this time but if something like this happens again…I won’t keep lying to her for you…I assume you can find the front door on your own.”

With that, Foggy stormed out of the room, leaving Matt by himself.

“I’m home, starling,” Matt called from the entry of the apartment, leaning against the wall a bit as he closed the door.

He heard footsteps jog over to meet him. He flinched and held back a groan as his sister threw her arms around his shoulders.

“Are you alright? Foggy said you had a late night,” she said as she pulled away, looking over Matt to search him for injuries. 

He grabbed her shoulders and moved her to the side a bit so he could walk to the kitchen. “I’m ok, Y/n. Just a little sore.”

Y/n watched him skeptically. “But apparently sore enough that Foggy had to call me last night instead of you?”

Matt froze for a moment to think of an excuse. He tilted his head in Y/n’s direction. “He was worried I might concern you if I sounded too tired over the phone. Everything is fine, Y/n.”

Y/n didn’t believe him but nodded anyway, retreating to her room as Matt grabbed the painkillers from the kitchen shelf.

(Chapter 7) ->

Taglist: @babybeeelle

[numberonetacostan]

Wow Chionophobia was so good! I liked how Taco’s disappearance in the beginning was completely silent! It makes sense considering how stealthy she is, she’d probably learn to silence her movement to make sneaking around easier.

Goo was so silly!! I think his characterization was really good! Truly no other thoughts in his head except silliness, cheer and mlp..

Mic being stressed out the entire time ohh.. she was so worried! Especially when she couldn’t hear Taco with her hearing! I can’t imagine being able to know where basically any contestants are at all times but when she really needs to know it won’t work! That would put some not so good thoughts into Mic’s head of what could’ve happened to Taco!

Ohhhh Taco.. I’d imagine she doesn’t hide in the vents a whole lot. Maybe to travel throughout the hotel more discreetly if she wanted to be alone but not to stay in it for long periods of time. Could she have gone into them to try and be as far as possible from the snow? I wonder how her mindset was during her initial hiding- clearly she must’ve been so panicked.. her fear must be so intense to kick her mind and body into survival mode like that! It was almost like an instinct to try and get as far away from the snow as possible, not knowing nor caring where’d she end up as long as it was safe and inside- which automatically led her to the vents which would be the innermost part of the hotel. She’s literally in the walls! She probably had some nasty experiences during winter where she wasn’t sure if she was going to make it through the night due to the immense cold, or maybe her little den got snowed in once, or maybe she barely escaped being buried alive during a blizzard, or etc. etc. so much potential cause for it!

I’m glad it ended with a lighter note! Also NICKEL being the one to try to coax her out was so funny to me. He probably felt so awkward..

do you think Taco would open up to Mic about her fear of snow afterward when she’s more calmed down? Maybe at least a little so they could take more precautions for the next time it snows?

anyways can you tell I really enjoyed your fic? I hope you write more some time, I’d totally love to read more of your writing!

this is from Pocket btw! (Omg I have anon nickname I feel so honored haha!)

Hi Pocket!!^^ Welcome back, and THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING IN A MULTI-PARAGRAPH ASK ABOUT CHIONOPHOBIA!!! :D HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE MY FAVOURITE TODAY?

I keep going and checking on it with big sparkly eyes and reading through the comments because they bring me incredible amounts of joy!!!!!!!!!!! :D

Anyways, onto your ask!!

Yup!! She's a little stealth master!!! And Mic is distracted, hehe.

RIGHT!! He is so precious. Silly-billies his way into doing a great job handling a PTSD episode <3 Him sleeping next to her for so long helps her to start breathing slower, the hot chocolate helps to ground her, the infodumping gives her something to grasp onto to come out of the flashback, he is just a sweet little angel who has never done anything wrong in his entire life.

Mic is so very scared at that moment I'm glad you noticed!! :D Yeah normally she can hear everyone, usually even Taco when she's hiding away, but between Taco not talking and barely moving most of the day, and Goo infodumping right next to her, Mic can't pick up on her!! Which is so scary!!!

OH POCKET OH MY BESTIE YOU ARE SO RIGHT. THANK YOU FOR ASKING QUESTIONS I HAVE AN EXPLANATION THAT DIDN'T GO IN THE STORY AND NOW I GET TO TYPE IT OUT YIPPIE!!!!!! :D

So! Yes, a part of it is her wanting to be as far from the snow as possible!! She is seeking immediate shelter!! I tend to think of her home while she was in the woods being a little den underground, maybe a little room or two with a tunnel in between them. And, after the event that traumatized her which I'll go into in just a moment, she's hidden herself away in her den/tunnel at any sign of snow. The events of the fic are not the first time Taco has had the extreme reaction to snow, it has been a trigger for her for a long time. The vents are not only hidden away, but the closest thing to her old den in the mansion. It's partially out of habit, in that way, since she's always hidden in her den when there was snow.

