#oh yeah also all the emphasis on eyes this family is about eyes.

[lesbiangiratina]

Thats such a cool way to translate that line thank you for understanding themes.

[mantisgodsdomain]

The greatest curse of Us, without a doubt, is the... us-centrism of the fact that we are Us and no one else. Our view on the world is limited and we are frequently subject to the logical fallacy of The Curse Of Knowledge and we're even more frequently beset upon by the fact that some people, like, are Genuinely Averse to depictions of things they've Dealt With themselves.

Like, what do you mean you're talking about this thing as a reason that this media sucks? What do you mean you actively avoid media that depicts things you went through? Do you not gain that feeling of connection from watching people go through something similar to what you did? Do you lack the feelings that are so easy to conjure up in a strong way from seeing a character dealing with the Same Damn Shit? Do you not look at art to feel things?

[intoanotherworld23]

Take My Heart

Summary: Working as a waitress in one of the most popular night clubs in the city seemed like a breeze. Then you’re asked to work the infamous dark rooms where you meet the owners, and you catch the eye of one of them, Joel Miller, whose one of the most feared men and rules the city

Pairings: Reader x Joel Miller

Warnings: cursing, mention of sex, mention of sex toys, drinking, and mention of drugs

A/N: If anyone wishes to create a banner for me for this series I would greatly appreciate it, and of course you will be given full credit for it! Message me if you are able to do so! Thank you so much everyone and enjoy! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

"Your late." The bartender Eric nagged as soon as you walked over to the register to clock in for the night. "Again."

"Yeah yeah I know." Waving him off as he laughed at you.

"How do you manage to be late all the time when you live just down the block?" Raising an eyebrow at you.

"You think this makes a lot of tips looking like one of the undead?" Motioning your pointer finger around your face.

"I don't think the guys are really looking at your face babe."

"Well this helps too." Pushing your boobs up for emphasis.

"How you are still single is baffling to me." His words holding more meaning than what you realized.

Dressing provocatively was a part of the job. Hiring pretty girls showing off their bodies to a bunch of drunk and horny men was how the club stayed so successful. Granted a lot of clubs were like that, but there was something about this club that was different. Something this club offered to their guests that kept them flocking in.

It was called the dark rooms. Watching as different girls were pulled into one of the rooms men leaving with satisfied looks on their faces. All you were told was that their VIP's hung out there, but you had a very good idea as to what happened behind those black curtains.

Throwing your purse behind the bar where you usually kept it knowing it would be well looked after. Not that you had much money or anything for anyone to steal. None the less it still was money to you.

The club was incredibly packed tonight, and you knew the tips were going to be amazing. It wasn't just exactly an ideal job, but being a bottle service girl was about as good as you were going to get. You didn't have any family or friends so you didn't have anyone to turn to.

"You don't think she'll be pissed do you?" Now actually starting to worry this time she wouldn't be nice.

"Nah I think you'll be fine."

"God I hope so my rent is due this week so I need the money."

Even though you didn't have the best apartment it was better than nothing, and unfortunately it was also an expensive one. It was better than nothing at this point.

"You're lucky she likes you."

"Ya know when you're perfect." Sending a cocky wink over to him as he shook the mixer over his shoulder.

"Oh yeah what would we do without you." He sarcastically spoke.

"Oh shut the fuck up Eric you wish you were like me." Flipping your hair back over your shoulder with a grin.

"Get to work before you actually get in trouble this time." Throwing a dirty rag at you causing you to burst into laughter.

Walking by the crowded tables as you headed into your bosses office to let her know you were finally here. Hoping that this time she wouldn't be actually mad at you since you really needed the money.

"Beth." Knocking lightly on the cracked door to see her sitting there typing away on the computer. "Hiya."

"Don't even try it." Looking up from the computer with a straight face.

Bowing your head as you awkwardly stood there with your hands behind your back. It was like your parent had just caught you doing something you shouldn't have, and you didn't know what was about to happen.

"I'm sorry."

"Of all nights you had to be late again." Standing up from her chair walking over to you.

"I'm sorry I took longer than what I thought." Apologizing again more sincere this time.

"You know how important tonight is for me."

"What's happening tonight?" Scrunching your brows.

"The owners are coming here." Answering bewildered that you didn't know. "So everything has to be perfect."

That explains her behavior the past couple of weeks, and why she had been frantically running around the club stressing over small things that she never did before.

"The owners?"

"Yes the owners. The ones who own this fucking club." Running a hand through her hair frantically. "The Miller Brothers. Tommy and Joel Miller."

"Never heard of em."

"They're powerful men in this city. Nobody fucks with them." It sounded more like a warning to you.

"They don't sound that scary to me." Crossing your arms across your chest.

"God you're so lucky you're pretty." She scoffed as she walked back over to her desk.

As she sat back down you took that as he way of dismissing you. Turning back to the door about to head out when her words stopped you in your tracks.

"Oh you'll be working the dark rooms tonight. One of the girls called in sick so I need you to cover for her."

"What?" Eyes wide open now. "But I've never worked the dark rooms before. I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do." She reassured you as you took a sigh of relief. "Just know that men pay very good money to have a pretty thing to wrap their arm around."

You knew exactly what kinds of sinful acts took place in the dark rooms, and the thought of some sleazy businessman paying you for sexual favors made your skin crawl. That wasn't the kind of thing you did or would put yourself through.

"What if they force me?"

"That's why we have security and cameras to make sure the girls stay safe."

"Why can't you ask one of the other girls?" Asking her in hopes she might ask someone else.

"Because they aren't as attractive as you."

"What if I don't want to work the dark rooms?"

"Then you better start looking for another job." Her tone serious and her eyes scowling at you that she wasn't playing around.

The two of you staring at each other as you contemplated whether this job was worth it or not. You could use some extra cash, but the thought of one of those men touching you against your will made your stomach churn. She did tell you that you didn't have to do anything you didn't want to, but then you'd be missing out on a lot of money.

It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Having an angel on one shoulder, and the devil on the other. This would just be a one time thing though. So maybe it wouldn't be as horrible as you thought.

"Okay I'll do it." She smiled upon hearing that.

"Good. Go find Kara and she'll give you the rundown of everything."

Not saying anything else you simply nodded and took your leave. Your heart was racing and your palm was sweating already feeling nervous about what could happen tonight. Things could go smoothly or they could be a nightmare. Either way you just wanted this night to be over.

Looking around the club for Kara. Trying to spot her wild curly red hair through the sea of people. Finally spotting her talking to a group of men at a table. Flashing her pretty smile and placing a hand on their arms clearly trying to get a bigger tip.

Kara had been here longer than anyone else, and knew how to work her charm on the customers. She had also worked the dark room more than anyone else either. So you knew that she was making good money.

You'd exchanged conversation with her from time to time, but never really got close with her. She was friendly enough, but you knew she wasn't in this job to make friends, but make a shit load of money.

"Hey Kara." Shouting her name as she turned around to see who called her name. "I'm working the dark rooms tonight and Beth said you'd help me."

"Perfect follow me." Showing off her whitened teeth as she headed up the stairs you following right behind her.

"So you're working the dark rooms tonight huh?" She sounded almost amused when she asked.

"Yeah I guess so."

"Do you even know what happens in the dark rooms?" Stopping at the top to face you.

"I have a pretty good idea what happens." Your response making her grin.

She could tell just by looking at you that you were like a scared little bunny. Just the thought of going into one of these rooms petrified you. Let alone a man requesting you to stay in the rooms.

"There are different kind of rooms." Stating as you now stood in the hallway noticing some had curtains for doors. "Some rooms have dance poles. Some rooms just have large couches for relaxing, and some rooms have toys in them."

"Toys?"

"Yeah ya know sex toys and all that." Jesus Christ this place was much darker than what you thought.

"Then there's the VIP room." Standing in front of a deep and dark red double door. "Only the owners can access this room. They have it locked at all times, and they each have a key."

"What kind of men are these guys?" Asking her but not really asking her.

"The kind of men women want to be with and the type that men are scared of."

"Have you ever met them?"

"Yeah I did once." Reminiscing about the time they came in and you could practically see the drool coming out of her mouth. "Joel doesn't ever request any of the girls."

"Why not?"

"It's not really his thing." The two of you heading back down to the stairs. "Besides that man never has had to pay for sex."

"Right."

"So what exactly all do I need to do?" Asking her as you started to walk back down the hall.

"All you gotta do is smile and look pretty." That didn't sound too hard to do. "Bigger tips if you sit on their lap and let them touch you by the way."

Never mind.

You didn't know whether to take her words as a warning or not. The way she said it made it sound like that man always gets what he wants no matter what. The thought of meeting this man had your stomach churning.

Staring at yourself in the mirror trying to compose yourself as time was getting closer. Taking a shot of tequila to calm your nerves just a little bit. For all you know these could be incredible dangerous men, and your about to walk right into the lions den.

Maybe they wouldn't take a second look at you and leave you all alone. That was wishful thinking though considering these men were powerful and some of them were owners. It would be in your best interest to not say no to these men.

"Y/N let's go, there here."

Your stomach was doing somersaults now. Palms were starting to sweat, and your heart was beating so fast you could hear it in your ears. There wasn't any chance you'd be able to slip out of there. You were just gonna have to suck it up, and get the night over with.

Maybe it would be a piece of cake, and the night would be over before you know it.

"Here bring them this bottle." Eric handing you a tray that had shot glasses and a bottle of very expensive tequila as you walked past the bar.

"I didn't even know we had this here." Examining the chic looking bottle like you were holding diamonds.

"Nobody else can order that except them." Pouring liquor into a martini glass. "You better get moving they don't like to be kept waiting."

"Which room are they in?"

"First room on your left." Nodding as he gave you an encouraging smile.

Trying your best to not trip or drop the glass as you cautiously walked up the stairs to the rooms. Not knowing exactly how many men were going to be in this room.

As you approached the room you could already hear deep voices talking. Sounding like there were multiple men in there. Noticing there was four shot glasses which suggested to you that there was four men. Which wasn't too bad you've dealt with almost triple the amount of men before.

"There she is." A voice boomed as soon as you stood in the doorway.

"Where's the other girl?" Not knowing who said that as your eyes were focused on the ground.

"She called in today so Beth has me working." Answering quickly your voice quivering.

"Remind me to thank Beth." The same unknown person said making your cheeks heat up at the compliment.

Finally looking up to look at them as the red and blue lights illuminating their bodies as they sat around a table. All of them were wearing very nice suits, and their hair was styled back. They were all very good looking men, but there was one who immediately caught your eye.

He was incredibly handsome in almost a he didn't seem real. Like he was hand crafted by the gods himself, and he wasn't actually a human being. He was too perfect for words. Trying not to drool being in the same room as him.

His honey brown eyes had been staring at you since you walked in the room. Following you as you placed the glasses in front of them, and pouring them each a shot. Trying your best not to shake under his intense gaze.

The other three continued to talk as if they couldn't care less about you being in here. Which oddly made you feel relieved that they weren't trying to harass you or anything like that.

"Cheers to a good night boys." One of them toasted as they downed the first shot.

"Hell of a day." A man with tattoos on his neck continued.

"I can still see the look on their faces as we fooled them." The one that toasted said. "We totally had them by the balls they were so scared."

"Fucking idiots." The attractive one chuckled.

"Did they really just think we were going to just take the money, and not keep the g-." His voice cut off by an elbow being jabbed into his side.

"Shut the fuck up Don."

Okay that was a little weird. Obviously didn't want you to hear whatever he was about to say. Not that you would have really remembered anyway, since your mind was just focusing on getting the night over with.

Now you were feeling awkward not knowing if you had to stay in here. It wasn't clarified if you could come and go as you pleased. Not wanting to upset anyone by leaving, and they needed something. Two of these men were the owners you just didn't know who.

"Now for even more fun." Watching as the one who had tattoos on his neck pull out a bag with white stuff in it.

"Jesus fuck Andrew." The super attractive one groaned angrily.

"What?" Shrugging his shoulders as he continued to dump some on the table, pulling out a razor blade messing with the powder.

"What did I say about doing that here?" His voice stern in a warning tone.

"I mean you've said it but that doesn't mean I'm gonna listen." Cutting up some lines ignoring Joel's warning.

"I said not here." Raising his voice slightly.

"This is your club Joel." Ah so he was one of the owners. "Are you telling me I can't do this here? Or do you just not want the lady to see?"

Suddenly all four pair of eyes turned to your figure hiding in the corner. It felt as if now you were under some type of spot light. This was exactly what you were hoping to avoid, and now you were the topic.

"Andy knock it off." The fourth man spoke up. Noticing he had curly hair, and looked like he could be related to Joel. Maybe he was the brother.

"She doesn't need to see that shit." It was surprising that he was almost trying to shield you from the drugs.

"Like you don't snort this every other day Joel." He argued sarcastically back, and you could see Joel seething. "Or you either Tommy."

"I said not here." He didn't back down a vein popping out of his neck. "That's my final warning."

You could tell there was so much tension between the two of them. It was clear Joel was the man in charge, and this Andy guy was a trouble maker. The other two guys looked like they wanted to stay out of it.

Maybe Joel didn't want you seeing this cause you are new. Or maybe in a sense he was trying to impress you. It was probably because he didn't want you telling the cops on them or anything like that.

"What's your name sweetheart?" Andy smirking over at you ignoring Joel now.

Looking between the two men wondering if you should answer or just stay silent. Joel nodding his head signaling it was okay. Not sure why you were looking to him for approval anyway.

"Y/N." Sheepishly responding back to him.

"That's such a sexy name." Andrew smiled but his words just made you cringe.

"Thank you." Responding not wanting to make him angry.

That's when Andrew leaned forward more towards you giving Joel an evil look before turning his attention back to you. You could feel like things were just going to get worse.

"How would you feel about giving me a lap dance?"

Soon as the question left his lips Joel didn't hesitate to stand up, and stomp over to him ready to fight. The other two men standing up as well ready to hold him back from killing the man. Backing yourself up against the wall scared of what was about to happen.

Joel standing face to face with the man who just stood there smirking like he was winning. He acted like he wasn't terrified, but on the inside he was shitting his pants.

"What the fuck did you just say to her?"

[r0ckgoblin]

My pretty girl- b.ramsey x co-star gf!reader

summary: Bella deciding to be a tad bit petty to an interviewer who was being to flirtatious for comfort.

a/n: this is so short I’m sorry, hope you like it though:)) also I don’t think Bella would be the type to act like this, I’d just thought this would be cute:)) also I feel like I have no writing skills whatsoever…

warnings: fluff(?), tinge of jealousy, poor grammar most likely

stepping out of the limo, you smile seeing the flashing lights and hearing the people shout your name. the paparazzi compete for you attention with various iterations of, “Y/N OVER HERE!” and“Y/N LOOK THIS WAY!”.

you try your best, smiling and waving in different directions. your team leads you down the carpet directing you to your first interview.

“hi! y/n how are you?” the interviewer smiles brightly.

“i’m wonderful! how about you?” you ask.

“i’m amazing, i’m actually ecstatic to me your first interview of the night.”

“awe that’s so sweet you’re too kind.” you giggle.

“so first question i guess, you play y/c/n in the last of us, and she’s tagging along with joel and ellie, how do you feel about her relationships with the duo?” she questions you holding eye contact the whole time.

“wow! okay, great question, I love that actually. I want to try and answer this without spoiling it for those who haven’t…well played the game yet.”

“oh of course, of course.” the interviewer nods her head.

“um… I guess knowing what happens between them and..” you pause trying to find the right words, “I don’t know, these characters are so great and so well written. The relationships of friends and almost family are so strong and beautiful and so very important to this story.”

“wow so adorable”, the interviewer responds. she ask a few more questions, some about the show and some about what you’re wearing. she’s very flirty with most of the questions but you brush it off, because most of them are that way.

what you didn’t see is your partner bella watching from across the way. they watched intently as the interviewer flirted with you. they could also see you not playing into any of it. they weren’t worried that you would because they know how loyal you were. but, they were jealous nonetheless because everyone knew you two were together, you had been public about it since filming wrapped. how could people be so dumb.

“well y/n it was a amazing to meet you in the flesh. i hope we meet again. and i’ve been just meaning to say you’re so very pretty.”

bella heard the last part on their way over to you. they walked up behind you wrapping their arms tightly around your waist. you shriek not know who it was but you feel a kiss in your bare shoulder reassuring you to who the person behind you was. you giggled loudly, leaning back into bella.

“there’s my pretty girl.” they sayputting heavy emphasis on ‘my’. they come to your side grabbing you hand and starts dragging you playfully away.

“oh well bye, guess that my que to go” you laugh loudly, blushing at the camera.

you and bella finish the carpet together, their hand on you the entire time, whether it be holding your hand or resting around your waist.

you were slightly confused, sure they were super touchy, but they were more like that in private. the two of you enter the building with guides escorting you to your seats.

as you walk you mention bella’s behavior “so what’s up with you handsy?” you ask playfully.

“nothing just holding onto what’s mine that’s all. felt like the people needed a reminder.” they say smuggly.

“oh?” you raise your eyebrows grinning widely.

“yeah, especially that interviewer. the one with the eyes.”

“the eyes?” you banter.

“i saw the way she was looking at you. she had wandering eyes, she needs to learn to keep them to herself.” she says pulling out your chair for you.

“oh yeah? you jealous or something?” you say playfully.

“Oh please.” they roll their eyes and kiss you on the cheek as you sit down.

[overlydramaticinephile]

You and me, we're endgame.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!rader (no physical descriptions)

Summary: Steve and Y/N finishing high school, what could go wrong in their relationship?

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: Season 2-3, Nancy and Steve never dated, reader is 18, controversial mentions of marriage, college, cussing, fluff and angst. Idk if this counts as AU so... beware just in case. English is NOT my first language. Not proof read oops. ngl this writing is chaotic....

A/N: so, if you been following me by now you can tell i love changing canon relationships from other tv shows and making them Steve Harrington and reader. I thought I would re-write finchel which is just hilarious and sad to me. Anyway, i hope you guys like it <3

Steve Harrington and Y/N L/N, Hawkins High 1984 it couple.

They have been dating over a year now, and they have been head over heels in love with each other. Their love was pure, real and above all, epic. There was nothing they couldn't face together which was honestly vomit inducing for some, and for others their clingy nature every other hour was cringe worthy, yet they didn't care. There were a lot of things they didn't care about.

In 1984 when Steve and Y/N were finishing their senior year, college applications were due soon and to say it was messy would be an understatement. Y/N had always wanted to go to New York, she was very font of the place, and she hoped Steve would want to go there too because there was no way they were going their separate ways...right?

Steve on the other hand was not as excited as her probably valedictorian of a girlfriend. He didn't know what he wanted to do if he went to college. Emphasis on if. There was never anything sure in his life, except for Y/N. He loved her more than anything, and he would not fuck that up.

Which brings us to today. May 16, 1984.

Steve was looking at a family photo from when he was 13 years old. The last family photo they would be taking. He couldn't help but feel a void inside, like something wasn't right, or was it just nerves?

"You have his eyes. His mouth a little bit, too." said Y/N while entering the room and watching Steve from behind.

Without turning around just yet, Steve decided to share his thoughts.

"I've always had trouble finding myself in his face. You know, when I was a kid, I used to stare up at the wall, his picture hanging there, and I used to convince myself we were, like, twins." he couldn't help but chuckle, how naive he was.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Y/N knew Steve had major family issues, and she has never pushed him into talking about it, but she was always ready if there would be a time he wanted to.

Steve turned around, instantly remembering why he asked Y/N to come meet him there, at their favorite coffee shop that was now closed; he wanted to ask her something.

"No, no. I, uh, I want to talk about you. About us. I was gonna lay out a picnic, like the one you had for our first date, but I couldn't really figure out where you got those cool airplane cups, so…"

Y/N couldn't help but smile at the memory, she really went for it, not knowing if Steve liked her that way, but she was optimistic. And well, that was enough.

"And I told you, you could kiss me if you wanted to. I never understood why you ran off so quickly, though."

"Yeah, I was just nervous." Steve said, looking down.

"Oh, I could never make you nervous." Y/N giggled out of embarrassment and shock. Till this day, Steve made Y/N nervous every time, in a good way that is, so to think of Steve feeling nervous because of her...

"Kind of nervous right now." he couldn't look at her, he wanted to so bad, but he had it all planned, he couldn't risk it now and also yeah...he was terrified. More terrified than any life or death threats he faced in the past.

"Wait, what's going on?" Y/N was now worried.

"Look, uh, I have something to talk to you about, but I want you to promise me that you won't say a word until I'm done. Okay, and I know that's sort of hard for you, so I need you to promise me."

"Okay, I promise." Well, as if she wasn't nervous already.

"Um, I just feel like, all my life, I've been, you know, wondering if I was gonna be as much of a man as my father is. Now, all of a sudden, I'm up at night worried that I'm gonna become the man who he is."

Y/N was giving him the softest eyes, not in a pityful way, but a compassionate one. So Steve knew it was safe to continue without Y/N interrupting him.

"Let's face it, I've got high school hero, life zero written all over me." he said chuckling but when Y/N just glared at him not finding it very funny, he stopped, going back to the point.

"You. You're like a beacon of light guiding me through the darkness. You're like this big gold star, and for some bizarre reason, you chose to let me love you. And... I feel like if I can just convince you to let me keep doing that, I'm going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay."

This was it. He has been practicing this moment for a while now, yet it was like the words couldn't come out fast enough.

"Uh... I opened up my first personal c-credit card to get this." Steve reached his jeans pocket to take out a small, red velvet box.

"I know it's not a swimming pool full of dancers or a tux or...it's not very big, but it's a promise... a promise to keep loving you for the rest of my life. All you've got to do is say yes. Y/N L/N...will you marry me?"

"Oh Steve-"

----------------------------

Later that week...

Y/N was taking her books out when Steve approached her feeling uneasy. The last few days were stressful as hell and Steve still had some unfinished business.

"Okay, it's been exactly 3 days to the minute since I proposed to you, which is the amount of time you said you needed before you'd give me an answer."

Steve hated being that guy. The one that doesn't give you space or the one that is really impatient. Who could blame him though? it wasn't how he imagined the whole thing going down. He didn't even imagine doing it right now until recently...but that wasn't important...

Y/N closed her locker turning to Steve and gave a good thought to her next answer.

"Look, this isn't the kind of decision you can make on a deadline."

"Y/N/N, I understand, you said you needed some time, but... to be perfectly honest not hearing a decision's kind of bummin' me out."

Y/N got closer and took Steve's hands, gently squeezing them to give him a little reassurance.

"No. Look...I love you, okay? And... I want to marry you someday, and... I'm open to anything. This is all just happening so fast, and I don't understand it. I mean, I... I need you to help me understand."

Steve sighed. He knew Y/N was being fair and she was right, an explanation was in order.

"Okay, well, even if you don't get into NYU, you're still gonna go to New York."

"Yes, and I want you to come with me."

"And I will, but... we're crazy if we think that it's gonna be easier to be a couple there than it is here. My point is that those rings are-are...will always be a reminder of exactly how we feel right now. They're gonna let us take a piece of our little world into the big city."

Y/N eyes soften, she could see Steve was projecting his insecurities. "Look, that's really romantic, but I have to be honest—this all just sounds really crazy to me, okay? I don't need to marry you to keep from straying—you're the only guy for me. Okay, I guess...my answer for now is…"

"No, no, don't...don't say anything. You're right, we shouldn't make this kind of a decision on a deadline. Just, uh...take a couple more days, okay?"

-------------------------------

Next day...

Y/N knew it was a crazy idea. Getting married at eighteen? She always pictured herself traveling, getting out of Hawkins, but the more she thought about it, all those things? she pictured Steve by her side. She knew sooner or later they would get married. She couldn't imagine loving anyone else the way she loves Steve Harrington. So... i guess that answered the question.

She asked Steve to meet her at Lover's lake, the place where they first said their i love you's to each other.

Steve saw Y/N playing with her fingers while she waited for him, that made him even more nervous...had he fucked up? Was it too soon? What would happen next if she said no?

"Hey..." Steve said while sitting across from Y/N to see her face properly.

Y/N sighed, preparing herself for the next words that would come out of her mouth.

"You're the love of my life. And...I may not get to have it all, but...I'll have what matters the most if we're together. "

Steve's eyes widen. "Is that a...?"

"Yes." Y/N couldn't help but chuckle. She was truly happy.

"Yes?" Steve couldn't believe it, was his mind playing tricks on him? He needed to hear it again.

"Yes, I will marry you."

"Got to get the ring here." Steve hands were shaking in excitement while he took the ring out of his jacket because of course he would carry it everywhere.

-----------------------

Next week....

Steve talked to Dustin, told him about asking Y/N to marry him and he didn't take the news as he hoped. Don't get me wrong, Dustin loved Y/N like a sister but he thought Steve was taking the easy way out. Following his girlfriend, now fiancé around the world without doing anything for himself.

This made Steve question everything, well almost everything. He knew he still wanted to marry Y/N but New York? Was that actually his dream?

So...with Steve's confusion he started drifting apart to think about it. Y/N noticed of course and she would do anything to make it work.

That's when Y/N was waiting again for Steve to show, she hoped he would.

And of course he did.

"I got your note. Anyone who's engaged to me should come to the gymnasium. You could've just ask for me."

Y/N smiled shyly. "Yeah, but I wasn't sure if we were speaking. I miss you."

"I miss you, too." he said getting closer so he could hold her.

He needed that and so did she. Badly.

"Now I feel like I'm finally reentering my body." Y/N sighed with content.

"I really don't like not talking to you. I mean, nothing feels real unless you're there to tell it to. I never realized how much time we spent talking." Steve said while cupping Y/N's face.

"I've been thinking, and if you don't want to go to New York, then we don't have to." Y/N mentioned without hesitation.

Steve took a step back for a moment. "Wh... Wh... That's crazy. I don't want to stand in the way of your dreams."

Y/N reached for Steve hand. "Look, the only reason why we've been focusing on my dreams is because we haven't taken the time to look into yours. What if your dreams are bigger than mine?"

That made Steve chuckle, he found it really ironic. "I don't think that's going to be a problem. I mean, I did one of those quizzes that was supposed to tell you what job you'd be good at, and my results were competitive eating champion."

Y/N felt sadness, sad that Steve didn't see how special he is. She wished he could see himself in her eyes. So she prepared herself for another speech.

"Okay, sit down. My whole life, I felt like I was in the wrong place. Like I was just some alien, an-and... no one understood me. But all I had to do was just go to New York and then everything would be fine. But I was wrong. My home isn't some place, it's... someone. It's you. Of course, I want us to go to New York, and... maybe we will. But not until we give your dreams an equal shot."

Steve's eyes were becoming cloudy while giving Y/N a tiny smile. "You love me that much?"

"Are you just figuring that out now?"

--------------------

Y/N and Steve were looking at college and jobs options trying to figure out what would make Steve happy, what he wanted to do with his life.

He smiled and nodded, acting like he was interested but the truth was he didn't imagine himself in any of those places yet he didn't have the heart to tell Y/N, he couldn't bare to disappoint her. Which he could never do but he didn't really believe that.

Steve entered his house to see Robin sitting in the living room. One would think that's weird but she basically lived there by now.

"Come with me." Robin said to Steve.

She took some papers from her bag, the college papers he had thrown away earlier that day.

"What, are you going through the garbage now?"

"Oh, come on. I know you were just humoring us in there. I could see it in your face. So I followed you out."

"What was I supposed to say, Robin? S-Sorry, I'd rather puke than spend a minute in any of those places? Right in front of Y/N, with... a big smile on her face, all proud of me?" Steve got defensive.

"She just wants what's best for you." Robin said as a matter of factly, she hated seeing Steve giving up.

"Yeah, she does. Until she realizes her fiancé is a total loser."

Robin narrowed her eyes in annoyance. How could he be so oblivious? "Is that what you're scared of?"

"It's the truth. Doesn't anybody understand that maybe the reason I don't know what to do with my life is because I'm not qualified to do anything."

"You just don't know what you want yet."

Steve got up, he couldn't have this conversation again, he had it with his parents, his girlfriend, his best friend who happened to be a pre-teen, now from Robin? Fuck no.

"What I want is for time to stop. Okay? I want it to feel like I'm on the basketball court and the crowd's going nuts! Or I-I want it to feel like I'm fighting some fucked up thing and everybody's counting on me."

"So let's find something out there that gives you that feeling." Robin got up as well. She wasn't about to quit this argument.

"Of being young? Where is it? Show me."

Silence. Complete, utter silence.

Robin sighed taking something else out of her bag. It seemed to be a video tape.

"I want you to watch this for me."

"Look, Rob, I don't really feel like doing any movie lessons right now. I just-"

"I think you know what you want for your life. I think you're just scared to say it out loud. I want you to see what it looks like when someone follows their dream, even though everyone else tells them it's impossible. You can do anything you want to, Steve. It's not the broken dreams that break us. It's the ones we didn't dare to dream."

Robin left the tape on the coffee table and exit Steve's house. He should watch this movie alone.

