#malevolent pod fic

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

I Prefer My Heart To Be Broken: A Magnus Archives X Malevolent Podcast Fic

Jon feels seen in a way he has not since the Panopticon, examined from cell to soul, from ankles to ego. Does that feel good or horrible? He doesn’t know.

He tries to see into this thing, just a little, but just that glimpse is enough.

Fear shortens Jon’s breath, shivers up and down his form, because this thing is a god. ----- Somewhere Else isn't right, and they've never talked about what happened in the Panopticon, but so what? They're together. The Fears aren’t gone, no, but behind a curtain, subdued.

Martin actually loves the small-village life, farming and friends and found family. Jon is... managing. They're making it work.

But the universe they landed in is occupied, and its current rulers are very interested in the new kids. Entities made of Fear, attached to a damaged ex-human and his surprisingly sneaky lover? Who could resist playing with that?

Everyone has plans, and plans under those plans. What happens when a web grows too heavy to support its own weight?

"Tears and blood, blood and tears," says Kayne.

He is not wrong.

-----

Now with FANART! Ahh! It will be posted in the final chapter, because it's spoilerific, but ahh! Thank you, @pikachic!

AO3 | Playlist

Chapter Index:

Law and Order

Chaos-Bringer

Matriculation

London

Taken

New York

Martin

Nine Days

Blood

Carcosa

Identity

Reunion

Lies

Revelation

Tea

Mistake

The Little Black Book

Fallout

The Transfer

Cost

[ananxiousgenz]

@percymawce-arts for the recent little fic I wrote about John and Arthur singing together: this is the melody I made up when I was thinking about john's waltz <3

[no-tengo-ojos]

please please please send me Malevolent fics to read

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Ongoing series On the way to the plateau, Arthur and John discover a spell in one of their books that will (hopefully) allow them to fight back against the King in Yellow. But when John ends up absorbed by the King, it's up to Arthur to free him.

Author: @croik

Note from submitter: OKAY! So it's a personal favorite of mine, canon divergence from the end of s2. You're gonna see the ship tagged and be confused at first but lemme just say that the author does and incredible job of making it all come together. It's an ongoing series, and I am in a constant state of rereading it

[alightcaseofohno]

I wanna write another Malevolent fic but I got no ideas...

Anyone have fics they wanna read but don't wanna write? (Especially if they concern Oscar).

[arthur-lesters-matted-hair]

Just realized I only ever put my malevolent TMA crossover fic on main, sorry bout’ that

[your-mom-friend]

Do you have any fic (Malevolent) recs?

:D

Well I don’t have a lot, because I haven’t finished the podcast and have been avoiding spoilers like the plague, but from the ones I do have:

There’s this, which honestly made me cackle a bit because it’s John and Arthur infiltrating a drag ball in search of someone with a freemason’s ring and John is just 👁👄👁 about Arthur flirting with some guy

This one is Aceflux John!! John is still trying to figure the whole communication thing out

Post-Malevolent AU where Arthur becomes a famous composer and also Physical Body John who is his bodyguard /+1 / boyfriend

Possessive Arthur got me giggling and kicking my legs like a school girl idk what it is about the not-typically-jealous character being jealous but it is just 🤌. Arthur punches a guy for flirting with John

This is pretty much all I have. I might come back to it once I’ve listened to every episode

[someguynamededdie]

Well well well. It appeared we have a winner… Is what i would say if i at all cared about what the final tally was!!

Yeah that’s right!! The vote had almost nothing to do with my final decision. No no no. It was what I said after that truly mattered.

And man. Did some of you understand the assignment.

First talk about some honorable mentions that I had not mentioned in the poll but were recommended anyway: Hallowoods and Alice Isn’t Dead!

I’m sorry to the one person who said Hallowoods but there’s a reason it was not included in my poll. I fell asleep in the middle of the first episode and by the time I woke up I had not a clue what was happening, and couldn’t be bothered to restart the episode. I have not touched it since. I am so sorry. Alice Isn’t Dead on the other hand is in my library and I will listen to it! Eventually! Maybe.

Another honorable mention goes to Wolf359, which did come in second, and did have a considerable amount of support behind it, however the pizzazz of the propaganda was… lacking.

Now for the REAL winners of this post. That’s right, winners plural. I’m planning on eventually tackling all of these pods but there were a few standouts! Wolf359 really stood no chance against: Joe Biden Sex Coma.

No other propaganda was necessary. No additional votes were needed. In Third Place I’ll be listening to Slit Verses! I can’t wait to… stare on drywall for 7 hours! I already do that with Malevolent, so what’s 7 hours more!

But two other shows had something Slit Verses did not.

Horse discourse.

I am bewitched. I am enthralled. What the fuck could any of this mean? Not only had two of the official podcast accounts responded to me talking about god damn HORSES of all things, but brought rabid fans with them. Also FRANCIS HUGHES, EDITOR OF WITHERBURN AFTER SCHOOL NEWS??? KYATHEDINO #1 FIC WRITER OF WITHERBURN AFTER SCHOOL NEWS??!??!!

Witherburn’s fandom was much more vocal in the tags, which is fair since the show is much newer and has a much smaller fan base.

So yes, WOE.BEGONE may have won the popular vote, but much like American Politics, it doesn’t matter what the majority of people want or need, I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want and ruin everyone’s lives. I’m going to finish Witherburn, start to w.bg, and then start to Slit Verses.

This weeklong charade of fairness was for naught. You have been bamboozled. So long and good night.

[anddrewdoesthings]

CALLING ALL ARTISTS

okay, so I would fucking LOVE to do an AT, fanart for someone's fic , or an art collab

(preferably not smut))

fucking ANYTHING

The Fandom im currently in are

-Malevolent pod

-TMA

-Ghost Band

-Sleep Token

-Hannibal

now, I dont have art for all of these BUT I do have art ref that ill put below the cut so you don't have to scroll through my account lmao

(there will also be unposted art <3)

[sentientsky]

hi hello i forgot to make an intro (that's a lie. i made one, but then unpinned it and buried it somewhere in the Void and just. forgot about it). i'm Wren (is that my real name?? what are you, a cop?) and I write silly little fics for funsies + also to process my own trauma/existential despair. uh. what else? here's some random shit i thought might be relevant:

primary fandoms at the moment are doctor who, tma/tmagp, malevolent pod, bg3, and x-files (with some good omens and eeaao sprinkled in there).