As for the event that caused the trauma, it goes as follows. Shortly after the end of season one, (Which ended early-mid December) and very shortly after the hotel was built (which seeing as it was made from MeLife, I doubt took very long), there was an absolutely bloody massive blizzard. A few meters or so of snow. And see, since this was so soon after the end of season one, Taco had nothing established, and no tools. She didn't have any den to hide in, she didn't have anything to cover herself with, and with the timing the hotel was very much not an option. She very much did get buried, and would've had to claw her way out of the snow a few times as it piled up. I doubt she could've made it there even if it was. She'd ended up with severe hypothermia after this, and I'd say the only reason she survived it is because she's made from MeLife. We don't know whether it was possible for them to die from things like hypothermia/starvation/etc., but let's just leave it that if they could have, she very likely would have. It was a living hell <3. She didn't have a shelter while she was sick or anything- she was out in the snow that entire time until it melted on its own. Which was quite a long time. And naturally, that experience traumatizes the living daylights out of her.

He did feel incredibly awkward, and also hated being the vents. He is a teensy bit claustrophobic to me <3. He likes Taco and everything, but he is not good with feelings, yeah?

Yup! Immediately post-fic, she'd still be nonverbal for a few days, and probably still hang out with Goo a lot. He's a comfort for her now, and of course he hasn't finished recapping all of My Little Pony in incredible detail to her. [Some readers pointed out the implication that he remembers every single episode in detail and in order, and I'd like to clarify- yes, yes he does.] Once Taco is talking a bit more though, which would also be over the course of a few days, Mic would probably start to broach the subject with her. I don't think Taco would give her all the details yet, since her trauma surrounding snow is still like, 0% healed at the moment, but Mic is so sincerely worried about her that Taco would give her the rundown. A sentence or two about having gotten caught in a blizzard once and having gotten sick afterwards. I don't think she could get out more than that at this point, without tears at least.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I'M SO SO SO SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED!!!! XD!!!!!! I'm hoping to write some more too!! I have an au related to the question I'd posted earlier today in the works that seems like it might be worthy of being actually written, though it would be a bit. I'd be kind of pointless to post the outline for Chionophobia since I posted the actual story, but to use it as an example, it's outline is significantly more detailed than the outlines/story summaries I usually post on here, because I need that detail to help me actually write the story. So basically, I'll have to write a nice, thorough outline before I write the story, which may take time. Or not. I thought Chionophobia would take longer but 22 hours and 19 pages later, there I was ready to post, so.

Anyways I'm so glad you're happy abt your nickname and thank you so so so so much for reading and sending this in!!! <3 <3 <3

[sstardow]

A Study of the Arcane [Arcane Hogwarts AU] Chapter 1

This is Chapter 1. Please read Chapter 0 if you haven't for TW's and information on the story.

This story is targeted at YA, Please do not read it unless you are at least 16+.

TW: Mentions and Descriptions of death.

IMPORTANT: This is an Arcane Hogwarts University AU where Students are sent their letters at 18 instead of 11. So the Students are all young adults and the same/similar age they were in the show.

(Multi Pov)

Vi stepped off the Hogwarts Express with a leap. Following behind her was Ekko, This would be Vi's 4th year at Hogwarts, and Ekko's 1st year. They knew each other as kids, Vi and Ekko, so she was thrilled when she found out he had received a letter too. Vi made sure to show Ekko around Diagon Alley before they boarded the train. She even lent him one of her robes from her first year to wear. 

Vi got her letter to Hogwarts soon after she got into some trouble with the Law back in the Zaun 5 years ago. She decided to attend Hogwarts, partially as a way to pardon herself for the remainder of her time in Stillwater, and also as a distraction from the pain of losing Powder. Vi had figured it would be easier to find her sister while attending a university, rather than being stuck in a prison.  

Vi wasn't very surprised when she got her letter to Hogwarts. Vander told her that their mom was a witch too. Vi always knew about magic since Vander, Her Mother, and Silco were all professors at the University back in the day. Now the only one left from them was Silco. Vi resented him for that. She knew that Silco had a part in Vander's death, she just had no proof it was him.

It happened close to when Vi was arrested. She was 15, Powder was 12. Vander had gotten a call that the School was threatened. Some dark witches and wizards wanted to get to the Headmaster, god knows why, and Vander wasn't going to let what happened to Mom happen to anyone else. He told Powder to stay home and brought Vi along to help get any bystanders to safety. 

Vander was in the forbidden forest looking for the mages, and Vi stood behind him in case he needed backup or someone to run and get more help. Silco told Vander that there were only three mages in the forest. So they brought five professors, and Vander and Silco were two of them. 

But Silco had lied, the dark mages ended up being more powerful, and a bigger group than they were told. Vi couldn't even quite recall how many there were, she counted 8 of them before giving up. And the mages were ready for them too, it was like an ambush.