"(Bee Gees' "Stayin' Alive" playing over TV)"

--------------------------

Steve was playing basketball in his backyard, practicing for tonight's game, when Y/N showed from behind.

"That was amazing! You're definitely gonna win."

"I already did. But look, there's more. I figured out what I'm gonna do next year. Can we sit down?"

Shit, thought Y/N. Was he about to break up with her?

"Oh, why am I nervous?"

Steve smiled. "Don't be nervous. Robin made me watch Saturday Night Fever. It was really good, and I realized I'm a lot like Tony Manero. Except for the whole being-able-to-dance thing. When I saw that movie, I realized the way that Tony took on the world... I want to do that, too. I want to move to New York. Like Tony. Like you. I want to live in New York City with you."

Y/N gasped. "Really, are you serious?!"

Steve couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Yeah. Just... there's more. Just wait. Uh, what was that acting show, on Bravo, with the swear words and the cool dude you made me watch?"

"James Lipton."

"Yeah. I applied to his school. I want to go to Inside the Actors' Studio.

"It's... It's just The Actors' Studio, but that's great! It's a perfect, perfect fit for you." Y/N smiled. Steve becoming an actor? She could definitely see that.

But Y/N couldn't help but wonder...

"You just, you know, you can't... do this for me, right? It has to be for you. It's too much pressure for me to handle."

Steve locked his arms with Y/N's. "It is for you, but it's also what I want. It's my dream. I want to be an actor. I guess I was always afraid to admit it because I was scared of failing, but I'm not scared anymore...'cause of you. I want to be a great man for you, Y/N/N. And I want to see myself the way you see me; as though I'm capable of anything. Dreaming big. I love you so much...and you deserve that."

Y/N felt this warm feeling enter her body, something only Steve could do.

"You're my hero; you know that, right?"

"You're mine."

-----------------------

Three weeks later...

Steve wasn't accepted to The Actors' Studio. Which meant Y/N had a lot of thinking to do...

Y/N was getting ready with the help of Nancy, her best friend.

"I can't bring Steve to New York." Y/N said in an almost whisper-like voice.

"What? Why?" Nancy was truly confused.

"He'll be reminded of his rejection every day. So I've decided. I'm deferring my acceptance to NYU for a year and guarantee we'll go there together next year. I'm actually thankful for this whole mess. I'm so glad something has made me come to my senses."

Nancy wasn't convinced but Y/N seemed to have made up her mind already and who was she to judge?

"Come on, you're going to be late to your own wedding."

---------------------------

Y/N got in Steve's car. Their parents weren't really on board with the marriage idea, so they decided to have a ceremony just the two of them and... well the party of course.

"Hi." said Steve with no real emotion in his voice but Y/N let it slide, not thinking much of it.

"Hi. Okay, so you have my dress and my shoes, and I have my makeup and my epic love for you. Let's get married." she said with a genuine smile.

"Okay." that's all Steve could say as he drove away.

"My parents are still being kind of weird about the wedding. I brought it up last night and they were really quiet, but it's fine." said Y/N like it didn't affect her, the fact that her parents didn't support her on this big day.

Steve made a right turn that threw Y/N off... was he taking a short cut?

"Are you sure that we're going the right way?"

Silence.

"We're here." Steve said after stopping at a train station.

"Are you joking? 'Cause it's not funny. We're gonna be late." said Y/N with a frown on her face.

"You're on the 4:25 to New York. Your parents are gonna meet you there and they're gonna help you look at dorms at the new school. You're gonna spend four years of your life there and you've never even set foot in the place, so…"

Y/N was confused to say the least.

"But I... I have all year to go and look at it."

"You're gonna go there in the fall. All right? You're not deferring. We're not getting married."

Heartbreak.

"You don't want to marry me?" said Y/N with the saddest expression Steve had ever seen on her.

"I want to marry you so badly I can't go through with it. The thought of you being stuck here for another year because of me, it makes me sick."

"Then come with me. Okay? We can get married in New York and live in a little shoebox apartment together. It'll be romantic." Y/N was trying to make this work. She couldn't lose Steve.

"Do you love me?" Steve asked, plain and simple.

"Of course I do."

"Then tell me the truth and not just something you think I want to hear. Are you 100% sure you want to marry me?" Again, Steve couldn't have said all of this with a more serious expression.

"N-No-no one is 100% sure of anything." Deep down Y/N was still thinking eighteen was too young but... this was Steve, Steve the love of her life.

Steve looked deep into her eyes. "I am. I am that sure you're something special. That this is just the beginning for you. Okay? That you're gonna do amazing things. But to get there, you have to have these experiences on your own…"

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute." Y/N started panicking.

"Listen to me. You've got to have these experiences on your own."

"Wait a minute." Was this really happening?

"I can't to be there with you."

"Wait a minute. Are you breaking up with me?" Y/N voice broke.

"I'm setting you free." and there it was.

"Oh, my God." Y/N couldn't breathe properly, it was like someone was choking the life out of her.

"Look, d-do you know how hard this is for me? How many times have I've cried about this?" Steve face was getting red from all the emotion, tears were forming in too.

"No, I'm not going. I'm not going, not without you." Y/N wouldn't give up. She would never give up on Steve.

"You don't have a choice; I can't come with you."

"Well, then I'll stay here! I'll go wherever it is that you're going!" Y/N felt like begging right now. A life without Steve? That sounded like literal hell.

"Fort Benning, Georgia? Look, I-I need a chance to try and redeem myself, okay?"

That's when something clicked in Y/N's mind.

"I-I... Oh, my God! Oh, my God, wait a minute. You're joining the Army? Are you insane?! I can't believe that this is happening right now."

"It's also one of the places I knew you couldn't follow me. Look, you're-you're gonna get on that train. Okay? And you're gonna go to New York, and you're gonna be a star. Without me. That's how much I love you. You know what we're gonna do? Surrender. I know how hard that is for you because of how hard you hold on to stuff. But-but we're just gonna, we're gonna sit here and we're just gonna let go. Okay, and-and let the universe do it's thing. And if we're meant to be together, then we're gonna be together. Whether it's in a little shoebox apartment in New York or on the other side of the world. Okay? Will you do that with me? Will you surrender?" Steve said while trying to keep the tears out of Y/N's face.

Y/N felt numb by now. "I love you so much."

"I love you."

THE END <3 thinking about pt. 2....?

[scorpiongrassfield]

Time to Wake Up

Start | Prev

You do want to try the whole “pinching yourself to wake up” thing, just to check. 

Pinching yourself does hurt, and you do not wake up. So much for that. 

Pat did say that this is also all taking place in your soul rather than your mind, and that the things that happened in here could have real world consequences, so you guess it makes sense that you can feel pain, maybe. 

You wonder if you’re damaging your soul when you get hurt. 

Something you can ask about later, you guess. 

For now you have to figure out how to get from point A to point B without running into Ametrine again. 

You try to focus. If you’re in your body, and you’re not technically asleep, maybe you can hear something on the other side? 

Pat’s voice is hushed, like they’re trying not to wake you up, but harsh, like they’re frustrated. 

“No, I’m not going to tell you where I am. No. … No. It’s just a road trip. And it’s none of your business… No! Even if I had met a ghost, which I haven’t, I wouldn’t be telling you about it! … No, Trina, you listen to me. When I said we were through I meant it…” 

It sounds like Pat is arguing with someone. 

“I highly doubt you’re worried about me… Oh, I’m sorry, I’m just not inclined to believe that right now,” Pat snaps. There’s a pause as they listen to what the other person is saying, and then they laugh, bitter. 

You manage to pull your consciousness back into the body laying in the bed in the motel room.

“No. I don’t think so. If you want to square up face to face, we can do that when I’m back in town. Until then, maybe try not to destroy any innocent souls?” 

You open your eyes and sit up slowly, like you’re really waking up. 

“I’ve got to go. Bye,” Pat says, and hangs up the phone. 

“Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to wake you. I should’ve stepped outside,” Pat apologies. 

“That’s alright.” You weren’t really sleeping, anyway. “Who were you talking to?”

Pat rolls their eyes. “Ametrine. I can’t believe she thinks I’m dumb enough to just give her our location,” they grumble. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. I wasn’t born yesterday,” they huff. 

You open your mouth. 

“No, I won’t comment on when I was born. Nice try kid,” Pat says with a grin. 

You close your mouth. 

Instead, you opt to check your phone. There’s a new message from ghost emoji. 

(you’ve been missing for ages where have you been? can you tell me where you are so i can come get you?)

Now, if you hadn’t just doubly been warned of falling for obvious ploys, you might have taken this text at face value. But now you’re inclined to be a little more skeptical. 

“Hey Pat?” 

“Hm?” They hum, occupied with styling their hair in the mirror. 

“Do I have Ametrine’s number?” 

“Uh. Probably? Why?” 

“I got a text from someone who wants my location, and I’m wondering if it’s her,” you say. 

“Can I see?” Pat says, coming over to your side of the room. 

“Sure.” You hand the phone over. 

Pat pulls up the contact info for ghost emoji anc looks at the number. “Yeah… That’s Ametrine. Good job not falling for it,” Pat says. 

They pull up the chat history again and type out a message, then hand you your phone back. 

You look at the message Pat sent Ametrine. It reads: 

 {leave my assistant alone and stop stalking us or i’ll never answer one of your calls again, xoxo Pat}

Well. That’s that you guess. 

“Thanks.” 

Pat shrugs. “I don’t let people mess with my family,” they say nonchalantly. Like this isn’t the first time they’ve called you family. 

“Anyway. It’s still pretty early. Why don’t we get ready and go eat a proper breakfast?” 

“I’m not really hungry,” you say. Because you aren’t. 

“Are you ever?” Pat asks. And then does not wait for a response. “No, you are not. So we will be getting breakfast anyway so you don’t faint or starve.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

“Good!” Pat says, clasping their hands together for emphasis. “Now, why don’t you get ready. I’ve already had my shower so you can take the bathroom, yeah?” 

You shrug, but get yourself out of bed anyway. 

You actually can’t remember the last time you took a shower or changed your clothes, other than last night, but you’re pretty sure your body must have been doing it without you while you were in the woods or the cabin, because your clothes have changed from day to day and you didn’t feel gross. 

Weird.

Next

[writtengalaxies]

ohhh for the valentines day prompts, what about smth w the god of night? ((or google. he can also be swapped out and it'd make enough sense. ((or a secret 3rd option, both of em <3))))

i assume that he probably doesn't know jack shit bout human celebrations, so what about YN introducing him to it. maybe hes all like "??? why is everything hearts??????????? why is everything chocolate???? why is everything heart shaped and covered in chocolate???"

im unsure if this should be romantic, so im leaning heavily into the platonic aspect of this. maybe YN also gets him a few roses, just cuz they reminded them of him and thought he'd like them, or a cutesy stuffed bear. yknow, the classics!

maybe after that he dissapears for a few hours to go "do important work" but its just him trying to buy time so he can return the gesture without it being too late

OH MAN so this made me so excited to see (hi SB!!!) and I got hit so hard with this idea like, immediately. So you know I had to do it.

You were just trying to spend a day out, half-dragged out of your apartment by your Google unit (something about "you had put in this request when I was first activated") and joined by the sporadically appearing god who was bored for most of the daytime hours. At least, you were trying to find something to do to appease the metal man's minimum requirements so you could go finish your newest binge watch, when they both paused at a storefront, leaving you walking alone for a few steps.

"...What's gotten into you both?" You tucked your hands into your pockets, trying to ignore the way the wind bit at you.

"What's this...Valentine's day?" Night's emphasis on the word gave you pause, the weight behind the wrong syllable.

"Valentine's Day, also called Saint Valentine's Day or the Feast of Saint Valentine, is celebrated annually on February 14. It originated as a Christian feast day honoring a martyr named Valentine--" Google's auto-search carried on, leaving the android's eyes glowing a faint blue as he continued to speak at length about it. Night rolled his eyes, looking to you.

"...I mean, yeah that stuff Goog's is saying but like...people use it to show how much they love people. Like, yeah, romance and stuff, but also as friends or family." You shrug, carrying on walking, but this time hearing the two of them follow. "It's kind of just...a day of love, of all kinds, you know?"

They nodded, though you weren't entirely sure they understood. Briefly, you gestured at them to stay, running into the same store you had all paused outside of. It took a couple minutes, but you came out with two individual roses, handing one to each of them.

"Here. My Valentine's gift to you two. For being my friends."

Google accepted his with a slow, confused blink, where the god stared for far too long before taking his more delicately than you've ever seen him handle anything else before. Bizarrely, the two of them remained quiet for the rest of your walk, lost in some thoughts you couldn't figure out. Either way, it was far easier to head back home earlier than planned, back into the warmth of your blanket nest on the couch. Night disappeared, without a word, as you got to your door. Not unusual, he had a habit of doing so, but it still felt a little odd after getting so used to his usual snark.

The days crept closer to Valentine's, and oddly...things were too quiet. Google's eyes would light up from time to time, implying that he was getting messages, but he never followed up with you. If it wasn't for that being oddly similar to his minor update cycles, you'd be concerned. As it was, you brushed it off, and kept just focusing on your own stuff.

Until Valentine's Day woke with you nearly jumping out of your skin at the sight of both tall men staring down at you in your bed.

"What the--"

"It's that Valendines thing."

"Valentine's."

"Yeah, that." Night paced away from your bed, letting you actually sit up and squint at both of them. Google just shrugged, offering you a hand to help you up out of bed. They lead you into your living room, leaving you blinking. Somehow they managed to decorate your apartment without waking you up, with streamers, paper flowers among real ones, chocolates, and one absurdly large teddy bear.

"Our thank you to you! For being our friend." The god sounded so smugly proud of himself, a normal tone for him when he was pleased with something he did.

"...You know people normally only go this feral if they're dating, right?"

The two exchanged a look, leaving the android's cheeks to glow a soft blue in embarrassment. "I...had forgotten that part of my research. We simply wanted to convey how much your friendship means to us."

You sighed, smiling softly. They only really did mean the best.

"Well, c'mon, someone's going to have to help me eat through all this candy."

[lampmanliveblogs]

The Lampman's Conspiracy Corner

Lamp Entertainment presents...

The new and improved Conspiracy Corner! It is bigger! It’s better! It has red string!

(note for any newcomers: I'm currently doing a mostly blind watchthrough of The Owl House. The last episode I've seen was Reaching Out. No spoilers please)

Isn’t it beautiful? This legitimately took me hours to set up.

Here’s a closer look at the Timeline. I’m very happy with how it turned out, I especially like the detail of the clock. It’s five to twelve, because the Day of Unity is soon upon us!

So, as I discovered in my last liveblog, the series doesn’t actually take place in 2020, but I had already written all of this. So I just hung up that thing as nod to that.

The thing that this timeline does a really good job of establishing is that Philip really went for hundreds of years seemingly doing nothing. What was he up to during all that time?

Here’s a closer look at the Wittebanes page. It has a simple family tree, as well as some info on the known members. I had the great idea to make some of the spots modular, so if/when new information is revealed, I can remove them and fill it in for real. You’ll also notice that string connected to the paper beneath…

(don’t ask why or where I got the british airways paper from because I’ve no idea)

Here is all the information on the Grimwalker that I’ve gathered. Which isn’t all that much. The only thing about the sad pedestrian that I’ve brought up before that isn’t mentioned here is that there is an emphasis in Philip/Belos’ notes on its eyes. That’s because I can’t draw eyes.

That blue thing is a periodic table. It’s the very one I got in high school chemistry, finally getting put to use. Oh stars, there is an actual interview where I said I might go into chemistry after I graduated… haha! Year 2 of high school Lampman was a very different person.

So, yeah. In Eclipse Lake, I brought up a certain possibility, but dismissed it almost immediately. Then, in Any Sport In A Storm, I brought it up as a joke.

The thing I’m talking about is the possibility that Hunter is the Grimwalker. That would explain how, you know… he exists despite the fact that his father died hundreds of years ago.

If you look on the left, I listed a few possible inspirations or things that were brought to my mind when thinking about what this Grimwalker might be.

First on the list is a Homunculus. It’s real term that was used in alchemy and means ”little person.” Maybe the most famous example in popular fiction though is from Fullmetal Alchemist.  Dana Terrace has referenced Fullmetal Alchemist when talking about The Owl house before (Luz is a fan of Hiromu Arakawa and used to trace her manga; hence why she’s so good at drawing glyphs). So that is a possible inspiration. And I recall reading a post once that compared Belos to Father from FMA. And, well… if Hunter is the Grimwalker, then in some way, that would make Belos…

The second on the list is something I stumbled upon when researching the third item on the list. Bakru. According to one of  my books on mythological/folklore creatures and monster, bakru are unruly children created from wood by witches and wizards. They require powerful magic to control and are often sold to ordinary people.

The third item on my list are a few creatures from Swedish folklore. Because of course I have to reference that. There are a few stories about witches creating helpers like milk hares. They were often created from wood, fabric and other items. Some of them require things like dirt from churchyards, a blood sacrifice (three drops of blood from your left pinkie) and a magic spell. These creatures were used by the witches to steal from their neighbors, usually milk from cows. Hence, milk hare.

And while I have your attention; did you know that the ”mare” in ”nightmare” comes from another creature from swedish folklore? The mara. Maras are at day regular women. Exactly how they become maras is not known. Some say it’s a curse, others say it’s because their mother used dark magic to lessen the pain of childbirth (if the child is born a boy, he becomes a werewolf). At night, maras turn into an oily mist. They can slip through any crack, so you can’t lock them out. They will sit on your chest while you sleep and cause bad dreams and difficulty breathing. To protect yourself, spread flaxseeds around your bed; the mara will have to count them before it can do anything to you.

N-no, please don’t leave! I’ll move on, I swear! No more nordic mythology or folklore!

Here are some miscellaneous things. A note on the portal door, the Titan, The Collector. I put a star on The Collector’s note because he’s associated with stars and moons (and I couldn’t draw a good crescent moon)!

Okay, so I lied before. On the note about the Titan, I bring up a figure from nordic mythology. That being Ymer (or Ymir). It’s a primordial giant from which the world was made. I belive I mentioned that connection in a season one liveblog… I think it was Adventures in the Elements? I could be wrong, and I’m too lazy to go check.

I also drew the glyphs! And the spells Luz has learned so far! They’re not very good, but hey. I tried.

Funny story: I like to doodle the glyphs on random pieces of cardboard occasionally. I ended up showing a coworker a light glyph I drew. She told me it looked like a failed christmas tree. I have not been the same since.

Oh, and I also listed the elemental symbols from the Engelsfors Trilogy. Because I felt like it.

So, this was the new conspiracy corner. I had a ton of fun making it and I hope to bring it back again.

[leonaluv]

hii thank you so much for the detailed exchange!! LOVEE IT SO MUCH!!! here come the feedback:

sbsosjd I have to say your description of him? HOT. easy on the eyes? sharp jawline? nice hands? long eyelashes?? slay. i have to admit I don't know kpop much, but I'm very keen on searching more info about sugar personality!

yeah i have heard that my fs is someone with a pride and ill be the one that kind of putting him on his place-. i have to say very happy how he likes the thought of me by their side😎 haha am i playing hard to get??? slay honestly yes girl made him earn your heart!!

no but like lowkey obsessed with how you describe him- he really does like me from the get go huh?? ngl someone flexing about his salary is such a turn off 😭😭😭 ik my man will be doing his bet but SIR WTH?? 😔 but hey glad that future me will not make it as easy for him to get his way to me 😌

light hair?? interesting *sips tea gif*. oh i love me a man with connection and achievement 😉🤩

oh and i noticed one of the moodboard mainly focused on "two weeks notice" movie. i have to watch it ASAP!!

lovee the moodboard of the wedding shoot love the vintage aesthetic tbh. i love how the two of us arevery eager to get the honeymoon, spending time together is the best.

oh and i love motorsport that includes racing so i thought the one special wedding shoot is really special ahhh.

thank you so much for the exchange once again🫶🏻🫶🏻 it absolutely worth the wait ♡♡♡

Heyy

Yess , he is handsome 🥰

Yoongi (Suga) is known for his smile , so that's something that your spouse can be known for.

He such a sweetheart 💓 but I know he was label as imitating, or mean/detach. Yoongi just likes to keep to himself. When you look into his music you see how he feels , as he puts his personal experiences in his music.

"Flexing off his salary ..."

Lol ,future you will not just get with him that easily like others. Now , that I look at the movie it does fit reading how the guy has all that confidence but is somewhat awkward in social settings.

"I love me a guy with connection,.."

So yes , Eileen , he is going to be well-known in that way.

Vintage wedding , It does remind me of old Hollywood vibes too. I get the emphasis that lots of people want to watch the wedding, I know some people like Livestream weddings but this feels more private. 🤔 So maybe they just have a large family .

Also thank you so much

[not-close-to-straight]

Oh, oh!

I also wanted to say that I like that Steve is not the 'tiny, petite, slender' Omega in this story.

A lot of stories do have the Omega as that and I can totally understand why but it sometimes also makes me sad because I know I am not tiny or slender and sometimes I think that makes me less 'female' in a way. Or less attractive to people.

Which I also know is stupid but well.... your own thoughts tend to be your worst enemy so yeah. 😞

Just glad that Steve is not tiny or 'weak' in this fic and Billy loves him anyway. That Billy even finds it a turn on, a good thing. I really like that. 😊

Ohhhh YES the smol Omega thing.

Listen. Size difference is very much one of my favorite tropes to write, especially in Omegaverse because regardless of the Omega's relative size to their Alpha, I tend to write them as capable and smart and maybe even dangerous in their own way, and all those attributes are made so much more fun when the Omega is like. Pocket Sized.

In Marvel especially, we get Tony who is arguably not actually all that small, like 5 8 is completely average height. But I always exaggerate out the size of my Alphas (and super soldiers in general) so a very pretty 5 8 next to an absolutely hulking 6 4 and 250 pounds+ of sheer super powered muscle makes for EXCELLENT scenes. Or like, Spideypool. I use Andrew Garfield for my Peter Parker and it's not like he's short, he's a solid 5 10 or 5 11 but especially in the movies he's very slender and very baby faced and I LOVE him next to an absolutely ripped and six foot plus Wade, like have you seen Comic!Wade's size? Thighs of Death INDEED.

But I actually really love that Steve and Billy (and Eddie, but that's a different vibe all together) are basically the same size. Arguably Billy is wider/stronger and Steve is taller and less defined but basically. Same size. There's no several inch height difference, no real discernible weight or muscle advantage, Steve doesn't automatically look submissive just because he's shorter (the open mouth pout and hair does it for him c'monnnnnnn) and I LOVE it.

Not only does it give us really great moments like in Risk where Billy does surprise Steve by being able to pick him up or where Billy just heart eyes when his mate can drag him in for a damn near violent kiss, and then too, moments where Steve can straighten up and lower his voice and go from a slouchy pretty thing to a full on force to be reckoned with. He IS strong enough to drag his Alpha out of a bad situation, he's strong enough to stand down Neil, strong enough to protect the kids and that's so important for Billy at this point in his life.

I really think Billy would be one of those guys who needs a PARTNER in all things, not just a spouse. He needs someone who can stand on their own two feet and then also help HIM stand when he can't. Needs an Omega who WANTS to be taken care of because that means Steve is actively choosing him instead of just letting biology dictate it all. Billy doesn't want someone to roll over and submit but he needs someone he can also feel safe with and the repeated emphasis in this fic of Steve looking at him eye to eye, not submitting, straightening up and getting stern, flat out saying no, grabbing and pushing and pulling or REFUSING to be grabbed and pushed and pulled-- I love it. He is exactly what Billy needs.

And also? I HEAR you about always feeling big/not feminine. I am a WOC adopted into and raised with a conservative yt family and let me tell you. I never once, never ONCE felt like I was small and pretty and petite and feminine like all the other girls at school or the pretty little yt girls my brothers married. My hair was kinky and curly and I got hips and tiddies and a period when I was barely 11. Went from little girls clothing straight into a size 4-6 in womens (juniors fashion in the early 2000s was NOT kind to anyone with curves). I couldn't trade clothes with friends, I had big feet (turns out a size 8 isn't actually big??) I couldn't squish into chairs with everyone and in group pictures I just looked... well to steal a line from Ms Taylor-- like the monster on the hill. Even when the Kardashians (barf) decided that having super intense curves were popular and my body type was finally accepted as sexy (jessica rabbit!) versus "too big", it didn't help matters. Not even a pretty fucking severe eating disorder changed that my hips were just that wide or my shoulders were just wide and it was YEARS before I felt even slightly pretty or feminine or anything close to it. Even now on the rare occasions when I date peen-owners, I feel awkward cos unless they are of the over six foot variety, generally speaking? I outweigh them. And nothing triggers my eating disorder issues like realizing they probably couldn't pick me up and carry me and ohhhhhh my god I just realized why I write my Alphas so goddamn big. I just-- like truthed myself into figuring out one of my kinks, fucking yikes.

Anyway. I hear you on that. I get it. I had so much fun purposefully writing Steve in this fic and I'm so glad it spoke to you.

[shoppncarticles]

The Charmander Family

So, when starting a journey in the Kanto region, Charmander is your second choice after Bulbasaur. It’s rather clear this little fella is a Fire type, something pretty common among elements in video games. There’s not much to cover on it, they’re monsters that like to spit flames and sometimes bathe in magma.

The name Charmander would imply a basis in the common association between salamanders and fire, where it was once believed they could pass through flames harmlessly. However, Charmander looks far more reptilian than amphibian. Nothing wrong with that, Bulbasaur already got that base covered!

Charmander itself is a charming little lizard, the fire on its tail is the only thing really communicating its typing, but it's all it really needs I think. Apparently Charmander straight up DIES if its flame is extinguished, too! Is the flame merely an indicator of Charmander’s life, or will Charmander perish if the flame is snuffed out by a stray gust of wind?

After Charmander comes Charmeleon, who likewise doesn’t live up to its name and looks nothing like a Chameleon, barring the horn on its head. Eh. There’s not a lot to say on it, it certainly looks like Charmander’s meaner older brother.

Then we get to Charizard, one of Pokemon’s key crown jewels. Being the mascot of one of the original Pokemon games, it’s pretty easy to see why this cartoon dragon caught the eyes of so many kids who were introduced to the raw concept of Pocket Monsters back in the day.

Charizard is a perfectly serviceable dragon, with jagged bat wings and a horned reptilian head. It doesn’t do a whole lot for me, but I can see where the favoritism comes from. Funnily enough, as has been observed for decades now, Charizard lacks a Dragon typing and is merely Fire/Flying. Guess that means Charizard is only a winged, fire-breathing lizard, posing as a dragon! What a goof.

Oh yeah, like with Ivysaur, Charizard also got a role in Smash Bros as well. Wonder how it feels hanging around with Bowser and Ridley.

Despite being a poser, Charizard stands as one of the most spoiled Pokemon in the franchise after the main mascot, Pikachu. So much so, that it received two different Mega Evolutions! Mega Charizard Y, like Mega Venusaur, is just a normal Charizard turned up to 11. I really appreciate the tattered edges to Charizard’s wings, and the additional spines on its tail. The massive middle horn on its head is a bit silly though.

Mega Charizard Y also gains the ability Drought, causing harsh sunlight to flood the battlefield when it enters the fray. Sunlight, if you didn’t know, makes Fire moves stronger, and Water moves weaker. That’s pretty neat, if you ask me! Some sort of sun-bringing dragon with an emphasis on intense heat is a neat idea for this superpowered monster. A couple other Pokemon have tried conveying an attachment to the sun, but Charizard is subtler about it.

If that isn’t really your thing, though, you can also choose the equally foreboding Mega Charizard X. Jet black with blue accents is an excellent look, and as we all know blue fire is way more intense than the generic red-orange anyways. Charizrd also manages to become a legitimate Dragon type here as well! Good for you, Charizard! The flames constantly spewing from its mouth is a cool touch too, showing off just how heated it’s become.

Charizard would also, rather predictably, receive a Gigantamax form as well. In fact, it was the only Kanto starter to have one before the eighth generation games’ DLC was released. Way to hog the spotlight, Charizard!

In terms of design, it’s fine. It’s definitely my least favorite of the three superpowered ‘zards, lacking the unique colors of Mega X and the thematic power of Mega Y. Having flames for wings is alright too, I suppose. There’s nothing really wrong with it, but nothing immediately striking either.

Score: 3.5/5

For a relatively standard dragon, Charizard has gotten some unique boosts to its design over the years that I can appreciate.