all my angsty crowley ficlets/poems/word barfs are tagged with this stupid bird pun: #wren writes crow

i’m a writer/poet/artist by trade. if u like my stuff and want to commission me, just shoot me a DM :)

you're always welcome to say hi in DMs or in asks/comments/replies/etc! i kind of suck at replying to ppl in DMs, so if u don't hear back right away, i apologize! it’s not you—it’s my many mental illnesses

this is a sideblog. if i interact with you a lot, there’s a very good chance i’m following from main

and just in case it wasn’t apparent from the way i post,

Free Palestine 🇵🇸 (see resources here)

[abandoned-by-destiny]

Chapter 3

fic masterlist // series masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Relationships: Commander Wolffe/fem!Jedi!OC (it’s about the slow burn y'all)

Rating: Mature (this fic as a whole is still Explicit/18+ so if you are a minor pls GTFO)

Tags/Warnings: death, corpses, blood, injuries, canon-typical violence (listen it's the Malevolence Arc, you know what's about to happen)

Word Count: 6k (ahahahahha i know i know alright)

divider by: @djarrex

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Year: 22 BBY // Five Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It’s the silence, Lyra’s decided. Space has always been quiet, but the quiet doesn’t bother her. The silence, though. 

Lyra stares up at the ceiling of the escape pod that she’s stuck in, laying on the floor. She’s enjoying the artificial gravity, for as long as she can. She’s going to have to turn it off in approximately fifty-five minutes, to reserve power for the life support system. Air to breathe is more important than gravity.

Lyra refuses to look out the viewport of the escape pod. If she could cover it, she would. She already knows what’s floating past the glass, bumping into her escape pod every few seconds. She doesn’t need to keep seeing it. She resists the urge to look at the chrono on her wrist. She’s pretty sure it’s still been five hours, seven minutes, and approximately thirty-six seconds since… since Malevolence.

Location: The Triumphant in Hyperspace // Approximately Five Hours Earlier

“That’s why your name is Stitches?” Lyra all but yells across the medbay at the clone medic in question. Stitches shrugs his shoulders while spinning a stylus between his fingers as he avoids doing the inventory Lyra asked him for earlier. 

“It made sense and I thought it was funny.” Stitches smiles as Lyra rolls her eyes. The large ship shudders slightly and they both look around. “Feels like we just dropped out of hyperspace. Shouldn’t you be on the bridge?” Lyra huffs and stands up, walking over to the supply tower in the center of the large medbay. 

“Plo doesn’t need me up there. Besides, Commander Wolffe doesn’t want me anywhere near that bridge. He made that very clear.” Lyra looks at her own datapad and starts doing the inventory herself, as she does her best to keep her feelings to herself. She reaches up and taps her earcomm twice, tuning into the bridge’s surveillance system so she can hear Plo and Wolffe. 

“-large energy reading from the target, sir.” Lyra’s fingers still in the bin full of gauze as she hears Wolffe speaking. 

“They found it.” She whispers and Stitches looks up from across the room. 

“The weapon?” He asks, standing up finally and walking towards her. She nods and transfers the audio to her wrist comm so Stitches can listen with her. 

“Open fire.” Plo’s voice sounds calm, but Lyra can detect the slightest undercurrent of fear. 

“We’re not in range yet, sir.” Wolffe replies and Lyra feels a tremor in the Force. The hair in her arms stands up and she suddenly senses a strong urge to run. She grabs Stitches wrist, who balks in surprise.

“Brace for impact!” Plo is now clearly shouting, but his warning is too late. All the power in the medbay flickers and then shuts off. Stitches runs to the doors and holds them open, because the power loss causes a quarantine shutdown in the medbay. Lyra bolts to the bacta tanks and tries to turn on the emergency generator, with no luck. The doors slide back open, and Stitches turns to face Lyra and panic wipes across her face.

“The shields.” She almost whispers it, but Stitches hears her. 

“-as left us defenseless!” Wolffe’s voice shouts from Lyra’s wrist, her comm barely holding on to the signal. “They’re tearing us apart, one by one.” He finishes as a loud crashing sound echoes from somewhere.

“The other ships in the fleet…” Stitches trails off as Lyra starts thinking about the two teams of medics under her command on the other two ships. She starts to reach for them in the Force when a wave of death almost knocks her off her feet. She stumbles backwards and Stitches catches her. 

“Quickly! Into the pods!” They both hear Plo shout before Lyra’s comm finally fizzles out. Lyra grabs Stitches by the arm and they both start sprinting. Lyra can see red hot fissures start to appear in the hallway as they run.

“We’re running out of time!” Lyra yells as they sprint around the corner. There’s only one pod left and that’s when Lyra remembers that the pods have to be launched from an exterior control panel. The moment the thought enters her mind, she’s lifted off the ground. She lands on her hands and knees on the inside of the pod, and turns to see Stitches already closing the hatch. “No!” Lyra shrieks and tries to stop him, but it’s too late. She slams into the hatch, tears streaming down her face. Stitches looks down at the control panel and then back up at her. 

“Keep my brothers safe for me, vod’ika. Okay?” He says something in a different language and hits the panel. Lyra watches through her tears as her escape pod is jettisoned from the ship. Barely a second later, the Triumphant explodes in front of her eyes. 

She can see bodies being flung into open space by the force of the explosion. She turns away from the small viewport at the back of the pod and looks through the large viewport at the front.

It takes her a moment to realize that the noise she’s hearing is a scream from her own throat. Her entire focus is locked on the view out her front viewport. 

Clones. Soldiers. Men she was responsible for keeping alive. Floating. Suffocated. Dead by the thousands.

Lyra collapses, sobs ripping from her throat. She pounds her hands against the durasteel grate of the floor in frustration and anger and grief. She tears at her robes, gashing holes in them.

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Two Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It takes her two hours to stop crying. To pull herself off the floor and start taking inventory of her supplies. 

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Three Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It takes her another hour to mask her power supply and set up an emergency beacon. The power supply was already damaged from the energy pulse that shut down the Triumphant, but mechanics were never her strong suit. She realizes that she’s running out of power and so she starts planning how much longer she thinks she can survive in this tiny pod. She sits next to the transmitter for longer than she will ever admit, praying to hear a voice. 

She doesn’t.

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Four Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

It is four hours, nine minutes, and about twelve seconds after the Triumphant explosion when the pod hunters find her. She channels her grief into the Force and rips the droids apart with frightening ease. She can feel a crackling of electricity in her veins, and a terrifying low voice whispering in the back of her mind about how good it feels to unleash her anger. 

Lyra lays down on the floor afterwards and closes her eyes. She reaches a mental hand out to the Living Force, away from the voice in the back of her mind. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra whispers into the air.