After seeing this, Vander and the others were quickly outmatched. But against their odds, they were about to win the fight. Until Powder showed up with one of her "magic inventions" Which was really just her putting her uncontrolled magic into a toy and letting it explode. Well, this concentrated magic was a little more fueled than usual. Powder was scared for Vander and Vi, she wanted to help the best way she could. The only way she knew how, so she did. 

Powder always had an affinity for the arcane. But she couldn't control it, ever. She was so powerful for a kid, and because of that, she was dangerous too. Vander tried to teach her how to control it, But he didn't have enough time to.

Back in the battle, with the Professors bloody, but almost victorious. Powder released one of her "Magic bombs" at the group of dark mages. But the explosion was too powerful. It killed the mages, quickly. And most of the trees within a 50ft radius came crashing down. Vander got hit by the blast, as well as two other professors with him. Vi couldn't get the sight of Vander's bloody body under that fallen tree out of her mind for years. She still sees it in her nightmares sometimes.

And Powder never could forget it either. Nor could she forget the feel of Vi's slap to her face, and the words Vi said to her afterwards. "You're a Jinx!" were the words Jinx heard In her head every time she looked in the mirror. 

After they couldn't save Vander, Vi ran away, the night fell quiet and her sobs could be heard the whole time he was running out of that forest. The other professor who wasn't Silco began to bring Vander's body back to be buried. But Silco couldn't help but stare at the little blue-haired girl crying into her hands. Silco met Powder and Vi a few times before, back before him and Vander had that awful fight.

Silco noticed Powder looked just like her mother.

Limping over to the child, Silco offered her a handkerchief from his coat pocket. Ignoring it, Powder jumped toward him, and held on. Silco was knocked to the ground, as Powder held on to him sobbing into his coat, he wrapped his arms around the girl. "Your sister left you. Do you want to find her?" Silco asked as he held her. "She is not my sister." Powder said between sobs.

Vi regretted her words to Powder, regretted hitting her, she regretted every single moment of that night. Vi went back to look for Powder in the forest, but she never found her. A day after the events, the ministry found Vi, they took her in for questioning about the Dark Mages. But Vi couldn't offer them any worthwhile information. Vi's descent into rebellion was quick, acting out whenever she could. She broke many laws trying to find information on Powders whereabouts. Spells, threats, throwing punches, you name it. She ended up in prison fast. Then Heimerdingers letter arrived, Vi had an escape, so she took it.

Silco kept Jinxes whereabouts secret from Vi. He respected her wishes of never wanting to see her sister. But eventually the time came for Jinx to get older and attend Hogwarts. Silco was hesitant, but Jinx was insistent. He knew he could never control her anyways.

And so, unknown to Vi and Ekko, on the other side of the train, Jinx steps out with her black robes adorned. She was unsorted, being as it was her first year too. She would soon find out what house she'd be in. She had an inkling it would be Slytherin, that's what Silco had told her anyway. 

Vi was clueless that Jinx would also be attending Hogwarts, but Jinx knew Vi would be here. Jinx always thought that she would be mad or never want to see her sister again after what happened in their childhood, but she wasn't. She actually wanted to see Vi again, even if a part of her also wanted to scream at her. 

Silco was worried at first when Jinx said she would attend Hogwarts, but he was never one to tell Jinx no. Being the head of Slytherin house, he was confident he would be able to protect Jinx from any threats, whether they be emotional or physical. And he knew that Hogwarts would be the best place to unlock her highest potential.

Nearby at another exit from the train were Jayce Talis, Viktor, and Caitlyn Kiramman. They all wore their blue robes proudly as they walked towards their guide. "Need some help Viktor?" Jayce asked watching Viktor descend the train steps with his cane. "I've got it, like always," Viktor said, now off the steps. Caitlyn stifled a laugh at Jayce's worry, before speaking. "Jayce, What classes did you say you were taking again this year?" She asked. "Students, please follow me to the banquet hall!" A teacher interrupted. Jayce shot her a look that said "Tell you in a bit."

"First Years, come with me!" Another teacher yelled on a different side of the platform. Jinx walked that way, pulling the cloak above her hair. The night was chilly, and she eyed the boats they were about to ride over on. The academy looked huge in the distance, Jinx couldn't help but feel some excitement about attending. She remembered Vanders stories of her mom's time here. It used to make her so happy when he'd share those stories. But now thinking about them just made her angry, or sad, usually both.

As Jinx boarded one of the First Year boats, the water swayed beneath, rocking it side-to-side. Jinx held her breath. She'd never been on a boat before, and the feeling was uncomfortable. There were around four kids in each boat. She didn't know anyone from the first years, nor did she care to learn. 

Vi gave Ekko a nudge in the direction of the boats before heading toward the guide for the older students. She noticed the group beginning to walk toward Hogwarts and had to sprint to catch up. She raised her head to try and catch a glimpse of where the teacher was, and while doing so failed to see the blue-haired lady she was about to go barreling into. Briefly catching herself from tumbling full-force, Vi made a surprised sound as she bumped into Caitlyn. Caitlyn yelped in surprise back, turning around to see Vi, Caitlyn shot her a disapproving look. "There is no need to run around like a maniac," Caitlyn said, eyes drifting down to Vi's unraveling red and yellow tie. "Gryffindor." She added. Vi's eyebrows scrunched. "Sorry, Ravenclaw," Vi responded with more sarcasm than actual remorse. 