[Gen 1 Archive]

[365-betterdays]

april 8, 2024 | 12:18am

hi there! you haven't missed much here. i've been spending a lot of time with my friends and my partner. to start,

march 21-23 - i went to vigan with friends. to be specific, thalia (ofcourse, she deserves to be mentioned first. i love that bitch) , -redacted name bc i hate her- , russ, gerah, ash, yana, and mj ! it was fun. the whole trip felt like a turning point for our friendship. we had loads of fun ! lots of laughs, loud noises. we were basically autism, if autism were a group of people.

i had been breaking my back for research. my friends are included, i struggle opening up to them about how much of my soul is slowly dying due to the paper. will open up, but maybe next week.

year book pictorial ! dam i looked semi-like shit. it was a comical experience, so i don't really mind. it was a character developing-ish moment. mj and thalia had my back after i bawled my eyes out over how unready i was. after the breakdown, i was rejuvenated back into being a bad bitch. especially after finding out the class prude student cried over how ugly she was. i haven't gotten that bad yet lol.

joined an outreach program. *i fed the other half* ... i'm joking !

been doing well in school, i haven't had a single absent since March 7, 2024.

i've been recommended to do community service, no suspension for two major offenses: cutting class and leaving school premises without consent. it's honestly fine. i'll be going home from school much later, 4:30pm. i think?

i think i gained some weight. about 3-4kgs. it's all good. i can bounce back with just less eating. we're good. i'm fine (?)

found a special place in my heart for thrifting. oh god. i have no money.

i've been spending more time in hotels with my partner.

taste in music? i've been listening to lovey dovey music. my relationship is in one of its best states - we've been communicating more and dealing with our relationship in a healthier way.

i've been finding myself more lately. but like, "FINDING" finding myself. i've been setting more boundaries and standards for my relationships with other people and for myself. i love it !

more more more gifts from my partner. after the shit i've been through? i deserve this. :) i love malik so much.

finals and grad coming sooon ! college better watch out.

planning to focus MOOORE this summer on myself. i want to spend more time with friends, family, with malik. look at the mirror more often. find what feels comfortable. find my way back home.

cancelled a trip to elyu. i was too damn tired from pagudpud. 12+ hours sitting on a bus did something to my soul. i FELT my ass turn purple.

mj and yana are a thing now. (a thing i love)

ise went by my house last week asking if she could climb my roof. it was fucking crazy. the bitch's dating a mf sex offender. she also used my name to cut classes. crazy !

speaking of, i've been setting more boundaries diba? emphasis: no more squeezing myself into situations where i'm not needed or looked for. no more forcing myself. i know, it sounds kinda icky. this whole statement sounds like i'm screeching "nO mORe Mr. NiCE gUy" in an icky icky voice. but yeah jokes aside, i'm genuinely proud of myself for this one. no more being a push over. more hatred, but atleast?

malik's been helping me out more often. thankfully. i'm so grateful.

people from the past had been reaching out to me lately. it's kinda crazy.

i love legos now. wowowoweee!

went to manila. moa, rizal park, the national museums. you name it! i also had been going to tags more often with malik too.

i didn't know this list would go this far. you did miss a lot.

[stardewlily]

Chapter Eighteen of My Everlasting Light

The final chapter of my Stardew Valley fan fiction about the relationship between Sebastian and my farmer, Lily. Thanks so much to everyone who has read my work so far, I notice and appreciate every like I receive! Please rest assured I have ideas for more stories, this is just the end of the main arc, not the end of Seb & Lily!

Synopsis: Their wedding day has finally arrived and emotions are running high

Cast: Original Female Character, Sebastian, Sam, Emily, Haley, Maru, Robin, Demetrius, Mayor Lewis, all other villagers mentioned

Contents: Established Relationship, Wedding, Family & Friendship Dynamics, Love, Romance, Bonding, Out of Control Soppiness, Emotional Sex, Happy Ending

Warnings: Sexual content (at the very end of the story, extremely mild and non-graphic, emphasis is heavily on the emotional connection, but I thought I'd better label it NSFW just to be on the safe side!)

Forever, With You

"You okay, bro?" Sam asked. Sebastian glanced distractedly at him, then the clock, then fidgeted with his tie for about the fortieth time, then looked at the clock again. "You look nervous as all hell."

The two were waiting in Sam's bedroom for the time when they would head out to the wedding venue. The rest of their families were chattering loudly in the living room and they had moved in here to try and assuage Sebastian's anxiety but Sam wasn't sure if it was working. He had seen his friend on edge before but this was a whole new level. He had spent what seemed like an age pacing back and forth, wringing his hands and, if he hadn't given up smoking, Sam was sure he would have gone through a whole pack by now.

Sebastian sank down on his friend's bed, put his head in his hands and let out a long, heartfelt sigh.

"I'm okay," he said softly. "Really, I am. I just… I can't believe it's actually happening." He looked up and Sam was shocked to see tears glistening in his eyes. "I'm so happy. I never thought in a million years that anything like this would happen to me. I'm going to marry Lily. She's going to be my wife. How did I get this lucky, Sam? Is this really happening?"

He started to cry then, seeming almost surprised by his own tears. Sam let out a sigh of his own and sat down on the bed next to him. He'd known Seb since they were both kids and loved him like a brother. He knew how much he'd suffered, how lost and alone he'd felt for most of his life, and he also knew that right now these tears were probably the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He put an awkward arm around his friend. "Yeah, dude, it's really happening. You've finally found where you belong."

Sebastian let out a sob and the two of them sat together in companionable silence, even Sam knowing that sometimes words just weren't necessary anymore.

"I swear to Yoba, Lily," Haley declared. "If you don't wear some makeup on your wedding day I'm going to have to burn your farm down or something!"

"Haley!" Emily looked shocked and then frowned and folded her arms. "Except for the farm burning I am actually on my sister's side this time. Lily, you just have to do this for your wedding day, I think it's actually the law!"

"They're right!" Maru exclaimed, pointing at her face. "Look at me, I'm a science geek and even I'm wearing lipstick!"

Lily looked at her bridesmaids and then threw up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, for the sake of peace. But only a little!" She felt so nervous that she really didn't want to fight with them on this. Besides which, they had all done so much for her today, getting her through the morning when her anxiety had threatened to completely cripple her, helping her into her dress, arranging her hair so beautifully, how could she deny them this one last thing?

"Oh, wonderful!" Haley clapped her hands together. "I'll just go get my stuff! Maru, come help me look for that eyeshadow set, I think you had it last."

Emily and Lily watched as the two girls headed off to Haley's room. When the door closed behind them Emily laid a hand on Lily's shoulder and looked at her in the mirror.

"How are you doing, hun?" she asked. "Now that they've gone, you can tell me the truth."

"Oh Em," Lily's face crumpled and tears started to fall. "I'm so nervous I can't stand it! I'm afraid of all the people that are going to be there, of being the centre of attention, that I'm not going to look right, that I'll make a fool of myself, that…"

"Hey, shush now," Emily spun the chair her friend was sitting in around, knelt down and gathered her into her arms. "Now stop all that, shush." She patted her softly on the back. "You look beautiful and you are going to be just fine. Why don't you tell me what this day is really all about, hmm? Why don't you tell me what you want more than anything right now?"

"I want Seb!" Lily wailed. "I want my Sebby, I want to be in his arms right now. I love him so much!"

"That's right, Lily," Emily gently stroked her hair. "That's what you want and that's what this day is all about. It's about you and Seb. All you need to worry about is being with him, okay? Keep your heart focused on that and everything else will flow perfectly because that's how love works."

Haley and Maru returned at that moment, chattering brightly, makeup bags in hand, only to stop and gaze in confusion at the sobbing bride. Emily waved a meaningful hand in their direction and for once, the normally exuberant girls immediately understood, sat down beside the two of them and added their own quiet, comforting arms to the mix.

"Mom, if you make my tie any tighter you're gonna choke me!" Sebastian exclaimed as his mother fussed over his shirt collar. "You know I'm just gonna loosen it again the moment you leave."

"Oh, I know, Sebby," his mom lifted a hand to her face to wipe away a tear. "I'm sorry, you just look so handsome. Oh… my little Sebby… getting married..."

"Now, now, come on dear," Demetrius caught her by the shoulders and started to lead her away. "You need to sit down, the ceremony will be starting soon."

"I know, I'm coming!" Robin flapped a hand at him and turned to her son one last time. "I'm so proud of you, Sebby, and so happy for you and Lily." She smiled and touched his cheek gently before finally allowing her husband to take her to her seat.

Sebastian stared after them, hand absent-mindedly going to his tie and loosening the knot his mother had made. It was true, it would be starting soon, everyone was in place, the rows of seats filled with all the villagers, his parents and Lily's mom at the front, everyone else arrayed behind. There was Jodi with Vincent squirming in his chair next to her, looking extremely uncomfortable in his child-sized suit. Pierre and Caroline sat sedately next to a grinning Abigail who was dressed in her usual purple and black and waving at him wildly before giving him her signature piercing wolf whistle. He wasn't entirely sure it was appropriate behaviour for a wedding but he was glad to see her nevertheless.

The older bachelors, Gus, Harvey and Willy were all grouped together, big smiles on their faces. Penny sat next to her mother Pam, who, for once, appeared to be sober, and Elliott and Leah were together as usual. Marni and Shane were trying to coral an excited Jas, who was running around wildly exclaiming how she wanted a wedding of her own, while the Mulners had taken an entire row to themselves, several chairs having been moved aside for the ever-cantankerous George and his wheelchair. Clint, Gunther and Marlon were sitting in solitary seats at the back and even Linus was there, looking nervous in a tweed suit he had borrowed just for the occasion.

Lily had wanted to get married as soon as possible after he proposed and so they'd arranged a fall wedding in the open air of the forest clearing where the flower dance was usually held. A rose-covered wooden arbour arched over the altar where Mayor Lewis stood waiting to start the ceremony, ribbons fluttered everywhere and red, golden and orange flowers lined the aisle, all thanks to Evelyn and Caroline, who had both pitched in to make things as beautiful as possible. The nearby trees were fiery with their autumnal coats, falling leaves drifting lazily in the cool breeze and buffet tables were arranged around the edges of the field, little tables and chairs set ready for people to eat and talk at once the ceremony was over.

"How you feeling now, dude?" Sam asked into the noisy chatter of the assembled villagers.

Sebastian looked at his best man, standing solid and beaming as always by his side. He felt a surge of gratitude for his friend, who had gone above and beyond the call of duty in supporting him and helping him arrange all of this.

"I'm okay." He looked up and around at everything, the sea of faces, the flowers, the swirling leaves.

Now was the time. Now was the moment he'd been waiting for. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"I'm actually feeling okay."

"That's good, bro, because here she comes."

A hush finally descended on the gathering and then a sweet little swell of piano music sounded in the air. It was one of the songs he'd written for Lily, soft and lilting, she'd chosen it to walk down the aisle to because she said it always calmed her down, just like he did.

And then he saw her, walking alongside her smiling friend Emily, who she had chosen to give her away in place of her father. The blue-haired girl had donned a suit for the occasion and Haley and Maru, wearing simple rust coloured bridesmaid's dresses, trailed behind them, small baskets of flowers held in their hands. But it was Lily who took all his attention, who made everything else disappear, the whole world fading into soft focus as his wife to be moved slowly towards him.

She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. The most radiant thing he'd ever seen. She carried a bouquet of orange and cream roses, her dark auburn hair tumbling in endless waves around her face and over her shoulders, more flowers holding a long, flowing veil in place. Her hazel eyes were bright and shining, her smile sweet and shy, her lips so soft and dusky he felt like he wanted to kiss them forever. The mermaid pendant he'd given her at the feast of the moonlight jellies nestled between her breasts which were cradled in an ivory dress made of intricately layered and embroidered silk and tulle, moulding perfectly to her slender body, flaring smoothly out into a drifting skirt, just as delicate and stunning as the woman who wore it.

"Lily," he whispered her name and held out his hand as she finally came to a halt by his side. When she smiled and placed her hand in his he felt like his heart was about to burst. All he could do was smile back at her, staring at her like she was his own personal sun and he could never, ever have his fill of her.

She was everything he'd ever wanted in his entire life and she was about to become his forever.

Lily gazed into the eyes of the man who was soon to be her husband and felt her heart expand. He was so handsome in his perfectly fitted suit and tie, his jet black hair falling softly around his face, touching on his smooth, dark brows, framing his flawless skin, enhancing his large, deep grey eyes, so compelling beneath his long lashes, and his smile, oh Yoba, his smile was brilliant, all hint of his former melancholy gone so that all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and only Mayor Lewis coughing and stuttering through the start of the ceremony reminded her that this wasn't the right time just yet.

"Ahem… Dear friends, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of this man and woman in marriage. It's not so long ago that Lily first moved to our town and I couldn't be happier to see her and Sebastian come together on this day. Long may their union last. I understand that both participants have written their own vows. Sebastian, if you'd like to proceed…"

Sebastian took a deep breath and she smiled up at him, knowing he must be just as nervous as she felt. She held his hand tighter, willing all her love into him and his gaze softened, something seeming to settle inside him as her fingers squeezed his.

"Lily," his voice wavered slightly then grew suddenly stronger. "My Lily... I lost my heart to you the very first moment I saw you and it's been yours ever since. You've given me everything I ever needed in my life. With you I've found the peace, happiness and contentment I never thought I'd have. You took away my loneliness, my sadness, all the years I'd spent feeling worthless, you took it all away and made me feel wanted, like I finally belonged somewhere. With you, Lily. I belong with you. I live for you and you alone. For your beautiful face, your sweet smile, your gentle nature and the love you give so freely."

Sam stepped forward to pass Sebastian her wedding ring. It was the same rose ring he had given her back in their garden, she had never wanted any other, and now it would be the ring that bound them together. He looked deep into her eyes as he slid it on her finger and she let out a little whimper, heart aching, desperate to kiss him…

"Lily, the first time I gave you this ring, I swore to always protect you, that I would never let anyone hurt you ever again. And I promise you that again now. I promise that I will spend the rest of my life loving you, caring for you, protecting you, making you happy in every way I can. You're the most precious thing in the world to me, I never want to be parted from you. Please be mine, Lily. Be my wife."

"Oh Seb…" she sobbed out his name, completely overwhelmed, wanting nothing more than to hold him and promise him over and over again that she would be his forever.

"And now you, Lily," the mayor turned to her.

"Say what you feel, hun," Emily whispered to her, pressing Sebastian's wedding ring into her palm. "Just say what you feel."

Lily gasped and released her tears, raw emotion flooded free and her words gushed forth, all her prepared vows forgotten, nothing but the purest of love guiding her heart.

"Seb! Oh Seb! I love you! I love you so much! I will never ever leave you, I promise! I've thought about nothing but your face, your voice, your smile, every single day since I met you! All I've ever wanted is to make you happy, to take your sadness away, to make you know that you're special, that you're worth so much, everything in the world! I love every single thing about you, you're the sweetest man I've ever known! I want to be with you forever Seb, forever… because... because yours are the only eyes I've ever been able to look into without fear! You're the only person who makes me feel safe! I need to be in your arms so badly Sebby, oh please, hold me forever, don't let me go, I need you so much… please, please... be my husband!"

Sebastian stared at her as she struggled to slide the ring onto his finger, one that matched hers save for the rose, with the same silver twisting leaves and vines. She was sobbing so helplessly, gripping his hand so tightly, tears pouring down her cheeks, her body trembling, her heart in her eyes, he knew that all her words were unrehearsed, that she was literally opening her soul to him and he loved her for it, felt tears forming in his own eyes…

"Oh Lily," he whispered her name, fully aware that the mayor was staring nonplussed at both of them, but still completely unable to stop his tears from joining hers.

"Ah… erm…" the Mayor gaped at the crying couple and turned to look at Sam for help.

"Say the words, dude," Sam encouraged with a grin. "Believe me, they're ready."

"Um… do you, Sebastian Dawson, take this woman, Lily Rose Donnelly, to be your wife?"

"I do," Sebastian pulled Lily into his arms and kissed her, quieting her sobs with his lips, lifting his hand to her face to smooth away her tears.

"Uh…" the mayor looked supremely flustered.

"Carry on, dude," Sam nudged him.

"Ah, do you, Lily Rose Donnelly, take this man, Sebastian Dawson, to be your husband?"

"I do," Lily sobbed out between kisses.

"Um… ah… then as the mayor of Pelican Town, and regional bearer of the matrimonial seal, I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may, er, continue to kiss the bride."

Sebastian wrapped his arms even more tightly around his wife, kissing her with a depth and intensity he'd never felt before, even with her, his heart so full of love and happiness that he could feel it glowing, his entire being pouring into her, melding with her, his whole body thrumming like electricity was running through him. He never wanted to let go of her, never wanted to spend another minute apart from her.

"Um… how long are they going to keep kissing for?" Mayor Lewis asked helplessly.

"Just let them be," Emily said, smiling benevolently at the two newlyweds. "I think they just really need each other right now."

"Three cheers for Seb and Lily!" Sam called out, striding to the front of the aisle. "Mr and Mrs Dawson everyone!"

Cheers rang out and people rose from their seats and started clapping but for that one long moment all Seb and Lily knew was each other and the sweetness of their embrace.

"Wow!" Haley exclaimed as Sebastian and Lily finally began their walk back down the aisle to the accompaniment of much rice and petal throwing. "It's a good thing I used waterproof make up on Lily, imagine how messy the wedding photos would have been otherwise!"

"You might want to check out Robin," Emily nudged her sister and pointed with a wry smile at the red-haired carpenter who was busy blowing her nose loudly on her handkerchief as her husband patted ineffectually at her heaving shoulders. "I don't think she had the same foresight and she's due to be in the pictures too!"

"Oh Yoba!" Haley took one look at the smudged eyes of Sebastian's weeping mother and headed off towards her bag of photography gear that lay near the buffet tables. "I think I might have some tissues in my bag. It's time for me to switch from bridesmaid duties to photographer mode anyway."

Emily stared after her retreating sister and then turned back to see Sebastian pick Lily up and carry her down the aisle. She couldn't help but feel some tears prick at her own eyes. He held her so close, kissed her so gently, gazed at her with such devotion that it was beautiful to see. She felt so happy for her friend. Lily had been such a timid, frightened little thing when she first came to Pelican Town, hardly venturing off her farm and when she did it was only to come into town for the absolute essentials. Emily had first bumped into her in Pierre's store and had instantly seen what a sweet-natured individual lay beneath all the fears. She had felt it part of her duty in making the world a better place to befriend this shy girl and help her come out of her shell. She had never expected to be aided so much in this by Sebastian of all people.

Like most of the town residents she had never really known him that well, as he too kept himself to himself, but she had come to see over the last half a year just what a caring person he actually was and she had also seen first-hand just how good he was for Lily. It really was as though the two of them had been made for each other. She narrowed her eyes and cast a glance at their auras, feeling a warmth in her heart when she saw the soft pink clouds that surrounded them both, spreading from one to the other in gentle bubbling streams, glowing with inner light wherever their bodies touched.

"Oh Lily," she said, finally letting her tears fall. "I'm so happy for you, my friend. You really have found the love of your life, there's no mistaking an aura like that. You two belong together in every way."

Lily finished arranging the final vase and stepped back to appreciate her work. There had been so many beautiful flowers at the wedding and she had tried to bring back as many as she could, wanting them around for as long as possible to remind her what a wonderful, albeit exhausting, day it had been.

Speaking of exhausting, she cast a concerned glance in the direction of their bedroom. Seb had gone in there a short while ago, supposedly to change out of his suit before returning to help her out of her dress, but she hadn't seen or heard a single sign of him since he disappeared. She approached the room softly and poked her head around the door to see her new husband stretched out on his side on the bed, white shirt unbuttoned, but otherwise still wearing his suit, his tie the only thing he'd managed to take off. He was fast asleep, the roses from her bouquet, which he'd been meant to be placing in a vase beside their bed, scattered on the pillow and comforter around him. She smiled and took herself into the bathroom. She didn't want to disturb him when he was resting so peacefully and she was sure she could manage to get out of the dress on her own if she studied it carefully in the mirror.

She did manage, after a lot of fumbling, to unzip the dress and gently peeled it off, not wanting to damage it in any way. Emily had spent so long working on it and it was the most beautiful garment she had ever owned. She folded it carefully and placed it back in the tissue-lined box from which she had taken it that morning.

Morning. It seemed such a long time ago now. She had been so nervous and so much had happened since then. So many sweet, beautiful moments. She could hardly believe it. She looked at herself in the mirror as she gently unpinned her veil and combed out her hair. She felt a little sad to be taking it all off but fatigue tugged at her and all of a sudden she wanted nothing more than to lie in the arms of her husband. She slipped on the soft white chemise she had set aside for changing into after the wedding, turned towards the door connecting to their bedroom and opened it, quietly padding over towards the bed where he slept.

Her heart fluttered as she gazed at him, loving every single curve and line of his face. He looked so beautiful while he was sleeping, long, black lashes resting on his smooth, pale cheeks, ebony hair falling messily over his brows. She longed to touch him, and, before she could stop herself, she was sitting on the bed next to him, stroking the silk of his hair and gazing into two deep, dark eyes that flickered open to regard her fondly.

"Hey, sweetheart," he smiled, reaching up to lazily caress her face. "I'm sorry, I was meant to help you out of that dress, wasn't I?"

"It's okay," she said, leaning her cheek into the warmth of his hand. "I managed it on my own… I didn't want to wake you."

He laughed and pulled her down onto the bed beside him. "Come lie with me, Lily," he said, "I know you must be as worn out as I am."

"I am tired," she agreed, snuggling wearily into his chest. She felt his arms settle around her, let out a little sigh of contentment and drifted softly into sleep.

Sebastian woke first and checked the bedside clock. They'd slept for a good three hours, unsurprising as they'd both been pushed way beyond their socialising limits today. He dropped his gaze to Lily's face. He'd always loved to watch her sleep, loved how quickly she drifted off in his arms. It was all he'd wanted to do for so long when he first met her, to just hold her like this, and now he got to do it every single day. Yoba, she was so beautiful, he couldn't believe she was actually his, wondered if he would ever believe it. He gently stroked the hand that held her wedding ring and smiled to himself.

His wife. She was his wife.

He reached out to touch her face, willing her to wake so he could look into her eyes, and, almost as though hearing his thoughts, her eyes slowly opened and he found himself staring into their soft hazel depths, lost as always in the spiralling colours they held.

"Hi Sebby," she peered up at him sleepily then yawned and stretched in his arms, letting out the sweetest little squeak as she did so.

"Ah Yoba, Lily," he groaned and pulled her into his chest. "You are so cute when you do that!"

She giggled in his arms. "Should I do it again then?"

"Only if you want to kill me with cuteness!"

"I definitely don't want that!" She giggled again and slipped her arms around his neck, kissing him softly. "Have you been awake long?"

"A little while," he said, chasing her lips with his own and kissing her some more, feeling like he never wanted to stop. "I admit I spent some time just appreciating you."

She smiled into their kisses and he shivered at the feel of her, letting his hands slide gently up and down her back, gliding over the smooth silk that clung to her slender body. "Did you wear this specifically for our wedding night?" he asked appreciatively.

"Maybe," she responded playfully, lifting a leg and wrapping it around him. "Do you like it?"

"I like anything if you're in it," he said, dropping a hand to her hip. "But you do look especially good in this."

"Mmmm," she murmured as he nuzzled her neck. "I like being woken up like this."

"And I like waking you," he said softly, pulling her closer so that their bodies pressed together, loving her warmth even through the layers of their clothing.

And then their caresses were interrupted by a loud clang from outside swiftly followed by the sound of frantic meowing from the front door. They both jumped and then smiled at each another.

"Oh!" Lily raised a hand to her face, eyes wide. "I was so tired I forgot all about poor Nyx!"

"Does this make us bad cat parents?" Sebastian said with a wry grin.

"It might," Lily said with a laugh. "I'd better go see to her!"

"But I don't want to let you go," he complained, wrapping his arms more firmly around her and kissing her again.

He wasn't playing, he really didn't want to let her go, just holding her felt so good right now.

"I don't want to go either," she smiled fondly and brushed his hair with her fingers. "But I don't think Nyx is going to quiet down till I let her in. I'll be as quick as I can, okay?"

"Okay," he reluctantly let her go and watched her every step of the way as she walked out of the room. She was so perfect, all slender curves and long legs, like a little fawn, her auburn hair falling down her back and over her shoulders. His hand went to the mermaid pendant around his neck, his heart already longing for her return.

Lily returned from placating Nyx to find Sebastian lying naked in bed waiting for her. He had the sheets turned back ready for her, the raven sweep of his hair and the long, lean lines of his body a work of art in the low light of the bedside lamp.

"As good as you look in that," he said, eyes dark and intense on hers. "I want you to take it off for me."

She whimpered and obeyed instantly, utterly unable to do anything else before that mesmerising gaze. The silky material fell to the floor in a little heap at her feet and a look of satisfaction swept across his face.

"Come here."

He held out a hand to her and she felt a little thrill run through her at the sight of him. She had never seen anything so beautiful as the way he looked right now. Her husband. Waiting for her to come to him.

She took his hand and let him guide her down onto the bed.

"I want to feel my wife's skin next to mine," he said, voice thick with desire as he slid his arms around her and pulled her close. She let out a little cry as she felt him hard against her immediately.

"Already…?" she looked up into his eyes, shivering with her own need.

"You know I always want you, baby," he murmured, slowly sliding himself inside her and she sighed as their bodies pressed even more firmly together. Oh, Yoba, he fit her so well, she loved the way he felt, just long enough and wide enough to fill her completely without ever hurting her.

He didn't move, just let himself rest deep within her as their lips met and they sighed into each other's mouths, their hands gently caressing each other's backs. Lily felt a gentle pulse of warmth flow between their chests and pulled him to her till not a single inch separated them, loving the sweet, familiar sensation, wanting more of him, all of him, all that she could ever have…

"Oh Seb," she searched his eyes, hands tangling deep into his hair, body trembling against his. "I love you, I love being like this with you, it feels like your heart's inside me, too."

"That's because it is, baby," he stroked her hair, his gaze so full of tenderness that she shook even harder. He kissed her gently. "Everything I am is inside of you, Lily. I'm all yours, my love."

"Sebby…" Lily sobbed, reached up to take his face in her hands, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Oh Sebby, I love you, I love you so much, you're my everything, I'm so happy! All I ever wanted from the day I met you was to spend forever in your arms, just to be with you forever!"

"I can give you forever, Lily," he smiled, smoothed her hair from her face, kissed her tears away. "I can give you forever. That's all I ever wanted too."

He moved gently inside her. "Forever..." he said softly, eyes fixed to hers.

"...with you," she finished and gave herself up to her husband's embrace.

~The End~

Cute little page dividers by @chachachannah / Boring old plain green ones by me!

[phoenixyfriend]

Auntie ‘Soka and Little Leia (and Rex)

The counterpart to Uncle Ben and Little Luke (Original Post, Chrono)

Listen. You all knew this was coming.

This got... very long and detailed and I’m going to have to clean it up and post to AO3. As in, this was supposed to be 2-3k and is literally ten times that long. It crossed 25k. And the initial section actually glosses over a bunch, actual fic-style writing starts at “That, of course, is when things get interesting.”

Warnings: discussion of various canon traumas (most relating to being child soldiers), general PTSD, several scenes featuring dissociation or panic attacks upon being triggered, and canon-typical violence.

Rated T, gen.

I still want there to be de-aging nonsense involved so Ahsoka is physically a late teenager despite having a solid two decades of field experience behind her (we’re pulling her from Malachor).

Leia, much like Luke, is now six. She just came from being a rebellion general. She is not happy about being a child. She was already short, this is just mean.  She’s a human espresso.

UNLIKE BEN, Ahsoka is not happy about this turn of events. Being seventeen-ish is not helpful in the outer rim. She’s a female togruta, young and healthy, and in the Outer Rim, caring for a small human child. Sure, she has her lightsabers and plenty of combat experience, and she can keep them safe, but she’s just one person, and a major target for those looking to make some quick cash. It doesn’t matter how good she is; she needs sleep at some point.

It makes my heart happy to treat Ahsoka and Rex as two halves of the same black ops specialist so you know what, he’s there too! He’s physically like... 10-12 in natborn, maybe. They’re not sure, because clones age weird. He’s moderately more useful than Leia (who is very competent but also physically six, and short for that age), but he’s still... very small.

Reminder that none of them have been born yet.

Ahsoka has a harder time explaining WHY she has children with her, since she's barely more than a kid herself, and clearly unrelated by species. She sometimes just says “Oh, my adoptive brother’s kids” since it’s kind of the truth for Leia and she’s not touching the actual truth about Rex with a ten foot pole.

Ahsoka definitely knows about Leia being a Skywalker, or at least has suspicions that Bail never outright confirmed but was conspicuously quiet about. She does tell Leia about it, but it’s not like that means anything, right? Just, you know, your dad was my teacher! I don’t have to tell you he became Va--oh shit, you already knew that part. Well, fuck. What do you mean he had a son? OH SHIT, PADME HAD TWINS.

Alt take for explaining why she’s got kids: She’s my foundling, I know her name as my child (Leia shut up!!!)

(Ahsoka can fake Mandalore. Sometimes.)

That said, there is... significantly less gambling and significantly more theft to get to Coruscant.