The Living Force envelops her and she swears she can feel cool fingers run across her brow and down her cheek. A few tears slide out of her eyes and pool in her ears as she feels the warm light radiate through her mind, casting out the low voice. She lets the light radiate down through her whole being, physical and spiritual, as she falls into meditation.

Location: Escape Pod in Abregado Airspace // Six Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

Lyra stays in meditation until her chrono beeps; telling her it’s officially time to turn off the artificial gravity. She sits up and sighs as she tears a long strip of fabric from the bottom of her tunic. She ties one end around her ankle and the other around the back of the pilot’s chair. She wastes time double checking that her emergency beacon is still active and waits for a few seconds to see if she hears a voice. 

She doesn’t. 

She pushes a few more buttons to redirect the leftover power from the artificial gravity to her oxygen recycler and takes one more deep breath. She relishes the feeling of her feet on the ground, of her weight being anchored to something, and flips the switch. Her body floats up in the air, and Lyra tries to center herself when she remembers that she can’t do that without gravity. The tether on her ankle pulls taut and Lyra is left floating mostly horizontal in the center of the escape pod. Her loose robes drift around her body, blocking her vision. 

Lyra closes her eyes and feels the tears float off her cheeks as she starts crying again. How did she get here? How had this become her life? Could Yoda have been right all those years ago? She hears the echo of his voice in the back of her mind, at the center of all her insecurities.  

“Ready to be a Jedi, she is not.” 

“Not fit for service, you are.”

“Being attached to them, caring for your family means, youngling. Forsake these dangerous attachments, you must.” 

She brings a hand up to wipe away her tears, and accidentally catches a glimpse of what is outside the front viewport again. Lyra’s silent tears turn into hiccupping sobs as she sees Stitches’ body thud into the glass once, and then twice before drifting out of sight. Stitches had no choice in being on the ship today. None of the clones did.  

Lyra tries to calm her breathing down by praying for all the men she lost today. That’s the last thing she remembers doing before drifting off to sleep.

Location: Scout Ship in Abregado Airspace // Eight Hours Post-Malevolence Attack

Lyra blinks awake and winces away from the bright light shining through the pod’s viewport. She realizes that she’s facedown on the floor, and as she tries to sit up, she hears the screech of metal being pulled apart from her left. 

“General?” Lyra hears a voice she doesn’t recognize as she feels a cool hand brush across her forehead and down the side of her face. Lyra’s nose erupts in pain as she speaks, and she registers for the first time the amount of blood pooled on her face. Her vision is blurry, nothing but shadows moving around as she tries to reach out for whoever found her. 

“Stitches?” Lyra manages to get the name out as she feels two arms lift her up and start carrying her out of the escape pod. 

“You might need stitches, Naberrie, but you definitely need some water and oxygen.” A new voice says, and it takes a moment before it sinks in. 

“Skywalker?” Lyra feels her body get laid down on a table. “Why are you dead?” She hears him snort as her vision slowly returns, and she looks down to see an IV in her arm and a medical droid hovering over her. “Holy shit.” Lyra’s head hits the pillow as she stares at the ceiling in shock. 

“Language, Lyra, small ears are in the room.” Lyra turns her head to see Anakin Skywalker leaning against a counter across a very small room. He’s smiling, but Lyra can feel the worry radiating from him and from someone else. Lyra shifts her head to see a small Togruta girl standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. 

“Small ears, Master?” The girl speaks and Lyra can hear a hint of Anakin’s own signature sarcasm in her voice. 

“Zip it, Snips.” Anakin’s response is drenched in the aforementioned sarcasm. Lyra brings her hands up to her face to wipe away her tears, but winces when her fingers brush against her nose. It’s then that she realizes the liquid pooling under her eyes isn’t tears, it’s blood. “I’d hold off on touching your face, at least until the droid sets your nose.” Lyra bats away the hands of the meddroid and sits up on the bed. 

“I can set my own nose, Skywalker.” Lyra tries to sound strong, but even she can hear the quiver in her voice. The girl in the door takes a few steps forward, arms slightly outstretched as if to catch Lyra if she falls. Anakin huffs and takes two big steps across the room.  

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” He looks like he wants to say more, but a glance over his shoulder at the girl stops him. “Ahsoka, go back to the cockpit and see if we’re picking up any more emergency signals.” Lyra turns to watch her as the girl, Ahsoka, perks up at being given a job. 

“Yes, Master!” She chirps and darts out the door. Lyra raises an eyebrow. 

“And Padme would have my head if I let you set your own broken nose.” Anakin finishes his thought once his Padawan is out of earshot. 

“Or something else.” Lyra concedes and cracks a smile at Anakin’s offended gasp. “I still can’t believe they gave you a Padawan.” She says under her breath and is met with a sharp burst of pain. “Ow!” She flinches away from Anakin’s fingers and grabs her newly set nose. “That was uncalled for.” She mutters as she runs her fingers at the edges of the jagged cut across the bridge of her nose. Anakin shrugs indifferently at her pain and holds his hands out again. 

“Let me heal you up.” Lyra backs away and raises her eyebrows again. 

“You don’t know how to Force heal.” Anakin sputters at her sentence. 

“It can’t be that hard.” He brushes away her concern.

“It can literally kill you if you do it wrong– Hey!” Lyra starts to pull back again as Ahsoka comes back to the door. 

“Master? There’s a comm for you.” Anakin straightens up and makes one last face at Lyra before leaving the room. “Do you need anything?” Ahsoka’s voice is kind and Lyra can’t help but smile.  

“Can you find a mirror and bring it to me?” Lyra asks and Ahsoka takes a moment to search the room and brings Lyra a small mirror and two packages of something. 

“We don’t have a lot on board, because this is just a scout vessel, but these should help!” Ahsoka starts to unwrap a package of towels to clean off the blood and Lyra sees the small container of dermobacta next to her.  

“This is perfect, thank you.” Lyra gratefully takes the wipes and clears the pooled blood from under her eyes. 

“I can assist you.” The meddroid speaks up from next to Lyra’s bed, but she waves it off.  

“A shock blanket would be nice.” She smiles at the droid who spins away towards a cabinet. Lyra takes the mirror and holds it up so she can get a good look at the gash on her nose. She rests her fingers against the gash and closes her eyes. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra starts chanting and she feels the familiar warmth bloom through her body. She focuses on the cut, stitching the edges down and encouraging the growth of the scar tissue. She hears Ahsoka’s voice join her on the last refrain of her prayer.  

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra opens her eyes to see the last few sparks of golden energy fade away from the now pink scar cutting across her nose.  