Ekko was led to a boat that had 3 other students in it. The night made it hard to see anything around him. The only light to illuminate the students, boat, and water was the moon, as well as a single lantern hanging from the front of each boat. The first years were chatting amongst one another. Ekko took his seat next to a student who had their cloak up which covered most of their head, he didn't blame them, as it was quite cold. He was the last first year to arrive, the teacher took attendance before sending the boats off toward the university. Ekko guessed the boats must be enchanted, cause they steered themselves on their own. As Ekko sat on the boat's seat, he looked around at the dark waters surrounding him. The water looked a lot cleaner here than it did back in Zaun. He inhaled the chilly air, it smelled like a lake, with the scent of algae and pine trees around. But a scent next to him reminded him of the Undercity, gunpowder.

Ekko turned his head to examine the student next to him better. Maybe they were from the Undercity and he knew them. Against the moonlight and lantern's warm hue, he saw a flash of pale skin and blue hair. A pit began to form in his stomach. It couldn't be her. right? "Jinx?!" Ekko asked, voice sounding alert. The chatter on the boat stopped for a moment as they all looked at Ekko. The cloaked student lowered their cloak down to their neck and looked at Ekko. "If it isn't the boy savior." Jinx teased, voice low. "What are you doing here?" Ekko asked. The phrase came out a little harsher than he intended, and he felt a twinge of guilt after seeing Jinx wince in response. "I could ask you the same... thing." Jinx dragged, the corners of her mouth tilting upward at the end. "I- I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that. It's just, we had no idea where you were. Vi has been a mess since you left back then and-" Jinx cut Ekko off with a wave. "Vi's been a mess?" She laughed. "I'm surprised she remembers me at all." Jinx lied. She wasn't surprised. And hearing Ekko say Vi is a mess... Well, that made her secretly feel happy. "We've missed you, Jinx. Why did you run for so long?" Ekko asked. Jinx inched closer to him before speaking. "At least someone has my name right now. and don't be dumb, Ekko." Jinx responded, tilting her head. "You know the reason I ran. We all do..." Jinx said glumly. "Silco and Vander," Ekko said. Realization dawning. he always knew, they all did. But they hoped that if they could find a way to forgive, then maybe Jinx could too. But she thought of things differently. 

The boats docked next to the university, and the students began to stand. "Students, please follow me to the banquet hall!" A teacher yelled. Jinx stood up but Ekko reached out for her arm. Jinx returned his touch with a warning glare, and he let go. 

[beneathsilverstars]

Dunno if you're only interested in thinking about ISAT related sillies, but I've been thinking of Siffrin's love of plays and poetry mixed with my love of musicals! It's got a script and there's stage settings so people walk the same paths and say the same things every time, but it's still performance art! There's still a magic in every moment and potential for new meaning and change- and that's before you think of how the people times and places also inherently shape things. Do you have any thoughts about what the ISAT party + newly adopted Nille feel/think about traditional plays?

Mirabelle enjoys them as much as any other sort of media, I think! She's more concerned with genre and character than format. It's too bad you can't easily re-experience a play like you can a book, but! That just makes it all the more special to see one! She took an acting class once, and even though she was only a minor background character, being on stage made her so nervous that she messed up her only line. But! That just makes it all the more impressive how brave and talented professional actors are!!

Isabeau loves them as a visual medium. The costumes! The set! The blocking! In the past he would've just said the play was pretty, but these days he will come out of the theater gushing about the visual symbolism. Mira's like "What did you think of the plot though?" and he's like "Oh, the plot? Yeah it was great, it was really clever how they foreshadowed the fall of the prince by tearing his cloak directly through the royal insignia in act one, especially because the blow would have killed him if his servant hadn't intervened; it's just like how holding onto the throne would have led to his death, meaning his servant saved him once again by removing him from power!"

Odile's fine with them. She prefers the private experience of a book, but going out and doing something with friends is a different kind of nice! It's fun to tease everyone about their reactions afterwards. And if she cried at one too once no she didn't. :|

Bonnie likes the action! A story you can watch! Except sometimes Siffrin picks boring ones that are mostly people standing around and talking to themselves and Bonnie isn't even allowed to run around instead. So, hit or miss for them. Every couple of years the kids in Bambouche put on a play, and last time Bonnie got to be a pirate, and it was awesome even though they had to be so careful to not actually whack the other kid with their sword.

Nille likes them a lot! Plays are maybe her favorite way to be told a story; it's so direct and clear and multi-sensational, you really get to immerse yourself in it. She often does gestures and voices while telling stories herself, it just makes it easier to follow! She was so proud of Bonnie when they got to be a pirate and only actually whacked the other kid with their sword for real during practice a couple times.