As previously stated, Ahsoka is a black ops kinda gal, and more importantly, she looks like a fairly attractive young woman in the Outer Rim, with two children in good health. She’s a target, and also not the kind of person one generally gambles with. If she does gamble, people get upset when she doesn’t lose, in ways they don’t get upset about Ben doing the same, because she’s, again, a cute teenage girl. It’s exhausting.

As things go, she largely ends up stealing from people who deserve it and/or smuggling herself and her charges into someone else’s ship. They’re small, they can hide. Sometimes she can get them all passage by working as a mechanic, she’s good at that.

Once they’ve got a handle on when they are, they have to decide on Names. None of them have been born yet, so technically they could use their own names without anyone Knowing. Rex and Leia might not even be born, depending on how successful they are at, you know, stopping the war and everything. Ahsoka, though, she’s going be born in two years, and there’s no reason to prevent it, so... she doesn’t want to steal baby-her’s name. That would be mean.

Leia is already calling her “Auntie ‘Soka” when she can for reasons like “selling the bit” and “manipulating adults” and “making us both feel better after we had a mutual breakdown about Anakin being Vader.” Ergo, she decides that whatever new name she picks better include that in some way, and decides on “Sokari” because it sounds pretty.

Overall, they don’t... they don’t actually make it very far before there’s an Incident. Again, teenager with small children. They spend a lot of time hiding out in space ports looking for an opportunity.

That, of course, is when things get interesting.

Specifically, Ahsoka spots a Mandalorian.

She doesn’t recognize the armor. She does recognize the sigil, and thinks ‘well, they’re more likely to help than some,’ because from what she’s heard, the Haat Mando’ade are Decent People Overall. Her view is a little biased, mostly on account of the sheer level of grudge she has against Kyr’tsad. It’s fine! The True Mandalorians have the same grudge, right? And Mandalorians like kids and Ahsoka hasn’t slept in five days and it’s fine. It’s fine! IT’S FINE.

“Oh shit,” Rex whispers, before she can suggest anything. “Oh fuck.”

“Stop cursing,” Leia hisses, elbowing him. “People are going to notice.”

“That’s the Prime,” Rex panics, mostly quiet. Ahsoka’s heart drops, because fuck is right. “That’s Fett.”

Leia isn’t impressed. Ahsoka just angles herself between Fett and Rex and hopes that he doesn’t see them. That’s just asking for trouble.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is in fact running on none sleep with left trauma, and doesn’t notice Fett walking up and dropping into a seat across from them until he’s actually done so, removing his helmet to glare a little more efficiently.

“Wanna explain why your kid has my face?”

Ahsoka later tells herself that he’s killed Jedi and that’s why he can sneak up on her, and that she can be forgiven some slip-ups with the exhaustion being what it is, and that she’s obviously going to be dealing with some emotional instability in light of the sudden return of teenage hormones and new forms of anxiety that are markedly different from those she was dealing with a few weeks ago.

What Ahsoka wants to say is “that’s kind of a long story,” or “maybe he’s a cousin,” or “kriff off, I don’t know you,” or maybe even “he’s a clone.”

What Ahsoka actually does is burst into tears, which is embarrassing for her, for Fett, for the kids, and for the entire rest of the bar.

It really is the straw that broke the eopie’s back. Even when she was actually this age, she didn’t exactly cry much. Objectively, Fett quasi-aggressively asking a valid question shouldn’t send her into a panic. She’s been through torture and worse. She shouldn’t be crying.

But she is, sobbing her eyes out with no control, and he’s just sitting across from her and looking uncomfortable while Rex wraps his little arms--oh Force he’s so small--around her, and both ‘children’ glare at Fett.

“So, I’m going to take it she didn’t kidnap you from a loving family or do something illicit with a blood sample,” Fett says, after it becomes obvious that Ahsoka’s not going to be ready to talk any time soon.

“She didn’t,” Rex says stiffly, with just the right emphasis for Fett to catch what’s implied. Ahsoka just keeps her head down, eyes pressed against the heels of her palms, trying to get her body to stop rebelling against her.

Fett’s eyes dart to Leia, who folds her arms and draws herself up, every bit the unimpressed princess. “My father claimed her as a sister, so she’s my Auntie ‘Soka.”

The man dithers a bit, the conversation clearly not going where he’d expected. “Right,” he says. “You--you’re all kids. I thought she was a little older, at least, but I didn’t have a good look at her face before.”

She is older, but actually admitting that is only going to make this worse, both for her pride and for her chances of making it out alive.

“Where are you staying?”

“What?” Leia bites out.

“You’re kids, you’re alone, and you’re clearly not okay if you were trying to hide the one with my face as blatantly as you did, and then... whatever this is, when I confronted you,” Fett explains. Ahsoka lifts her head to glare at him, but it’s probably not doing much with the way her eyes are rimmed with red and still wet. “Don’t give me that look, ad’ika, your kids looked as confused and horrified by that as the bartender did. They obviously didn’t think it was normal either.”

Well, kriff you too, Ahsoka thinks.

“And what do you mean by ‘blatantly,’ here?” Leia challenges. It’s adorable, but Ahsoka watched this tiny girl shoot a man last week, and wonders when people are going to start taking that seriously.

“There’s a lot of people in this galaxy, and I don’t exactly have the clearest memory of what I looked like at that age,” Fett says, slow and careful like he thinks they’re dumb. Ahsoka decides to chalk it up as being because Leia’s visibly six. “I would have thought it was just a coincidence if you hadn’t put in effort to hide him.”

Leia huffs, and Rex glares harder. Fett just sighs, like they’re all going to give him grey hairs.

“You can explain whatever the hell’s going on,” Fett says. “I’ll let you stay on my ship, there’s a spare bunk and you’re small.”

“For free?” Rex demands.

“A night on a bunk in exchange for information,” Fett clarifies. “We can negotiate from there.”

Ahsoka takes a few moments, notes that both of the others are waiting on her for the decision, and cringes. She doesn’t feel steady enough to carry that. She has to anyway.

“Rex?” she asks, voice rasping after the breakdown of the past few minutes.

“Yeah?”

“How much?”

He looks up at her, eyes calculating, and grimaces. “We don’t want Order 66. A warning is better, even if we... share information.”

She nods, and turns to Leia. “Any premonitions, princess?”

Leia glowers, cute and furious. “No.”

“No, don’t tell, or no, you aren’t getting any vibes about sharing info one way or the other?”

“The latter,” Leia clarifies, huffy to the last.

“Right,” Ahsoka says, and then just... hesitates. “Fett...”

“You’ve got conditions,” he guesses.

She bares her teeth in what could have, through a squint and perhaps a few drinks, been called an apologetic smile. “Just one, really.”

“Yeah?”

“No hurting, killing, or turning us in for bounties,” she says. “Any of us.”

“You’re children, I wouldn’t.”

She blinks at him, slow and careful. She hesitates. She reaches down, out of sight, sees him stiffen.

She unclips her sabers from her belt and puts them on the table.

His eyes are fixed on the weapons the second they enter his line of sight, and don’t move as he clearly realizes why she made the condition she did.

“I left years ago, because I couldn’t stay without it ruining me,” she says. Still slow. Still careful. She’s so tired. “But if I want to keep Leia safe, I have to get back to Coruscant.”

His eyes finally lift from the sabers, expression blank. “Just her?”

“Rex doesn’t have the same monsters coming after him,” she says. “If it were just me and him, I’d worry less. Leia’s a different kind of target.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith on the table by telling me that,” Fett says, voice flat and toneless. “Considering my occupation.”

“She’s a child,” Ahsoka says, feeling heavy and boneless. “Even with what I was and will be, even with what money you would get from the right buyer, you wouldn’t.”

“There are other risks.”

“There are.”

They stare at each other for too long, probably, and then Fett jerks as Rex kicks him under the table. The boys glare for a moment, and then Rex says, “If she weren’t good, I’d still be a slave to those who grew me.”

Fett blinks, and then nearly growls the word, “What?”

“She freed me,” Rex reiterates. “While I was trying to shoot her.”

Ahsoka lifts a hand and puts it on his far shoulder, pulling him into her side. She doesn’t meet Fett’s eyes again, because part of her is back on Mandalore, dodging her own soldiers and crying out as her family dies across the galaxy.

Fett breathes in. Breathes out. He puts a hand to his head, visibly frustrated. “Fine. A good Jedi kid, and two smaller kids, one of which is apparently in some way mine.”

Rex makes a face, which is fair, but also not helping.

“To the ship,” Ahsoka says, putting her sabers back on her belt and sliding out of the seat. “I’m... I’m Sokari.”

“You already know my name.”

“I do.”

---------------------------

Fett watches her like she’s a predator, which has the benefit of being accurate and slightly flattering. She lets other two take care of most of talking, and then Fett tells her to sleep first, and talk in the morning.

“You’re dead on your feet, jetii,” he snorts. “And that crying jag didn’t do you any favors. Sleep.”

So she does, and Fett doesn’t even wake her. He just lets her sleep. He watches her in the way of a guard. She sees him when she gets up to use the ‘fresher in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t even comment when she collapses right back into the mediocre cot she’s borrowed for the cycle.

Rex and Leia are safe, her hindbrain tells her, even in the depths of sleep. Her mind curls around theirs in the Force, and she trusts that they are here. They are not happy, but they are alive and unharmed, and that has to be enough.

When she stumbles her way to true wakefulness, groggy and loose-limbed, Fett greets her with caf.

“The kids wouldn’t let me near you,” he tells her.

“They’re good,” she says, cupping her hands around the mug. She feels wobbly, in every sense. Her body, her mind, her emotions, her connection to the Force. Nothing is on-kilter right now. “Did they tell you anything?”

“They waited for you,” he says. “But the little miss needed a nap of her own. They’re down in the other bunk.”

“I didn’t notice,” she admits. She should have. She’s Fulcrum. She’s a veteran of the Clone Wars. She’s... she’s supposed to be better than this.

“How long?” he asks, and then when she squints up at him, he clarifies. “How long did you fight?”

“My last fight--”

“No, whatever war you came out of,” he says. Her chest twists cold. “I don’t know if the Jedi sent you into it or if you waded in yourself once you left, but you move like a soldier.”

“I was,” she confirms. “But... but I don’t want to talk about the details. Not until the other two are here.”

He frowns at her. “Is there anything you can talk about?”

She shrugs and looks away, trying to take solace in the warmth of the caff she holds above the table, as if it can hide her, guard her, from the disgraced Mand’alor across the table.

“Jedi?”

“I’m not officially a Jedi,” she says, voice quiet. “Not anymore.”

“Then what do I call you?” he asks. “We’re not exactly close enough for names.”

“Torrent,” she says. “It’s not--I can’t claim my family name anymore. But I can claim Torrent, so I will. And if you want a title, I was a commander.”

“Bit young for that.”

“I got the rank when I was fourteen,” she says, and watches his face do something complicated and unpleasant. “Don’t. I know your own culture puts children on the field that young.”

“Not in command.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, well... the soldiers were technically younger. Adults, but...”

Ahsoka can see the way he casts about to figure out what species grows at that rate. He guesses a few, and she shoots all of it down.

She won’t tell him. Not until Rex is awake.

This part of the story is his.

--------------------------

When Leia tries to sit alone, a foot away on the bench like a proper adult, Ahsoka refuses to let it happen. She pulls the younger girl to her side and quells protests with a glance. It’s a decent skill, but she’s not sure how long it’s going to work on her niece-in-spirit.

“Your body needs the chemical release of skinship,” she says, and Leia glares at her. “I spent way too much time with the boys to not know about this. Deal.”

Rex sits close enough to knock their knees together under the table, and his warmth is the old comfort she needs.

“Do you want the story you’ll believe, or the truth?” Ahsoka asks.

“What’s the difference?”

“One of them involves something so impossible that even most Jedi wouldn’t believe it,” she tells him.

Fett folds his arms and leans forward to rest them on the table, challenging but oddly open. “Try me.”

“Time travel.”

He blinks, just once, fully controlled. “That’s a tough one.”

“There were only three Jedi left alive when I died,” she says. “Or... whatever it is that happened to me. I think I died. All I know is that one moment, I was thirty-two and dying, and the next, I was... seventeen again, and had these two with me. All of us younger than we were. None of us have even been born yet.”

She refuses to look him in the eye. “They both outlived me by... six years, maybe. Got caught up while traveling instead of dying. Leia was twenty-two. Rex was thirty-five. I’m not technically the oldest anymore. I mean, physically I am, but that doesn’t mean anything, and it’s not exactly doing us any good, and--”

Rex bumps his shoulder to her arm. “I dunno, Commander. I’ve spent a long time looking older than I should. Nice to look younger for once.”

She shoots him a small, pained grin. “Could be worse, yeah.”

“Let’s say I believe you.”

Her attention snaps back to Fett, who’s looking damnably blank, and is showing even less in the Force.

He waits a second for her to relax back into her seat.

“Let’s say I believe you,” he repeats. “How’s ‘Rex’ connected to me? What’s so special about Leia there? And what war did you fight in that has you acting like a veteran?”

“Three years in the clone wars,” she whispers, glancing to Rex and forcing herself to not go for her sabers to defend against an attack that her paranoia says is coming and the Force says is not. “Then almost all the Jedi were wiped out at once, and I spent a year... drifting. Then black ops for the next fifteen.”

“Black ops,” he repeats, still damnably flat.

“There was a Sith Empire,” she says, and she can hear her own tone growing somehow emptier. “Glassing planets. Enslaving entire species. Committing genocides all over. Of course, there was a rebellion, and of course I joined it. I was one of the only people left with Jedi training. For all that I’d left the Order, I still had a duty to the universe.”

His eyes flit to Leia, who shrugs and tries to look prim.��“I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

“That why you’re special?”

Leia smiles, thin and patronizing. It doesn’t fit on her little face. “I’m special because my biological father was one of the most powerful Force users in history, and his Fall to the dark side and choice to become a Sith is why the Emperor’s rise was nearly uncontested. I do not like power, but it’s in my veins and I can’t change that. Force users are... a lucrative trade, and I’m still the size of a child, so I can’t fight back. I’ll be safer in the Jedi Temple, even if I don’t want to be a Jedi.”

Fett looks to Ahsoka, makes to ask a question, and then shakes his head. Not the time, maybe.

“So, that’s all... very complicated and I don’t know how much of it I believe, but it doesn’t explain...” he trails off, and sighs. “My kid, or whatever you are. I heard you mention clones.”

Rex grins. It is not a kind expression.

“Let me tell you about Kamino.”

---------------------------

Ahsoka has no idea if Fett believes them. Either he thinks they’re telling the truth, or he thinks their delusional kids. Whatever the case, he offers to take them closer to the Core. Ahsoka quietly offers to take a look at his engine in return, and then pretends not to notice when Fett awkwardly drifts to and away from Rex.

“They put chips in our brains to make us kill the Jedi we respected, cared for, even loved. I tried to shoot ‘Soka, Fett. She was seventeen and risked her life to get that chip out of my head while I was trying to kill her. I have never hated myself more than when I woke up and realized what I’d almost done, and I was one of the few that were able to fight it. I heard the stories of dozens of brothers who woke with their chips having degraded and chose to eat their blaster rather than live with the guilt of the orders they’d followed without question because of a thrice-damned Sith slave chip in their head.”

“So no, I won’t call you father or acknowledge you as clan until you do something to prove you’re worth it, shared blood or not.”

What Ahsoka does get out of the arrangement, for all that Fett’s route mostly takes them on a meandering path that isn’t faster than their previous system, is sleep. She gets to rest. She gets to trust that Fett won’t kill Rex, out of guilt for something he hasn’t done, that he won’t kill Leia out of a worry that she’s just a delusional child, a real child, that he won’t kill ‘Sokari’ because it would ruin any chance of gaining Rex’s favor, ever.

She’s not safe, won’t believe she can be until she’s in the Temple and Sidious is dead dead dead, but she’s safer than she’s been in a long time.

Every night, Ahsoka wakes up and stumbles to the little galley, deaths and torture sparkling behind her eyes with the energy of a thousand lost Jedi, ten thousand mourned brothers and sisters.

She is not the only one of their little group to be a survivor of a near-total genocide, but Rex could not feel his brothers die in the Force, even if his nightmares featured what they heard of suicide missions by the emperor’s favored shock troopers, and Leia had... Alderaan had more off-world survivors than there had been Jedi at all.

It’s not worth comparing their pain. It’s stupid to even think it. Part of her can’t help but do it anyway.

“Caf?”

She feels a lek twitch in response to the voice of the only other person on board who can reach the top shelf. “I probably shouldn’t.”

“Whiskey?”

“That’s a definitely shouldn’t.”

“Hoth chocolate?”

“...please.”

She doesn’t lift her head from her arms until the mug clicks down in front of her, ceramic on plastisteel.

“Do I ask what it was this time?”

She shrugs. “It’s hard to explain to non-sensitives.”

“Try me anyway.”

Ahsoka twists the Hoth chocolate in her hands, takes a sip as she thinks. “The Force isn’t just one thing. It’s... energy and philosophy and spirit, a sense of being that ties the entire universe together. Sentient and inanimate and living and dead, empty space and lush forests and stifled cities. For those of us who are sensitive to it, it’s possible to feel the life of everyone around you, theoretically possible to feel entire systems. If you have a Force bond, like a master and padawan, that can stretch across planets, even systems if one or both are particularly powerful.

“So just... just imagine, for a moment, what it’s like to feel the screaming of all those Jedi in the Force as their trusted men shot them down.

“Some of them were close enough that I could feel them die,” she manages. “I... it’s horrible. It’s horrific. It’s not something I can ever forget, and I want to. I want to forget what that moment was like. Not that it happened, but...”

She can feel the tears. Fuck..

“You want to dull the edges.”

“Don’t we all?” she asks, scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes. “Leia lost her entire planet, billions of people, and she was forced to watch. Rex... Force, I can barely imagine, and I was there for most of it.”

Fett watches her, measuring. “From what he said, they were as much your brothers as his, by the end.”

“No,” she immediately denies. “They could have been, maybe, but the ones I was closest to died earlier, and then I left, and by the time the Empire rose, all but a handful were... no. Rex, I will claim as a brother in all the ways that matter, but I don’t get to do that with the rest. I don’t have the right.”

“You’re hard on yourself.”

“Fate of the galaxy, my good bitch. Guess who’s got it on her shoulders.”

He snorts at her, and nods at the mug. “Drink your Hoth chocolate. We’re landing in eight hours, and you’ve got kids to look out for.”

---------------------------

There’s a twitch in the Force when they land, something pulling at her in a way she barely feels. She’s had her shields up so fully for so long that it’s natural to hide away what she is to the point where she can hardly tell what anyone else is, either. It takes more than a moment to remember how to let herself spread out across the world.

“Auntie ‘Soka? Why’d you stop?”

She doesn’t have an answer to Leia’s prodding question. “I don’t know.”

It’s almost familiar. Old and half-forgotten, not the same as what she remembers, but--

“This way,” she says, and wanders off into the crowd. Leia and Rex follow without question. Fett curses and rushes through the rest of his transaction with the docking attendant. The sound of him jogging after them is almost funny, with the armor, but she can’t focus on that.

Ahsoka slips between people with the ease of a career built on such a habit, children trailing like ducklings. She knows this feeling, she knows this person, what is she missi--

“Oh,” she breathes, going stock still. She knows that face. She knows those braids. She even knows the presence.

Younger than Ahsoka had ever seen her, but unmistakably Master Billaba.

“Torrent, what the hell?” Fett demands, finally catching up. “You can’t just run off like that!”

“It’s Depa,” she says, eyes still fixed on the woman parsing through a datapad with an irritated vendor. She has a padawan braid. It doesn’t feel like Master Windu is on-planet, so this might be a solo mission, a... oh. Senior Padawan, Knight Elect. This is the kind of mission taken to test if she’s ready to be promoted.

Ahsoka feels light-headed.

Fett waits for her to elaborate, but she can’t. This was Kanan’s master. This was a member of the High Council. This was a woman who died and--

“You need to sit down,” Fett says, not a touch gruff. He puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her off the main walkway. “I’m... going to talk to the woman in the Jedi robes. You three just stay there and don’t get kidnapped.”

Ahsoka nods, feeling like she’s not quite inhabiting her own body.

It’s Depa.

Her eyes track Fett without conscious control, and her montrals pick up the sound.

Depa looks up when the armor comes close enough, free hand tensed in a way that says she’s preventing herself from reaching for a saber in reaction to the heavily-armored individual standing several feet away.

“Mando,” the woman says. “May I help you?”

“Are you Depa?”

Depa doesn’t do anything so dramatic as gape or step back, but she does blink rapidly for a moment. She then folds her hands down in front of her, drawing her spine up ramrod straight. “I am Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, yes. May I ask why it is that you need to know?”

Ahsoka imagines Fett grimacing, or rolling his eyes, or maybe dithering. She can’t tell from this angle, and he has a helmet on besides. It turns his awkward silences into judgmental ones.

“I’ve had some Jedi kids on my ship, hitching a ride,” he says at length. “One of them recognized you and then just... froze.”

“You have our younglings in your care,” Depa says, carefully not accusatory, but close enough to be a warning.

“Not quite,” he says. “The one that actually came from the temple is seventeen. One of ‘em isn’t Force Sensitive, and the last one is but hasn’t been to Coruscant before. They’re trying to get the little one to the Temple for her own safety.”

Depa considers that, and then passes the datapad to the vendor. “Lead on.”

It’s surprisingly simple, really. Fett did all the talking.

And then Depa is standing right in front of her.

“Like I said,” Fett sighs. “She froze up.”

“Hello,” Depa says, hands laced together inside her sleeves. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Ahsoka shakes her head. “I know of you. I’ve seen you spar. You’ve never spoken to me.”

All true. A little misleading, but it’s fine, it’s all fine.

Depa waits a moment, and then says, “You seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“Sokari T-Torrent,” she manages. The words feel clunky in her mouth, the sound abrasive for all that it’s just her own voice, no different from usual. A little shaky, maybe. She can feel a cool breeze on her upper arms. Shouldn’t she have armor? She should have armor. “It... it’s been a long time since I’ve seen another Jedi. I’m having a hard time believing you’re real.”

“I see,” Depa says. “Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private? You seem a little unsteady.”

Ahsoka lets herself be led back to the ship, in the company of Mand’alor Jango Fett, Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, Princess-General Leia Organa, and good old Captain Rex.

It’s like the start of a sick joke.

---------------------------

Fett and Depa talk where she can hear, but they rarely address her directly. Both seem to realize that she’s not particularly useful right now. Leia and Rex are pressing up against her at the little table in the galley, and Ahsoka lets them.

This is real. She can feel Depa in the Force, recognizes her energy even if it’s not quite what it will-was-could-have-been. This is happening.

It’s a textbook Traumatic Stress Response case, one of them says.

Fett has his helmet off. Ahsoka’s sure that’s wrong for some reason. She thinks he might already be on wanted lists. Should she worry about Depa trying to arrest him?

Depa asks about Rex at one point. Fett tells her that someone cloned him without his knowing, but the kid is more comfortable with Ahsoka so they’re still working on what that means for him.

It’s more or less true. Rex squeezes her hand the one time someone suggests separating them. She’s not letting that happen unless Rex wants to leave for whatever reason. They’ve worked apart before. They can do it again.

“Auntie Soka? You’re shivering.”

Is she?

Leia cuddles in closer, and Ahsoka runs a hand over her hair. It’s an absentminded motion, and for all that she knows Leia’s hair is fine as silk, it feels like plastic in the moment.

“I don’t think I’m okay,” Ahsoka announces. The words hang in the air like lead balloons, and she can feel Depa staring at her. “I haven’t been for a very long time.”

“Yeah, we noticed,” Fett says. “Do you need to lay down, Torrent?”

Does she?

“No,” she says. “I... I don’t know what I need.”

“The spicy drink,” Rex tells them. “It’s grounding.”

Right. That.

Fett goes to grab it, and Depa continues to watch.

“How long ago did you leave your master?” Depa asks. “Or... did he die?”

Ahsoka closes her eyes and shakes her head. She can feel the shivers now, tremors in her biceps and a shudder she can’t control in the height of her ribcage. Her teeth grind together, jaw like stone.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Depa assures her. “I’m... going to recommend you see a mind healer on Coruscant.”

That was a forgone conclusion.

A cup clinks onto the table. Fett’s back. “Drink.”

She does.

Depa and Fett continue discussing it as “the adults” at the table. She’s older than both of them. Rex is older than all of them. Ahsoka follows about half of what they say. She agrees with most of it. Rex bullies his way into speaking when she doesn’t, without her even asking, because he knows her mind as well as she does. Fett rolls with it. Depa lets him.

She’s going to reach out to the Temple and see about getting them a ride back to Imperial Center Coruscant.

Fett makes Soka go to bed, taking Leia with her.

---------------------------

She feels more like a person come morning.

Depa’s sitting at the table, datapad in her hands and caff on the table in front of her.

“Good morning,” Ahsoka says, rough and croaking, and Depa’s eyes flick up to meet hers. She nods a shallow hello.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” Ahsoka says, and goes about gathering a breakfast. There’s definitely some dried meat in here. She can get something fresh when they stop by the market later.

“I was hoping to speak with you about your options,” Depa tells her, once she’s sat at the table. “Fett and your friend Rex took care of most of the negotiation, and I feel like I have an idea of what would work best for you.”

Ahsoka nods slowly. “Okay.”

“There is a Master-Padawan pair a few planets away,” Depa says. “The Council informed me when I spoke with them about you and your wards. They’d be headed back to the Temple in a few days anyway, and the Council has agreed to extend an offer to Fett to handle the transportation. The presence of a Jedi Master on board will allow for him to get in and out of the Core unmolested, and we’d like for you and yours to have a Jedi escort, given what happened yesterday afternoon.”

Her complete spiral into nonbeing?

“I understand,” she says instead. “I suppose Fett agreed because he’s still trying to get Rex to like him?”

Depa shrugs. “That part isn’t my business.”

Of course it isn’t.

“Rex can stay with me for a while, right?” Ahsoka finally asks. “I know it’s not exactly protocol, but I’m...”

“In need of a support system until you’ve seen a mind healer, and against all odds, the child is part of it,” Depa summarizes. “Yes, I recognized as much. I think the Council will be able to allow some leeway there. I don’t know if he’ll enjoy it, given that all the others his age are Initiates, but we can adjust as necessary. On that note... Do you know Leia’s midichlorian count?”

“No,” Ahsoka says, and hesitantly adds, “But her biological father was my Jedi Master, and I’m told his count broke records even as a child. Given what Leia’s shown so far... it’s why I’ve been in a hurry to get her to the Temple.”

Depa frowns at her, clearly working through the implications of a Jedi having a daughter and still teaching... and then visibly dismisses the situation, eyes closing to breathe in the steam of her caff.

Biological father certainly implies a child that was raised by her mother or adopted out so the Jedi father could remain in their chosen career without a conflict of interest or duty.

She’ll tell the council the truth, or... at least Master Koon. Master Kenobi is still a padawan, but she can tell Master Koon.

She already told Jango Fett, of all people.

“Padawan Torrent?”

Her head snaps up. She hasn’t been a padawan in over fifteen years. It’s weird to hear. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted some time to think it over before I presented the offer to Fett,” Depa says.

Ahsoka gets the distinct feeling that Depa is planning a report to the Council that has ‘needs a mind healer’ underlined at least three times.

“No, I’m--I’m fine. That sounds like a good plan.”

“I’ll speak with him, then. Would you like to come with?”

"No, thank you.”

---------------------------

Fett agrees. Ahsoka’s pretty sure it’s all to do with Rex and maybe Leia. It’s probably nothing to do with ‘Sokari.’ She’s a Jedi, an adult in mind and in body, or at least close enough to count. She’s a damn sight more ‘enemy’ to Fett than the other two are. Not as much as Depa, maybe, but Fett’s been playing nice with her for Leia’s sake.

He plays nice with Ahsoka for Rex’s. That’s all.

They’re only a few planets over from the meeting point, and they have a few days to hang around before the escort meets them. Depa hadn’t given them a name--apparently it could have compromised the opsec for the Jedi team--but Ahsoka’s pretty sure she’ll be able to identify almost anyone. She gets the feeling that the Force is going to send her a familiar face, just as it did Master Padawan Billaba.

Ahsoka lets herself feel the world around her. It’s dark and dreary, in the sense that the beaten-down port is full of petty crimes and less petty horrors, but it’s still lighter than most of the Empire had been. She sneaks away from the ship at night, ignoring Fett at her back, and performs a bit of vigilante justice while she can. She’ll be banned from doing so as soon as she’s reinstated as a Jedi, probably, but for now... for now, she can look at the drug cartels and ‘they’re not slaves, really’ workers and do something to help.

She doesn’t use her sabers. She doesn’t need to. It’s been a long time since she has, for small fry like these.

“What are you doing?” Fett asks her, landing heavily behind her back.

“Chip removal,” she says, hand pressed to the slave’s leg. Her eyes are closed, but she can hear him shifting. “Let me concentrate, I don’t have a meddroid for this.”