“Not bad.” Lyra wipes the last few traces of blood away and turns to see Ahsoka watching her with wide eyes. 

“I’ve only ever seen Healer Allie do that.” She whispers and Lyra cracks a smile.  

“I’ll teach you a bit, if I get the chance.” Lyra nudges Ahsoka with her shoulder as she hops off the exam table. Lyra pulls the shock blanket from the meddroid’s hands and wraps it around herself. “Let’s go find your master.” Ahsoka smiles at the offer and leads Lyra to the cockpit.  

“I decided we couldn’t just give up on Master Plo, Healer Naberrie, or their men.” Anakin says as Lyra and Ahsoka enter the cockpit.  

“A noble gesture, Anakin. But the council feels your nobility may put others in danger. Please listen to me, Anakin. Return at once.” The hologram of the Chancellor implores Anakin as Ahsoka sits back down in the copilot chair. Lyra leans against the doorway and does her best to hide her surprise at Anakin being on a first name basis with the Supreme Chancellor.

“Yes, Excellency.” Anakin nods and the holo flickers off. Ahsoka looks shocked at Anakin’s response. “Time to go, Ahsoka.” Lyra doesn’t move from the doorway. 

“We have to stay!” Ahsoka gestures out towards the viewport. “We found Healer Naberrie, Master Plo has to be out there.”  

“Ahsoka,” Lyra pipes up from behind them, “I want to believe Master Plo’s alive more than anyone, but I just--” Ahsoka spins away from her and grabs onto the controls. 

“I know he’s alive! I can sense it.” Ahsoka says firmly as she flips a switch and starts piloting the ship herself. Lyra slams into the opposite side of the doorway as Ahsoka swerves the ship through the debris field. 

“Ahsoka!” Anakin shouts as he is tossed from his chair to the floor, away from his own controls. Lyra can barely hear him over the ringing in her own ears and the screech of R2 as the small astromech slides across the cockpit floor. Ahsoka rights the ship a few moments later and Lyra feels the equivalent of a flash of blinding light in the Force. 

“There!” Lyra shouts, pointing her finger in the direction of the flash. Ahsoka swings the ship around again, and through the viewport they see Master Plo and two clone troopers outside an escape pod, with another figure inside. Anakin makes it back to his seat and takes control of the ship back from Ahsoka. 

“Ready tow cable.” He says, the exhaustion clear in his voice. Ahsoka jumps up from her seat and runs to the back wall. 

“Cable loaded, Master.” Ahsoka beams as Anakin gets them in position. She fires the tow cable and turns to Lyra, her excitement flowing off of her in waves. “C’mon!” She takes off at a run down the short hallway to the cargo bay. Anakin stops at the doorway and puts his hand on Lyra’s shoulder. 

“She reminds me of you.” Lyra quips out, her breath still heavy and her ears still ringing.  

“Don’t have to tell me that.” Anakin huffs out under his breath as Ahsoka opens the door. 

“Are you okay, Master Plo? There's someone in the pod!” Lyra brushes Anakin’s hand off her shoulder at Ahsoka’s words and leans against the wall to make it to the doorway. Ahsoka is kneeling on the floor next to Plo, who is coughing on the ground. 

Lyra reaches a hand out towards the escape pod and tears off the viewport as two troopers slide off the top. Commander Wolffe falls forward and starts coughing. Anakin rushes forward and catches him before he hits the ground. Lyra leans against the door, stars finally starting to fade from her vision and the ringing in her ears starting to slow. Anakin turns to the meddroid as it gently pushes past Lyra to enter the airlock.

“Will they be alright?” Anakin directs his question to the droid, but before the ancient machine can answer, Lyra pipes up.

“Their suits are pressurized, which should have offered some protection, but they’ll need Force healing or a medical frigate for recovery.” At the sound of her voice, Plo pulls away from Ahsoka’s hug and looks up at her. 

“Lyra.” His voice is gravelly and Lyra takes a few steps forwards and drops to her knees next to Ahsoka. 

“Master.” She whispers, and then reaches forward to pull him into a hug. Plo wraps his arms around her and squeezes tightly, and Lyra can feel the tears finally starting to pool in the corners of her eyes.

“I‘ve been so worried.” Plo says, not breaking the hug. “Were there any other survivors?” Lyra pulls away and wipes at the corners of her eyes, feeling much more like a scared Padawan than a General in an army.

“We couldn’t find anybody else. I was alone in my pod.” Lyra feels Ahsoka’s hand rest on her shoulder as Plo takes a good look at Lyra. He raises a hand and hovers a few fingers over the fresh scar on her nose, sighing.

“The hunters must have destroyed the rest.” A weak voice says, and Lyra turns her head to see Commander Wolffe leaning against the pod with the other two troopers. 

“I’m sorry, Master Plo.” Ahsoka says, and Lyra winces slightly. She rises from her knees and walks over to the three clones as Anakin and Ahsoka usher Plo away to the cockpit. Lyra takes the blanket from her shoulders and wraps it around Wolffe. He barely moves. 

“We need the rest of the shock blankets. And any extra oxygen you have on board.” Lyra turns to the meddroid and rattles off the things she needs. It turns and walks back into the hallway, leaving Lyra alone with the three troopers, the last remaining troopers of the 104th. Wolffe won’t make eye contact with her, but the other two are looking at her expectantly. Lyra remembers briefly, the meeting she had when her and Plo joined the 104th, and got introduced to all the commanding officers. “It’s Boost and Sinker, right?” She asks and then two men take off their helmets. 

“Yes, sir.” Boost replies. Lyra winces slightly at the honorific.

“Please, just call me Lyra.” She asks and reaches out her hands for both men. “May I?” They look confused, but reach out a hand and grab onto her. Lyra feels the Force humming through their bodies and closes her eyes. “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” She chants the phrase as she pushes the Living Force through their forms, boosting the production of hemoglobin to increase oxygen intake and sealing up any wounds or bruises they had. They both take deep breaths and settle back against the pod as Lyra finishes her chant and opens her eyes. 

Boost and Sinker both have their eyes closed, but Wolffe is looking at Lyra. She turns as the warm glow fades from her hands and arms, and sees Wolffe looking at her with his mouth slightly open. She kneels in front of him, and reaches for his shoulders when the lights in the airlock flicker off.

“Hey, what’s with the lights?” Boost calls out to the meddroid as it reenters the room. 

“The power’s gone out.” Wolffe says, sitting up straighter. “Maybe that ship has returned. We should get up to the bridge.” He tries to push off the ground, but falls back against the escape pod.