Siffrin loved the escapism. Stories are so grand, and everything that happens in them is so meaningful. A play ends the same way each time you watch it, yet you're still on the edge of your seat, swept up in the world the actors have conjured! Plus, seeing a play was the best way to kill an evening, sitting somewhere safe and comfortable while getting a little more familiar with the local language and culture. They liked experiencing unique small plays! They liked seeing how a world-famous play would get translated and adapted for different countries! They liked attending the same production three nights in a row and seeing if they could catch any little differences!

Post-canon... He's definitely not going to watch the same one three nights in a row. And not any that he has basically memorized, either. And maybe not the entire thing yet, maybe he has to leave closer to the beginning than the intermission a couple times. But!! Siffrin loves plays, he remembers that about himself, and even after everything, he can't help but love the familiar. So. He's working towards being able to be himself again.

Loop would rather get crushed by the king again than step foot in a theatre~!

[gummyfang]

♡♡♡ |   ˗ˏˋ Passing Stars || Chapter 1  ´ˎ˗

➳　【 C a p t a i n　Ｒ e x　ｘ　Ｒｅａｄｅｒ】

❧ Warnings: 𝐠/𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 / 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐟𝐡), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲/𝐰𝐚𝐫

[ 4.0𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ]

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬:  first multi-part series. clone fever hit hard. i'm actually really happy with this for a change. This chapter is the set-up for the conflict at hand :) im currently on s6 of TCW and AUFHHGHH i just got past the Fives arc. im a bit insane atm. anyways ENJOYY

“I promise, you will get your rifle back when you leave the premises. It’s just procedure- you’re not authorized to carry any weapons into the Jedi Temple.”

You gritted your teeth at the Guard blocking your path as firmly held onto your sniper rifle, as if he’d have to pluck it from your cold dead hands if he wanted to take it from you. 

Despite your stubborn attitude, you knew your faux little display of rebellion was a losing battle. As much as you refused to trust the Jedi, you were left with little choice but to go to them for help. 

There was very little on your planet for you to return to, other than the remnants of the cities the Separatist forces had quietly seized for themselves. A sparsely populated planet circling a neutron star, right near the outer edge of the mid rim. Nothing remarkable on its own, but full of mining communities ripe for the Separatists to exploit for their excessive droid production.

For as far as you knew, you were the only one who’d been able to penetrate the blockade.

You sniffed, still agitated as you dropped the sniper rifle into the storage bin. The thought of the poor working conditions your people were being put through to mine materials for those bastards was enough to temporarily put yourself past your distaste for the Republic.

“Thank you.” the Guard responded dryly, unable to hide the hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

“Be careful with it.” you sneered, almost shoulder checking the man on your way past him. If you were being honest with yourself, you had to acknowledge you were being unreasonable with this poor man. He was only here to do his job and people like you did not make it any easier. But being subject to an invasion had clouded your sense of self, and maybe your ability to be reasonable. Just a little.

You were led to a woman dressed in robes, but you did not know enough about the clothing habits of the Jedi to tell whether she was one of them or not. She nodded, exchanging a few friendly words and beckoning for you to follow her. Your arrival was expected.

A sense of unease washed over you as you made your way through the towering hallways of the Temple. The air tasted warm and stale, the building’s age and the many people that passed through it permeating through its scent. The hallways were far from empty, used for conversation, and in some cases even training, judging by the bright light emitting from those unsettling trademark blades they carried.

Keeping your head low, you ignored the passing glances that were being sent your way. 

A morbid part of you wish you’d died and the torch of fate had been passed on to another unfortunate soul, one more equipped to deal with diplomatic matters such as these. But these were the cards you’d been dealt, and you had little choice but to play them now. 

The tapping of the lady’s shoes accelerated as she swiftened her step, opening the door for you. She moved out of the way, gesturing for you to head inside as she stood outside the door. It was clear she was not accompanying you any further, so you gave her a curt nod and stepped through the opening. 

When the heavy metal doors fell shut behind you with a loud thunk, you were met by several pairs of eyes fixated on you. As if you were a scared animal, you could feel the hair in your neck begin to rise. Despite your feverish thoughts of reassurance and weak attempts to ease your nerves, your sense of unease had failed to dissipate. 

There were three of them. None of their heads adorned the same mask as the woman that had guided you through the hallways, and two of them were sporting similar robes, though there were some differences in how they wore them. Jedi, you were sure of it. 

As soon as you’d entered the room, the taller of the two Jedi took a step forward. He had a striking appearance, eyebrows casting a shadow over his blue eyes. Across his right ran a scar, marking his experience in combat. His robes were black and reddish brown, much darker than those of the red-robed young togruta who stayed in her place by the table. You did not fail to take note of the weapons hanging off their hips, subconsciously feeding into your discomfort even more.