He’s silent until she finishes, and waits until the people she’s helped are on their way to the planet’s freedom routes. He doesn’t ask what she did with the owners.

“You’ve done this before.”

“Regularly,” she confirms. “You?”

He doesn’t answer that, just ambles over to the the chains and stares down at them.

“Fett?”

“You go through this like it’s as easy as breathing,” he says. “It’s... impressive.”

“I guess?” she hesitates to continue. “I’m... I don’t think of it that way. This is the easy stuff. A time-waster that helps people. If I wanted to help for real, I’d been going after Jabba or Sidious or--”

“How old were you?” he asks, turning on his heel to face her dead-on. The vocoder of his helmet pulls the emotion from his voice. “When did this... these missions, the slavery battles, when did that start for you?”

“Fourteen,” she says. She’s not entirely sure, really, what counted as a mission for ending slavery and what counted as just a part of war, but she can round down. “Maybe fifteen. It’s a bit of a blur.”

“And you just kept doing it.”

“Of course,” she says. “If I have the time and the energy, if I need to do something and there’s nothing official on my hands, why not?”

He doesn’t answer her.

---------------------------

Rex greets them before she does.

Ahsoka, in her defense, is asleep at the time. It’s a restless sleep, but it’s enough that she doesn’t sense the nearing Force signatures until they’re almost at the ship.

She recognizes one of them.

“Auntie ‘Soka?” Leia questions, when she lurches to her feet and starts pulling on her boots with all the energy of a zombie. “Where are you going?”

“Jedi,” Ahsoka grunts. “Here.”

“I see.”

Leia dresses to follow her, in a little coat that’ll withstand the chill of the outside air, and Ahsoka makes it to the cargo hold just in time to hear Rex saying, “I’m not shaking your hand until you put your gloves on, Vos.”

She laughs to herself, breathless with the knowledge of what she’s about to find. She jumps the railing of the upper walkway, drops down just in front of the Master-Padawan team, and keeps her back to Fett and Rex. “Hello, there.”

One human, one Kiffar. She knows the latter.

“Would you be Sokari Torrent?” the Master asks.

“I am,” she says, with a slight bow. She can tell there’s a bit of judgement for how she’s dressed, but they’re covering it well. A Shadow and his trainee know the value of armor better than most Jedi bother with. “I’m afraid Padawan Billaba didn’t inform me of your names before we met.”

“And yet your friend knew my padawan,” the Master says.

“By reputation,” she says, as smoothly as she can. “I’ve encountered Quinlan Vos before, though I doubt he remembers--”

“I’d remember someone like you,” Quinlan interrupts, with a grin she’s sure is meant to be charming and rogueish.

He’s... very young for her, and not her type. Mostly, she wants to pat him on the head, but that probably wouldn’t go over very well. She still looks like she’s younger than him.

“Anyway,” she says, turning back to the master, “I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are, Master.”

“I am Tholme,” he says, with the bow that a Master gives a Padawan. She feels a little slighted, but it’s fine. She looks the right age, it’s fine.

It’s not like they know.

“It’s nice to meet you, Master Tholme,” she says. “My charges are Rex Torrent, the young man behind me, and currently coming down the ladder is Leia Antilles. I’m sure you’re aware of Jango Fett.”

“The Mand’alor,” Quinlan volunteers, and Ahsoka can almost hear Fett’s teeth grinding.

“Don’t call me that,” he says. She’s sure he’s got a hand drifting for his blaster.

“There isn’t a whole lot of room on the ship,” she says before the men can get into whatever weird contest she’s sure someone might start. Her bet’s on Fett. “But Leia and Rex are small enough to share with me, so I’m sure we can make it work.”

“There’s spare rolls for anyone comfortable with sleeping in the hold,” Fett grunts. “Or on the floor in the passenger room.”

“Well, I guess I could ask for a little help fi--”

“Vos,” Ahsoka snaps, letting her voice take on the kind of ‘obey me or get fresher duty’ irritation that she’d perfected back when the rebellion still had her managing people, before they’d realized she was more use in the field. “Do not.”

There’s a moment’s pause, and Tholme looks unimpressed with that raised eyebrow, but the kind of unimpressed that’s split between his own padawan and the stranger before him.

“Um,” Quinlan says. “I just--”

“No,” she cuts him off. “No flirting.”

It’s weird and uncomfortable and she’d have maybe been okay with it if she was actually the seventeen-or-eighteen-ish(?) that she looked, but she’s not. She’s in her thirties and Vos is... what, twenty? Twenty-one? No.

He stares at her, and she wonders momentarily if she’d gone too far in the direction of judging his intentions in the Force and preempted actual flirtations.

“I’m sorry?” He offers, looking confused, but ashamed. “I, uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

She definitely preempted the actual flirtation.

Fuck.

Ahsoka closes her eyes and breathes in. Breathes out. Opens her eyes. “Right. That was... I’m not sure how much Padawan Billaba told you about me.”

“Enough,” Tholme says. He moves forward and puts a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. Ahsoka has no idea if it’s to comfort him or hold him back. “I didn’t share most of it with my padawan, but I have a general understanding of what’s going on.”

Quinlan darts a look at his teacher, but Ahsoka doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

“Thank you for your understanding,” she says, and bows, and stiffly turns away to walk to the galley.

---------------------------

Leia squirms into the bench seat, shoving her way under Ahsoka’s arm like a particularly wriggly tooka.

“What was that?” Leia demands, the authority of a rebellion general rather useless in the squeaky voice of a child.

“What was what?”

“The whole thing with Padawan Vos,” Leia says. “You blew up at him before he even did anything.”

That’s pretty true.

“I felt the flirtation coming before it happened and reacted inappropriately because I panicked. I’m significantly older than him, but I can’t tell him that, so it’s just awkward and uncomfortable and... I’m not okay, Princess. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Yeah, we can tell.”

“Leia.”

“What? I need therapy too! Captain Rex needs therapy! I’m pretty sure Fett needs therapy! You, Fulcrum, you really need therapy. None of us are okay.” She huffs, wiggling impossibly closer. “I don’t like it, but it’s true.”

“I know,” Ahsoka groans. “I just... I just need to hold out until the Temple.”

“Will you be able to hold it together if you see someone you actually care about?” Leia demands. “What are you going to do when you see Kenobi?”

“Stop.”

“I’m serious, you--”

“Leia, that’s enough,” she snaps. “I was fighting that war before you were even born, and I’ve dealt with the consequences since. I know the risks and I’ll thank you to remember who taught you to control your own mind.”

Leia stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath. “That was uncalled for.”

“You’re not the child you appear to be,” Ahsoka reminds her, not a little sharply. “You want to dish it out, be ready to take it. What will you do when we see Bail Organa? When we see the toddler that is Anakin Skywalker?”

“I get it.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Ahsoka mutters. She isn’t surprised when Leia ducks out of the embrace and leaves the galley. She lets the girl go, guilt warring with the memory of how Master Kenobi had more than once spoken that way to Anakin at the height of the war. The fact that she’s an adult in the body of a child isn’t an excuse for poking at Ahsoka’s open wounds. It was cruel and unnecessary, and unbecoming of a... not a Jedi. A princess. A politician.

She rests her head on her arms and zones out. She should meditate, but that seems like... too much effort.

She can feel Vos and Tholme setting up in the room they’ve been assigned. Neither seems particularly angry. Most likely, Tholme’s given the absolute shortest explanation of ‘child soldier, dead master, highly traumatized and emotionally unstable’ to Vos to smooth over the incident in the cargo hold. Rex is with Leia; he’s agitated, but less so than Leia herself. Fett’s annoyed, in the cockpit, but he seems annoyed as often as not. There’s a shudder at lift-off, and a few minutes later, they’re in hyperspace, headed for the Core.

Fett finds her, falls into the other bench in full armor, and drops his elbows onto the table. The helmet clunks down a moment later.

She doesn’t lift her head. “What do you want?”

“Do I need to keep Vos away from you?”

“What?”

“Vos. He made you uncomfortable. Was that him being someone that hurt you in the future, or just the interaction being awkward?”

She lifts her head. She stares at him. “What?”

He leans back and crosses his arms. “Do you need me to tell Vos to stay the hell away from you?”

She’s gaping. “You realize I’m thirty-two, right? I can handle my own battles.”

“You’re also traumatized as hell and everyone can see it,” Fett argues back. “If Vos himself is a trigger, I can handle it.”

“He’s not,” she tells him. This is strange. Fett’s being strange. “He was actually a friend of my grandmaster’s. I’m just uncomfortable with the flirting because I’m a lot older than he realizes, and I can’t tell him that.”

He nods sharply, and then looks away. The silence sits.

“Thanks for asking?” Ahsoka says, well aware of how her confusion over the offer turns it into a question. “I mean, thank you for... caring.”

I guess, she finishes in the privacy of her own head. Or at least pretending to.

Fett makes a face, still not facing her. He eyes the galley instead. She can guess where his thoughts are going. The galley is... not very big, especially with six people on board instead of one, but she’s sure they’ve stocked up enough. On the off chance they do go through more than expected, because of how many growing bodies are in residence, they can stop off and buy more. They have those resources now.

Jango never does ask what she did with the slavers.

“Who’s going to cry if I spice things properly?” he asks.

“Probably Leia,” she says immediately. “Vos will try to power through it even though he’s going to be overwhelmed. No idea about Tholme, but I think he’ll keep a straight face whether he likes it or not. Rex and I are fine, ‘hot’ was pretty much the only flavor of seasoning the GAR had.”

“GAR?”

“Grand Army of the Republic.”

He finally looks at her.

“You already knew I was a child soldier, Fett; don’t act surprised.”

“That doesn’t mean I like hearing about it.”

“I was fourteen. That’s old enough by Mando standards, Fett. Just think back, when did you get on the battlefield?”

“I take your point,” he says, lip curling unpleasantly. “It just hits different now that I’m old enough to look back and think of how damned young fourteen really is.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Yeah, well--”

“You said the clones were ten.”

There’s the rub, isn’t it?

Of course it was about the clones.

“...closer to seven, by the end. Kamino was just making speedies at that point. Triple growth on the average instead of double, but averages in that case meant they’d been growing at double rates for six years and then got forced through four growth cycles in a single year to beef up the army when we kept losing men.” She looks down at the table, picking at a scratch in the plastipaint with her nail. “Rex and the rest of the ones from the beginning were basically twenty in mind and body, even if they’d only been decanted ten years earlier. The speedies... I always wondered. They’d gone from functionally twelve to functionally twenty in a year. That’s not... even in Kamino, that can’t have been normal. They didn’t act like adults, not the way the originals did.”

Fett rubs at his face, groaning. He swears under his breath in three different languages.

She pities him, if only because he hasn’t actually done any of this yet. He’s paying for the crimes of a man he likely won’t ever become.

She kicks him under the table. “Wanna make tiingilar and see how long it takes Vos to start crying while he insists it’s fine?”

---------------------------

Dinner is when the questions start. Some are relatively easy. Others, not so much.

“My Master was Leia’s biological father,” is an easy truth to share. “She inherited his power, so I need to get her to the temple for her own safety, because home no longer is.”

“Yes, her adoptive parents were unfortunately killed rather recently. We’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Rex is with me. Where he goes, I go, and vice versa.”

That one gets her an odd look.

“I thought...” Quinlan trails off, gesturing between Rex and Fett.

Fett keeps his face impassive, but his discomfort and guilt leak into the Force. “I didn’t know Rex existed until I ran into these three in a spaceport cantina a few weeks ago.”

Quinlan blinks at him, looks at Rex again, and then turns back to Fett with a grin that might have been described as ‘saucy’ if he were less smug about it. “Wild oats, huh?”

“Are you shitting me right now,” Leia whispers, and Ahsoka elbows her.

“That was inappropriate, padawan.”

Quinlan’s grin fades as Fett just continues to eye him.

“Um, so--”

“How old is the kid?” Fett interrupts.

Darting eyes answer him, as Quinlan tries to gauge Rex. “Ten? Maybe twelve?”

“And how old am I?”

“...early thirties?”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

Quinlan’s grin fades further as he does the math.

“I’d have been between fifteen and seventeen when he was born,” Fett says, tone flat. “Between fourteen and sixteen at conception. I know damn well I wasn’t doing anything that could have resulted in a kid at that age.”

Quinlan rallies. “So, brothers?”

Tholme sighs loudly, hand over his eyes.

“I’m a clone,” Rex says, and Ahsoka can feel the amusement he gets out of Quinlan’s confused shock. They’d both had plenty of respect for Master Vos, but Padawan Vos was nothing but trouble. “Harvested genetic material, grown in a tube, inconsistent aging meaning I don’t even know how old I am for sure.”

“I broke him out,” Ahsoka adds, which is half true.

“There was a chip in my head,” Rex adds, with a bright smile. Quinlan’s discomfort grows. “She got it out. Also, lots of brothers. None of them are... around anymore. The creators were trying to make an army.”

Vos and Tholme have no response. Fett looks like he’s been carved out of stone. Leia’s just ignoring them and picking at her food.

Ahsoka lifts a hand and, without looking, Rex high-fives her.

---------------------------

“Drop your elbow.”

Ahsoka tries to cover her smile at the dirty look that Leia shoots Fett. Fett remains unimpressed by the glare of royalty, just gestures for the girl to do as he said.

“I know how to fight,” Leia grumbles. “I took lessons. I was good at them.”

“And I’m better,” Fett says, leaving no room for argument. “You want the Torrents to take over?”

The Torrents. Rex and Soka. She likes being referred to that way. Like they’re a team that never got split up.

Force, she wished they’d never gotten split up.

“Again,” Fett orders, and Leia moves through the Mandalorian kata with ill grace in her emotions and all grace in her sweeping limbs.

Well, as much grace as an undersized six-year-old can, at any rate.

“Think he’ll ask me to spar her again?” Rex asks, dropping down into the seat next to Ahsoka and passing her a drink.

“Maybe,” she acknowledges. “I think he’s wondering if it’s worth asking Vos to spar with her, so she gets more experience with size differences.”

“Hm?”

“She flinched at his face again,” she tells him. “The whole... thing with Boba, I guess. She still won’t tell me why Fett triggers her sometimes, but he’s not pressing her to spar with him, and there’s only so much she can get out of fighting me. Asking Tholme would be presumptuous, but Vos is just a padawan. I think it’d work out.”

“And you?”

She looks at him, already feeling a cresting wave of bullshit she doesn’t want to deal with. “What about me?”

“Are you going to spar with the Jedi?”

She should. She hasn’t sparred with a saber since she got tossed back into a body only half-familiar to her. She’s let Leia borrow the shorter one to learn some basic blocking moves, Shii-Cho and then, with hesitance, the first Soresu form. Another time, she loaned it to Rex to practice some attacks; they both know that the next time he picks up her saber in battle, having lost his weapons or she her grip, it will be neither the first or last time he wields a sword of light. None of that, however, is... sparring.

None of that is against someone who knows what they’re doing.

How long has it been since she sparred with anyone other than Kanan and Ezra?

How long has it been since she sparred without the looming specter of Darth Vader in the back of her mind, without fear of the Inquisitors, without the knowledge that any saber held by someone other than her two friends would be red as blood and twice as drenched.

Would she be able to hold back as she fought?

“I should,” she acknowledges, eyes on where Fett is nudging Leia’s feet into position for some kind of leveraging flip. She’s so small. “It would probably be a good idea to spar against a master at some point.”

“Do you think you can?” Rex asks.

“I never knew him,” she says. “And he isn’t Dark. It should be fine.”

Rex nods, taking her word for it. They watch as Leia stumbles on a final move, and Fett gestures for her to sit down and get a drink.

“That man is a terror,” she informs them.

(She’d once described him as a slave-driver. She had not made that mistake twice.)

“Least it’s not Kamino!” Rex tells her cheerfully. When Leia refuses to look impressed, he laughs at her.

Ahsoka has a half-second’s warning before heavy boots thud to the ground next to her. “What’s Kamino?”

“Hello, Vos, it’s nice to see you too,” she drawls. “I’m good, thanks for asking, and yourself?”

The boy-not-quite-man rolls his eyes. “Hi, Torrents; hi, tiny one.”

Leia glares at him next.

“So, Kamino?”

“Planet by Rishi,” Rex says.

“Why were you there?”

“They specialize in cloning.”

Ahsoka covers her mouth as the conversation drops into the same awkward gap that always happens when Quinlan stumbles into a subject he didn’t know to avoid.

“Like... you were made there, or you were researching how it works for your own--”

Ahsoka slaps a hand over his mouth. “Now’s a great time to stop talking.”

He licks her palm.

She bares her teeth and arches her fingers just enough to press nails into his cheek.

He bites at her palm, and she yanks her hand away.

“You’re all children,” Leia accuses, conveniently forgetting that Ahsoka and Rex are both over a decade older than her.

“I can throw you the length of a swimming pool,” Ahsoka tells her. “One of the fancy competition-ready ones that would make a Tatooinian cry. You are absolutely the child here.”

“Using the Force is cheating, sir,” Rex informs her.

“Only if there’s a competition,” Ahsoka shoots back. “And proving that a certain princess is a small child is not a competition. It’s a declarative fact.”

“I’m going to rip open the seams on all your tops except the ugliest one,” Leia decides.

“Try me,” Ahsoka challenges. “Adi’ka.”

A low, rough cough interrupts them. “Are you done?”

Fett has his arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised. He knows they’re all adults here, and is entirely unamused. As the silence drags, the eyebrow climbs a little higher.

“Done with what?” Quinlan finally asks, thereby volunteering himself to spar in hand-to-hand with Jango Fett, as one does.

“Poor, poor Vos,” Rex laughs, watching as Fett barks out orders at Quinlan every five seconds to fix his footwork, to stop dropping his guard, to stop wasting energy on flips instead of just dodging the easy way.

“Throw him!” Ahsoka calls. To her delight, Fett obliges.

The thing is, Quinlan isn’t bad at brawling. He’s got training, endurance, skill. The man knows what he’s doing, objectively. He’s just not a match for Fett, and is used enough to relying on his saber that his hand-to-hand skills are rusty. They are perhaps less rusty than those Jedi who don’t take questionable jobs in the Mid-Outer Rim, and Ahsoka’s got a suspicion that Vos regularly gets into bar fights in his downtime, but none of that is enough for him to actually do more than survive against Fett without his saber.

Even the saber wouldn’t help, if Fett had his armor.

“Whose idea was this?”

Ahsoka cranes her head back and smiles. “Hello, Master Tholme. Vos... volunteered.”

“Did he know he was volunteering?”

“No comment.”

Tholme snorts, crossing his arms and eyeing the spar in front of him. “I thought Fett hated Jedi. Giving us a ride for the sake of you three is one thing, but why is he teaching my padawan?”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Constructive bullying?”

There’s a small twitch of a smile, quickly gone. “He said something wrong, I’m guessing?”

“There was no way he could have known,” she dismisses. “We’re just, like, ninety-percent tragic backstories.”

“You’d think the Force would warn him,” Rex notes.

“That’s not how the Force works,” Leia chides.

“No, no, he’s right,” Ahsoka corrects. “The Force does sometimes step in to stop a person from saying something stupid. However, Padawan Vos is at an age where people think they are very rational while being more irrational than they likely ever will be again.”

“Do I want to ask what you were doing at that age?” Tholme asks.

“Running bla...” she trails off, then whips around to gape at him.

He smiles, bland and unassuming. “Does Fett know?”

“Know... what?” Ahsoka asks.

“That you’re significantly older than you look,” he says, voice just low enough that the sparring duo can’t hear him. “All three of you.”

Ahsoka turns back to the spar, only catching Tholme out of the corner of her eye. “He knows.”

“Mm. Were you planning on telling the Council?”

“Yes.” That part was never in question. “How did you figure it out?”

“I am a good investigator,” he says. “And you rely a little too heavily on your physical forms to obfuscate. Were it just one of you, that wouldn’t be a problem, but the pattern repeated across three is a little easier to discern.”

“I hoped the whole ‘child soldiers’ thing would be a bigger distraction,” Ahsoka mutters. She glances at Leia and Rex. Both of them are used to being in charge to some degree, giving orders and making contingency plans, but in this... in this, Ahsoka is in charge. They’d decided that at the very start. It didn’t matter that Rex had lived longer and had more experience, or that Leia had held the highest Rebellion rank of the three of them. Ahsoka had been agreed as leader, and they were relying on her.

They’re waiting on her orders. Stiff and unhappy, in Leia’s case, but they trust her.

“Will you be telling Vos?” She asks.

“No,” Tholme says. “Your secrets remain your own unless they endanger us, and I’ve a feeling they won’t be.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Rex jokes, smile not reaching his eyes. “I’ve been working with this family for too long to trust that trouble won’t find them around the next corner.”

“This family?” Tholme repeats.

“Sokari was telling the truth about her master being Leia’s biological father,” Rex says. He shrugs. “I worked with him, with his wife, with both of his kids, with his master and his padawan. All of them, to a one, are trouble magnets.”

“Ah, but that’s not the secret that’s putting us in danger,” Tholme points out. “Simply existence as a Jedi.”

Rex shrugs. “Fair enough. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”

Ahsoka lurches to her feet, turning with a smile and dancing backward into the the stretch of empty cargo hold they used for such things. “A spar, Master Tholme?”

He looks past her, to Quinlan, and raises a brow. “Would you not prefer to spar with someone a little closer to your level first?”

She barks out a laugh. “Master Tholme, I’m afraid I’ve spent more of my life fighting to survive than having normal friendly spars. My style is more lethal than the average, and you’ve already seen what war’s done to my mind. I ask to spar with you because, if I lose control, if I slip in time or react on an instinct that isn’t appropriate, I trust that you’ll be more able to stop me than a senior padawan.”

He smiles. “Yes, I gathered as much. Still, better to ask. Shall we wait for them to finish up?”

Ahsoka shrugs, turns, and yells. “Clear the deck!”

Rex snorts behind her, and lowly mutters, “Sir, yes, sir.”

She smirks at him over her shoulder. “At ease, Captain.”

“That’s ‘Commander’ to you, I got promoted,” he sniffs, chin held high.

Heavy steps herald Fett’s arrival at their little group. “The hells are you doing?”

“I’m going to have a spar with a Jedi Master, and I want you and Vos to not get stabbed.”

“I’m not that easy to injure in an actual fight, let alone by accident,” Fett grouses. He looks up and over at Vos, who is already significantly taller, if a fair shot less built. “This one, on the other hand...”

“Hey!”

Ahsoka laughs and backs into the center of the cargo hold, drawing her sabers. “Don’t worry, Vos, I won’t play dirty. You’ll probably get your master back in one piece.”

He wrinkles his nose at her. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, aren’t you? He’s a Jedi Master and former Watchman. You’re... what, eighteen?”

Ahsoka raises a brow and activates her sabers, tapping the blades together and watching as more than one person winces. “Wanna bet on how long I last?”

“No,” he says immediately, stepping back to join Rex on the bench. “You’ve already blindsided me enough. I’m not dumb enough to fall for whatever you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“I don’t have sleeves.”

“Armwarmers-slash-greaves, then.”

“Greaves go on the legs, these are vambraces.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “I’m just going to stop talking now!”

“Good plan,” Leia snarks, and then literally hisses when Rex ruffles her hair.

Tholme lights his saber and sinks into an opening stance.

Ahsoka mirrors him.

---------------------------

She wins, but barely. She's had a few weeks to practice her forms, has sparred hands-only with Rex and Fett, but this is her first real try at using her sabers against a person, instead of a blaster or thin air, since she arrived in the past. She’s only mostly adjusted to her body.

But Tholme is a healer and a watchman, not a duelist. Ahsoka held her own against Ventress, against Grievous, against Maul when she was this age. Still adjusting to her body or not, her lineage is one of battle, and it bled true.

“You’re terrifying,” Quinlan tells her after they’re done, smiling like the sun as he hands her a towel. “Please never turn that on me.”

She laughs at him. “Would you believe that I’m out of practice?”

“Out of practice with what?” he asks, horrified and fascinated. “Fighting Sith Lords?”

“Among other things,” she says, and smirks when he chokes on his drink. “Multiple darkside users who claimed to be Sith, at least. One being a full Lord, one that was disowned by his master, and one that was apprenticed to a Banite apprentice, so she wasn’t technically allowed to be a Darth because of the rule of two.”

Tholme meets her eyes past Quinlan’s shoulder, head tilted and eyes half-shut in consideration. He’s taking her seriously. He knows what she’s not saying.

“How...” Quinlan trails off and shakes his head. “You know what, no. Asking you people questions never ends well.”

“Good plan,” Ahsoka says, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. “Also, you need to spar with Fett more. Your footwork is shit.”

“It is not,” Quinlan gripes. “You’re all just scary good at this stuff.”

“You mean surviving?” Leia pipes up, and smiles innocently when Quinlan turns to pout at her.

“You’re getting bullied by a six-year-old,” Rex informs him.

“Yeah,” Quinlan sighs. “I know.”

Ahsoka laughs, and it’s fine. It’s all fine. For a week, everything is honestly great. She trains, she laughs, she works through the nightmares.

Then fucking Denon happens.

---------------------------

Denon is a city-planet on the intersection of two major hyperlanes. It’s the kind of place where they stop for two things:

Fuel.

Paperwork.

Technically, there’s a whole mess of paperwork they have to fill out to continue along this specific hyperlane, since they aren’t official Republic ships, and don’t have the licenses to just pass along like ships that are pre-registered to the Trade Federation or the like. They could sneak past--literally all of them know smuggler’s routes--but it’s honestly less of a pain to do things legally. They have a Jedi Master. They have cash. Some of that cash wasn’t quite legally acquired, but nobody needs to know that.

It’s supposed to be a pit stop. That’s all.

It’s just a pit stop.

But no, the galaxy isn’t that kind and Ahsoka’s luck is currently being compounded with a Skywalker, two Fetts, and Vos, which means that of course they run into trouble. Of course they do. There was never any other option, was there?

“Motherfucker,” Ahsoka snaps, lifting her head up and slamming her drink on the table.

The glass is empty. That’s good. They’re in a restaurant right now, a little splurging after weeks with only each others’ company, and spilling the sugary child-friendly juice with that move would have drawn way too much attention from the servers.

“Language,” Tholme says, voice idly unconcerned.

“Sir?” Rex asks, kicking Ahsoka under the table. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wr--that jackass,” she hisses, getting to her feet. “Rex, grab a blaster, I’ve got shebs to kick.”

“Okay,” Rex says, grabbing one out of Fett’s holster and scooting out of the booth before anyone can tell him not to. “Whose?”

“I didn’t even know that he was... osik, I don’t have jurisdiction,” she realizes. “I don’t have any record of wrongdoing. I can’t arrest him since we don’t have evidence of criminal wrongdoing...”

“Are you two going to explain what’s going on?” Vos asks. “Or sit down, maybe?”

Ahsoka makes her decision. She eyes the window--the restaurant in question is a little dingy, but it’s also several dozen stories in the air. “Rex, remember the thing we did on Geonosis that you hated?”

He pauses, and then sighs heavily. “Yes, sir. I remember the... yeeting.”

Hah. That slang doesn’t even exist yet.

“Great. With me!��

It’s a good thing the windows are forcefields instead of transparisteel. A bit of a twist to the energy and they’re gone.

She only hears a little screaming before the wind tears all noises away while they plummet.

They land lightly--of course--and Ahsoka wraps them both in a don’t notice me aura. Nobody even notices that they’ve just come from above. It’s great that she can just Do These Things again, and get brushed off as Weird Jedi Shit, instead of worrying about the Empire. She’s missed being able to jump out of windows without fear.

Rex follows her as she starts running through the city. They don’t have comms, and he’s still so small, which means he can’t keep up with her even if she runs at normal speeds without Force enhancement.

“Should you carry me?” he asks, before she can figure out if it’s worth suggesting. She did it a few times before they joined up with Jango.

“It’s not... urgent, I think,” she says. She hesitates to speak, even as she keeps jogging with Rex at her heels. “Honestly, I’m trying to figure out if there’s anything I can ding him for so we can attack him. It’s all well and good that I can beat him right now, but all the crimes I know about haven’t happened yet, so it wouldn’t be legal...”

“Commander?”

“Hm?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

She scrolls the conversation back mentally, considers, and says, “Oh.”

“Who’s getting steamrolled?”

“Uh, Maul’s here,” Ahsoka admits.

“Ah,” Rex says. He makes a face. “I understand the desire to jump out a window, now. I don’t agree with it, but I understand.”

Ahsoka laughs. “I mean, I just... every time I’ve seen him for almost twenty years, it’s been like... on sight, you know? We’ve never not attacked each other, except when I needed him to cause problems on Mandalore. But I always knew I was in the right, then.”

“So... what do we arrest him for?” Rex prompts.

“Um... carrying a lightsaber without a license?” she hazards. “We’ll need Tholme there. Hopefully I can just shout at him and he’ll attack me, but I think he only went full nutjob after Master Kenobi cut his legs off. He might be too controlled to try to kill me just for yelling at him.”