“Absolutely not. You’re too weak.” Lyra stands again, determinedly ignoring her own shaky rise. She walks over to the meddroid and shuts it off, and lifts the supplies out of its arms. “I’ll go see what’s going on.” She places the blankets and oxygen tanks on the floor between the three men and starts walking back towards the hallway. She opens the door as she hears Ahsoka’s voice carry through from the cockpit.

“They’re coming back!” She sounds nervous and Lyra sees Anakin tighten his grip on the flight controls. 

“We’ve got to get the power back on, now!” Ahsoka jumps up at Anakin’s words and starts turning the ship back on. Anakin turns over his shoulder to see Lyra in the doorway, and shouts. “Brace yourselves back there!” 

“On what?” Lyra shouts back, gripping the door frame as Anakin swings the ship around. 

“Anything!” He yells over his shoulder, “R2, program the navicomputer. Get ready to get us out of here!” He turns his head to shout at the astromech and Lyra watches his face fall.

“You for-got.” Lyra hears Ahsoka sing the words at Anakin and then drop into a deadpan. “We turned him off.” Lyra ignores the look Anakin gives Ahsoka and turns back to the clones. 

“How are you feeling?” She directs her question at the two clones she had already healed. They had both stood up at Anakin’s shout. 

“Better.” Sinker says, and Boost nods in agreement. 

“Good. Can you help him to the side closet?” She gestures towards the Commander still on the ground. “I can heal him once we get up there.” They both nod silently and hoist Wolffe up onto their shoulders. Lyra slides to the side so they could get through the door before her and takes one last look at the two escape pods in the airlock before closing the door behind them. They deposit Wolffe on the same small cot and step aside for Lyra. Wolffe tries to stand up, but falls back onto the cot. The two troopers rush to grab his shoulders but Lyra beats them to it. 

“Will he be alright?” Sinker asks. Lyra looks at him.

“Yes. I promise.” He doesn’t look very sure as his eyes flick back to his unconscious Commander. Lyra takes a step towards him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I promise, Sinker.” She repeats, and Sinker inhales deeply.

“Of course, sir.” He says and Lyra flinches slightly at the honorific.

“Just Lyra, please. We’re all the same here.” She squeezes his shoulder. “Sinker, can you take Boost and head up to the cockpit? I’ve got everything handled here.” Sinker lets out a deep breath at her words and nods. “Thank you.” She says as both men leave the room. She turns back to Commander Wolffe on the bed, trying again to sit up.

“They need me.” Wolffe breathes out, barely making it through the sentence. Lyra pushes him gently back onto the cot.

“You’ll be no help to them now. Let me heal you.” Wolffe flinches away from Lyra’s hands and she sighs. “Commander, I’m just trying to help.”

“I’m fine.” Wolffe says gruffly, weakly batting away Lyra’s hands. Lyra huffs again. 

“Commander, you are not fine. You just spent eight hours in an escape pod with a failing life support system and barely any gravity.” Wolffe stops fighting and his hands fall to his chest.

“What would you know about it?” Lyra closes her eyes at Wolffe’s question and takes a deep breath.

“Because my escape pod had no gravity and I was alone.” She whispers, and Wolffe’s eyes go wide. 

“General…” She places her hands on his shoulders as he looks up at her with regret and another emotion she can’t place. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Lyra chants the words and feels a pulse from the Living Force in the room around her. She’s done a lot of healing today, and she has to focus hard to keep her own life force out of the stream of energy she’s using to heal Wolffe. The noise from the ship is distracting her.

“Master?” She hears Ahsoka sound nervous and almost afraid and her grip on the Living Force slips for a second. R2 is beeping furiously as Lyra feels the ship jolt into hyperspace. “We’re clear!” Ahsoka calls out again and Lyra’s grip slips again. 

“Damnit.” She mutters and loses her grip entirely. Lyra scrambles to pull away, to pull her life force away from Wolffe’s injuries. She claws at her life force, and feels her mind going fuzzy.

“..for that. She always said you guys would pull through.” Lyra hears Anakin’s voice faintly, like he’s far away from her. 

“General?” She opens her eyes to see Wolffe, looking significantly better than before, practically holding her up. 

“General Plo said someone would come for us. We’re glad he was right.” Lyra hears one of the other troopers, Boost she thinks, as they all crowd around the door to the room. Lyra finally pulls all her energy back into herself and lifts her hands from Wolffe’s shoulders. 

“Lyra!” Wolffe lunges for Lyra but he’s too late as she falls to the floor. The last thing Lyra sees is the three troopers hovering over her as her vision goes black.

Location: Republic Medical Frigate in the Ryndellian System // Three Days Post-Malevolence Attack

Lyra wakes up in a bed that she doesn’t recognize, and she feels terrible. She goes to say something, but her mouth feels dry as a bone.

“Water?” She manages to croak out and someone lifts a straw to her lips. She drinks greedily and then opens her eyes. “Padme?” Her older sister smiles and sets the water cup down on a tray next to Lyra’s bed. 

“It’s nice to see you awake.” Padme reaches up and brushes a curl of hair off of Lyra’s forehead. 

“What are you doing here?” Lyra still can’t quite wrap her head around the idea that her sister is next to her bed. “Where is here?” Padme laughed and scooted her chair closer to Lyra.

“A medical frigate in the Ryndellian system. You passed out after the hyperspace jump back to the fleet.” Padme explained and then hesitated. 

“Padme,” Lyra said quietly, raising an eyebrow. “How many days ago was that?” Padme sighed.

“Three.” She looked over at Lyra with a grimace on her face. “These frigates got attacked, I think. I wasn’t actually here for that part.” Lyra let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes. “I was headed back to Coruscant from Naboo when my ship got intercepted by Grievous.” Lyra’s eyes shoot open and she tries to sit up. Padme puts a hand on her shoulder and eases her back down to the bed. “I’m okay. 3PO and I snuck off our ship before they boarded, and then Anakin and Obi-Wan came to rescue me.” Padme explains, rubbing Lyra’s shoulder with her thumb.

“Speaking of Skywalker, where is he?” Lyra asks, taking Padme’s hand off her shoulder and holding it. 

“Somebody ask for me?” Lyra groans at the sound of Anakin’s voice as she turns her head to see him sauntering into the room. “Naberrie! You’re awake!” Anakin smiles as he pulls up a chair next to Padme, trying and failing to keep a respectable distance between the two of them. Lyra rolls her eyes again and looks around the room; it’s empty except for the three of them and one powered off meddroid.