The man in the corner stood out from the two. He was clearly not a Jedi. In the absence of robes, his body was instead covered in full white armor painted with blue stripes. This included his head, covered by a broad helmet covered in markings. A clone, you realized, eyes widening slightly. Your life being mostly secluded to a neutral planet in a neutral system, you’d only ever see brief glances of them on propaganda posters and on the occasional business trip to systems under Republic control.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the tall Jedi cleared his throat. When you gave him a good look a second time, you noticed he’d moved his hand to cover the hilt of his lightsaber, as had the younger one in the back. Right, Jedi. Mindreaders. 

“Welcome.” he began, giving you a small nod. You nodded back, waiting for him to continue. 

“My name is Anakin Skywalker. This is my Padawan, Ahsoka Tano.” He gestured towards his apprentice, who in turn also greeted you with a small nod. You briefly glanced at the clone in the corner, but he did not speak up to introduce himself, nor did Anakin make a move to introduce him. Oh well. Maybe he was not to be in contact with you directly, who knows what hierarchy they set up in these Temples?

“[Name].” you responded briefly, nothing more, nothing less. 

“[Name].” Anakin echoed your name back at you. “It was your distress signal we received last week, then. We know the basic details of the situation described, but following your message, the Council has been unable to make contact with any representative from your planet. Would you mind explaining what’s going on back there?” You scoffed.

“I would, actually. Having said that, I want to make it clear I am not telling you anything before we have laid down some ground rules.” Despite the hints towards their ability to read your mood and mind from earlier, this seemed to catch them all by surprise. Anakin’s eyebrows lifted slightly, and Ahsoka exchanged a glance with the clone behind him.

“Not telling u- But you’re the one who contacted us for help.” His voice was stern, but mostly laced with surprise.

“The only reason I visited this war-forsaken place was because this is the Jedi’s conflict to resolve! Nobody else’s!” you snarled, somehow working up the courage to jab him in his chest. “The Hakheen system has been a neutral system for the entire duration of the war that you started. We’ve done everything we can to keep ourselves uninvolved with the conflict- and a decade of hard work was undone when you decided to take over our only two neighboring systems! Your thoughtless actions are what put us on the Separatist radar which has now resulted in a full hostile planetary takeover!”

“What?” the togruta spoke up for the first time, giving you a wide-eyed stare. 

It was just as you feared. Hakheen’s takeover had been effectively kept a secret from the rest of the galaxy. Not only did that mean the Jedi Order would only have your word to go off, it also meant you really had been the only person to escape the droid suppression and the blockade around the planet.

“You’re sure? The entire planet has been subject to a takeover, not just your region?” Anakin chimed back in, putting himself past your hostile disposition towards him.

“Trust me, General, I don’t want to be here either. I’d rather have come groveling at the feet of anyone before I came licking the boots of the Jedi Order. But the scale of this invasion has left me with no choice but to come knocking at your door. Like I said, this is your responsibility and you are to fix this mess that you made. After we have been liberated, the Republic will leave us be and we can call this even.”

Ahsoka struggled to speak for a moment, the markings across her brow furrowing. “But that’s not a fair assessment to make.” she retorted. Your gaze met with hers, feeling your blood begin to run a few degrees hotter with building anger. “The Jedi Order only steps in when-” “Snips.” Anakin’s firm voice interrupted her. The Jedi had turned his head to face her, shooting her a warning glance. “Enough.”

This was difficult enough as is. You clearly did not trust either of them, which meant that any form of discussion or negotiation was going to be a struggle. Even if they didn’t agree with your point of view, there was no point in arguing against it. Letting the Separatists enslave the population of a planet being used for a large-scale assault against the Republic was not something they could ignore regardless. 

You were grateful for the intervention. Ahsoka was clearly younger than you, but given the situation and your emotional state, you don’t know how long you could’ve kept your cool.

“I agree that we should stage a counterattack. It’s in everyone’s best interest, from what you have described.” Anakin explained calmly. “But that doesn’t mean we can just blindly agree to your terms. Regardless of whether or not we believe you- and trust me, we do- we will need more concrete proof that what you are saying is true. And if we are to negotiate terms like this with you, you need some form of political status.” Averting your eyes, you stared at the ground. You didn’t have a proper response to that. Sure, you had political aspirations growing up, but the situation you grew up in did not allow many people from Hakheen to pursue their dreams. Despite your promising education, like most people, you were forced to sell animal parts you and your family hunted to make ends meet. There was no room and no budget to invest in some vague ambassadorial aspirations, and this was likely the furthest you’d come in that regard.

“There were others.” you decided to pivot, realizing there was no lying your way out of this anyways. “I was with a group of six escapees. Among them was our Minister of Intersystemary Affairs and two ambassadors to different planets in the Outer Rim, don’t know which.” For the first time in that conversation you looked desperate. You eyed Anakin questioningly, slightly hopeful your presumptions were incorrect.