“...do we have to stalk him?” Rex asks, sounding like he’d most likely sigh if he weren’t mid-run.

She scoops him up and swings him around onto her back before she answers. “I think we have to stalk him, Rex’ika.”

“Don’t call me that.”

---------------------------

Maul is... exceptionally sneaky, actually. Either that, or he hasn’t done anything wrong yet. Ahsoka’s betting on the former, because she’s seen this particular skocha kung take over a planet before anyone realized he was the most dangerous person around.

Or maybe he’s just not committing crimes, and is in fact just here to buy groceries.

He’s examining a papaya.

She fantasizes about jumping across the market and greeting him with a heel to the cheekbone.

“Are you imagining a flying kick, Sir?”

“Yeah...”

“He’s examining a papaya, Sir.”

“I know...”

“Does he know we’re here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Do you think I should go hit him?”

“No.”

“Should I hit on him?”

“No, Sir. I would not advise that.”

“He’s looking at the neloms.”

“I can see that.”

“Why does he have to be so bo--did he just fucking bite a nelom?”

“It appears so, Sir.”

“Like... like rind and all. Just bit the little fucker.”

“Seems it.”

A scuff of metal. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

Ahsoka tips her head around to peer through the grate. “We’re spying, Fett, what does it look like we’re doing?”

Rex cranes his head. “We’re hanging upside-down from a fire escape to get a look at a suspected Sith Apprentice that is currently shopping for various fruits, Mand’alor.”

Ahsoka waves. “Hi, Master Tholme.”

“Sokari,” the master greets. “This seems a very conspicuous way to spy.”

She shrugs as well as she can from this angle. “Yes, but you see, this way’s more fun.”

“Is it now.”

Rex shifted. “He’s on the move!”

“To kill someone?!”

“No, to the deli meats.”

“Kriff.”

---------------------------

Apparently, Tholme and Fett had told Quinlan to take care of Leia, as Leia had wanted to finish her juice and refused to get involved in the Torrents’ nonsense. According to her, if they couldn’t be bothered to explain the nonsense, they didn’t need her.

This was true and accurate.

Quinlan shows up while they’re still stalking Maul, having moved to a low rooftop for a decent vantage point with less likelihood of being spotted. He’s giving Leia an eopie-back ride, and the pout on her face at needing it is adorable. She pouts harder when she sees them.

“Are you even trying to hide?” Leia scoffs.

“Not really,” Ahsoka admits. She’s got Fett’s binoculars out. “I’m not sure he’s caught wind of the fact that we’re here yet.”

“Or he has and he’s just biding his time to escape while we’re distracted,” Tholme points out.

“Meh,” Ahsoka says, avidly devouring the visual that is a teenage Maul glaring at leafy vegetables. “I just want him to do something so I have an excuse to beat his ass.”

“Do I get to know who?” Quinlan asks, setting Leia down on the roof. “Or are we going to keep being completely unwilling to share information?”

“Baby Sith Lord,” Ahsoka says. “He’s fifteen. A child.”

“A baby,” Rex agrees.

“You’re... that’s... ugh,” Quinlan groans as loudly and as dramatically as he dares, flopping down to the rooftop. “Master Tholme, please tell me this isn’t a real Sith.”

“He’s Dark,” Tholme confirms. “Sith is... up for debate until we have evidence.”

“He’s a bitch is what he is,” Ahsoka mutters. She observes the teenager in question stop to poke at some pink tomatoes. “E chu ta, break the law, already!”

“Does he have a lightsaber?” Quinlan asks. “If he has a lightsaber and no Jedi ID or specialty license, we can probably arrest him.”

“Auntie Soka doesn’t have a license or ID,” Leia points out.

“She’s got a Jedi escort,” Tholme says. “And if our supposed Sith is polite and plays nice, we can probably escort him to the Temple as well.”

Rex snorts derisively.

“Do you know why he’s on Denon?” Fett asks.

“No clue,” Ahsoka admits. “Evil reasons, probably.”

“You’re useless,” Leia tells her.

“Thanks, princess, how’s that attempt to open the jam jar by yourself coming?”

Leia says something very inappropriate for a princess, for a child, and for a lady. It’s fairly appropriate for a soldier, which is admittedly what she’s been for a few years now. Ahsoka sticks her tongue out at the girl like the mature operative she is.

“I wish we could still get him to lose his osik by just showing up and insulting him,” Rex mutters, low enough that Quinlan probably can’t hear.

“I wanna punch him in the face,” Ahsoka confesses. “I want him to try to punch me in the face, and fail.”

“Don’t bully the baby Sith,” Rex admonishes.

“He’s a Sith.”

“He’s fifteen, it’s tacky.”

“But it’s Maul.”

“I know, but you’re tw--significantly older than him.”

“But... but it’s the motherfucker himself.”

“...you can bully him a little, but only because he’s a Sith.”

Fett steals the binoculars. “You can borrow them again when you stop acting like children.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rex says, dry as Ryloth. “I’m ten.”

“Pretty tall for your age,” Ahsoka mutters, and then giggles.

“Don’t steal my jokes,” Rex says. He elbows her, hard.

“You know,” Quinlan says, slow and tired. “Master Tholme and I are trained investigators.”

Ahsoka and Rex look at each other, and then up at him.

“Okay?”

“...do you want me to find actual evidence of this guy doing something criminal?”

“Oh, yes please.”

---------------------------

Quinlan, as it turns out, is not overselling his skills. He does catch Maul doing something illegal later that day. It’s a little more ‘stealing corporate secrets in the dead of night’ and less ‘torturing people for kicks,’ but it’s still enough to legally arrest him. Quinlan attempts to do so.

Quinlan does not succeed, and is forced to jump out a window to avoid getting cut in half. Maul follows, steals a passing speeder by throwing out the driver, and takes off. Someone--looks like Tholme--drops back to save the driver, but the rest of them give chase. Ahsoka gleefully takes point on that, of course. She’s the best pilot.

(Rex looks bored, but someone is likely to puke by the end of the night. She hopes it’s not Leia, who insisted on coming for some fucking reason.)

“How the kriff is a teenager that good?!” Quinlan yells, clinging to the edge of the speeder to avoid getting tipped out as Ahsoka swerves around a corner with a wild laugh.

“He’s a Sith!” Leia shouts over the wind. “What do you think?”

Quinlan is not impressed by the claim of Sith.

Ahsoka screeches as she drifts across four lanes of traffic and into an alleyway to pursue Maul. He’s pretty good at dodging cross-building walkways, but she’s better. She bares her teeth, hissing, and tries to pick a plan.

“Vos, how’s your aim with Force throws?” She calls to the backseat.

“Uh, decent?”

“Great! Fett’s the projectile!”

Vos takes a second longer to process that than Jango does.

“I’m wh--”

He cuts off, screaming, and is flung forward by Quinlan to crash headfirst into a teenage Sith.

“Take the wheel!” Ahsoka commands, not waiting to see who follows the order, because Fett and Maul are both getting to their feet, the other speeder is about to crash, and she’s not sure who’s going to win that fight.

She jumps from the speeder they’ve been violently dragging around Denon, and lands feet-first on Maul’s... shoulder.

Hm.

That definitely dislocated something.

“You should wear armor!” she chirps at him, drawing both sabers and grinning as he whirls to face her, eyes wide with hate.

He’s utterly silent.

That’s disturbing. Expected, but disturbing.

“Did you just throw me?” Fett demands, higher pitched than she’d normally expect.

“No, Vos threw you.”

“Because you told him to!”

“Yeah, it’s a good strategy!”

“It is not!”

“Why not? Throwing people was standard practice in the GAR.”

She can’t see his face, but she’s pretty sure he’s about ready to strangle her.

Ahsoka cannot, at that point, continue snarking with the father of her best friend, because there’s a red lightsaber coming for her throat, and she should probably worry about that. Maul’s very good at killing people and she’d like to avoid becoming part of that statistic.

As she is quickly reminded, he is... fifteen. And shorter than she’s used to. And already injured.

It’s really, really easy to take him out, actually.

At some point, the other speeder was safely recovered before it caused property damage, and their own is landing a few meters away with Vos and the kids.

“You have Force-negating cuffs, right?” Ahsoka asks.

“No, Master Tholme has them.”

“Oh,” she says, and grimaces. “I guess I’ll just... keep sitting on him then.”

Maul snarls, and she raps him on the skull. “Stop that, it’s uncivilized.”

Rex snorts.

Jango makes a noise that is incredibly frustrated with the lot of them, and turns on Rex. “Was she telling the truth?”

“About?”

“Throwing people being standard practice for the GAR.”

Rex’s face goes pained. “It was in the five-oh-first. And a few others.”

“What’s the GAR?” Quinlan asks.

“None of your damn business,” Fett snaps.

Quinlan throws his hands up in the air again. “Come on! I just proved I know what I’m doing!”

“And their tragic backstory is none of your business, prudii!”

Quinlan blinks at him, and then glances at Ahsoka. “Um.”

“He called you a shadow since your training, um, seems to be pointing in that direction,” she says as carefully as she can. “We were theorizing.”

“Wh... you actually paid attention?” Quinlan asks, looking horribly confused. “I thought I was just annoying you.”

Ahsoka laughs at him. “Oh, Vos... I’ve been running black ops for... much longer than most would guess. Trust me, I know another spy when I see them.”

She smiles as kindly as she can, because she hadn’t actually meant to make him feel left out or unwanted or... well, she’d been pretty patronizing, especially for someone seemingly younger than him. The smile does not work. Quinlan just looks kind of horrified about how young she just implied she started spy work.

Granted, she’d been sixteen for Zygerria...

Deciding to ignore him for a bit, she shifts on Maul’s back and pats him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Baby Sith. We’re going to get you lots of nice therapy. Mind healers, no Sith tortures, all that fun stuff. Maybe some plushies.”

“You’re also getting therapy, right?” Quinlan asks. “Please say you are. I’m required for the specifics of my training and if anything you’ve said is true, I feel like you really need it and I’m scared of what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Ahsoka laughs, knowing exactly how empty it sounds. “Oh hell, if I didn’t get therapy, I imagine Kix would rise from the grave to force me into it.”

The name means nothing to anyone except Rex, and... ah, yeah, she told Fett about Kix a few weeks ago.

“No more throwing me without warning,” Fett grumbles, dropping to sit on the ground next to her. “Especially not at baby Sith Lords.”

“I am not a child!” Maul spits.

“He speaks!” Ahsoka cheers. “Aw, I knew you could do it.”

“’Soka, I told you not to bully him,” Rex complains. “It’s tacky. You’re being tacky.”

“I’m allowed to be tacky,” Ahsoka declares. “I’ve died twice, that’s, like, permission from the universe.”

“You’ve died twice?” Quinlan asks, back in ‘fascinated horror’ territory. “Wait, no, I shouldn’t ask--”

“Too late! The first time was on a planet that doesn’t exist and my Master lost his mind, killed a god, and used the good favor of another god to have me brought back to life at her expense. Not in that order.”

“I--what? No, that’s--what?”

Ahsoka smiles brightly. “You asked.”

Tholme finally shows up with the cuffs.

---------------------------

“You should eat something.”

He glares at her.

“Baby Sith Lords need to eat.”

He keeps glaring at her.

“Maul, you’ll never get big and strong and ready to kill if you don’t eat your vegetables.”

He bares his teeth.

“No, I don’t eat my veggies, but I’m a Togruta, so if I eat too many vegetables I throw up.”

Rex kicks her thigh, right on the faulds. “What did I say about bullying the Sith Lord?”

“Not to.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Making him eat his vegetables.”

“Soka.”

“Rex’ika.”

He kicks at her again. “Get up, we’re swapping out the watch.”

“But I wanted to hang out with my favorite little criminal mastermind.”

Rex drops to the floor and presses his forehead to her shoulder. “How the hell is being around this guy the first thing to make you cheer up in weeks?”

“I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

“He’s going to bite you.”

“I’ll bite back.”

Rex jabs a finger into her ribs, and she squeaks. “Go get something to eat, Commander.”

“Fine,” she huffs, rolling to her feet and moseying along to the galley. She walks in on Tholme and Fett having an argument about the ways in which Jedi and Mandalorians differ. Quinlan’s on the side, watching with wide eyes, and little Leia’s drinking a juice box at his side, tucked up under his arm and occasionally saying things to fan the flames. Ahsoka assumes she’s enjoying herself.

She opens the cooling unit, looks over the contents, and pulls out a raw leg of eopie mutton. She leans against the counter, bites into the chilled-but-not-frozen meat, and uses the back of one hand to wipe the blood off her chin. The ‘real adults’ don’t notice.

“I’m like ninety percent sure you’re doing this to mess with me but also...” Quinlan trails off, staring at her with horror. “Why?”

“A girl’s gotta eat.”

“Yeah, but all the obligate carnivores I know are like... generally holding to basic rules of courtesy when it comes to not grossing people out,” Quinlan says. “Like, I don’t chew with my mouth open. You don’t... eat in the most intimidating--did you just crack the bone with your teeth?!”

Ahsoka smirks at him, using her free hand to take away the shard of bone so she can suck out the marrow without eating the bones themselves. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t polite society. We’re in a galley on a bounty hunter’s ship, and I’ve been living on the run or in an army for most of my life. Table manners are optional.”

“No, they’re not,” Leia orders. “Fett, it’s your ship, tell her to--”

“--and another thing!” Fett snaps at Tholme, clearly paying less than no attention to the food argument.

Ahsoka keeps on eating, trying to catch wind of where the discussion’s at. Mostly, it seems to be at ‘talking past each other.’ Neither of them seems to have fully grasped more than the absolute most basic parts of the other culture, and that’s only enough to insult each other, not actually have a constructive conversation. She’d have expected more out of Tholme, at least. He’s not exactly young.

“Hey, quick question,” she says, in a moment where both of them have paused for breath and the opportunity to seethe. “Fett, when’s the last time you worked with a Jedi, or any member of a Force-based religion, before I popped into your life?”

His nose scrunches up as he makes a face.

“And Tholme, when’s the last time you worked with anyone from the Mandalorian system?”

Tholme’s reaction isn’t any more gracious than Fett’s.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says. “Vos, were either of them actually interested in that conversation, or just looking for an excuse to yell?”

“Now listen here, jetiika--”

“Fett,” she snaps. “I am not a child.”

“And neither am I,” he growls right back. “This is my ship, and I damn well don’t need you treating me like a misbehaving youngling. You’ve got a problem, you bring it to my face, not get all smug about people’s tempers blowing over.”

Well, then.

She smiles thinly. “Of course.”

He stands with his arms crossed, in full armor save for the helmet. She puts aside the eopie meat and wipes her hands, smiling until she can put her hands on her hips and let it drop to a challenge.

“You know, I’m just--I’m just gonna go,” Quinlan mutters, pulling Leia out with him, the girl hanging from under one of his arms. “This, uh, this looks like a problem for... you folks. Um. Yeah.”

He sidles out.

Tholme doesn’t.

Fett rubs at the bridge of his nose, and then gestures at the table. “Sit.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

He drops his hand and glares at her. “We have another week on this ship together. We are going to have this conversation. Sit.”

She sits, right on the warm spot left behind by Quinlan and Leia. She crosses her arms, lifts a brow, and waits.

Fett takes the seat across from her. Tholme leans against the counter.

“We all know you’re older than you look,” Fett says. “I heard Tholme mention it, I know that much has been shared. You’re acting like an actual teenager, and I’ve... I’ve put up with a lot. I am trying to keep things civil, particularly with you. I’ve tried to be friendly. You’ve been fucked up since we met, fine, everyone’s got trauma. The thing where you’ve started talking shit to our faces for what seems like your own amusement? That has to stop. You’re older than me, Torrent. Fucking act like it.”

She blinks at him, slow and not exactly happy, and turns to Tholme.

The man shrugs. “I was planning to put up with it until we arrived to the temple and handed you over to some mind healers. Fett doesn’t have that kind of time.”

There’s a curdle in her stomach, defensive and angry and guilty.

“You’ve been... a bitch,” Fett finally says. “You know that. I’m not going to mince words. You’ve been holier-than-thou and rude and condescending, and aiming that at Antilles is one thing, when you’ve apparently known her since she was a toddler and taught her things. Aiming at the rest of us isn’t going to fly. We’re all adults trying to share a space. Stop acting like... just like you have been.”

There is no defense to be made that they aren’t both already aware of.

She closes her eyes and tries to strangle the burst of irrational rage.

Their accusations aren’t unfounded.

They deserve an apology.

She is in the wrong.

She’s felt freer than she had in years, and in that freedom allowed herself too much rein, let herself lace her words with barbed wires and poison instead of sparks and spices, comments that were cruel instead of just joking. Too familiar. Too comfortable.

“My behavior’s been inappropriate,” she finally says, the words clumsy and too big in her mouth. “You’re right about that. I’m sorry, and I’ll endeavor to keep a tighter rein on my less pleasant behaviors in the future.”

At least she only lashes out with words. It could be worse.

She opens her eyes, fixes her gaze on the wall behind Fett, wrestles her expression into stiff neutrality. “Am I dismissed?”

“...uh, no, not after that,” Fett says, sounding just a little horrified. “What the hell was that?”

Tholme hisses out a breath. “Let her go.”

“No, this needs to be discussed, that’s not a healthy rea--”

“Fett, let her go,” Tholme insists, low and heavy.

Fett looks between the two for a moment, seems to come to a realization he doesn’t like, and then gestures almost violently towards the door. “Fine. Go.”

She walks out, doesn’t sprint. She’s stiff. She’s controlled. She’s the one that fucked up, so it’s fine if she doesn’t feel great right now. Getting called out on one’s own failings as a person isn’t something to get upset about if the failings are real. The feelings are real and normal, but this was her fault, and so it’s up to her to fix it, and she can’t let them know it hurt her, because this was her mistake.

She goes to the cargo hold.

---------------------------

Ahsoka works out her frustrations on Fett’s punching bag. She does not augment herself with the Force, just uses raw strength and technique, ignoring the tears that press at her eyes.

She’s fine.

It’s not weird. It’s not odd. It’s not strange to not notice she’s been kind of a bitch since her mood came up with the whole Depa thing, and then Maul. She’s been mean, mostly to Vos and Fett, and nobody’s confronted her about it until now. They let her have room for her trauma, and she hadn’t reined it in. She’s just gotten worse.

‘Snippy’ she’d always been, but age apparently hadn’t fucking tempered it.

“Um.”

She catches the punching bag, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. She hasn’t worked out all the twitchy, nervous energy yet.

“Vos,” she greets, once she’s caught herself enough that her voice won’t waver. He’s on the other side of the bag, but she knows his voice. “Do you need something?”

“You’re kind of... projecting,” he tells her, drifting to where she can actually see him. “Not self-loathing, but, um, recrimination? You just don’t feel very good and I was hoping to help”

Why in all the Sith hells does he have to be nice.

“I got called out on my behavior and wasn’t ready to face the fact that I’d kriffed up,” she tells him. “I’ll be fine. And I’m... sorry. I haven’t been fair to you and was using you as an easy target for some of my ruder comments.”

“I mean, I kind of figured,” he admits, coming closer. “I’ve been tutored by Shadows before, and a lot of them act like you. I just assumed it was more of that.”

“I still shouldn’t have let myself run loose like that,” she says. “I’m... it wasn’t appropriate. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she says. “Not with... not with you. Or anyone other than Rex and a mind healer, really. Most of it is...”

She trails off, distantly noticing that her eyes are tearing up enough to blur her vision, and her nails are digging into the bag in a way Fett won’t appreciate.

There’s so much that beat her down, never quite breaking her, that she doesn’t even know what made her act the way she does.

“Want to spar?”

She looks over at him, wonders what he sees that makes him want to fight her when she’s visibly unstable.

He smiles, kind and easy, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s genuine in intent, if not in energy. He wants to help. “You all keep saying I could work on my hand-to-hand. Just take off the armor so I don’t break a finger, maybe.”

“You’re serious.”

“No, I’m Quinlan.”

She’s going to wipe the floor with this boy. “You sure you wanna fight me?”

“You won’t be able to meditate until you do,” he says. He’s right, damn him. “The other option is that I go get your... vod, I think? I go get Rex and you two can talk it out since you trust him with more. I don’t want to do that, though, he’s still a kid.”

She eyes him, lips pressed together and mind awhirl with emotions and thoughts she’d tried to beat out of her head and into the bag. “Ever fought someone without the Force?”

“...yes?”

“Was it cuffs?”

“Oh, you meant me not having the Force,” he realizes. “Er, no. Is... is that something you’ve done a lot?”

She smiles at him. “You’re planning on Shadow work. That means getting captured and stripped of everything you are at some point, Force included. Unfortunately, the cuffs are in use on a very annoying Dathomirian right now, so we’ll have to make do with you shielding like your mind’s a Kessel Spice Mine.”

“...do I want to know how often you’ve been captured?”

“No, you don’t.”

When he comes at her, it’s easy to dodge. It’s easy to tap him on target points, little pokes that show she could take him out, but isn’t going to until he’s learned something. He stays grinning throughout, letting her take the lead, and he treats her like... like a knight. Like a teacher. He’s stepped back and gone from trying to impress her as a fellow padawan, to proving himself to a full knight.

She’s not sure when that change happened, or why or how, but it makes things much smoother. She wants to think that it would have even if she hadn’t gotten a wakeup call from Fett.

So she treats him the way she treated Ezra, for the year she’d spent traveling with Kanan. She treats him as a student that’s willing to learn, good but not yet great, competent but not yet ready to survive. She draws him into the kind of chest-heaving exhaustion that tells a fighter just how much energy they waste.

(Ahsoka may have had her own style, but her grandmaster had been the pinnacle of a Soresu user. She’d spent years on the frontlines of a war. She knew the worth of conserving energy, and she’d teach it to any who stepped in to challenge her.)

“Who taught you to fight like this?” He asks, when they’ve taken a handful of moments to circle each other. His steps are heavy, sure, planted. Her own are light and ready.

“Soldiers,” she says. It’s true enough.

“Not your Master?” he asks, just as he tries to kick for her upper arm. It’s a safe question. For anyone else, it would be a safe question.

But for Ahsoka, it’s another chink in the armor, after a maelstrom of emotion, a storm of self-loathing, a dervish of instability.

She doesn’t break right away.

She spirals. She fights Quinlan, but doesn’t quite see him. Her strikes get sloppy, her feet stumble. She can’t make herself meet Quinlan’s eyes, not when the scrape of his heel against the metal sounds like the rasp of a breathing machine. Her shields get fuzzy, she knows, and she leaks what she feels into the air, making it sour and thick. She doesn’t notice, because all she can see, all she can--all she can hear and feel and--

She drops to her knees and grabs at her head, trying to stop it.

“Sokari?”

She breathes. In and out, harsh and jagged but natural in a way that the damned respirator wasn’t.

Her master her teacher her brother the traitor the hound the executioner

Her face is hot. Something prickles. It might be tears.

She tries to say something, tries to say a name or a request, tries to make anything come out of her mouth that isn’t the broken wail of a woman who hasn’t let herself think about how she died.

She feels herself pulled into someone’s arms, and she can’t quite tell who, but they’re bigger than she is, and feel warm and worried. They care. They don’t understand, they’re scared, but they care.

Her hands shake, clutched to her chest and she can’t breathe she can’t make herself take in enough air to do a Force-damned thing the empire is going to feel her her shields are down and broken and her emotions are spilling and the empire is going to find HER ANAKIN IS GOING TO FIND HER AND--

“COMMANDER!”

Rex.

Rex is here.

Her breath is coming so fast that she’s hiccupping more than she’s actually inhaling. She feels small hands in gloves on either side of her face, and then her forehead presses to something warm.

Rex. A Keldabe kiss. Her brother, her partner, her other half. He’s here. He’s calm. If he’s calm, then things are fine.

“What happened?” Light voice, high voice, small and distant. Leia. Little Leia little princess Leia she’s in danger she’s in trouble Anakin will--

“Commander.”

No. Here and now. She needs to focus on here and now. Her throat feels cold. She breathes too fast, still. She can’t stop it.

“I don’t know.” That’s Vos. He was... they were doing something. He was here. Talking to her. “We were sparring, and she just--”

Right, sparring.

“I don’t know if I said something?” He offers, voice pitching up, unsure and worried. Is he the one holding her? He’s the one holding her. That’s embarrassing.

“Commander?” Rex prompts. “Commander, can you open your eyes?”

She tries. She can’t. She shakes her head.

“Soka?” he asks, voice quiet. “Where are you?”

“F-F-Fett,” she manages. It’s enough.

“And where were you?”

His voice is so soft. So worried. She held him the same way after Mandalore, after Order 66, after all his brothers, all her friends...

“Soka.”

Her mind is spinning, and suddenly all she can hear is Anakin Skywalker is dead. I destroyed him.

Her breath hitches, and she wails.

“Commander,” Rex tries again, but her head is a vortex of Then you will die and Perhaps this child and not the Jedi way.

Our long awaited meeting.

I destroyed him.

Then you will die.

She can’t breathe she can’t breathe she can only see that yellow eye that’s too familiar but belongs to a stranger can only hear a voice that shouldn’t exist can only mourn and break and--

“Soka?”

“Malachor,” she manages. “I--h-he--I died.”

“What did you say?” someone asks. A vod. It’s the right voice, almost, rough and business-like, not accusing anyone yet, and... and... no. No. Not one of her boys. It’s Fett.

“Um, right at the end? I asked her who taught her to fight like this,” Quinlan says, nervous. “And she said it was soldiers. And I joked, I asked that it wasn’t her Master, and she didn’t answer that. A couple minutes later, she just started...”

“Oh, Soka,” Rex whispers, pulling her closer. “Commander, just breathe with me.”

“H-h-he, he just--R-Rex, he j-just--and I c-c-couldn’t--”

“I know,” her captain whispers. “I know, just breathe with me.”

“He k-k-k-killed me,” she sobs, falling out of the Keldabe and into too-small arms. “I l-loved--he was my broth-ther and--and he just--he killed me, he didn’t even stop.”

“I know,” Rex whispers. “Soka, I know.”

Of course he does.

---------------------------

“It was just bad timing,” Rex says, once they’re in the room she’s been sharing with her little family, curled up under a blanket and watching the floor like it has all the secrets to how she lost her world three times over.

“Is there anything we need to keep in mind?” Fett asks, gruff and uncomfortable. She wonders if he’s angry that she took his necessary confrontation and turned it into this mess.

“Don’t bring up her Jedi Master,” Rex says, and pulls her in when she shivers. Her eyes squeeze shut before she can stop them, tears beading up again. “Just... don’t. It’s too soon.”

“He’s--”

“He Fell,” Ahsoka interrupts. “I thought he died, but he became a Sith. And fifteen years later, we ran into each other, and I refused to join him in the Dark, so he tried to kill me.”

Fett swears, low and muffled. She thinks he has a hand over his mouth.

Quin and Leia aren’t there. She thinks they’re keeping an eye on their Baby Sith prisoner. That’s good.

“Soka,” Rex whispers, and she buries her face in his shoulder. She’s too old to be this kind of mess. She’s thirty-two. She’s Fulcrum. She’s...

She’s in need of a lot of therapy.

“We can avoid the subject unless you bring it up,” Tholme promises. “Definitely until the Temple. Is there anything else we shouldn’t talk about?”

Ahsoka can practically feel Rex’s deadpan look. “Sir, we’re a trio of child soldiers ripped from everything we know. Every other sentence is a risk. We’re just... working our way through.”

There’s a knock at the door. Oh. Quin and Leia.

“Just figured we’d drop this off before we went down to visit Mr. Grumpy-Face,” Quinlan whispers. He still thinks Leia’s a child. He’s trying to make things less terrible for her. That’s nice. “We decided he’ll be less angry if he tries Hoth chocolate, and made some for everyone.”

They definitely made it for Ahsoka herself, and Maul was an afterthought. Still. It’s sweet.

“Commander?” Rex prompts, jostling her a little to try and get her to sit up.

“Gimme a sec,” she manages. It takes longer than it should to push herself away from him, to accept the mug that Leia gives her, too-serious worry in the furrow of her brow and the twist of her soul.

She doesn’t look six. She doesn’t even look twenty-two. This girl was always too old for her skin, forced to grow up in the hostile fear of the Empire.

“Thank you, Princess.”

She sips.

She can barely taste it beyond the ashes she imagines coating her tongue.

I destroyed him, her memory echoes. His slightest hesitation before he made the final move, it haunts her. She almost reached him. If only she’d tried harder, yelled louder, been better...

She shivers.

“Do you need help falling asleep?” Tholme asks. “I’m a regular healer, not a mind healer, but...”

She probably should.

She takes another sip of her drink, willing herself to taste it. It’s good. She likes it. She knows she does.

“Can you make it dreamless?” she whispers.

“It doesn’t always work, but I can try,” he tells her.

She nods. “When I finish the chocolate.”

“Of course.”