“Just kiss already, Force. There’s nobody else in the room.” Lyra drops Padme’s hand and finds the remote for her bed. She finally gets herself into a sitting position as Padme and Anakin pull apart. Padme is blushing like a schoolgirl and Anakin has a smirk on his face as he throws his arm around Padme’s shoulders.

“How’re you feeling?” Anakin asks, his voice growing slightly more somber. “You gave us a good scare.” Lyra waves him off.

“I feel fine. I’m ready to get out of this bed.” She looks at him pointedly and he looks down at the floor.

“You’ve only been awake for a few minutes.” Padme says sternly, and Lyra rolls her eyes.

“I feel fine!” She starts to say more when her and Anakin both perk up. Anakin stands up and drops his arm from around Padme. Lyra uses the Force and quickly moves his chair to the other side of her bed. Anakin barely makes it around the foot of her bed when the doors to Lyra’s room slide open.

“Lyra.” Plo walks into the room with three clones behind him. “It is good to see you awake, young one.” Lyra smiles at his familiar energy, and ignores the air of panic radiating from Anakin.

“It’s good to be awake.” Lyra responds and leans her head over to look at the three troopers behind him. They take off their helmets, and Lyra is happy to see Boost, Sinker, and Wolffe in front of her, healthy and whole. “How are you all feeling?” She asks and Plo steps to the side behind Padme. 

“Like new, but better.” Boost winks at Lyra and she smiles. “We can’t thank you enough, General.” 

“We’d be in these beds next to you or worse if you hadn’t been there.” Sinker tacks on to the end of Boost’s sentence, setting his helmet down on the end of her bed. Wolffe sets his helmet down next to Sinker’s but stays silent.

“You’re to remain on bedrest for a few more days.” Plo says, and Lyra’s eyes widen. “Until Healer Allie gives the word.” Plo’s voice is stern, but Lyra still makes a noise in protest.

“That’s ridiculous! I’m just as much a Healer as Allie is, and I say I’m fine!” Lyra says, doing her best not to yell. 

“Regardless, bedrest.” Plo says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Lyra grumbles but says nothing. “I think our resident Healer needs some time to herself, if we could give her the room?” Plo says, and Lyra can see the assigned meditation for what it is. She squints her eyes at her old Master, but says nothing. Plo gestures for Anakin to follow him out the door, and Anakin waves goodbye to Lyra with his eyes on Padme.

“I’m headed back to Coruscant tonight, come see me when you get back.” Padme stands and squeezes Lyra’s hand, before leaning forward and giving her a kiss on the forehead. 

“It was good to see you.” Lyra says back, squeezing Padme’s hand in return before letting it go. Boost and Sinker both give her a salute, and Lyra watches as Sinker whispers something in Wolffe’s ear before the sergeant and the corporal leave the room. Lyra is left with only Wolffe, standing at the foot of her bed. Lyra folds her legs up and rests her hands on her knees. “Do you need something, Commander?” Wolffe opens his mouth to say something and then closes it again. Lyra releases a breath and closes her eyes, and waits. She keeps her awareness in her own body, assessing it for lingering injuries as she waits for Wolffe to find his words.

“Why did you do it?” Wolffe’s voice is quiet when he asks her, and Lyra’s eyes open to find Wolffe’s eyes locked on hers. 

“Do what?” Lyra asks, genuinely confused. 

“Save me. You almost died. For me. Why?” Wolffe almost sounds angry, but Lyra can feel his emotions radiating in the Force. For the first time, she feels Wolffe’s Force signature, but it’s blurry.

“You’re a person.” Lyra answers honestly; she feels like it’s all she can do. This space that her and Wolffe have created feels like it’s begging her to tell the truth. “And people are always worth saving.” She can tell that Wolffe is taken aback by her answer, but she keeps eye contact with him as she waits for his reply.

“There’s millions of me.” Wolffe replies, looking down at Lyra’s bed. Lyra frowns and leans forward. She reaches out and touches the back of his hand on the railing of her bed. His Force signature is thrown into clarity, and Lyra has to hold back a gasp at the beauty of it.

“Physically, yes. But you are your own person, with your own mind. And you are worth saving.” Wolffe looks up at her during her sentence and their eyes lock. For a brief moment, Lyra lets herself get lost in the brown of his eyes. Wolffe flips his hand over and their fingers weave together. Lyra has this sudden feeling that she can’t quite place, but she sees the same feeling in Wolffe’s eyes. Wolffe blinks and they both quickly let go and pull away from each other.

“Thank you.” Wolffe’s voice is low, but Lyra hears him all the same. 

“Hey, wanna do me a favor?” She asks, and Wolffe raises a single eyebrow at her.

Location: The Briefing Room on the Resolute in the Ryndellian System // Three Days Post-Malevolence Attack

“Naberrie. How did you get off the medical frigate?”

“Shut it, Skywalker. The briefing is about to start.”

divider by: @maysdigitalarts

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[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

am i a bad person

does it help if I promise to fix all the pain I put them through?

(oh, uh - the slate is a small chalkboard Kayne set up to keep track of points won in a deeply obnoxious way. for reasons.)

-------

Again, the King adjusts his speed to Jon’s, not rushing him, not going so fast that he has to hurry. It’s beginning to bother Jon.

The craftiness of it.

(Or thoughtfulness?)

Right, says Jon, reminding himself of the hell he went through before waking up in that damned prison. None of that.

“I am not so easily categorized for you,” says the King, still responding to his thoughts. “Nor should I be. In time, you’ll come to see that applying human reasoning and morality to me is a foolish effort.”

“Wouldn’t that make you the worst possible deity to place in charge of humanity, then?” Jon quips, and wonders if the slate recorded that.

“Quite the opposite.” The King stops outside a door. Behind them is another open wall, facing the opposite direction of the throne room - but it, too, shows the moon, the choppy sea, the hints of hidden beasts. “I am qualified to judge humanity because I am not part of it. I can see the waste, the greed, the cruelty - far better than they, who tend to excuse all their bad decisions. Don’t you agree?”

“I’m not going to like you,” Jon suddenly says, because it’s bothering him, because this apparent reasonableness feels like slow-acting poison. “I’m not going to agree with you, and I’m not going to suddenly see you as the good guy. You’ve guaranteed that with your own damn hands.”

“Those are strong words from one who betrayed his most important person so deeply.”

Jon stops breathing.

“Strong words from one who, in fact, depends on the very forgiveness he intend to deny me - depends on another’s choice to see him as worth love, even though what he did was truly unforgivable.”

There is a small, final crack from back in the throne room, and Jon knows the slate just broke.

Of course it did.

It turns out the King understands love very well, and also, how to weaponize it.

There’s no coming back.