“We… haven’t heard anything but your distress signal.” he responded quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You could feel your heart skin in your chest. That severely complicated the situation. Although you hated to admit it, Anakin was right. Nobody on Coruscant had any reason to take someone of your age and status, or rather lack thereof, seriously. 

After a moment of silence, Anakin took a step back. “Either way, this is enough information to alert the Council and to send people to look into the situation. Especially considering the urgency, this will be dealt with swiftly.”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose in thought and frustration. “Even with how long the Senate takes to allow, well… fucking anything?”

“For matters that impede our ability to defend ourselves we don’t have to run it by the Senate. Otherwise we’d be handing our asses on a plate to the Seppies at their every move.” He cracked a grin at his own joke before quickly steeling his expression again. “Considering what you told us about an imminent attack on neighboring systems, I consider that more than enough probable cause to take action.” You softly exhaled a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding. Seems like something was going your way at the very least. Bitterly, you thought how the impending attack on the Republic was the only incentive they had to act so quickly. Still, you’d take their selfish help over waiting for your people to die anyday. 

“You two, with me.” Anakin turned around. “We will be right back.” The clone and the padawan followed right behind him, and you watched the door close, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Just as you were, Rex was also left to stew in his own thoughts as he followed the two Jedi out of the meeting room. The information weighed on his mind. He’d of course heard the stories of how the Trade Federation attempted to pressure Naboo into signing a treaty with a takeover and a blockade. It wasn’t entirely new territory for the Jedi Order to deal with. But he’d never heard of a successful quiet overtake to this extent before. This was on a whole new level, even for the Separatists. 

Furthermore, he was not entirely sure what to make of the character they’d just met. Although he had nothing against you personally, you did not present yourself as the easiest person to work with. They were going to have to find a way past that if you really were the only person who could testify about what the Separatists were carrying out on Hakheen. 

Still, there was a lot he admired about you, even from such a short interaction. 

Separatist blockades could be a serious hazard. Those things had cost the Republic a lot of men over the years, both regular pilots and clones alike. It was nothing short of a miracle you had managed to break through one, but was also undoubtedly a sign of skill on some level. 

He also had to admit he admired your resolve. For as far as he could tell, you weren’t military. Time and time again he’d seen that the challenge of stepping up for what was right was too difficult for many people, even if the situation forced them too. You’d proved well enough you were not a part of that group.

“Rex, a moment. Snips, you go on ahead.”

On queue, the clone captain straightened his back. “General Skywalker.” 

Anakin looked between him and Ahsoka rounding the corner at the end of the hallway before continuing. “I think you should stay with our guest. I was originally going to have Ahsoka stay with them while I discussed our plan of action with you, since she’s probably a bit better at small talk than the two of us. But, as you could see, our friend isn’t exactly comfortable around a bunch of Jedi.”

Your discomfort was hard to miss, even without the outright spiteful curses you spat at them. 

“Good point, sir. But don’t you think this discomfort extends to any aspect of the Republic?”

“Eh, not really.” Anakin shrugged. “But it’s worth a shot. It’s not what I sensed, anyways. And I don’t think they’re particularly eager to hang out with Snips after what happened back there. We need them around here in case the Council wants to question them. Just act relaxed, try to put them at ease.”

Rex hummed. “Alright sir. I’ll await further instructions.” he stated, nodding quickly before turning back around.

Though you couldn’t discern what they were saying, the fact you could hear their voices humming faintly through the thick doors made you uneasy. They were talking about you, you were sure of it. The General had sounded sincere enough when you explained your situation to him, but you had no way to tell whether he was being sincere or not. The Jedi had a reputation for being deceptive, and for likening themselves to heroes despite being warmongers. 

For all you knew, you’d done nothing but initiate a second territorial takeover with this stunt. But, then again, doing anything to try and fix the situation was worth trying over being complacent with the millions of deaths on your home planet. 

You were snapped out of your restless train of thought by the door sliding back open, revealing the clone captain from earlier standing in the doorway. The Jedi were no longer with him. Probably they’d gone off to relay your message to that Council they mentioned earlier, you figured. 

As the man headed towards one of the chairs on the other side of the meeting room table, your eyes followed him sharply, though it was more out of curiosity than distrust. Although you’d seen and heard a couple of clones distantly during your business trips to nearby Republic systems, this was the first time you encountered one up close and personal. 

Of course you'd seen that helmet plenty of times, whether it be on Republic propaganda posters or the holonet. It almost looked fake to be met with one in real life. Though you noted his was far more decorated than the ones you’d seen in illustrations before. Aside from the two deep blue markings glaring at you above his visor, the surface was absolutely covered in tally marks. You could only guess whether it represented the number of lives he took or the number of battles he’d fought his way through, but you didn’t doubt it marked his skill in combat. 

“Ah, right. Sorry. Where are my manners?” His modulated voice snapped you out of your gaze. You could feel the embarrassment rise up in your chest as you realized you’d been staring at him like a frightened lothcat.

Swiftly, the man removed his helmet, leaving it to rest on his hip under his arm. Once again, the face you were met with was one you’d definitely seen in illustrations many times before, but never had you seen it in person.

“No, no, I’m sorry.” you apologized with a dull tone, too flustered to keep looking him in the eye. “I was staring.”

Rex cracked a small smile as he placed his battle-worn helmet down on the table, taking a seat diagonally across from yours. Quietly, he still wondered how he was going to approach you, considering mediation was not exactly his specialty. However, it seemed that Anakin was right to a certain extent at least. They’d only just left the room and your attitude was already nothing like it was five minutes ago.

“I’ve never met a clone before.” you continued at his silence, feeling the need to explain yourself.

“Right. We don’t go to neutral systems unless we have a good reason to. Having our men on ground untouched by the war usually causes more unrest than it is worth. You don’t visit Republic systems often, then?”

“Not much, no.” you replied, slacking your shoulders a little. “Sometimes, though. To sell our stuff elsewhere. We're hunters.” Rex rested his elbow on his knee, leaning forward. “Hunters, eh?” he asked, interested. His position did not often require him to make small talk with civvies. 

“Yeah. Most of our planet’s exports are minerals. My family members from a few generations back or something decided to capitalize on something else. I mean- We sell most of our meat on Hakheen, but the horns and bones are sought after in other systems. But… yeah, that’s probably not something that’s going to draw any clones to our booth.”

“Guess not.” Rex chuffed, leaning back into his seat again with crossed arms. The captain was not exactly familiar with your planet or the wildlife it contained, but he figured it wasn’t a small deal if it was worth the transport to other systems to sell your products.

The room became quiet again as you both struggled to find something to say. You found the courage to look up at him again, giving his face a proper look. 

Beyond a shadow of a doubt you’d seen that face countless times online before, but there were a lot of details to his appearance that set him apart from the mental image of a clone you’d built up over the years. The most obvious was that his roots were blonde, as opposed to the trademark brown you were used to reading about. You vaguely wondered if he dyed it to stand out as an individual, or if it was a phenotypic abnormality he was born with.

The second thing that caught your attention were his eyes. They were nothing like the cold, battle-hungry stares you’d come to learn they all supposedly had. There was a certain tension to his posture that stayed present even as the two of you conversed about nothing, but his eyes carried a strength that was more reassuring than threatening. It honestly made him a lot more handsome than the faces you remembered from the posters.

Rex cleared his throat, thinking of a sensible way to ask the question that weighed on his mind.

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir… How were you able to penetrate the blockade? We’ve lost a lot of good men to those, no matter the size of the blockade. It might help us strategize on how to get through.”

You took a deep breath, your fingers interlocking nervously. You hated thinking back to that day. The trip to Coruscant had been a laborious traumatizing trip on its own, but it did not compare to the hell you had to endure to break through the Separatist army.

“Apologies. I shouldn't have asked that until General Skywalker is back.”

“No.” you quickly responded. “No, it’s fine. Honestly though, it’s probably not the answer you’re looking for. I just- I just got lucky.” Feet rubbing together in a nervous tic, you continued. “I know none of the crafts near the west of the capital did not even make it out of the atmosphere. My group all managed to overwhelm the droids stationed at the southeastern airport for long enough to hijack a few spacecrafts. From there on out I guess I just got lucky.”

“It takes more than just luck to survive something like this.” Rex reassured you gently. Though he sounded genuine, you couldn’t agree with him. 

“To a certain extent, perhaps. But I was panicking and I guess that ended up being in my favor. We all decided to split up to heighten our chances of one of us breaking through. I heated up my hyperdrive as soon as I passed the atmosphere and just prayed to whatever gods I could think of that I wouldn't blast myself through a star.”

“You didn’t do calculations?”

“No, none. I was right above a city south of the capital when I made the jump. Didn’t end up seeing any ships from the blockade, but they must have been there. Nobody else I left ever contacted me after I made it through.”

Rex made a mental note to ask you about the details of that location later. Identifying a potential weak spot in their blockade could be vital to a successful mission, but he sensed you’d been asked enough about this for today.

“It’s good that you took that risk. I promise your case is in good hands with General Skywalker. He personally insisted on tackling it as soon as he received your distress signal. We will do everything to ensure your planet will be free of Seppies when we leave.”

Despite sighing through your nose, you managed to flash him a weak smile. Even if you weren’t particularly fond of the Jedi Order and the factions it was allied with, you had desperately needed someone to just be kind to you after the horrendous situation you’d found yourself in for the past week. 

“Thank you, uh…” Your voice trailed off as you stared at him, questioningly. 

“Captain Rex. At your service.”

You gave him a proper smile this time, nodding. You were about to open your mouth to continue the conversation, when a high-pitched beeping started emanating from Rex’s wrist. His comlink. You stared as he pressed the button, a light blue hologram of the General you’d met earlier springing up from the device. “Rex, you should come over here. Both of you.”