---------------------------

Everyone’s careful around her for days. The whole decision to be nicer doesn’t mean anything when she’s walking about in a daze of too few emotions, drained of everything she could feel in favor of a grey cloud of fluff in everything she does.

She does forms. Single saber and Jar’kai. Ataru and Djem so and Soresu. Reverse grip, regular grip, partial reverse on either side.

Again. Again. Again.

She loses herself in the motions, not meditating so much as just empty.

Rex worries. Fett worries. Vos worries.

Leia and Tholme keep their shields locked up tight, and she doesn’t know how they feel. She thinks Leia might be judging her. She think Tholme might be pitying.

Maul simply hates. It’s an old and familiar sensation to walk into, and she takes unthinking comfort in his rage. She’s silent instead of snippy, when she plays the role of guard, and they stare at each other in silence. His eyes burn, and she wonders how much he’s heard of her nightmares.

“You need to talk,” Rex tells her, when he finds her with a cold cup of caff, eyes fixed somewhere beyond it all. She lifts her head. “Soka.”

She just stares at him.

He sighs and pulls her into a hug. “Commander, please.”

She can’t.

Ahsoka stares at the wall behind him, resting her chin on his head. Her neck itches under the lek at the back of her head, a little tingle of a feeling that she can’t bring herself to do anything about. The pale light of the galley is sharp against the chipped paint of the metal that surrounds them. It hurts her eyes to look, but it’s not the deep and dark lit only by red--

Then you will die, her memory growls.

She flinches.

“Breathe,” Rex tells her, too-small hands clinging at her back. “Just breathe, ‘Soka.”

She curls in tighter and tries to just breathe.

---------------------------

“Tell me something good.”

Ahsoka blinks. She looks at Leia. She doesn’t have the energy to parse that.

Leia chances a look at Rex, who isn’t leaving Ahsoka’s side any more than he has to, and Fett on the other side. Tholme’s asleep and Quin’s on Baby Sith duty. It’s just people who know, right now.

The little girl across the table, the child senator, the spy, purses her lips and huffs in irritation. “You knew my biological father before he became one of the worst people in the galaxy. Both of you did. Tell me something good about him.”

Good things.

About Anakin.

“You fought a war as a Jedi,” Leia prompts. “Surely you must have done some good things with him, or at least thought you were.”

Did they?

Every mission ended in tragedy or was just a ploy of Palpatine’s. Every saved life was just...

Wait.

“He built Threepio,” she finally says. “Your father wi--I mean, Bail wiped Threepio’s memory after the Empire rose, for your safety, but Anakin was the one who built him.”

Leia sits up, eyes brighter. “I didn’t know that. I... was Artoo involved? Did he build R2D2, or...”

“No,” Rex says, “But Artoo was his favorite astromech, and they always pushed each other into stupid stunts. We risked a hell of a lot to save that droid, more than once, and I didn’t find out until you started working with the Rebellion full-time, but Artoo and Threepio were the witnesses for your bio-parents’ wedding.”

Leia gapes at him. So does Ahsoka. (Fett doesn’t know enough to care.)

Rex grins, and if it looks a little forced, that’s fine. “He had a holo recording. I was one of the few people left that knew about the marriage that might have wanted to see, so Artoo offered. It was... sweet.”

He waits, probably for Ahsoka to add something herself, but she has nothing.

“I think that’s when they swapped droids, since Threepio was more useful to a politician and Artoo did his best work when we set him loose on the enemy.”

“He never changed,” Leia muses. “Did he always swear that much?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka answers, as Rex laughs. “Always. All the binary I learned started with the best swears.”

She tries to think of another good memory, something else that Leia might appreciate. Her mind ticks back to saving Stinky, which is just a terrible option, because that mission started with Hutts and ended with the Battle of Teth. That massive loss of life, all for the son of the creature that had put Leia in chains.

She wonders if she has anything in her memory that doesn’t end in blood and graves.

“Soka.” Rex.

“Hm?”

“Remember that time Fives and Echo got lost in the undercity their first time on leave, and we had to get the General to help us find them?”

She does.

He’s right, that’s a good story.

“Okay, so what you have to understand,” Ahsoka says, already digging the faint details out and dusting them off, “is that these boys were ARC troopers, top-notch, terrifyingly competent once they got through specialty training, and loyal as hell. Echo had memorized the reg manuals front to back, and Fives was... well, Fives ended up being the only person to figure out the chips before they went into action. Point is, the Domino twins were good... eventually. Just like everyone else, though, they started out shiny.”

---------------------------

“Tholme’s hiding something.”

Ahsoka wonders if Leia will just leave if she ignores her enough. Probably not. This was the girl that got kicked out of boarding school for leading a sit-in at age seven. She’s got patience.

“His job requires him to hide a lot of things,” Ahsoka says instead. “Not as many as Vos will have to, eventually, but a lot.”

“He’s hiding something from us,” Leia insists, visibly frustrated that Ahsoka isn’t as upset about this as she is. “Something important.”

The way she says ‘important’ is clumsy and impacted by the missing baby tooth. She can’t say the r. It comes out as ‘im-poh-ten,’ which is adorable, and if Ahsoka comments on it, she’s probably going to get punched by a six-year-old.

“The Force doesn’t care,” Ahsoka says. “I trust his intentions, if not him as a person.”

“If you don’t trust him, then why trust his intentions?”

“Leia, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I trust one and a half people in the galaxy,” Ahsoka points out. “Me not trusting a person isn’t a sign of anything except my paranoia. The only person I trust fully and without reservation is Rex. Even you, I only mostly trust, because my brain starts screaming if I think too hard. That’s why you’re the half.”

“Okay, whatever, paranoia aside,” Leia barrels on, “He should tell us. Whatever it is that he’s hiding, we deserve to know. We’re not children that he can just hide things from for our own good.”

Ahsoka presses her lips together. “Leia. Princess. I know you’re used to holding all the cards--”

“This isn’t about me being a control freak!”

“It is, though,” Ahsoka soothes, and smiles. “Your mother--the bio one--was the same way. You spent years as one of the leaders of the Rebellion, so obviously you’re used to having all the information, and people reporting to you... but Tholme is a Jedi Master. He reports to the Council and the Republic. Do you know how many people I kept secrets from while I was a padawan? We’re an unknown, Leia. They have no proof that we’re on their side, especially since we’re traveling with Fett.”

Leia crosses her arms and glares as hard as she can.

“I’m not going to bother him,” Ahsoka says. “I’ve already had, like, five unrelated mental breakdowns. I’m putting this on hold until we get to the Temple and I can trust that there’s a healer on hand to sedate me or something.”

“You... want to be sedated?”

“Leia, this... really should be obvious, but a Force-Sensitive losing their osik the way I have been isn’t actually safe. I know I broke a weapons rack last week.” Ahsoka gestures vaguely. “If the Jedi Master isn’t telling me something for reasons that might relate to my clear and obvious mental instability, I’m going to assume he’s got a point.”

“So he should tell me or Rex.”

“We’ll be on Coruscant in four days,” Ahsoka soothes. “Just... let it be. They won’t hurt us.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “I don’t have to. The Force leads me in all things, including this.”

Leia isn’t impressed by that, but Leia isn’t impressed by much in the first place.

She strides off in a fit that is, perhaps, more influenced by her six-year-old emotional control than she’d like to admit. Ahsoka lets her. It’s not worth the argument.

It’s only a few minutes later that Fett strides in, takes the seat Leia was just in, and asks, “What would it take for you to teach me how to use a jetii’kad?”

She blinks at him. “You want to learn how to use a lightsaber?”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Viszla.”

“I see.”

She does.

Ahsoka taps her fingers against the table, eyeing him with the kind of interest she copied from Master Kenobi, years ago. Fett doesn’t fidget, but she thinks he might want to. He just looks back, waiting for her judgement.

“You’ll need to justify it,” she finally says. “It’s a significant difference from what you actually did, so I need to know your reasoning for doing it, and your plans for once it’s done.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s step one,” she corrects. She tilts her head, considering. “My standards for you aren’t built in a vacuum, and you know that. Explain to me what you plan to do and how you plan to do it, and if I approve...”

“You’ll help me achieve it.”

“Maybe,” she allows. “A lot of that depends on Rex.”

“I expected as much,” Fett says. “He is... an admittedly large part of the reason.”

“He would be,” she says. She gives the silence a few more seconds to sit awkwardly between them, and then stands up. “I’d guess you’ve been brainstorming already. Do you have it written down or is it mostly just in your head so far?”

“I’m still... debating options, so to speak.”

She grins, and the shape of the predator’s smile, the baring of teeth... that almost makes him step back. She can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Smart man.

“Follow me,” she says, and doesn’t wait for him to stand. She strides out with tooka-light steps, hears the heavy beskar tread behind her, and goes to the cargo hold. Fett’s confusion grows tangibly behind her, especially when she tosses him a wooden quarterstaff. She picks up the other and spins it in one hand.

“You’re going to fight me,” she tells him, stretching and letting the staff help with the process. “And while we fight, you’re going to tell me what your plans for Mandalore are.”

He mimics her, but there’s a frown on his face. “And why staffs?”

“You and I, we’ve only sparred bare-handed,” she says. “I need a feel for how you fight with a weapon anyway. These are a good start.”

“Not the beskad?”

She grins, and the twitch is back. “No. That can wait. We start with the staffs.”

He takes a stance, and she mirrors him. She lets him strike first with a weapon, but she’s the one that asks all the questions.

(He is the only one on the ship that can fight her one-on-one right now, and he can win. Still, she makes him work for every inch, and what she doesn’t win in bruises, she wins in words.)

(Fett might yet be a proper Mand’alor, but Ahsoka learned war from her brothers, negotiation at the knee of a general and in the shadow of a prince, and government at the side of duchesses and queens.)

(If he wants her help uniting his people, he needs to prove that he can hold them together once she’s gone.)

---------------------------

Ahsoka’s interrogation of Jango’s plans is thorough, and she’s not the only one involved. She brings Leia in, and has her join in on the grilling. She maybe laughs as the twenty-seven-year-old survivor of Galidraan, the Mand’alor, a man who has killed Master Jedi with his bare hands, gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly.

Still, Leia knows this better than any of the rest of them do. The girl might have grown up heir to a monarchy, but she got a classical education and was drilled on democracy and all associated forms of government. Where Ahsoka knows military protocol and law enforcement, intersystem relations and defensive measures, Leia knows agricultural subsidies and welfare programs, infrastructure and education.

Ahsoka may know how to find out if someone’s breaking a zoning law, but Leia knows why it exists in the first place.

“And I grew up in a cult,” Rex says, when an argument on that topic breaks out. Everyone that hasn’t heard the joke-that-isn’t-a-joke stares at him. “The Jedi grew up in a religious meritocracy; Leia grew up in a monarchy; and I grew up in a cult.”

Ahsoka elbows him. He’s not wrong, but still.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is about forty-seven percent sure that Leia will put her foot in her mouth when it comes to Mandalorian culture, blunt as the girl is. That prefrontal cortex isn’t anywhere near as developed as it should be, either, so impulse control for the princess isn’t great. Ahsoka refuses to let Leia and Fett talk about ways to mend the breaks between tradition and the pacifism of the New Mandalorians without either Rex or Ahsoka herself as a mediating presence. Tholme sits in a few times, but while he knows that Leia isn’t really six--though not about the time-travel, yet--Quinlan doesn’t.

They admittedly end up doing this while he’s on Maul-sitting duty.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care about making nice with the people that, at this point, make up the majority of his people!” Leia grumbles one night, as Ahsoka kicks over a step stool so the girl can brush her teeth. “He may not like the New Mandalorians, but from what I understand, it’s still early enough to prevent the majority of the cultural bleaching you brought up. If he stays this stubborn--”

“Leia,” Ahsoka says, and the girl’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m aware of your reasons for not trusting his intentions. But if I may say? Chill.”

“He’s not even trying!”

“He’s trying a hell of a lot harder than he did in the original timeline,” Ahsoka reminds her. “Brush your teeth.”

“I’m not a--”

“Teeth.”

It’s a little worrying, how the child’s brain affects Leia, but... well. That’ll pass in time, hopefully. Until then, Ahsoka gets to be the aunt she should have been. This includes tucking Leia in, which the girl grumbles about despite the fond waves of comfort that enter the Force around her. Ahsoka doesn’t call her out on it, just brushes back wisps of hair to plant a kiss on Leia’s forehead, and then does the same once Rex stumbles in, grumbling about the limitations of a cadet’s body, but far more ready to follow the protocol that is bedtime.

Rex doesn’t pretend to not like getting tucked in, for all that he’s sharing with a grumbly, already-asleep princess. He smiles up at Ahsoka, lets her hug him, and pretends they can be a normal family for five seconds.

Quinlan’s making a late night snack for himself in the galley. Tholme is guarding the Baby Sith. Fett...

Ahsoka goes to the cockpit, takes the copilot’s seat, and watches hyperspace pass them by.

It takes long minutes before either of them say anything.

“Do Jedi believe in souls?”

His shields are up, locked up tighter than the innermost chambers of the Imperial Palace. She has no idea where he’s taking this question. She has to cast about for an answer.

“That depends on how you define a soul,” she finally says. “Leia told me about Force Ghosts. A Jedi Master who underwent the right meditations and training could pass into the Force upon their death without losing their sense of self. They could remain themselves, to an extent, and interact with force-sensitive individuals. I don’t know if they could last that way indefinitely, but depending on your definition, I could argue those ghosts were evidence of a form of soul.”

“So you believe that the dead pass into the Force, but that what passes could be a soul. Something must exist for a sense of self to disappear at death in a way that impacts the Force as you understand it, and many would use the word ‘soul’ for that something.”

“Mm,” Ahsoka considers it. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“What about those not yet born?”

Her fingers feel cold, and she finds herself no longer able to watch the passage of hyperspace as passively as she had, and her eyes catch on streaks and motes of what is not dust, her vision unable to keep any more still than her heart.

“Oh,” she hears herself say. “The clones.”

It’s a long time before he answers, but the walls come down. He carries a confused sort of grief with him, guilty and a mite resentful. His questions have been building for longer than she’d thought. His voice is rough. “I’ve taken plenty of lives, but I’ve never known the name of someone I erased from existence before they were even born.”

“The stories we told Leia about the brothers.”

There’s a grunt of agreement from Fett, so those dots at least connect.

“I take it my answer wasn’t helpful,” she manages to say.

“Will they still exist?” Fett asks. “Will they be born elsewhere? Or is... is a soul something that only comes into existence after the body does?”

“I have no idea,” Ahsoka admits. “I want... I want to think that I’d be able to find them eventually, to recognize them, if their souls are still born into this world elsewhere.”

“And if your Sith finds someone else to build his army out of?”

Ahsoka looks at him, sharp and pointed. “You wouldn’t.”

“They’ll be doing it anyway, if their plans are as ironclad as you say.”

“You’re already associating with Jedi,” Ahsoka says, fighting the urge to break his nose. “They wouldn’t approach you, not now. They can’t leverage your anger against you. They won’t know everything, but they’ll know that you have friends among the Jedi.”

“You think they can’t come up with better lies?”

He has a point. He has more than one point and she hate hate hates it.

A Jedi does not hate.

I am no Jedi.

“You’re going to have to convince me,” she says. “Especially if you want to somehow balance this with the darksaber thing. I won’t teach you how to fight with it if you’re not planning to retake Mandalore.”

“That’s how they’d sell it,” he says. “Retaking Mandalore. An army ostensibly for the Jedi, and ultimately...”

“You’d build an army of slaves.”

“No, I’d be the inside man for when they build that army anyway.”

She holds his gaze. She looks away first.

“Torrent?”

“I’m thinking.”

He lets her.

“I’ll need to talk to Rex. Probably Leia.”

“Understandable.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m only just considering it. It’s an idea, not a plan.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t ripped your throat out with my teeth.”

“Hyperbole doesn’t suit you.”

She glares at him, and leaves, her mind chopping up and laying out every possible angle on Fett volunteering to do the exact same thing as last time, but somehow worse.

Great. Just what she needed.

---------------------------

Ahsoka isn’t there for the shouting match between Rex and Fett, but she doesn’t have to be. She can hear it form clear across the ship, and Rex comes to her afterwars. He’s been crying, which isn’t as surprising as it could be. These bodies are still prone to such things, and will be for years. She doesn’t comment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“We need to take out Sidious before he starts anything on Kamino.”

“Agreed,” she says. “It’ll be hard, though.”

“I don’t care.”

“What did Fett say?”

“That if it wasn’t going to be my brothers, it would be someone else’s. Either we stopped the cloning from happening at all, or we mitigated damage by being there.”

“I don’t think Sidious is going to tap him for it,” Ahsoka admits. “Not unless you’re willing to stage that kind of fight publicly enough for Fett to claim the Jedi poisoned you, family, against him. It could work, but it’s a gamble.”

He knows all of this.

“I miss them,” he says, and she cards her fingers though the curls he’s managed to grow in the past weeks. “I just... even at the end, I had Wolffe. I knew Boba was out there; I wouldn’t be surprised if the beskar let him survive a Sarlacc. I had brothers. Not as many as I used to, but there was always someone. I miss them all, so much it hurts.”

“It wouldn’t be them,” she reminds him. She pulls him closer, puts her cheek to his head. “It would be the same process, the same faces, the same training, even, but the boys themselves...”

He clings to her and shudders.

“Rex?”

“I can’t force them to grow up the way I did. I want them back. Sidious is going to make the army no matter what. Someone’s going to suffer, and I don’t want it to be my brothers, but they won’t exist otherwise, and...”

“And it’s an impossible choice,” she summarizes. “And it sucks.”

“It’s sucks Gungan balls, ‘Soka.”

She laughs, and feels him smile against her shoulder. Good. He needs to smile more.

“He’s still trying to get me to like him,” Rex says. "He’s still making an effort, and he never did that for anyone except Boba, and it’s weird. I don’t know what to do with any of that.”

“Gain a brother,” Ahsoka whispers, and she feels him jerk against her. “If that’s what you want.”

“He’s not vod.”

“Same blood as all the rest, and you’re older than him, so he’s not really in a position to be a parent to you like he was to Boba,” she says carefully. “You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to, but... I think he’s trying. I think this means a lot to him, and that he isn’t any more sure of what to do than you are. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did in the future, you don’t have to accept when he reaches out, you don’t have to ever talk to him again after we reach Coruscant if you don’t want, but I think... I think it’s worth at least considering what you have to gain. I think it’s worth looking at what he’s trying to give you.”

Rex huffs. “Why couldn’t he just be the shabuir I knew in training?”

“Something happened between now and then?” she offers. “I don’t know. I never met him in the original timeline. I just know the guy that keeps trying to get on my good side so you’ll like him.”

He outright scoffs. “Soka, that’s not the only reason he’s trying to get on your good side.”

“...I’m a former Jedi who talks trash to his face,” she says slowly. “And I cried on him. There is no reason for him to be nice to me, other than you.”

“He thinks you’re cool and a good person and wants you to be his friend.”

“Bantha poodoo.”

Rex grins in a way that goes straight to smirking. “Soka, I’m not joking. Jango Fett wants you to be his friend.”

“Kriffing why?” she asks, more than a little horrified. “I’m a mess, look like I’m ten years younger than him, have gleefully kicked his ass in front of an audience; I even told Vos to throw him at a baby Sith Lord. Putting up with me is one thing, but I’m... I’m only barely not a Jedi. I’m a historical enemy of Mandalore, and part of the community he hates more than anything, and--”

“And his reaction to you kicking his ass was pure Mando,” Rex says. “In that he now thinks you’re a badass, and thus worth being friends with.”

“I can’t believe that. I physically cannot.”

“Soka, just accept it. The Mand’alor wants to be friends with you.” He scratches at his scalp. “I mean, he met you while you were protecting what appeared to be children, and it’s apparently still early enough for him to care about that.”

She leans back in her seat, eyes on the wall ahead of her and back against the cool metal of the other side. Rex falls back with her. She wonders if Rex changed the subject so they didn’t have to talk about deciding how many of his brothers get to exist, and whether or not he can swallow the bitterness of his history to have a connection with at least one member of his blood. She doesn’t ask. If he wants to change the subject, that’s his right.

“I don’t... no.” She denies it as well as she can, and then the implications dig a little deeper. “Is this me accidentally signing up to be the Jedi Order’s official liaison to the Mand’alor?”

“I mean, this point in time... they’ve got Kenobi for the Duchess, yeah?” Rex shrugs. “Good relations with the system are probably a good thing, and you’ve got a stronger connection than Tholme and Vos.”

“Ugh,” she says. She rubs a hand against her head, and then lurches to her feet. “Fine! Fine. If it’ll get him to retake Mandalore before the Sith decide to bribe him with an army he doesn’t get to keep, I’ll teach him how to fight for the kriffin’ Darksaber.”

“That’s what makes the decision for you?”

“Well something had to!”

They only get one lesson in before Coruscant, but the lesson lasts a full day, and Ahsoka’s got his comm number. Fett’s a quick learner anyway, and Tholme was there to give pointers where Ahsoka couldn’t.

He won’t measure up to a Jedi in saber-to-saber combat, but he doesn’t need to. He just needs to learn enough to turn all those skills with a beskad to something that works with a jetii’kad.

(The balance of a saber is wrong to those used to a physical weapon. The inertia doesn’t work the way anyone expects. There’s no need to worry about damaging the blade.)

(Fett is good. Ahsoka is better. And, bless his heart, he knows it.)

(She will mold him into the shape of someone who not only can, but should rule a system with a history like that, and he damn well knows that too.)

---------------------------

“Dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus twenty seconds.”

The Slave I is not, in fact, a Venator-class starship, or anything else near the size and smoothness of the ships that Ahsoka grew up on. This is a bounty hunter’s vessel, and the drop to real space jolts like nothing else. Ahsoka’s in the copilot seat for the return, but Tholme’s going to swap with her as soon as they’ve got confirmation that there were no problems with exiting hyperspace, and nobody’s shooting at them.

“We’re not going to get shot at,” Tholme had assured her.

“I always get shot at,” she’d told him.

“I have our clearance,” he reminded her, seeming more amused than frustrated. “There’s no need to worry about getting shot at.”

“I also always get shot at,” Jango had thrown in.

“Okay,” Tholme had allowed, after several minutes of his trust in the Temple warring against Ahsoka and Jango’s learned paranoia. The looks Quinlan had darted around the room when Leia and Rex also claimed ‘chronic getting-shot-at disease’ had been a treat. The paranoia of a Watchman and a future Shadow was great, but the paranoia of three revolutionaries and a galaxy-wide criminal was greater. “You can take us in close enough to get in radio contact, but the second we have to ask for clearance and a vector, I’m in the seat.”

She’d agreed, of course. She was paranoid, not inexperienced.

“We’re much less likely to get shot down by ground control if you tell them we’re with you,” she’d said, to his hilariously apparent metaphysical exhaustion. “Obviously.”

“Good enough,” he’d sighed.

What that means is mostly just that Ahsoka gets to watch the distant star at the center of Coruscant’s system grow rapidly brighter. She can pick out the constellations she’d grown up with, the stars the creche had projected on the ceiling every night, the ones that she may not have seen from the surface, but had greeted her and then sent her on her way every time she left on yet another campaign that lost her men their lives for a Sith Lord's wretched plans. These were the shapes and stories she’d never seen again as Fulcrum, a woman so hunted that to come within a dozen subsectors of the planet was to court her death.

For sixteen years, she hadn’t ventured closer than Alderaan, save for a single trip to Chandrila.

And now, maybe twenty minutes away at this speed, was the Temple. It was home.

A home that didn’t know her, that had sentenced her to death, that had hosted the rampage of her former master... but home nonetheless.

“Stable?” Fett grunts.

“Thrusters are good,” she confirms.

“I meant you.”

Ah. “I’m... fine. As good as I could be, anyway.”

She hesitates, but manages to speak before he does. “You?”

“I’m not the one walking into an entire building of triggers.”

“Only because you’re not entering it,” she says. “It’s the home of your ancestral enemies who, bad info or no, killed off a whole lot of your friends.”

“I get to leave,” he says. “You don’t.”

She plans to needle him a bit more, maybe on something a little less based in both their traumas. She needs to talk, if only to fill up the silence and keep herself from reaching out to all the lights in the Force. It’ll be too much, she knows.

Tholme enters the cockpit. “Change of plans.”

“Better be a good reason,” Jango says, voice flat.

“Leia’s crying.”

Ahsoka’s unbuckling herself before she can process the words fully. “What?”

Leia doesn’t cry for no reason. Her emotional control is as difficult as the body makes it, but she doesn’t just cry. There’s always a cause.

“I don’t know. Rex said to get you,” Tholme explains. “She was saying a name. He seemed to recognize it.”

Not good not good not good. If Leia was feeling the Emper--No. She cuts the thought off there. No catastrophizing. Information first.

“What name.”

“Luke. Mean anything to--and she’s gone.”

Ahsoka ignores him, just sprints to where she knows the ‘young ones’ are. They’re all in Maul’s room, because nobody wants to be alone with him now, but it’s the worst time to leave him without supervision. It’s not the worst option; he mostly refuses to talk, still.

This holds true, because he definitely isn’t talking when she bursts in. He’s sitting on the bench, in a corner, hugging his knees and watching Quinlan try to calm Leia down.

“Captain, sitrep.”

“Vos and Tholme attempted to show Leia how to reach out to feel the Temple from a distance. They felt that it would be a good use of the time, and an interesting exercise at this distance. She attempted to do so, struggled for several minutes, and then reacted with shock. She has repeated the name ‘Luke’ several times since then, and we’ve been unable to fully calm her down. I asked Tholme to get you, as you are the only Force-Sensitive on board that understands the situation in full.”

“Understood.” She nods to him, and then goes to nudge at Quinlan. “Vos, move.”

“Torre--”

“You can sit behind her, hold her in your lap like you did when we had lunch the other day, but I need to get in her face.” She waits for him to comply, and then drops to her knees and takes Leia’s hands in her own. She radiates calm and assurance, even though she knows Quinlan’s probably been doing the same since this started. She dips her head enough to get in the girl’s line of sight, waits for her to meet eyes.

“Princess,” she says, and meets Leia’s eyes. “What did you feel?”

“Luke.”

From this distance... they’ve got half the system to go, at least, and Leia’s training shouldn’t reach that far for anything more than the fact that the Temple is there. Ahsoka could feel unshielded individuals from here, if she focused, but she’s also been doing this much, much longer. The twins theory holds more water than ever.

“Can you show me?” Ahsoka asks, instead of asking for more clarification. She squeezes Leia’s hands and smiles. “In the Force?”

Leia nods, and closes her eyes. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but it’s the first time in a while that Leia’s needed Ahsoka to guide her through.

Luke’s light, for all that it’s unfamiliar to Ahsoka, is brilliant among the rest of the signatures in Coruscant. Like Anakin and Leia, he’s a star in his own right, but he’s brighter. He doesn’t have Anakin’s bitterness or Leia’s righteous anger, just... light. Ahsoka had asked Leia to show her instead of looking for herself because she’d expected to not recognize the boy, but she needn’t have. He’s unmistakable.

He’s so bright that she almost misses the other signature that she does recognize. She shies away, knowing that it would be there, but... but it’s almost twinned with another nearby. Not identical, but different in a way that comes with age, with trauma, with... death.

Leia hadn’t arrived alone, after all.

Why would Luke?

Her eyes snap open, her hand coming up not-quite-fast enough to clap over her mouth as she gasps. She feels a shudder, one that starts in her shoulders and reaches deep into her ribcage, finds a home in her chest and doesn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” Quinlan whispers. “Torrent? Um, Sokari?”

Rex steps closer. “Commander?”

“That shabuir faked his death again,” she manages. “Three times, Rex!”

He blinks at her. “...I know way too many people who fit that description, Soka.”

“Master Ke--” she cuts herself off. He might have changed his name, just like she had. There’s already an Obi-Wan here. Rex seems to be figuring it out, but she needs to give him another hint.

“He pulled a Hardeen,” she stresses, and Rex’s eyes snap shut with a tired groan.

“Who?” Leia asks, her own tumult of emotion paused in the wake of Ahsoka’s shock. There’s a hope and relief to her, and Ahsoka belatedly realizes that her main worry had been that she’d misidentified what was going on, that she’d given herself a false hope. Ahsoka’s internal reaction, her approval and awe at Luke’s presence, had trickled over enough to give Leia the reassurance she’d needed.

Unintentional as it was, Ahsoka was glad that she’d succeeded in helping her charge.

“Er...” she trails off. “I don’t know what name he’s going by, right now. We’ve spent so long in hiding...”

“The man Luke knew as Crazy Old Ben,” Rex says, and Leia’s eyes light up.

“Oh,” she breathes. “General O--no, names. The High General, then.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka says, not a little soft. “Yeah, I guess death didn’t stop him any more than it stopped me.”

“I could have told you that,” Leia says, smiling far too widely. She squirms where she still sits on Quinlan’s lap. “He was... he taught you, right?”