The physical pain in his chest is so bad, so bad; he’s almost amazed it didn’t kill him outright.

He’s silent.

[ananxiousgenz]

I honestly do not think I've ever experienced as much agony over a fictional character as I have over oscar malevolent. he's just the winning combo of religious trauma, blood, devotion, queer pain, endless kindness and optimism, and vengeance yk?

[clone-medic-patch]

Patch Fic Snippet!

This is a snippet from my fic, “A Series of Hard Knocks” featuring my OC Patch.

Warnings for panic attacks, PTSD and mild self-injurious behavior.

For context: Patch was stationed with the 501st on a temp basis after Umbara, but still has a lot of trauma from the Malevolence attack, which is the main focus of this fic snippet. Also, Dogma was semi-pardoned for killing Krell in this fic, and has been doing community service in medbay since then.

Enjoy!

Patch always heard klaxons in his dreams. Wailing sirens, flashing lights, and shuddering ships were familiar to his subconscious mind. Maybe that’s why he didn’t wake up to the Resolute’s evacuation drill until Tup was shaking his shoulder, shouting, “Come on, Patch. We’ve gotta go!” 

Reality crashed into Patch like a tidal wave, threatening to pull him under. Before his mind could process his surroundings, he was already standing, following the other troopers as they exited the barracks. Brain jolting in horror, his breath caught in his throat, and he could feel himself tremble with every blaring siren.

The flashing lights in the hallway were what brought him to a stuttering halt. Letting out a choked whimper, he leaned against a wall. His knees gave out underneath him, breaths coming in quick and shallow. Patch squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his empty forearms hard enough to hurt, entire body shaking. 

Part of him knew he needed to get moving, that he couldn’t get left behind, but his armor was back in the barracks, along with every one of his favorite coping strategies, and his shaking limbs refused to support his weight. Hyperventilating, he could practically hear the escape pod groaning as the life-support systems broke down.

Meanwhile, Dogma was passing through the hallway near the barracks. It was his first week back in his own bunk, and it still felt wrong to be safely nestled above Tup, listening to the quiet snores of his brothers, so he’d been wandering the halls waiting for sleep to come when the drill started. Rounding the corner, he nearly tripped over Patch before he caught himself.

“What the– Patch?”

Shaking his head frantically, Patch sat crumpled on the hallway floor, lost in a flashback and muttering to himself, “No no no no no–!” 

Dogma gave the medic a look of confusion, closely followed by a jolt of alarm, remembering his quiet admissions during group sessions about destroyed Venators and dying escape pods. Even now, he could see the older trooper hyperventilating, nails digging into his forearms hard enough to draw blood.

“H-Hey, don’t do that.” He exclaimed, trying to get Patch to stop gripping his arms so tightly, but Patch didn’t even acknowledge his existence, still shuddering in panic.

Dogma shook his head, trying to think of a new approach. At this rate, Patch’s tight grip was definitely going to leave a mark. “Stop that– uh, here!” 

With a grunt of realization, he crouched next to the medic, unclipping his own bracers before starting to attach them to Patch’s arms to give him at least a little bit of protection. Thankfully, this seemed to jolt Patch back to reality, just a little, and he loosened his grip just long enough for Dogma to finish. 

For a moment, this seemed to help, and Patch’s breathing slowed a little bit as he ran a hand along the armor pieces. But then, to Dogma’s alarm, his breath hitched and a few tears started to fall.

“Hey, d-don’t cry!” Dogma’s hands froze as he watched, but this only made him cry harder, just barely audible over the warning klaxons. Dogma’s breath caught in his throat; he was incredibly out of his depth. 

Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed his comlink from his belt and tried to comm Tup. Tup would know what to do. He listened to it beep a few times, but the call refused to connect. ‘He must’ve left his comm in the barracks,’ Dogma thought with dismay. 

But Patch was still shaking, eyes filled with unshed tears, so he tried again, this time calling Hardcase. Hopefully medbay hadn’t been dragged into the evacuation drill. When the comlink chirped, Dogma gave an audible sigh of relief.

“What is it, Dogma? It’s 0200.” Hardcase groaned, still sounding half-asleep.

“Patch is crying.” Dogma’s voice was tense with nerves as he watched the medic. 

“What?! What happened?”

“I don’t know! Probably something to do with the evac drill. How— W-What do I do?”

“He’s crying right now? Like, in front of you?” Hardcase was sounding increasingly concerned, and not nearly awake enough for this. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” 

“Then give him a hug or something! Don’t just stand there watching him!” 

“A hug?”

He could practically hear Hardcase’s facepalm. “Yes, with your arms! Hang the kriff up and comfort him!”

Dogma’s eyes widened in trepidation. “Uh, I’ll try, but–”

“And get someone to turn the kriffing alarms off!” He heard Hardcase say something else, presumably to a medic in medbay, and then the comm call cut off, leaving him alone again. 

In the short time it had taken to call Hardcase, it looked like Patch had calmed down a little more, but his hands still shook visibly as he sat curled up around his knees, letting out a quiet hiccup every now and then. Dogma took a deep breath, bracing himself before wrapping a stiff arm around Patch’s shoulders.

Patch flinched slightly before leaning into the touch, so Dogma offered him a hand, which he gripped tightly. Hardcase must’ve called someone, because the lights stopped flashing and the alarms petered off, and finally Patch could breathe again. 

The medic opened his eyes, finally starting to register his surroundings. With an exhale of relief, he slumped into Dogma’s side. He looked up, blinking in surprise as he began to realize what happened.

“...H-Hey kid. Sorry about that.” His voice was hoarse, and his ears burned with embarrassment as he gave Dogma a sheepish look. He took a few grounding breaths, trying to look a bit less like he was falling apart at the seams. 

“It’s okay… a-are you alright?” Dogma asked, stiffening slightly.

Patch quirked his head to one side, mentally scanning himself before answering honestly. “No, but I will be… c-can we head back to the barracks? I’d like to grab the rest of my armor before Kix or Coric drags me off to medical.” He could already feel his forearms burning, but he made a noise of surprise when he noticed that the bracers on his arms weren’t his own. 

Dogma nodded, fumbling for a moment before standing up, giving Patch a hand. “Sure, uh– can you stand?”

Giving a grunt of affirmation, Patch took Dogma’s hand gratefully. He sniffled, trying to avoid getting any more tears and snot on Dogma’s loaned armor, if he could help it. “Yeah, ‘m good.”

With slow steps, the duo made it back to the barracks. Dogma was quick to help Patch locate his armor, awkwardly offering him a tissue when he sniffled for the 3rd time. “Ugh, thanks vod’ika.” 

Dogma nodded, looking like he wanted to say something. “What is it, kid?” Patch asked, still feeling a little guilty at putting him in that situation. Even now, he was reliant on Dogma helping him put his armor back on. He let out a sigh of relief when he could breathe again, safe in its familiar weight.

Biting his lip in frustration, Dogma looked away, breath trembling. “I-I can’t – Is there… I’m not good at this! How do I help you?” 

Patch blinked in surprise before letting out a huff of amusement. “You already have, vod’ika. You stayed, you found what worked, and you called someone who removed the triggers. Thanks for these, by the way.” He handed back the loaned armor bracers before reaching and grabbing his weighted blanket from his bunk to wrap around his shoulders.

“Oh…” Dogma blinked, realizing he had indeed done those things. He watched as Patch reached into his utility belt to grab a metal tin, helping him open it when his shaking hands gave him trouble.

Giving him a nod of thanks, Patch grabbed a mint before offering one to Dogma, which he hesitantly accepted. “Sorry for putting you in that situation, Dogma, but you did good.” 

Dogma shook his head in refusal. “Y-You don’t need to apologize. I just– I’m not good at this…” He repeated himself, looking down at his hands. This whole medic assistant thing was pretty daunting, especially for an early-graduated trooper like himself. If it had been the start of the war, there’s a good chance he would still be on Kamino.

“Heh, nobody is, at first. The first time I helped someone with a blaster wound, I thought I was going to throw up.” Patch cracked a grin, relieved when Dogma returned it. 

“Come ‘ere, kid.” He lifted one arm, raising the corner of his weighted blanket for Dogma to join him if he wanted. Dogma hesitated for a second before scooting closer to the medic, mirroring their earlier positions, if a bit less awkwardly. 

A few minutes later, Coric came into the barracks with a couple bacta patches and a look of concern, followed by a wave of troopers more than ready to get back to their bunks. The next day, Captain Rex came by and set up a system for Patch to be alerted before drills, to give him time to put on his armor and use his coping strategies beforehand. They briefly discussed having a designated evacuation partner, in the case of an actual emergency, but settled on simply alerting the other medics (and his closest bunkmates) to be ready to assist Patch in the case of an evacuation. 

Kix gave him another once-over after firstmeal, changing his bacta patches with an unnecessary level of concern before returning the favor and taking him off of duty for the next 24 hours. He still didn’t take off his armor, probably wouldn’t for the next couple days. But as he sat in his bunk, curled up under his weighted blanket playing sabaac with Fives, Tup, Dogma, and Jesse, he couldn’t say he regretted it. It was nice to be the patient, the one being taken care of, for once.

Full Fic:

[not-rude-ginger]

I'm going through some old (in that they're my first toyings with Untamed) bits and pieces I wrote, and I thought this one had some good crunchy stuff in it.

It's from the JC is a pod person fic I still want to write. I was still figuring out everyone's voice, the pinyin, but I think the idea was solid. It just has such a big cast for a chunk of it, I dread having to write it.

By the time they were done exploring the other sects had begun to arrive. Jīn Líng joined Jiāng Chéng in welcoming them, one after the other and Wèi Wúxiàn took the opportunity to watch Jiāng Chéng for anything unusual. It was difficult to say what he was looking for because he did not really know Sect Leader Jiāng the way he knew Jiāng Chéng. Sect Leader Jiāng did seem rather… disinterested in his guests, but that did not seem like a massive change to how Jiāng Chéng would normally have felt, though maybe he would have hid it a bit better.

“Ah, Sect Leader Jiāng!” crowed Sect Leader Yao as he approached with his entourage. Sect Leader Jiāng looked him up and down as the older man bowed obsequiously, looking faintly amused. “Thank you for the invitation to your home.”

“It’s a Cultivation Conference, everyone is invited,” said Jiāng Chéng flatly and Wèi Wúxiàn looked away to hide his grin.

“Still, it is an honour to be received so warmly,” said Sect Leader Yao in a bald faced lie because Jiāng Chéng’s expression was flat and empty as he stared at the man. “I brought a gift.” A disciple hurried up and held out a pretty lacquered box. Jiāng Chéng reached out and flicked it open, revealing an ornate hand mirror. Jīn Líng and Jiāng Mín peered at it with approval, and Jiāng Mín took the box from the disciple. Jiāng Chéng watched them take it away and said,

“Do you think I’m pretty Sect Leader Yao?”

Wèi Wúxiàn choked on the wine he’d been drinking and buried his face in his elbow to smother the sound as Sect Leader Yao let out a noise of offence and Jīn Líng said,

“Uncle, stop trying to be funny!”

“Who said I was trying to be funny?” asked Jiāng Chéng and Wèi Wúxiàn turned back in time to see Jiāng Chéng tilt his head to the side without the slightest change in his expression, “Why else would you give a Sect Leader a mirror?”

Sect Leader Yao sputtered a bit more before Jiāng Mín came back and quietly beckoned them to follow. As soon as they were out of earshot Jīn Líng rounded on Jiāng Chéng,

“Uncle, you can’t say that to a sect leader!”

“But I just did,” said Jiāng Chéng, his tone as flat as his expression.

“You would break my legs if I did it!”

“Really? I don’t think I’d give a shit what you do,” said Jiāng Chéng. Any amusement Wèi Wúxiàn had felt before vanished.

“Uncle what is wrong with you?” Jīn Líng demanded.

“You think something is wrong with me?” asked Jiāng Chéng.

“Well you’re acting weird!”

Jiāng Chéng looked down at Jīn Líng for a long moment, and Jīn Líng started to squirm under the gaze. Wèi Wúxiàn tensed up, there was something very unpleasant in the way Jiāng Chéng was looking at Jīn Líng, like he was an insect Jiāng Chéng was considering crushing. Jīn Líng shifted backwards, his shoulders tensing and his grip on Suihua tightening. Then Jiāng Chéng reached up and pinched Jīn Líng’s chin, which made Jīn Líng jump about a foot in the air and stumble backwards. Jiāng Chéng smiled, a slow, malevolent smile.

“Pathetic.”

“Jiùjiu!” Jīn Líng cried, sounding upset, and Wèi Wúxiàn stepped in.

[koifishanonymous]

feel free to ask me about the following to get dragged into even more fandom hell >:)

hit podcast malevolent

the stanley parable

the disastrous life of saiki k

red valley the only science fiction pod ever

wait woe.begone is science fic pod too

misunderstood by literally everyone, the Dear Evan Hansen Musical

why evermore's storytelling is better than folklore