“As much my master as the official one,” Ahsoka says. She glances as Quinlan, feels Maul’s gaze on the back of her head. “Your f... my official master was very young when I was assigned to him. He wasn’t ready to teach, wasn’t even ready to be a knight, entirely, so my training was split between him and his master.”

Quinlan pops in at that moment, “Your grandmaster was military, too?”

We all were, she thinks. Even you, in your own way.

“I landed in their care mid-battle,” she says carefully. “It was a complicated situation.”

He nods, and she vaguely notes that he’s got his arms wrapped around Leia, and his chin tucked on top of her head. She isn’t sure if Leia’s noticed, but Quinlan’s picked up ‘baby’-sitting duty so often recently that she’s fairly certain he’s all but declared her ‘little-sister shaped.’ It doesn’t matter that Leia’s older--she’s still taking the juice boxes and gummy snacks that Quinlan shoves at her every single snacktime.

“Do you think...” Rex trails off, something uncomfortable twisting in the Force, even though his face keeps it mostly hidden. “My brothers. If the General survived and... and made it back...”

“I didn’t feel any,” Ahsoka says, because she knows she’d have noticed if it was anyone she’d met, and likely any clone at all. They all felt different in the Force, but they all held a spark that made her know it was one of them. “I’m sorry, Rex’ika.”

“A long shot,” he says, that dash of hope shriveling up. He must see something in her face, because there’s a curl of warmth in him, even if his smile is brittle. “It’s fine, really. I have you, ‘Soka.”

Rex and Ahsoka. Two halves of one whole.

She can’t wait to hear the lectures on attachment, the way people who haven’t seen her wars try to criticize her for clinging to any chance at still having a will to live. She can’t wait to see them justify telling her that it’s selfish to hold her sanity in her hands and refuse to let the grief take it away. She can’t wait to stare someone down for asking her to ‘learn to let go’ after she’s lost her family, her life, her universe three times over.

Most of the Jedi are more sensible than that, are reasonable enough to see those shades of grey and how to approach rules in the spirit they are meant instead of the rigid letter, but there will be some.

There will be more than enough telling her she is wrong to hold her oldest, closest, best friend as dear as she can.

Attachment, they’ll say.

What they’ll mean is ‘codepedence.’

They won’t be entirely wrong.

She reaches out for him, lets him fall into her side and stay there, closes her eyes and reaches out for the man she’d long called father, when they’d still been in each other’s lives.

This time, past the deafening flare of surprise-love-hope of the little star next to him, she can feel him reach back.

---------------------------

The second the ship has landed, even before Tholme and Fett are done with the checks, Ahsoka’s waiting at the exit. She strains her hearing so she’ll know the second the system will let her open the massive door of the cargo hold.

Leia clings to her side, and the boys stand to her back.

Quinlan’s stressed enough that she can feel it like a cloud. She is very much not trying to feel that stress. Quinlan’s stress levels, back where he’s got Maul so he can keep an eye on Ahsoka and the Baby Sith at the same time, are so low on her priorities list that it’s a a little sad.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to punch the button and open the damn door.

It opens slowly. She bounces on her toes, because there’s a beacon of light and a steady, familiar glow on the other side, and she’s so, so close. She can’t see through the crack yet, because it’s day in this part of Coruscant, and the sunlight is blinding against the dark of the hold. So close. She’s so close.

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

Fett? Fett. He’s already here to get off? This door’s slow.

She doesn’t answer him, because the door is finally open enough to let her out, and she leaps through the gap.

She lands on a pourstone floor, feels pebbles and grit compress under her boots, frantically looks around as her eyes adjust to light and--

The High General, the Negotiator, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking just as he did when she first met him, if a little less armored and a little more fed. The hair, the beard, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. His spirit is a little older, his smile a little more strained, his posture a little more tired, but it’s him.

He spreads his arms, low enough that she could have dismissed it if she’d cared less for hugs, except she’s almost as small as she was when they met.

And every other hug she’d given back then had been, functionally, her being a living missile aiming her montrals for someone’s organs.

She’s a little more aware of how to avoid stabbing her friends in the intestine now.

“Master!”

She sprints for him, collides and sobs, feels him stumble back and then sink to his knees on the too-hard floor, and can feel the tears pouring out of her already. Her breath hitches, and she wails like a child, and that last part of her that couldn’t even grasp at safety shreds itself. His arms are tight around her, warm and strong and Master Kenobi don’t you dare leave again.

It doesn’t matter that Sidious is out there, that the Republic’s been building towards war for a century, that even now someone’s kicking up the Trade Federation. Her dad is here.

“I’ve missed you too, my dear,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, the bristles of his beard scratching along the skin of her forehead. Off to the side, the binary suns that are Luke and Leia grow brighter in proximity, so bright she can barely bear it.

(“Fett, why the kriff are you reaching for your blaster?!”)

(“Torrent said her master tried to kill her.”)

(“Different guy, that was a different guy, put the blaster away.”)

(“You could have just warned me.”)

(“I didn’t expect you to go for a shot on sight!”)

(”Calm down, Jetiika, if I was going to shoot on sight, we’d already be in a firefight.”)

She ignores everything.

“If you fake your death one more time, I swear I’m going to kill you myself.”

He tries to pull away to talk to her more directly. She does not let him. He apparently resigns himself to this, because he just adjusts how he’s sitting and pulls her in closer.

“In my defense, I was far from the only one presumed dead that took advantage of that status, by the end,” he says, letting her slump into his lap and cry herself dry. “I’m proud of you. You know that, I hope.”

She nods against his chest, smearing tears and snot across the linen and wool. She doesn’t care that they’ll need a thorough washing. She can have her public breakdown and it’s fine because Master Kenobi is here.

He doesn’t even know what she’s spent the past fifteen years doing. Luke wouldn’t have known. He doesn’t know she’s thirty-two and broken, beyond a shadow and cut down by her own master. There’s so much he doesn’t know but the Force rings with the truth of it: he’s proud of her anyway.

“I’m going by Ben, now,” he mutters against her montral. “There’s already an Obi-Wan here, after all. Still, I remain a Kenobi.”

She can’t make the words come out of her mouth. She’s overwhelmed, so much so that speech is a mite bit beyond her.

Sokari Torrent, she presses along the frayed bond that’s knitting itself back to life with every breath they take. Leia was already calling me Auntie Soka, and Rex and I both took Torrent, for...

“For the men you lost,” he mutters. “Yes, that’s fitting.”

He smells like sapir tea and a spiced beard oil.

There’s a whirl of activity about her, greetings and ‘a Sith apprentice?’ and introductions. She distantly notes when Fett almost shoots Dooku before Rex shuts that down and advises the Master to leave the area before things spiral out of control. She feels Ben stand, and she stands with him, clings to his side like a child and trusts that whatever happens, whatever needs to happen, he’ll take care of it until she can stand on her own two feet without swaying.

Rex grabs her free hand, and she feels herself settle back into her skin, bit by bit.

She’s back at the Temple. The twins are safe. Her grandmaster is here. She has her other half.

They can save the galaxy this time.

She’s alive she’s home she’s okay.

She’s okay.

Everything’s going to be okay.

[achoonihaachu]

So the ask with glass blind mc got me thinking.. so do you know kaycee tweevil from the bratz? (She's the on with the nose bandage). I thought it would be funny if before the devil dom mc got a nose job but keeps hurting their healing nose. How would the brothers or maybe the dateables react?

Brothers React to an MC with a Nose Job that Never Heals

a/n: I don't actually know Kaycee Tweevil (my mom never let me watch Bratz </33) but i searched her up and i love this request sm it's so fun :DD I hope you like it!

warnings: a bit of cursing, mentions of insecurities, belphie's a little shit but we love him :), not proofread </33

Lucifer:

Lucifer is definitely a bit judgemental when it comes to plastic surgery but not in a rude way; He's the type to be like, "Oh? You did that? Why? You looked fine before?" then when you answer him, he'd leave it at that and walk away.

He's the Avatar of Pride, he's the type to remind you to take pride in what you have and who you are. He comes off as cocky almost all the time but he works wonders with your self-esteem.

He's surprised to find out that you've had work done before you came to the Devildom— He had pictures of you from before the surgeries (Don't ask him, ask Barbatos), and he thinks your nose was fine!

Was it really that bad that you had to get plastic surgery done?

Well, as long as you were happy and took pride in your current look, he didn't mind.

What he did mind, though, was the fact that you were so accident prone.

You were always getting hurt one way or another and your nose never gets the chance to heal.

He sees you more often than not wincing and fanning away the tears in your eyes because you've managed to fit your face against something or other and your nose faced the brunt of the pain.

Lucifer watched you laugh away with Mammon and his idiot brother, so unaware of his surroundings as always, shoots his hand out and he manages to hit you square in the nose where you cute little bandages were.

He sighs inwardly and rushes over as you double over in pain.

He’s part of the “Let MC’s Nose Heal” squad.

He’s the makeshift president because honestly, he did not want you to get anymore surgeries because you officially broke your nose or something.

He’s so used to you hurting your nose that he’s actually learnt certain spells that would work in a way that once he chants the incantation, an icepack would start floating in front of you.

He watches over you but he’d never let you know the full extent of how much he’s MC-proofed the house to avoid any nasty mishaps with you accidentally breaking your nose.

(He’s enchanted the cabinets to move slower to make sure that you aren’t smacked in the face…)

Mammon:

Mammon’s the model in the family so he knows a lot about the beauty standards, both in the Devildom and in the human realm. He knows that people put a lot of emphasis on the “Golden Ratio” so he was pretty understanding of why you got-… wait you had four separate nose surgeries?!

Also, Mammon only knows what the “Golden Ratio” is because he thought the name of it was enticing because… well, he’s the Avatar of Greed! Anything connected to gold or Grimm or jewels caught his attention.

Anyways, Mammon was definitely a little surprised to find out that you had gotten multiple surgeries done; I mean, he didn’t really care but really, MC? You coulda given him the money you used for your surgeries! I mean- you could’ve saved money, yeah… Definitely… Well, he tried peeling the bandages off your nose when you told him about the different surgeries you underwent and that resulted in you punching him in the face because he tugged too hard and it really hurt the tender area of your nose.

For a solid week or two, you two had matching nose bandages.

That’s when he came to the realization that your nose was most likely never going to heal for the duration of your stay in the Devildom.

You were always dropping your D.D.D or gaming consoles square on your sniffer! You’d accidentally smack yourself in the face with books or paper and…

Well, at least you looked quite adorable with the nose bandages?

He means well but he’s absolutely awful at tending to your nose whenever you manage to hurt yourself again-

He’d always end up with a bloody nose or bruises on his arms because he’d always end up hurting you more and you’d always exact your revenge on him immediately.

Mammon would also be the type to accidentally hurt your nose and run away before you could even start yelling at him because he knows the minute that you start getting mad, the “Let MC’s Nose Heal” squad will be on his ass in a millisecond.

Leviathan:

Levi… Bless his heart, but he genuinely thought that your nose bandages were a fashion statement. I mean, he thinks you’re extremely attractive and perfect and incapable of feeling insecure or unworthy like him.

I mean, he’s a weird, gross, annoying otaku… and you’re MC. Sigh.

He was genuinely shell shocked to find out that you were quite insecure about your nose in particular, to the point that you’d get plastic surgery, and in a way, he felt much more connected to you because he could feel the waves of envy and insecurity roll off of you when you showed him pictures of the human celebrities you idolized and you’d always zoom into their noses without fail.

He sympathized with you because he knew what it felt like to want to look a certain way and he knew that some people just decide to take that big leap to change their physical appearances to find happiness and confidence.

Now, the injuries…

He’s such a worrywart, even more than Lucifer or Beel!

He’s like a helicopter dad when you’re at home… when you’re out in public though, he’d keep a good distance but he’d still watch out for you!

He’s this close to just grabbing your hand to just pull you away and basically keep you away from anything that could be potentially dangerous but he couldn’t do that! You were too much of a high level boss! He needed to build up his stats before he could even consider doing anything of the sort.

Levi’s definitely part of the “Let MC’s Nose Heal” Squad. In fact, he founded the club and started recruiting his brothers. He didn’t want the responsibility of being president though so he acts like a secretary of sorts who takes note of how many times you hurt your nose in a week.

He’s surprisingly quite good with his hands… What I mean by that is he’s incredibly gentle with your nose! Not like a certain scummy second born who hurts yOU EVERY TIME HE TOUCHES YOU! MAMMON I SWEAR-

He helps you change your nose bandages and reminds you to take care and to always watch out.

Basically, Levi’s perfect :))

(But he’d never believe if u tell him this-)

Satan:

Satan isn’t ever judgemental; he’s always seen as this wrathful, snappy demon who looks like he’d side-eye you for quoting the wrong author for a specific thing but he’s genuinely a pretty gentle, easy-going guy (as long as you don’t piss him the fuck off, which, depending on which side of the bed he woke up that day, could either be easy or a feat in it of itself)

When you two first started talking about why you have nose bandages, he’s curious about your reasons for getting surgery on your nose, how much it cost, the pros and cons of the actual surgery itself.

In short, he’s mostly curious, not mean!

Where he lacks in meanness, he makes up for in passive aggressive comments when you accidentally hurt your nose-

He’s incredibly knowledgeable in many things in the medical field, he’s got probably hundred upon hundreds of medical books and novels that had a plethora of information that would come in handy for you and well… he knows more about nose surgeries than you do after your little talk.

He sees you drop books on your face when you’re reading on the couch in the common room and he’d blink owlishly at you before he shakes his head in a shaming manner as he walks away;

It’s like he’s saying that you wanted to get a bloody nose from dropping your book on your face?

“Oh, what now Satan? You wanna rub my clumsiness in my face some more? >:((“ “I’m just saying, (MC). You’ve got the grace of a baby duck.”

He tends to your injuries quite well, maybe a bit better than Levi due to his unending knowledge about anything and everything; he’s the type to do full on medical checkups to ensure that you didn’t have a concussion or something.

Basically, Satan and Lucifer react in similar ways when they see you not let your nose heal, much to the dismay of the fourth-born.

Satan’s just a lot more chill about it compared to his dad-bro.

Asmodeus:

Asmodeus has lip fillers and botox, I can feel it in my bones. Not that he needs it, he just got them done when his succubi friends asked him to join them during a little trip.

As the most beautiful creature in all of the three realms, he doesn’t need cosmetic surgeries done on himself because all he needs to do is his extremely long skincare routine and he looks like a million dollars.

When he first looked at your nose bandages and all-too perfect button nose, he immediately knew you had surgery and he was extremely accepting about it!

So what if you got surgery?! You were an already perfect human who perfected a feature they had even more.

Asmo is so supportive about everything about you; he hypes you up on days when you feel a little under the weather, he takes you out shopping to put that smile on your face and he never forgets to tell you that he finds you extremely captivating and attractive with or without the surgery.

He’s so supportive to the point that he buys different colored bandages to help you match them to your outfits :((

With all that being said, Asmo is also the helicopter mom to Levi’s helicopter dad vibes.

The fifth-born absolutely despises seeing you hurt and when you accidentally hurt your nose, he especially throws a big tantrum because your nose would never heal if you just keep hurting yourself, intentionally or otherwise!

When he’s the one to catch get hurt, he immediately whisks you away into his room to tend to you and to pamper you.

He does not let you lift even the lightest of makeup brushes!

Asmo covers up any sort of bruising, he’s such a sweetheart and he will not let you get hurt if he has any say in it! >:((

Also, he’s definitely a member of the “Let MC’s Nose Heal” squad and he coordinates who takes care of you on the different days of the week.

(He’s taken Wednesdays for himself because on Wednesdays, we wear pink ;) )

Beelzebub:

Beel doesn’t really understand the concept of cosmetic surgeries… Being the sweetest, most genuine demon you could meet, he does’t understand why someone would want to change te way they look.

Especially you, MC! He thinks you’re perfect so when you told him you had work done on your face before you came to the Devildom, he just tilted his head to the side, a small confused smile on his face as he nodded along to everything you said.

“Beel, I got my nose done back in the human realm.”

“Oh? Did you not have a nose before, (MC)? Were you not able to breathe? D;”

He simply shrugs it off when you explain it further to him; he tells you he likes you just the way you are with a smile before he wanders off to look for food, or Belphie, or both.

He’s understanding in a confused, unsure way but he’d be supportive. :)

When you get hurt though… Angy Beel.

He’s the protector of his family, he’s used to getting physical with potential danger or threats so when he sees your nose all bloody or bruised, he gets tense and his chest puffs up and you have to calm him before he goes full demon form on your D.D.D that fell on your face when you lounged around in your bed.

He’d frown at you when he sees the bandages last longer than you told them they’d last; he’d ask about why you kept hurting yourself on accident but rather than get upset with you, he’d just try to keep you safe from that point on.

He’d also personally hang up Mammon (happily) whenever Lucifer doesn’t have time to do it himself whenever the second-born smacks you on the face by accident or something.

He’d carry you around whenever his arms are free from carrying Belphie and he’d also offer to grab things for you when they’re on the higher shelves because he doesn’t want to risk you dropping cups or plates on your face ._.

An honorary member of the “Let MC’s Nose Heal Squad”

Belphegor:

Ah, this little shit. Where do we even begin? >:((

Well, we all know Belphie’s a bit of a brat. He loves to tease and the worst part of it all is that he knows what pushes your buttons.

He honestly could care less about what you do to your body but he’d say certain things to get you riled up so you two could play wrestle in the attic with Beel after.

“(MC). Hey, (MC).”

“What, Belphie?”

Did you look like Squidward before?”

“You absolute- Wait, how do you even know Squidward-”

As mentioned before, Belphie could care less. Hey, it’s your body, your choices. As long as you didn’t whine to him about your tender nose or the bruising, he’s fine. He gets to tease you no matter what.

Now, if you think Mammon is an absolute nightmare to keep around while you try to heal your nose, Belphie’s so so so much worse.

You and Belphie love to take naps together and he tends to twist and turn in his sleep, whether he does it purposefully or not, no one knows.

While you two nap, he’d hit you in the face with an arm or a pillow and when you wake up, you’d just have a bunch of red hand marks on your face and light bruising near your nose.

He’d say sorry, obviously (Lucifer would throw him into Diavolo’s dungeons if he didn’t), but the very next day he’d do the same thing as you cuddle.

It’d seem that Belphie doesn’t really care but he secretly does care alot.

He makes sure that you don’t accidentally smack yourself in your sleep during the night, he’d check in on you in your dreams and he’d keep the pain at a minimum for you when you press your face into your pillow while you’re asleep.

He’s a sweet little bratty shit and you love him.

Also he’s “Let MC’s Nose Heal” squad’s public enemy number one.

[chocolatecakecas]

Quality Family Time: Baby Jack ficlet

for the bah discord besties<3

In Dean's humble opinion, the week was off to a pretty good start. Sunday, he and Cas took Jack to the library and let him go wild in the children's section, then let him run off his "excitement about literature" in the park, ending with lunch at their favorite diner, which is Dean's humble opinion qualifies as a pretty great Sunday afternoon. And then Sammy and Eileen finished up their hunt earlier than expected, and they even brought back Claire and Kaia as a surprise. Meaning they got to all have a much-needed family dinner, movie night, and catch up with the girls. And they decided to stay for a few days, which meant extra babysitters, which really meant, he and Cas could have their date night this week. And of course it also meant Dean had a few days to just hang out with his family, watch some movies, watch his kids bond, run some stupid errands, cook some big meals. 

Now it was Wednesday, and Dean was spending the day with Eileen and Jack, while the others opted to help Sam with the supply run. Eileen was getting a movie queued up for Jack's nap, while Dean got a start on some laundry.  

(read the rest under the cut)

He was currently running out to the garage to grab the blanket he keeps folded in Baby's trunk, smiling fondly at the memory of Monday's date night.  

So yeah as far as Wednesdays go, Dean was having a pretty good one.

At least, he was.

Dean's stomach dropped as he flicked the lights on, barely registering the clang of his keys hitting the floor, standing frozen in the doorway.  

He's hallucinating, he must be. There's absolutely no way that-

He squeezed his eyes shut, counting to ten while he tried to will away the hallucination with his mind. But unfortunately for Dean, he didn't have that kind of mind power, because that thing was still sitting there when he opened his eyes.

Fuck.

Forcing his feet to move, Dean stepped further into the garage, reaching out a shaking hand as he inched forward. 

He'll just touch it and his hand will go through it, and he can blame this hallucination on that questionable burger he ate at some local joint they all went to last night. It'll be fi-

Dean's blood turned to ice as his hand connected with cool metal. He quickly jumped back in shock, jaw hitting the floor.

Because last time he checked, Dean didn't leave an 18 foot long Lightning McQueen sitting in his beloved Baby's parking spot. 

He tried to speak but all that came out was an incoherent squeak, as he raced around the car inspecting every inch of it.

He couldn't get any of the doors open or the hood for that matter, but as far as he could tell it seemed to be a real car, despite being a cartoon look-a-like. 

Well, at least it wasn't talking. 

"Ka-chow"

Dean slumped over onto the roof of the car, banging his head, fists following in defeat.

Because there was a Lightning McQueen look-a-like with a toy voice box, parked in the garage of their super top-secret underground Bunker, in place of one of his most prized possessions. 

Maybe he spoke too soon about having a pretty good Wednesday. 

Why is this happening? How did this thing get in here? Where is his Baby? Is she alright? Can he even get her back? How the hell did this ev-

Son of a bitch. 

"Jack!" Dean called, voice coming out more strangled than he'd care to admit. 

Of course. Cars had become Jack's new obsession over the past week, they first watched it on Friday night and he's insisted on watching it at least once a day ever since. 

Dean groaned scrubbing his hands down his face. There's truly never a dull moment with a half-Nephilim toddler. 

Jack probably didn't even realize what happened. Sometimes his powers react before his mind can catch up with them, like when he subconsciously made all of his toys come to life after Toy Story became his favorite movie. The kid probably didn't even know about the Cars wannabe parked in the garage, besides his kid would never tamper with Bab-

"Dee! You found Lightning!" 

Dean's jaw once again found its way back down to the floor. His own kid.

He turned to see his four-year-old come bounding into the garage, practically bursting with joy.

"What the hell"

Dean tore his gaze away from Jack to see Eileen frozen in the doorway, who's jaw also joined Dean's on the floor. 

"Look see it's just like Lightning, Dee!" Jack cheered as he ran over to check out the car, regaining Dean's attention.

"Uh...ye-yeah buddy. I-I can see that bu-" Dean began sounding pained, only to be cut off by Jack.

"It's a real car, Dee. You can drive it! And look I gots all the stickers on it too"

"Yeah kiddo, bu-"

"And it can talk too! It says all of Lightning's things! Do you like it Dee? Where you surprised?" Jack asked as he wrapped himself around Dean's legs, smiling up at him without a care in the world.

Dean still mostly in shock, glanced up at Eileen who looked to be in the same boat, except she was holding back barely contained laughter. 

Great no help from his best friend, traitor. So Dean shakily knelt down placing his hands on Jack's shoulders.

"Listen, Squirt. I was definitely surprised. But yo-"

"Oh my god"

Dean's head jerked up to see Sam, Cas, Claire, and Kaia now standing with Eileen in the doorway, dropped grocery bags spilling out onto the floor. All of them too stunned to move, except for Cas who luckily must have noticed the distress in Dean's eyes.

"Jack, Baby. What is this?" Cas asked, quickly making his way over to them, quickly kneeling down beside Dean.

"I made Baby into Lightning! Ta da!"

"Wait, that thing is my Baby?" Dean asked voice cracking. 

And of course, that's what did it.

Sam doubled over in laughter, Eileen, Claire, and Kaia quickly following, and Cas was beside him, clearly trying to conceal his laughter.

"God this is the best thing I've ever seen" Sam wheezed in the background, and if Dean weren't still reeling he'd walk right over and punch him. 

Cas placed a grounding hand on Dean's shoulder, all while trying to bite back his smile. Well, Dean appreciated the gesture, at least he was trying to be considerate, unlike some people he knew.

"Bug, do you remember what Daddy and I told you about using your powers?" Cas begins, trying and failing to sound stern.

"That I can't make my toys be alive! And I didn't Baby isn't alive, and she's not even a toy!" Jack explains with a smile. 

"Yea-yeah Squirt, but the second part of that little talk was that you shouldn't use your powers unless you ask Daddy, or me, or Uncle Sammy or Aunt Eileen, remember?" Dean supplied after he finally got his gears spinning again.

"Ooooohhh. Oops, sorry!"Jack shrugs and he even had half a mind to at least look a little bit sorry, but it's drowned out by another fresh wave of laughter.

"I'm so glad we decided to stay longer, does stuff like this happen all the time?" Kaia laughed behind him, as Claire wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Oh I'm so glad my distress is amusing to all of you!" Dean shot back, voice still a little unsteady, which only caused them to laugh harder. Cas met his eyes, as he squeezed his shoulder, scooting closer.

"Squirt it's okay, just uh don't do it again....now where exactly is the real Baby?" Dean asked cutting right to the chase, not missing the look Cas gave him for glossing over the whole "don't use your powers without asking" lesson.

But there was time for that later, because right now his Baby was currently a firetruck red cartoon racecar with eyes.

"That is Baby. I just made her look like that, it's her. See!" Jack explained jumping up and dragging Dean over. Everyone else followed suit, Sam giving him a shit eating grin as he handed Dean the discarded keys.

To Dean's surprise, the key unlocked the car just like baby, and the interior looked exactly the same.

"Wow kid, this is honestly pretty cool" Claire complimented with a low whistle, which earned her a death glare from Dean, only making her laugh harder.

Unbelievable. All of his kids have it out for his car today.

Dean heaved a sigh as he watched his family examine every inch of the car, not bothering to hold back their laughter at this point.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing we didn't watch How to Train Your Dragon" Cas quipped wrapping Dean in his arms as he pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Dean flopped over and laid his forehead on Cas's shoulder, letting a soft laugh escape.

"Yeah well, at least my car wouldn't have been caught in the crossfire" Dean groaned back, feeling Cas' laugh rumble in his chest.

"Yes I know this is a tragedy, clearly the real live dragons would have caused less damage-well less emotional damage anyway"

"Woah, look at that, he's got jokes. Alright everyone step away from the racecar" Dean smirked, yelling that last bit as he pushed away from Cas' chest. He made his way over to Jack who was currently in the driver's seat (keys nowhere near the ignition of course), showing everyone how the horn says McQueen catchphrases now.

"Alright Houdini, while the Lightning McQueen trick was very cool, and we've reminded you that we don't use powers unless we ask. It's time to turn him back into Baby, capiche?" Dean said in the most no-nonsense tone he could manage as he kneelt down to Jack's level.

And of course Dean's very logical, very simple, very warranted request resulted in an uproar from his family.

"Wait you aren't even gonna take it for a spin?"

"You've literally got thee Lightning McQueen sitting in your garage"

"Dean c'mon one dri-"

"Nope. Not happening. Now way am I driving that thing" Dean cut in, flinging his arms out for emphasis and effectively silencing the traitor-his family.

Then he felt a little tug on his shirt.

"Please Dee? One time, then I change Baby back?" Jack asked with his best puppy dog eyes, and Dean quickly made a mental note to kick Sam's ass for teaching him that.

And as he slowly tilted his head back up, he was met with four pleading faces, all hovering around the car He desperately turned his gaze towards Cas knowing he'd be the voice of reason, he'd neve-

"Well, it would be a waste not to take the car for at least one ride" Cas shrugged almost sheepishly, barely hiding his grin. Dean stared back into his eyes trying to will him to change his mind, but he knew it was pointless.

Dean sighed his defeat, running a hand down his face. Damnit

"Fine, one drive-and I mean one. Twenty minutes tops" He shouted, throwing his hands in air in exasperation as everyone cheered.

And when Dean found himself driving back to the bunker four hours later, he and failed tried to hid his smile. He glanced in the mirror at Claire and Jack passed out, while Kaia and Sam held a whispered conversation in the magically (which Jack may or may not have had a hand in) stretched out backseat. Eileen turned in the front seat joining the conversation, as Cas sat in the middle, pressed up against Dean.

Cas gave his hand a squeezing, shooting him a knowing smile, which only earned a nudge from Dean.

So yeah, maybe Dean did almost have a heart attack earlier in the day. And maybe he did have to let a bunch of annoying people in the next town over pose for pictures with the car when they stopped for dinner. And maybe the horn said "Ka-chow" and "I am speed". And maybe the drive was more than twenty minutes. But in Dean's humble opinion, it was still a pretty good Wednesday after all.

Lightning McQueen be damned.

Tag list pt 1:

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @chaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @subbydean @organicpurplepants @you-cant-spell-subtext-without

@tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @icefire149 @dakiaty @seffersonjtarship @angeltiddies @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @jewishdeanwinchester @martymar1963 @midnight-sparks-studio @aestheticflyer26

@athenixrose @slipper007 @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @winchester-novak @lyonessrampant @thiscowboyisbisexual @carverera @milfcodeddean @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie