#she was dead hundreds of years before the show even starts we just weren’t aware of it. she’s been dead the whole time.

[leehallfae]

your random blorbo who happens to die is not doomed by the narrative. edith keeler is doomed by the narrative.

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 8

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1720

Summary: You and a couple of the guys have a heart-to-heart

You were home, or rather, you were in the physical place where you lived. It was difficult to call Velaris ‘home’ when your home was really a person, your mate. It was even harder to call this place home since Azriel started looking at you like he wanted to spit on you at any given moment. You’d expected to be treated that way once everything came to light, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t loathe it with every fiber of your being.

It was in a fit of this general discontent that you found yourself sitting on the ground of the balcony outside the House of Wind’s library. A bottle of wine, half empty already based on the weight of it, dangled from your fingertips as you stared blankly into the fire and longed for the male that could make such flames dance like sprites. Eris’s notes from your time apart rested on the ground before you, some resting against or on your leg because you’d simply dropped them after reading.

“Cass told me I’d find you here,” Rhys said as his feet entered your field of view. “Though I’ll admit I thought he was exaggerating how much you’d been drinking.”

Your eyes darted over to the other two, empty bottles you’d abandoned back when you’d been sitting in a chair. “Yes, well, you know how my tolerance is.”

“Considering how many men you’ve drunk under the table? Yes, I’m fully aware.” Now, he brought himself low enough that he could meet your eye on your own level. The most powerful High Lord, kneeling beside his low fae cousin on the ground.

You snorted at the sheer ridiculousness. “Whatcha doing here, Rhys? I figured you’d be off with Feyre.”

“She had things to discuss with Amren or else she’d be here talking to you with me.”

You took another drink. “Well in that case, lay it on me.” Your arms spread wide dramatically, one hand holding the bottle, the other a letter; your wings flared slightly behind you in an effort to keep you balanced. “Ask me anything you want! I assume it’s about that gorgeous mate of mine.”

He rolled his eyes and took the bottle from you. “I won’t insult you bya skiing what Azriel wants me to.” Rhysand took a long drink.

“Oooooh, let me guess!” You did your best to make your face as stoic as the shadowsinger’s. “Have I been selling secrets to the Autumn Court?”

“Close,” he snickered. “Has she been giving away secrets to the Autumn Court?”

You scoffed. “As if I’d give them away for free!” 

“Sweetheart, you’d never spill them either way.” His eyes were somber, caring. “You would never betray us like that, so I have no need to ask.”

“Then what do you need to ask?”

“First, I want to ask about your bargain.”

“You makin’ sure I didn’t give away anything important?”

“I want to know that it was your choice to make whatever deal it was.”

Your brain stalled out in light of his genuine concern after so many days of people being wary of you, and your buzz fizzled a little because of it. “It was a deal of protection,” you explained seriously. “He’ll watch my back as long as I watch his sort of thing.” You stole back the bottle to take another drink. “And what a fucking job I did.”

“You couldn’t have done anything against her,” he assured you, “and if you had tried, more likely than not, you’d both be dead right now.”

“Whatever, Rhys,” you scoffed. “What else?”

“You are not less than him because you’re Illyrian.” You’d known the topic was coming, but you didn’t expect him to be quite so blunt. “And if he treats you like you are, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Then you can stop worrying, because he doesn’t. Hasn’t even said anything to imply it--get that look off your face right now. Anything he said to you was an act because we were backed into a nightmare of a corner, and you know it. Anyway, he hasn't made any jabs implying it--accidentally or otherwise--since we first got together.”

“Put a stop to that, did you?” He was smirking as he swiped the bottle back to drink once again. 

“Of course.” You hesitated. “But he and I are both aware of what others will think; just look at your parents. That’s why, or at least part of why, we kept quiet about the whole thing.”

Rhysand was nodding as if pleased.

“That all you’ve got, cousin?”

A little snort escaped his nose. “As far as being concerned goes, we’ll say yes for now.”

“And as far as everything else?”

“Since you’ve so cruelly left your poor cousin in the dark about your relationship for--how long was it again?”

“‘Bout five hundred years--”

“Five hundred years! Because you've left me in the dark for so long, I want to know everything about the two of you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” He waved a hand a little. “That you’re willing to share, of course.”

“Rhys . . . I don’t  . . .” You weren’t used to this. You’d never had to share anything about your relationship before. You weren’t good at talking about yourself. “I don’t know where to start.”

A low hum rumbled through the air along with the telling thuds of someone else’s boots.

“Why don’t you start with that letter you’re holding?” Cassian abruptly dropped down next to you, so close he was lightly pressed against your side. It was such a casual closeness that the pair of you had had for centuries, and you didn't realize how much you loved it until it was missing. Its presence now brought tears to your eyes, but none fell.

Blinking them back, you stammered, “Um. It’s how we talked . . . when we couldn’t see each other.” A self-deprecating chuckle ripped its way up from your throat. “Apparently he’d been sending them since just after Amarantha, and I never knew since I don’t live down there anymore. I’m only just now getting around to reading them.” Carelessly, you handed it over to Cassian. “You can read it if you want; I was going through them all, but I can’t exactly see straight enough to read anymore.”

He eyed you warily before opening it gently. Clearing his throat before he read,

“I hope you are doing well, and I hope moreso that you have not finally come to your senses and decided to leave me. I’ve been trying to keep my emotions from bothering you in case you have, but Father has proven to be harsher than ever before in light of everything that has happened over the last half-century. It’s all I can do to keep him from deciding to hunt down Lucien.

Cauldron, I don’t even know if you’re receiving these messages or if you even care and yet here I am droning on about my own problems. I’ll leave this here, then.

I miss you, and I love you always,

Eris”

Both men were silent for a breath.

“Who would have thought that Eris Vanserra of all people would be so rambling in a letter?” Cassian eventually teased--only slightly awkwardly--to break the quiet.

“He stopped trying to be eloquent in our notes about five years in.” Your buzz was definitely on the way out now, and you found yourself listlessly leaning against Cassian. Neither male commented about the more romantic sentiments in the letter. You wondered why that was. For your privacy or their own comfort so they didn’t have to think about the fact that Eris did in fact have feelings.

“What’s the first thing you think of when you think about him?” Rhysand prompted quietly, obviously wanting to know more about the relationship despite the awkward aura that’d descended upon the little group.

It may have been because you were actively looking at a fire, but you didn’t really have to think about the words that came tumbling out of your mouth. “Did you know that he can make shapes out of flames? He used to make little dogs and foxes to play with Lucien when Beron would upset him.”

“I thought he hated that kid,” Cassian mused.

“He had to keep his distance to keep Beron’s attention away from him; he swore to his mother that he’d protect him.”

“What else comes to mind?”

You swallowed thickly. “He interrogated me about how to care for my wings when I showed up injured once.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flashed. “Injured?”

“Took a bad crash through some trees on the way to see him; I think I was dodging some scouts. Either way, he hounded me about it until I taught him all I could.”

“Seriously?” Cassian again.

“Yeah.” You could feel the dopey smile spread across your face, but you didn’t want to stop it. “Cleaning, first-aid, the whole deal. And the best part? He never has cold hands.”

“Unlike you, huh?” Rhys teased. “Nothing but cold hands.”

“Truer words never spoken,” and unexpected but familiar voice said from behind you.

As soon as you laid eyes on him, you were stumbling to your feet.

There was a warmth in his eyes that had nothing to do with flames when he caught you and pulled you close.

Immediately, you buried your face in his neck. “How?” you whispered into the pale skin there.

Eris’s hand moved to rest atop your wing where it was tucked against your back, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “That would be a question for your High Lady.”

You glanced over your shoulder and saw that, sure enough, Feyre was now holding hands with the now-standing Rhys. “I thought you were with Amren?”

“I lied,” Rhys shrugged. “Eris was down there plotting with Keir, so I asked her to go grab him for you since you’ve been feeling down.”

When tears started welling up in your eyes, you blamed the alcohol. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, little cousin. Now, I think it’s time for us to turn in.” His eyes shifted to look at your mate; surprisingly his gaze wasn’t near as icy as you would have expected. “Take care of her.”

“Until my dying breath.”

“Never a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with you people,” Cassian scoffed, “is there?”

You smirked on behalf of your husband. “Never.”

[albelen]

book talk: Augustus

I wasn’t planning on doing this Book Talk since I didn’t know if I could properly express my feelings about Augustus and this book. 

However I binge-watched the second season of Rome because I kept seeing clips of it on YT. Simon Woods nailed the role of Octavian perfectly - his icy blue eyes, his cold and calculating demeanor mixed with instances of vulnerability and insecurity - exactly how I imagined young Augustus to be. 

Anyway, this book was definitely one of my best reads this year. Augustus frustrated me throughout the whole book, but if anything it also made me more interested in him. I’m having strong feelings for a historical figure, oh dear.

The story is told through letters, diary entries and military orders and the writing style is easy to read - although I read it in Italian. I read some reviews about people complaining how some things weren’t accurate, but the author literally claimed at the start that as much as he tried to stay true, some of the things here were merely fiction. (LOL)

Before reading this, the most I read about Octavian was about his victories and achievements, but through this book we get to see a more human side of him, we see him from the point of view of his friends, of his daughter Julia and of his enemies. 

The story was mostly told by other people, which left me a little disappointed because I wanted to read it straight from his perspective, especially from the time when he was still rising to power. It’s clear he knew he wasn’t gifted as a soldier or general, but he was a politician and a master at manipulation. 

Octavian was often sick, he was always described as sickly and pale, but with vivid blue eyes. This man survived many sickness, people thought he’d die but ended up outliving his friends and his sister. 

It’s sad to see the relationship of Octavian and Julia getting strained as the year went by. Look, I’m a huge Augustus stan here, but I find myself siding with Julia here - she did everything her father told her and after being widowed twice she had to marry someone like Tiberius. Poor Julia, she just wanted to be herself, she wanted to be in touch with her feminine and sexual side, but being the emperor’s daughter comes with a price. 

I didn’t like Tiberius here, but I never liked him anyway - what was Livia thinking, surely she must have known her son didn’t have any potential SMH

Gaius Octavian wouldn’t have become the most powerful man if it wasn’t for his friends Agrippa and Maecenas. I feel like they are often overlooked when they had done so much for their friend and Rome. You could feel the sadness Octavian felt when he lost both his friends. 

My favorite part of this book is definitely when adults like Cicero and Antony underestimated them; there were moments when I felt like reading an adventure book of these three best bros (and Salvidienus) and I’m here for it honestly.

The thing that kept me from actually binge-reading this is because every letter, every journal entry felt so intense and a little daunting - these events did actually happen two thousand years ago, these “characters” existed and they contributed so much to shaping the world as we know it.

The last part of the book was finally Octavian’s letter to an old friend, when he was near death. This was even harder to read for me, it shows you how power not only comes with responsibility and pressure, but it also comes with the awareness that you truly can’t trust anyone. I can’t stretch enough how lucky he was that Agrippa and Maecenas remained loyal to him and they didn’t have ulterior motive or goal to have the power for themselves. 

Still, he was surrounded by people who wanted him dead and it really is inevitable, just like how history have taught us. 

Even as the most powerful man, it ultimately comes to an end - death comes for everyone as Marcus Aurelius often repeated a hundred or so years later. It was heartbreaking to read Augustus telling his friend that looking back at his life, some moments he doesn’t even remember happening, some he regretted. 

I gave Augustus a five out of five stars rating. How can I not? It made me mad, frustrated and love Augustus even more. 

Please, please, please read this. Even if you’re not into history or Ancient Rome is not your favorite period, I promise it’s worth your time. 

[skullstarz]

the princess of the sea

-> royalty!au iida tenya x fem!reader

this is the literal bane of my existence. here you go, part 1 of my iida royalty au fic. very loosely inspired by raya and the last dragon and genshin impact, but you can barely tell.

IF THE KEEP READING THINGIE DOESNT WORK PLS TELL ME!! ++ there is a paragraph that gets repeated. im sorry, but every time i fix it, it happens somewhere else. idk what to do at this point. sobbing.

warnings: language. also its long and ends on a cliff hanger oops

word count: 4.8k words

check out my masterlist for more of my works!!

the sound of your heels hitting the shiny floors bounced off of the walls nonstop as you ran. you were a princess, one that was late to the ball being held to celebrate the alliance of four nations that had fought against one another for over a century. as you round the corner towards the banquet hall’s doors, you make eye contact with a tall, blue haired, handsome man- and then fall flat on your face.

it wasn’t often countries came together to make amends after hundreds of years of wars, attacks, and disagreements- yet here you are, making a fool of yourself in front of the prince of lupusvine, the northernmost nation. you rush to pick yourself up, muttering a quick “damn it, y/n,” whilst fluffing your dress back up to its once cloud-like form.

“are you alright? it’s y/n, no?” the man you had seen before now much closer, offering his hand out to greet you.

“are you alright? it’s y/n, no?” the man you had seen before now much closer, offering his hand out to greet you.

quick history lesson- the planet was named xenos centuries ago, by four gods. what their names were is hard to decipher; by the time humans were capable of writing and recording history, the gods had many names. there were more countries on the planet, but the most important (to you) were the four nations that were named and ruled by the four main gods, all sharing borders. ruritania, ruled by the goddess of nature, has the perfect climate for farming, raising livestock, and taking trips from the other nations. it was considered a utopia for those who liked peaceful, cottage living.

lupusvine, ruled by the god of wind, was cold. the citizens tend to be either extremely wealthy, or dead, really, as being homeless in the brutal cold would be a slow and painful death. they tend to be strict and uptight, and worship their god’s every word. ambrosia, ruled by the god of fire, on the other hand, was scorching hot most of the time. it was mostly desert, and ambrosians tend to be strong, rough, aggressive towards outsiders, yet loving towards their families.

lastly, oceania, ruled by the goddess of water. oceania, being the nation you were soon to rule, was perfect, like ruritania, hot in the summers and cold in the winters, but not unbearably so. it was the wealthiest nation, not because the rich keep getting richer, but because the nation helps and nurtures those who are struggling. it was seen as a sort of idyllic place, and because of that, the other countries often envied oceania.

one last, probably important bit, before you remember the prince of lupusvine is waiting for you to give him your hand- hybrids are common in xenos. which is why, as you stare at the prince, flustered, you barely notice the wolf ears on his head.

“it…it is y/n, correct?” he hesitates.

“oh, yes! i'm very sorry!” you put your hand in his, greeting him. “you must be tenya, prince of lupusvine!” you attempt to compose yourself while the wolf man before you reaches up to adjust your small crown as he breathes out a soft ���yes.”

you blush due to how close he is and he apologizes. “sorry, but i'm sure that with the rush you were in, you wouldn’t have had the time to notice your crown was barely hanging onto your head for dear life.” he chuckles and as your eyes meet once again you freeze- you never knew why people were so wrapped up in rumors and gossip, but you had heard one a while back… that the prince of lupisvine’s eyes were as cold as ice, like the land he came from.

while whispers of his frightening gaze and sharp features may be based in truth, his eyes soaking in yours made you feel as if you were melting- the warm, relaxing smile he had contrasting his straight posture and tense shoulders.

“if you’d like, we could enter the ball together” his voice pulled you out of your trance, and as he awaited your answer you thought of all of the consequences entering together would have. your mother and sister’s worry turning into squealing, eager to have you marry the poor man was one. your father upset that you had never mentioned someone was courting you (which the prince was not doing) while he was searching for suitors was another consequence.

oh, and most importantly of all- what you two walking in together, arms linked, would do to the political state of the four nations. you were the precious princess of the sea! you were oceania’s lovely, pure heir to the throne; if anyone were to lay a hand on you they’d be dead before they could take another breath! little did they know that you had a tendency to be anything but elegant, with a foul mouth and two left feet.

and prince of lupusvine- well he… he was perfect. a respectable gentleman who gives his all to his nation, who works to make their nation a better place. the other three countries may whisper and mock; thinking him a serious, scary soon-to-be king with a devotion to law and order, but he was a far more gentle and loving prince than that. everyone in lupusvine was aware of the truth, and you, placing your hand on his arm, now also knew the truth.

“yes, i would, in fact, like that very much.” you flash him your charming smile that everyone in oceania was in love with and enter the hall together.

the consequences you had thought up in your mind paled in comparison to the reactions of everyone as you two enter. shocked expressions, gasps, and even what sounded like a glass shattering filled the room as you make your entrance and walk down the stairs. hushed tones greet you at the bottom, and as you and tenya part ways, you are greeted by the royal family of oceania- your mother, father, and sister.

“you do realize what that looks like, right?” your sister, isla, barked at you. she had a knack for showing her care and love in the worst ways possible, but you knew her words weren’t meant to instigate some sort of argument.

“no, i don't, actually.” you shrug, before your father gently grabs you by the arms

“the prince of lupusvine is no husband for my daughter, i will not allow it until i know more about that boy and what he might be scheming”

“scheming? oh for the love of our goddess, dad, i'm not going to marry him! we simply entered together” you shake his hands off of you.

your mother cut in with a huff, worsening your family’s freak out. “with how late the both of you were it looked like some sort of… surprise marriage announcement!” often, when your mother becomes flustered, or worried, her extensive, fancy vocabulary is thrown out the window.

“its like you were telling all of xenos ‘hey, look at me put my hand on this big strong rich prince oh also remember how we’re both looking for other royal families to marry into, mostly for political reasons?’” your sister rambles on, mocking your manner of speaking.

“oh, whatever, it’s not really like it matters. the four nations are allies now anyways, what’s the issue, even if i were to be seeing him?” all three of your overprotective family members scoff and walk away, clearly getting the message that their worries wont get through to you. spotting the prince again, you make your way over to him before frantically attempting to walk away as the crowd parts for you only to reveal his very serious and scary family having a discussion with him. instead of walking away towards your sister, you turn and smash face first into- actually, you don’t even realize you just walked into the prince of ambrosia, todoroki shoto, until you look up at him.

“oh my goddess, i'm so sorry” you bow at him deeply, and his father tells you not to worry about it as they continue walking towards the royal family of lupusvine. while the four nations all had their issues with each other, lupusvine and ambrosia have made deals with one another before, and oceania and ruritania were on decent terms. as king enji spoke with the king of lupusvine, shoto gave you a quick wave, before standing next to tenya rather than his father.

you’ve already just about had enough with the party when you decide it’s better for everyone if you were to just leave. you leave the ball and head to lucerne’s garden, a small garden and pond built right into the center of the castle, named after a dragon (which have all since vanished from xenos) the goddess kept as a companion. sitting at the edge of the pond, you’re lost in thought as a hand touches your shoulder.

“it’s nice to see you again, princess.” tenya’s voice just barely over a whisper as he sits next to you.

“no, you’ll get your suit dirty-” you start, before he shakes his head.

“perhaps, but the servants in your castle seem to be extraordinary at their job- i don't think i saw even a drop of water on the ground as i sat down.” he laughs, continuing to look around at the spotless scenery, none of the plants having even a speck of brown, and not one part of the ground dusty or dirty.

“well well well, and here i thought mr. prince of lupusvine was supposed to be a stickler for rules! i’d expect a ‘no sitting on the ground with your gown on!’ from you.” you smirk, messing with decorations sewn onto your dress.

“I may be a little uptight, but i don’t quite think there's a rule for sitting on the ground with a dress on..” you laugh as he trails off in thought. “is that lucerne? companion of kirai?” he asks, pointing at the statue of a dragon looming over the pond.

citizens of lupusvine tend to refer to the goddess of water as “kirai”, due to their god calling her that every time he mentioned her, as recorded on slabs from ancient times. that, along with other reasons, is why many researchers and history professors believe that the goddess of water and the god of wind were in a romantic relationship, whether permanently or just for a certain period of time. you nod and face him as he continues “i wish dragons still existed. i learned, when i was younger, that dragons went extinct due to humans.”

your eyes widen, flickering towards the statue of lucerne. “because of us?”

“yes.” he whispers, before the two of you fall into comfortable silence. soon, footsteps can be heard behind the two of you. turning around to see who is coming, you see todoroki shoto, prince of ambrosia, as well as the princess of ruritania, uraraka ochako.

“thank goodness we saw you out here! our parents are so professional and uptight at these things, it's almost suffocating.” ochako gasps the fresh air in, sitting next to you as shoto sits at a nearby bench.

“i dont get why they hate each other so much.” shoto muttered under his breath and everyone let out sighs and nods. while all of you knew the history behind the nations’ feuds and didn’t quite know each other, you four could easily bond over your general disdain for the grudges your families had towards each other.

suddenly, you picked yourself up from the ground and stared at the other three determinedly. “we should find out what happened to lucerne and the dragons! it would be so fu-”

“we already know what happened to the dragons.” shoto cuts you off

“well then what is it?” you huff, annoyed that you were cut off.

as shoto shrugged, tenya started telling the story. “the four gods gave a box each to the inhabitants of xenos and told them to not open them, even if they’re curious about what’s inside.”

“oh no, they opened the boxes” you gasp, shaking your head.

“yes, they opened the boxes. the first three boxes they opened had beautiful things we couldn't even begin to imagine the world without, so, without thinking, they opened the last box. a puff of smoke came out the box upon opening it, and then every dragon on xenos turned to stone. there’s no cure, no answers, no reason as to why the gods would do that, especially when the dragons were so loved by the humans and gods alike.”

“how cliche” shoto sighs.

“do you think the dragons can hear us?” ochako gets up, trying to get closer to touch lucerne. “lucerne, do you think i should marry izuku midoriya, from ylvern, or bakugo katsuki from angria?”

todoroki scoffs, and you note the jealous glint in his eyes. “lucerne’s not gonna come back to life to answer which royal family you should marry into” he gets up, ready to head back inside.

“speaking of marriage…. tenya, y/n, what was that entrance~?” ochako skips back to your side, crouching down.

“nothing, we just met before walking inside and decided to enter together; it's simply none of your concern” you ramble on, refusing to face either tenya or ochako, opting to stare at a lily pad floating on the water.

“oh really?” ochako squints, before getting up. “if you say so, y/n”

“yes i do say so” you nod violently, ochako humming as she walks towards shoto to walk back inside together. exchanging quiet ‘see you later’s, they leave you and tenya alone again.

“would it really be a bad idea for us to get married?” his words making you choke on air. “not like that! it was just a question!!” he flails his arms around, the two of you so very flustered.

you both collect yourself and you think for a bit before answering “i think our parents are probably just suspicious of each other, still. i mean if you think about it, you could say we’re already fated to be” you half joke, expecting more arm flailing, only to receive a hum.

“ah, you mean the theory that kirai and the god of wind were lovers?” he tilts his head.

“some even say they were married, not just lovers, tenya. what, are you suggesting we be lovers?” you joke.

another round of arm flailing passes as you laugh, before he clarifies “you know what i meant, don't act a fool. i personally believe it too, there’s plenty of evidence for it.”

you nod, agreeing with him “that, and because citizens of oceania often think i look like our goddess, and your citizens say your personality matches your god. wouldn’t you say we’re- a- match?” with each pause in between your last words you get just a bit closer before pulling away, laughing once more at his flailing arms and beet red cheeks, finding your new favorite hobby.

one last moment of silence passes as you both stare at the clock in the garden, waiting until it hit 10 to join the others back inside for a speech from the nations’ kings and queens. you stole peeks at his face, your eyes quick to flicker elsewhere when they make contact with his. a minute before it was time for the speeches you two got up and walked together, checking each other for any specks of dirt (there weren’t any, head maid marina would never allow such a thing).

you stop right before the doors, facing him with a smile on your face. “after you, mr. prince, we can't go in together after the entrance we made before.” you motion towards the door and he steps closer to you, waiting. “wha- oh” you realize what he was waiting for and nod, expecting a kiss on the cheek. what he really did, was give you a light peck on the lips, before turning away and returning to the ball.

“your majesty, if i may, i don't believe that’s an appropriate way to say goodbye to someone.” head maid marina places a hand on her hip, a clipboard tucked in between her arm and the side of her waist. she tapped her foot expectantly, brows raised as you stutter, attempting to find the right words.

“please dont tell my mom!!” you blurt, and run into the banquet hall.

“you kissed prince tenya!?” the servants in the dining room all come to a halt, turning to your family, that was supposed to be having dinner.

“ugh maid marina told you!” you put your face into your hands as your sister stifles a laugh and shrinks in her chair.

your father looks like he might explode as he yells “you WHAT?”

“to be fair!! he kissed meee~” you gushed at the thought.

“how is that supposed to make me feel at ease?!” your father stands up.

“dad sit down and eat your unseasoned roasted potatoes-” you pause to raise your voice loud enough for those in the kitchen to hear, “if head maid marina wasn’t busy gossiping about my love life maybe the potatoes would’ve come out properly seasoned!” your words earned you a light whack with a handful of napkins from said maid. “and what if i choose to marry tenya? i assure you he is up to nothing but good.”

your father shook his head. “how can i be sure of that, darling?”

“cause i really like him!! pleaaaaaaase?” you beg, putting your hands together as you give him your best puppy dog eyes. your father was visibly crushed by your strategy before he straightened up and cleared his throat.

“well, if you insist, i suppose i could send the iida family an invitation to a dinner, where we can discuss this matter more in detail.”

“this is becoming more and more like an arranged marriage by the second-” you whine.

the following days were rather uneventful; helping out maid marina as an apology for offending her potatoes, polishing the statue of lucerne (which you’ve found out is essentially lucerne’s corpse) for maid veronica since you let ochako get close to it, and reading up more on xenos’ history. eventually, the day to have dinner with the iida family came and you dreaded it, as your mother told maid marina to find and dress you in a ‘lovely, light blue dress with intricate detailing’ days beforehand.

“and just why do you like prince tenya, of all princes? why not prince shoto?” with every ‘why’ that left marina’s mouth, she pulled on your corset, tightening it.

“for the love of our holy goddess please maid marina please show me mercy” you plead.

“i did show you mercy, when i made extra of your favorite side dish because the main dish of this evening is the royal jade carp, which i know you hate with every fiber of your being” you whine at her rebuttal (and another tug at the corset) before she finally ties it off at the end.

“done. let maid veronica finish getting you ready while i finish the preparations. your future husband should be here soon.” she smooths out her uniform before leaving the room.

“this feels like an arranged marriage, y/n.” veronica sighs, readjusting your hair.

“it wasn’t supposed to be” you groan and attempt to slouch, the corset compressing your insides not allowing you to.

“well, you both seem to like each other, so at least you’ll be marrying someone you might actually grow to love” veronica shrugged, tying a bow on your dress.

“you know, you’re right, vero! it isn’t all that bad, considering some people don't have that luxury.” you smile at your new found confidence.

“oh goddess, like that poor queen of ambrosia. i heard her marriage to king enji turned sour such a long time ago yet they stayed together for political reasons, you know?”

you gasped at veronica’s words “is veronica gossiping on the job?”

veronica smacks her lips annoyed. “its small talk, young lady, not gossiping.”

you quickly made your way down the stairs and towards the dining hall before tenya and his family arrived. your sister, isla, stood at the doors, surprised to see you so dressed up. “this is a dinner to possibly discuss a marriage, not the wedding day itself” she chuckles, leading you to your seat and sitting down in front of you. “i, myself have found someone to talk to as well.”

“oh really?” you raise your eyebrows, amused.

she nods, smiling “a prince named mirio to-” the doors open and the two of you stand up to greet the iida family, led to the dining room by your parents.

“its nice to see you again” tenya greeted you with a kiss to your hand as the rest of your families mingled. you all ate, discussed feelings over the nations becoming allies and you and tenya’s plans for the future.

“wanna see something?” you grab tenya’s hand after the dinner ended, the rest of your family deciding to continue to chat away as you showed tenya around the castle.

you lead him to your room, and as he starts to stutter, telling you “perhaps this step can wait? a bit?” you shake your head.

“that’s not why i’m bringing you in here, but i like the way you’re thinkin” you tease, before stopping in front of a tank.

“is that an axolotl?” tenya gasps, his free hand gently pressing against the glass.

“yes, that’s pudding.” you nod, before leading him over to another tank. “and this is noodle, she’s an oceanian black kingsnake.”

“you like snakes?” he questioned you.

“not really, but when i found her in lucerne’s garden she was in pretty bad condition. she took a liking to me so i just toughed it out and took her in.” you shrug, before leading him to your bed.

once again objecting to any dirty things you’d try to do to him, you stop him. “first of all, i wouldn't do anything you aren't comfortable with, and second, that's not why i brought you here, okay? now this little man right here is nugget!” you lift one of the many blankets on your bed to reveal a tiny, black poodle with long legs. “and thiiiiis,” you move to another side of your bed “is pepper!” a white cat’s face peeks out of the blankets it's piled under, reaching a paw out to greet the prince before returning to its sleep hole.

“i didn't expect you to be such an animal lover.” he says on your walk back to the dining hall.

“it isn’t really that i'm an animal lover, the axolotl was a gift from an organization that keeps endangered animals safe after i made a large donation. the other three were strays that the maids found in lucerne’s garden. something about the lucerne draws animals to her.” you shrug, pondering what might be the reason animals were often found in the garden. Something that you had noticed before but never fully paid attention to was the way tenya’s tail wagged when you two were alone. during both the ball and dinner his tail was stiff and straight, as if he was making an active effort to not draw attention to it. it was nice to know that he didn’t care much about little things like that alone with you.

it was still a bit frustrating how quickly your families wanted you two to get to know each other and get married. while dating for civilians can last many years before even mentioning marriage, sometimes royals have all their wedding preparations read before their first meeting.

“at least we enjoy each others’ presence.” tenya’s words cut through your cluttered mind.

“what?” you blurt, and he laughs softly.

“at least we like each other, you know? we could’ve been forced to marry snooty, arrogant people. instead we get to be somewhat forcefully married to each other.”

“it’s almost like you can read my mind” you suggest jokingly, before leading him to sit down for more quiet time together. “it sucks that we’re being rushed into things, but we can go at our own pace, even if we may be wife and husband while we’re still just going on our first few dates.” he nods at your words with a smile, sighing before getting up, with his hand in yours, to head back inside the dining room.

“you’re getting married to the prince of angria? oh poor thing” various princesses reacted to ochako’s words, wishing her luck on her marriage to bakugo katsuki, another prince.

“it's not all that bad!” she reasoned with them, only for them to disagree.

“not all that bad? the boy’s got anger issues and will probably be a terrible ruler! oh sweet girl he’s going to ruin you, and not in the good way.” some random princess teases. you were currently at a tea party being held in ruritania, by the princess, ochako. you noticed the way her shoulders lowered at their words, each time they insulted him only making her more upset.

“you never know, perhaps he’s actually nice if you get to know him. besides, it isn't our place to judge, seeing as most of us have rather terrible fiancées as well.” you comment, drinking your tea. you notice the smile growing on ochako’s face, a small, silent thank you for sticking up for her.

“of course you’d know about terrible fiancées, soon-to-be mrs. tenya iida” the fiancée of prince sero (oh, poor poor sero) laughs out.

“and i'm sure prince sero knows a lot about terrible fiancées as well.” you insult back.

“did you see the face she made after you said that?!” ochako giggled as you two were walking to her room. the tea party finished rather quickly after your response to princess ophelia’s insult had her running out in rage.

“that’s what she gets. i mean come on, she’s one to talk about me having a terrible fiancée when she is a terrible fiancée” you shrug, the grin on your face slowly forming as you hold in a laugh. “i can’t believe you and bakugo are getting married though! i thought that your parents would surely choose midoriya of ylvern!”

“well, ylvern’s nice n all, and i'm sure midoriya’s absolutely wonderful-” there was the tiniest bit of yearning in her voice when speaking of the prince. “-but angria has more resources. its a better choice in almost every aspect except for the fact that it’s bakugo katsuki that i'm marrying.” she realized what she said and shook her head quickly “no, i'm going to be optimistic! i know everything will turn out fine, and my marriage to him will end up being a better idea.”

“you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, ‘chako.” you sit on her bed and watch as her cheeks grow redder and redder

“no! i’m! not! don’t do that y/n!” she pouts “i was one hundred percent supportive when you announced you’d marry tenya!”

“and i'm thankful for that-” you raise your hands up in your defense.

“so don't tease me about my marriage!” you laugh, patting her shoulder

“okay, okay, relax!” huffing, you and ochako continue to talk the night away; about marriage, wedding preparations, and anything else you two could think of.

as the days go by, you see more of tenya, each time falling in love with him more and more. you also see ochako more, meeting her fiancée bakugo, and more of todoroki, who’s been spending much of his time rejecting princesses and enjoying the presence of the prince of ylvern, midoriya. one of the worst days was the day your mothers dress was modified to your size and changed to be more modern, head maid marina threatening to poke you as she sewed if you didn't stop slouching. the worst day, however, was the day maid veronica, maid marina, and maid yalani sat with you and talked about what would happen on your wedding night (goddess have mercy on your soul, they thought you didn’t know a thing about sex).

but, as preparations went on, and as you spent time with tenya, you couldn’t be happier. he caught you whenever you fell, which happened many times while learning dances, and he laughed with you whenever everyone else found you unladylike, like when you spit out food while trying to figure out what would be served to the guests, not realizing what you had tasted was made with your least favorite food, royal jade carp. he was traditional, strict, yet had a soft side to him that took you step by step through everything, never failing to whisper compliments in your ear or reassure you that you’re doing great.

everything was perfect, every effort made filled with love and pure intentions, every moment nothing less than a beautiful experience, until the night before the wedding, when everything took a sharp turn for the worst.

[not-close-to-straight]

FATWS Episode 4

I’m finally fucking getting time to watch this thing. 

Dramatic reactions, incoherent ramblings and spoilers under the cut. 

Right off the bat I’m feeling like the only thing I really remember about Episode Three is vaguely not trusting Sharon Carter. I’m really supposed to believe Peggy Carters Niecey, defender of Captain America and dismantler of Hydra really is selling stolen art in Madripoor? Seems fake, but okay. 

Let’s get into it. 

Have I mentioned I love Karli’s freckles? Her hair and her freckles kill me, I never understood people who don’t think freckles are cute. They are actual dots of delightfulness

AYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AYO AYO AYO She is so ridiculously beautiful wtf. I’m shaving my head TOMORROW so I can be half as amazing as her. 

Wait is this a Wakanda flashback? Six years ago... ohhhh look at my goatherder Jesus Bucky, let that baby rest. WHY IS SHE SAYING THE WORDS? LOOK AT HIS EYES PLEASE STOP. This is hurting my soul. Oh god homecoming, and it’s the moment he knew Steve. Oh the tears, I can’t. I CAN’T. “You are free” I’m already crying and it’s been 1.2 minutes. 

Damn right the White Man doesn’t understand anything of their loss and shame. LISTEN TO BUCKY SPEAK WAKANDAN. I LOVE IT. Urgh she’s so beautiful. Her murder strut is impeccable. I’m in love and I’m swoooooooning. 

“It was sweet of you to defend me” Zemo take ten to twenty percent off the top there, This isn’t a date.

Hey, I feel like I don’t love that they refer to Karli as “Karli”. If she was a man, it would be Last Name Basis. “She’s a kid” “she’s a supremacist.” hmmm seeing a parallel between Wanda and Karli and the way they were treated. “She’s a kid?” She’s actually ridiculously powerful but thanks for that. (no Wanda hate here, just pointing it out) 

“My TT” ITS HIS AUNTIE BUCKY YOU’D KNOW THIS IF YOU WERE EVER INVITED TO THE COOKOUT 

Uh Zemo, maybe we don’t be the creepy guy in the coat offering children candy. I mean, the tactic worked but you could literally not be creepier right now.  Honestly I don’t know why I’m so surprised he’s keeping the Donya thing from them, duh he’s a villain, but I’m still surprised?? The sugar daddy role got me FOOLED

Sam being the one that understands what it means to be fighting to be on the other side of the “barbed wire fences” is so sad. 

BUCKY’S MAD. Sam has something against head tilts, that’s so funny to me for some reason. I DON’T TRUST SHARON. 

Why do I smell some foreshadowing with Karli’s talk about destroying the shield and how it’s a relic of a bygone era and a symbol of everyone that was left out

“take it easy before it gets weird” SAM. 

John Walker literally looks more sketchy every time we see him. Also, if you can’t say “son, just don’t” and everyone stops in their tracks, you are NOT Captain America. Its worrying me that Battlestar (battleship? lmaoooo) is starting to side with BuckySam because if there’s one thing literally every movie has taught me, it’s that the person who switches sides ends up dead and if I have to watch a POC first be relegated to sidekick and then killed I might actually riot

It’s so good to see Sam being Counselor!Sam. I think that gets so overlooked with him and I think it’s one of the most defining traits of his character. He’s not just a soldier, he’s not just brave, he’s seen the loss and he knows the struggle and he chose to help others through it while also being equally willing to suit back up and save the world. 

“Don’t patronize me” stop acting like a damn child. Why is John so twitchy, I don’t like it. OH is he really gonna say “this is easy for you, all this serum running through your veins” as if Bucky had a say in anything about in his life beyond Azzano. 

GET HIM BITCH punch his raggedy ass! 

Oh look at Bucky jumping, Winter Soldier, more like Winter Squirrel PARKOUR. Goddamn Zemo with his gun, oh no look at all that super soldier serum! I mean, you have to commend the guy for never wavering from his path. JOHN WALKER AND THE SERUM! It’s supposed to amplify what’s in your heart?? AND HE SUCKS OH NO. 

The power broker texts her “little girl” that’s so gross. 

“Separate them and kill Captain America” three months ago I would have howled at that line, now I’m like...meh. 

Sam wouldn’t have taken the serum-- not surprising. He’s a good man all by himself. No serum needed. Have you seen those arms? Actual Cannons of Freedom and Justice. “What about bucky” I love that he’s thinking about Bucky. Someone please protect these boys. 

Aw Bucky baby you’re not crazy. It’s funny to see him drink cos he definitely can’t get drunk. It’s the equivalent of some diva drinking a white wine spritzer. 

WHY IS JOHN WALKER BACK. 

THERE’S MY WOMEN OH MY GOD I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED IN MY LIFE. Do not shake her hand. John Walker, she will bite your hand off. Pointy Sticks, the Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever they want OMG HE TOUCHED HER omg. Look at Zemo sipping his drink LOOKING STRONG JOHN I CANNOT I CANNOT.

“Lets talk about this” Bucky is so calm. Bye bye Zemo. Oh GET it Sam with those fancy moves. 

...what just happened with Bucky’s arm. what just happened. “James” oh man waht does that mean?! Has Wakanda left him? Has he dishonored Them? My brain is moving too fast for this. 

I would like to have a moment of silence for John Walkers ego because he, a White Man (tm) and Solder (tm) and American (tm) just got his shit actually handed to him by a Black woman and he sat there and tried to more her “pointy stick” and couldn’t and then she full on did the shield kick thing while he sat on the ground and looked up at her and you know what? i think that’s very sexy of her, I will be watching this scene on repeat for the next hundred years wtf. 

Also ALSO? This is it. This is the moment where The Man (tm) can’t handle being beat so he goes and does something stupid, this is it, isn’t it? The Man Pain he just can’t tolerate? 

Oh my god Bucky’s face with his arm. I mean, it makes sense his arm would come off but to have himself literally disarmed (get it) in a fight is so... I mean it’s violating in a way, and its almost a betrayal as well but at the same time maaaaaaybe it’s a relief? Maybe its a relief to know he doesn’t always have to be a Soldier, he can take the arm off and just be Bucky?? 

Also I had to pause the show to write about this because my hand cramped up from trying to type too fast ughhh

Back into it 

ARM PORN NOISES I LOVE THEM

Whats an El Chapo? Oh wait, I figured it out. 

I love Lemar’s voice. He’s so confident talking about the serum but lets be perfectly honest, Karli Morgenthau and Steve Rogers are basically the same person a hundred years apart. If you don’t think Steve Rogers would have singlehandedly led a revolt against a world government he thought was wrong, you are 100% incorrect. Not that I think he wouldn’t have resorted to bombings etc, but also... that sort of life does awful things to people. 

WHY IS SHE CALLING SARAH. “My world doesn’t matter to America” oh sweetheart, I feel that in my soul. Sarah knows who Sam is. She knows he’s not working for John Walker. This is the first time I’ve been anti-Karli. I know she’s desperate but you don’t threaten someones babies. 

HEY LOOK THERE’S ME NOT TRUSTING SHARON AGAIN

It actually makes me angry to even see Walker carrying the shield like that. I’m aware it’s an overreaction, but your honor, I hate him. 

...Lemar? 

Don’t make me watch a POC die for some White Man’s story arc, don’t do that. 

Oh. Shit. 

Sam do something. SAM DO SOMETHING. HE’S NOT GOOD SAM! 

My god do I love watching Bucky fight. Those Kicks of Vengeance will never get old. CAW CAW MOTHERFUCKER use them wings Sam. 

Oh Hoskins is okay. Alright. 

Bucky with the good knives, I LOVE HIM. The fight scenes are always so well coordinated in WS. We see you definitely not killing when you absolutely could. 

OH FUCK HOSKINS WHAT THE FUCK I THOUGHT WE WEREN’T GOING TO DO THIS WHAT THE FUCK

...this makes me so mad wtf. We couldn’t have done this journey without pointlessly sacrificing a POC? No? Have to drag that trope out? Gonna make me watch another Black man be killed just so the White Guy can move his story forward. 

oh shit Walker is MAD. 

Fuck he just-- he just murdered someone with Steve’s shield. he just MURDERED SOMEONE WITH THE SHIELD AND EVERYONE WAS WATCHING. 

And look at him, he feels no remorse. He feels perfectly justified. He is DARING them to say something to him. He is America (tm) brutally silencing protests and rebellions and taking his own issues out on people he feels disrespect him and you can’t tell him he’s wrong because he can justify every drop of blood by making it about how he felt “they beat me and they weren’t even super soldiers. they disobeyed me. they should have listened to me. they killed my friend.”

I keep hearing preserum Steve saying “I don’t like bullies” and then imagining him beating the shit out of Walker. 

...That visual of the shield with blood on it... it’s so... shocking isn’t even the right word. Horrifying. Its horrifying.  

I don’t even know what to say. 

This episode was a whiplash. The writers of this series need to be commended. Also the stunt men and the fight choreographers. Fucking kudos, and now I need a stiff drink and a good cry because this episode took it OUT of me. 

[sunflowersteves]

fright night || ch. two

vampire!bucky barnes x fem!reader

ch. summary: Steve figures out that you’re bucky’s mate while you’re still trying to battle with yourself whether your neighbors are supernatural.

author’s note: so here’s the second chapter!! I’m having a lot of fun making this and i hope you all enjoy :)

warnings: supernatural beings, spooky

previous ch. // series m.list // full m.list

Steve taps the side of his wine glass, waiting for Bucky to set up his coffin in the basement. Steve had already done so, it wasn’t much of a hassle. 

Steve chuckled a bit into his cup, thinking about their whole situation. Of course, they would move into a brand new neighborhood and have problems right off the bat. Luckily, since Steve’s only half-vampire and can endure the sun—he can investigate much more than Bucky can.

He took a sip of the blood that filled the glass, relishing in the pure taste of the substance. He started to pour some in a glass for Bucky as he heard his hard footsteps on the hardwood floor. 

“You were right. Our neighbor does look like her.” 

Steve nodded towards Bucky while he took the glass out of Steve's hand, taking a small sip of the thick blood filled to the brim. Bucky had to think long and hard about what he was going to do with you.

You had looked so identical to his past lover—so utterly the same and yet so very different. You had the same hair and eyes and even the same height, but there was something so captivatingly different. You were almost addictive—even if he didn’t know your name.

“She’s different, isn’t she?”

Bucky had only sighed at his best friend before he nodded. Bucky felt a pull towards you, which was something he never felt with her. When he saw you peeking at them through the window, he couldn’t help but want to go over there into your house.

“I think she’s your mate, Buck.”

Bucky’s head snapped towards Steve’s, his eyes were quite wide as well. Mates were always extremely rare. So rare that even in Bucky’s four hundred year life span, he’s never heard of a vampire having a mate—much less with a human.

“Steve, you know that they’re rare-”

“I know, jerk. I’m well aware. But you feel something that I’ve never felt—that I’ve never heard any vampire feel before. The only time I’ve ever heard a vampire feel was Angel, who had a soul.”

Bucky chugged his alcohol-infused blood, drinking every last drop. He knew Steve was right; there was something very odd going on with the two of you. Even though you saw them carry his coffin inside, there was a part of him that was hopeful.

He knew how humans reacted to the supernatural, and he had only hoped you would understand. He wanted to see you again, curled up next to your window sill, and reading a book. He couldn’t get you out of his head.

Their conversation was soon interrupted by a ring of the doorbell. Steve and Bucky looked at each other before walking towards the door. Steve slowly opened it, surprised to see your mother standing right before them.

Last night.

All you could think about was last night.

You watched as your neighbors carried a large black coffin, the brunette staring back at you with a smirk. That image had played in your head practically all day. Even when your mother had you wake up early to help her fix a shelf—you had accidentally hammered your thumb.

Part of you didn’t want to even process it. The other, however, couldn’t help but ask so many questions. Why did they have a coffin? What was inside it? Where were they going to put it? Why was that guy so pale and almost dead like?

You even tried to convince yourself that it was just a wardrobe, a very oddly coffin-shaped wardrobe. But alas, the other side of your mind had stopped letting you think like that. You knew what you saw—and it wasn’t a wardrobe.

You peaked over outside from your bedroom window, seeing that everything was pitch black. You knew one of them was home considering that there was a car in the driveway. But still, nothing had moved a muscle since you started to stare at it.

You walked downstairs to see that your mother was gone; you just assumed that she was at work. You sat in front of the couch, desperately needing anything that could distract you until she got home. 

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn on the TV, quietly switching through each channel. It took quite a while but then you had found one that struck your interest. Fake letters scattered across the screen and dark clouds surrounded the letters.

Peter Vincent: The World-Renowned Vampire Hunter

Your eyebrows rose at the title, and you laughed to yourself for a little bit. However, your fingers holding the remote had never moved to change the channel. 

“Hello, I’m Peter Vincent. On tonight’s program, we’ll be showing you how to detect a vampire.” 

You let yourself sink back into the couch, watching intently at everything he was spouting out to the TV. Honestly, you had felt a little bit ridiculous that you were continuing to watch this, but there was a tiny bit of you that wanted to keep watching due to your suspicious neighbors.

“To find a vampire, one must notice that they never go out into the sun. This may be through tinted windows or just never being spotted out and about.”

Your eyes widened slightly, your mind slowly connecting the dots. The other neighbor, the one that had stared at you, never came out into the sun. Your mother always just figured it was a preference but somehow, your mind had told you otherwise.

“They sleep in coffins, which can be an array of all different kinds, but you should know that they’re quite big.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping the material on your jeans. He kept babbling on but you honestly weren’t listening—too engrossed in your thoughts.

 A coffin.

A goddamn stupid fucking coffin.

You knew this all sounded so crazy but any of this was too big to just be a coincidence. The guy that you saw that night, he looked like he was dead—un-living in all sorts of ways. 

“And before we end this program, if you ever come across these evil beings, one must know that a stake to the heart should kill the beasts.” 

The old man pressed his fingertips onto his chest, right where his heart would be, and patted it a couple of times. You quickly turn off the TV, your heart was pounding and your chest constricting.

Your mind goes blank, staring into the void that was of thoughts. Were you crazy? Was this all just a misunderstanding?

Ultimately, your mind was racing with these thoughts, but your body reacted before that. Before you know it, you find yourself in front of an old chair on the patio out in the backyard. It was quite old but not too rotted that it should work. 

You moved it so it was on its side and press your hands onto one of the legs. Grunting, you successfully rip off the old rotted wood. You run back into the house—searching for any knife you could find that could dwindle down the wood. Finally, you grabbed the perfect knife and started to shave off pieces as fast as you could. 

“Honey! I’m home!”

Your whole body jumps, dropping the wooden stake and letting it clang onto the tile floor. You hear your mom ask questions, and you try to answer them as best as you could before shoving the stake into your jacket pocket. Your mother entered the kitchen, setting some groceries down on the island. 

“Oh, good, dear! I need help with preparing dinner tonight. I’ve invited our neighbors over, isn’t that exciting? Oh! And I learned their names too, Bucky and Steve. How cute!”

You nod with fake enthusiasm, listening to your mother talk about what she was going to prepare for the dinner party. Even if they weren’t really vampires, there was only one way to find out.

bucky barnes: @harrysthiccthighss​ @rebekahdawkins​

marvel: @harrysthiccthighss​ @fandomsandxfiles​ @rebekahdawkins​

permanent: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @rebekahdawkins​ @hailmary-yramliah​

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Softer Than Silence

Read here on AO3!

(Takes place right after this fic which I wrote like a year ago and only now got to making a sequel for whoops.)

Summary:

“Your larynx was severed. It was a pretty nasty injury and Leslie did everything she could, but your vocal cords...they weren’t salvageable. I’m...I’m so sorry, Tim.”

Tim lets that sink in. Severed larynx. Unsalvageable vocal cords.

Oh, god.

Tim doesn’t know how much time has passed when he wakes up. He’s not even sure how he’s waking up. A slit throat in any universe should be a certain one-way ticket to the afterlife—don’t pass go, don’t collect two hundred dollars. Dead. Maybe Tim is dreaming. Or maybe he’s dying right now and this is just his brain flashing forward to the future he could have had, “Owl Creek Bridge”-style. His ears feel like they’re packed with pillows, but voices make their way through his warped awareness like pencils poking through aluminum foil. “I say we should draw straws.” “Really, Jay? That’s your suggestion?” “You got a better idea, Dickface?” Someone clicks their tongue. “You’re both cowards. Let me be the one to tell him and I’ll have it done in less than a minute.” “I can’t even tell you all of the reasons I’m not letting you do that.” “Yeah, kid, your bedside manner fucking sucks.” “It’s better than yours!” “Will you both shut up?” Tim would feign sleep and listen longer, but the drug-induced haze is fading faster than he can keep up with. His throat burns with a fiery vengeance, flames creeping up his windpipe. He shifts, a hand instinctively grappling for his throat. Someone stops him. “Tim? You awake?” He opens his eyes. Dick is beside him, lowering Tim’s wrist back to the bed. They’re in the medical area of the Batcave; he can tell by the dank air and a sliver of rock peeking through the gap in the curtain surrounding them. Jason and Damian stand off to the side, their expressions unreadable. Tim opens his mouth to ask them what happened, but before he can utter a vowel, Dick is squeezing his hand. “Don’t try to talk,” he says. Tim obediently settles back, wariness rising in his gut. He reaches up with the hand not in Dick’s grasp and discovers a thick bandage plastered over his neck. That can’t be good. “Do you remember what happened?” The man flicks Tim’s blood off of his sword. “I would love to continue this riveting visit of ours, but it seems like my mission is complete. Have a pleasant night, Mr. Drake.” Tim nods with a wince. “You were lucky,” Dick says. “Conner found you and brought you here just in time. You lost a lot of blood and Leslie had you in surgery for a while, but she was able to fix most of the damage.” Tim doesn’t miss the most, and Dick grimaces when he catches it as well. Tim arches one eyebrow—a clear, What aren’t you telling me? “Looks like that’s our cue to duck out,” Jason says. He grabs Damian by the shoulder and ignores the raccoon-like hands smacking him away. “Glad you didn’t die, Tim.” He ushers Damian out and they disappear, leaving Tim’s stomach curdling. He looks to Dick for an explanation. “There...there was a lot of damage, Tim. You’re lucky to be breathing right now.” That should be good, right? Tim is alive. There’s no tube in his neck so he can breathe on his own, and aside from some residual soreness under the buzz of the drugs, he feels fine. This is a monumental victory. So why does Dick look like he’s delivering a death sentence? Tim wants to ask, but he physically can’t do that. Dick doesn’t seem to be able to either. “Your larynx was severed. It was a pretty nasty injury and Leslie did everything she could, but your vocal cords...they weren’t salvageable. I’m...I’m so sorry, Tim.” Tim lets that sink in. Severed larynx. Unsalvageable vocal cords. Oh, god. The utter horror on Tim’s face must be unmistakable because Dick is rushing to comfort him. “It’s okay, Tim. You’re going to get through this.” But Dick’s voice is muffled by the ringing in Tim’s ears. He can’t lose his voice. He can’t. This isn’t happening. Tim scrambles to sit up, his breathing becoming ragged. He sucks in a deep breath, opens his mouth, and tries, tries to make a noise. Tries to make a single sound, but all that comes out is a rush of air. He’s shaking. He tries to speak, to yell, to scream, and there are tears running down his cheeks and his gasps are empty and his throat hurts but he doesn’t stop. Dick’s hand is on his back. “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.” Tim hates that he doesn’t even have the ability to argue, to tell Dick that there’s nothing to figure out. Tim can’t speak and meaningless encouragement isn’t going to change that. Nothing will change it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s an adjustment, to say the least. The first day, Tim holds out a flicker of hope that this is all some dream and any minute he’ll wake up again in the med bay, throat repaired and vocal cords intact. He can’t believe this is happening to him. In his entire life Tim never once considered what it would be like to lose his voice, never prepared himself for the possibility. He’s watched Cass trudge through reading assignments from Barbara and struggle to find the right words in a conversation, but it never occurred to him just how much Tim relied on his ability to speak. He took it for granted. His first day out of the med bay he finds himself slipping up again and again, opening his mouth in response to a question only to remember that that’s no longer an option. He doesn’t know enough sign language to partake in a conversation, so he avoids them altogether. He hears Alfred humming along to an opera album down the hall and is filled with a vicious, panging envy. Never again will Tim hum, sing, laugh. It’s all gone. Everyone keeps giving him the same droll sermons. He’ll get through this. It could have been worse; he could be dead. Cass manages just fine with sign language, and Tim can too. He should count himself lucky that the damage wasn’t more severe. But is he lucky? Is he really? Tim has already lost so much: his parents, his friends, his Robin career, Bruce. And now his voice. Life just doesn’t know when to stop taking from him. Maybe it will never stop taking, not until he’s an empty husk. Conner left for Smallville just a few days after Tim awoke. He never said why, but Tim knows it’s because he feels guilty. Tim wants to reassure him that this isn’t his fault, that Tim would be dead if Conner hadn’t saved him, but it would take too long to write down. Bruce taught Tim basic ASL shortly after he began his Robin training, sticking to the most rudimentary of phrases that one would need for crime-fighting. Yes. No. Please. Thank you. Help. Safe. Danger. Steph offered to learn sign language with him and Alfred left a sneaky pile of ASL books on Tim’s desk, but he hasn’t touched them. He instead relies on a whiteboard and marker to communicate, rarely as he does. His search for Bruce has been put on hold, not of his own volition. He supposes it’s fair. After all, Tim can’t even order a hamburger anymore without the help of his whiteboard. Not that he leaves the manor much, anyway. The bandage on his neck draws too much unwanted attention. He’d hate to see what Gotham’s press would conspirize about a Wayne son with a mysteriously slit throat. Tim’s days are spent in his room, working on cases out of the action. That’s what he does now, sitting on his bed with his laptop, music blasting through his headphones. Dick pokes his head in without knocking. They still haven’t devised a system for that yet. “Hey, you got a second?” Tim flicks his fingers in Dick’s direction: his way of acknowledging people these days. He pauses his music. “Damian and I are heading out on patrol now.” Tim says nothing. Obviously. “Alfred told me you didn’t eat dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast.” Tim rifles through the papers sprawled around his knees and holds up a crumpled pink post-it. Throat hurts. “That excuse again?” Tim shrugs. “Look, I know you’re frustrated, but what you’re doing isn’t healthy. You know that, right?” Tim twirls a finger in the air. Whoop-dee-doo. “That’s real mature.” Of all the things I have to worry about right now, I’d say maturity is pretty low on the list. Not that Tim says any of that. He doesn’t know the signs and he let his whiteboard fall off the bed somewhere to his left hours ago. He doesn’t bother reaching for it. Dick comes closer to the bed and stops. “Can I sit?” Tim shrugs and goes back to his laptop. Dick sits on the edge by Tim’s knee and reaches over to close the computer. Tim flips him one of the few ASL signs he does know. “You have a right to be angry about this, but you can’t project that anger onto us. Me, Damian, Alfred—we’re not the ones you’re mad at. And we all want to help you, but we can’t do that if you don’t let us. So start letting us.” Easy for him to say. But Tim knows he’s right, as infuriating as it is, which is the only reason he doesn’t turn his music back on and shut down for another week. Sighing, Tim opens the laptop. He pulls up a blank word document and types for a moment. He turns the computer around to show Dick. Speech for Neon Knights foundation in a couple days. Already written. Just need someone to deliver it. Dick nods, smiling. “Sure. I can take care of that. And it’s okay if you need more time to work through this, but I want you to remember that I’m here if you ever want to talk. Or, well—you know what I mean. Just remember you’re not alone in this.” Tim wishes he could tell Dick the truth. That Tim does appreciate everything he’s trying to do—really, he does. Tim doesn’t know where he’d even be if he didn’t have Dick by his side, making the world a brighter place just by existing in it with his endless patience and unfaltering optimism. If only he had the voice to tell him. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason wouldn’t call himself a particularly caring individual. That sort of legacy is better left to the real heroes, like Bruce and Roy and Dick-fucking-Grayson. It’s for this reason that Jason didn’t stick around for a hot second when Tim got hurt, nor did he return for the aftermath. Tim is dealing with enough shit right now. He doesn’t need his asshole older brother getting involved and making him feel worse. Jason can’t imagine what it would be like to be in Tim’s situation. For starters, it would utterly butcher his knack for smartass remarks. Plus, there’s no finer euphoria than screaming obscenities at a blubbering criminal right before he puts a bullet through their skull. Losing his voice would be losing half of what makes him the Red Hood. Red Robin, on the other hand...he’s always been quiet. Not like Cass, but getting there. He relies on shadows and ninja-like swiftness to get the point across that this is goddamn Red Robin and you should be wetting your pants in his wake. But Jason’s smart enough to know that the silent schtick is done by choice. It’s a maneuver and a learned behavior rolled into one. He can only imagine how torturous it must be to be silenced by force—to be muzzled by something completely out of his control. (Fine, so Jason cares about the kid a little. Sue him.) He goes into the Batburger restaurant (Jesus shit, whoever came up with the idea of a Batman-themed restaurant should be shot in the head. Or maybe thrown a parade. He can’t decide) and scouts for black hair and pale skin. He spots Tim in a booth all the way at the back and heads over, sliding into the seat across from him. “Hey, kid.” Tim picks his head up from where he was engrossed in a game of Solitaire on his phone and gives a two-fingered salute. A notepad and Superman pen sit on the table in front of him. “Did you order yet?” Tim points to the scar on his neck and Jason mentally slaps himself in the forehead. “Right.” Tim picks up the pen and scribbles for a minute. “What,” Jason says, “no whiteboard today?” Tim turns the pad around to show Jason. Too bulky. People notice. Below that: Nuggets, fries & grape zesti. “Magic words?” Tim rolls his eyes. He tears out the page and bounces it off Jason’s forehead. However, he does lift his right hand and rotate it in front of his chest, palm flat: the ASL sign for “please.” Jason recognizes it from his minimal knowledge accumulated from Robin training and conversations with Cass. “Attaboy. For a minute there I was worried Alf failed in making a decent person out of you.” Tim sticks his tongue out, which makes Jason chuckle. He goes to the counter and relays Tim’s order, along with his own. While he waits he dares a look back and finds Tim back to staring down at his phone, shirt collar pulled as high as it’ll go. What must it be like, going from Gotham’s favorite billionaire playboy-in-training to a silent teenager who can’t go to a restaurant without people staring at the killer scar across his throat? Jason’s seen the gossip magazines. Some speculate a failed assassination, while others are sure it was a suicide attempt gone wrong. At least Jason’s scars can be covered by a t-shirt. Tim can’t hide his without a turtleneck, but it’s summer now. He’s forced to endure the speculated theories and pitiful glances, meanwhile Jason has the benefit of being legally dead on his side. He doesn’t have to worry about people remembering him. Losing one’s voice only months after losing his second father figure is tough shit for a seventeen-year-old. For anyone. He doesn’t know how Tim does it. Jason goes back to the table and finds Tim doodling a stick figure on the notepad. It’s got thick, narrowed eyebrows and pointed teeth. “That supposed to be me?” Tim’s mouth quirks. He fingerspells, Damian. His sleeve falls down an inch, exposing a med-alert bracelet. Alfred must have made him start wearing it. What with his asplenia and nasty habit of fainting in places when he forgets to eat, it makes sense that Tim would need it. If something were to happen, it’s not like he can inform paramedics of the deal. “You really captured the evil in his eyes.” Jason takes a bite of his cheeseburger while Tim busies himself with arranging his fries in size order, the little weirdo. “So how are things at home?” Good, Tim signs, his movements clunky and unpracticed. Dick… He frowns and scribbles on the pad. Helicopter parenting. “Same old, same old, right?” Tim levels an unimpressed look. “What? It can’t be that bad.” Benched indefinitely. It sucks. “Can you blame him? I wouldn’t want you in the field like this yet either.” Cass, Tim writes, and leaves it at that. “But she’s been functioning without speech for her whole life. She doesn’t need it to be understood. You’ve only been doing it for two weeks.” And a half, Tim writes. “You know what I mean. ‘s not like you can call for help if you get gutted in an alley.” Never thought I’d see the day when you’d take Dick’s side. “Yeah, well, sometimes the fucker has a point.” He takes a sip of his soda. “You know, I talked to Babs yesterday. Said she’s working on tech that’ll let you use morse code over the comms. If she finishes it on schedule, you can be back out there in less than a month.” Tim just nods, eyes dimmed. It’s weird seeing the kid so quiet. The real trick used to be getting Tim to shut up. He used to spend hours rambling on and on about whatever science kick he was on at the moment. For as quiet as Red Robin could be, Tim Drake never ran out of things to say. Jason misses it. He throws a sesame seed at Tim. “Hey. I’m trying to have a conversation here.” Tim makes a gesture that Jason doesn’t recognize. At Jay’s confused look, Tim writes on the notepad, Fuck off. “Cassie teach you that one?” Steph. Wanted to learn curse words first. “Of course you did. You know, you should hit up Jericho. He knows exactly what you’re going through, and I’m pretty sure he was able to teach Dick sign language in less than a year.” You’re the fifth person to say that. “I’m a fucking genius, we know this. But seriously. It might be useful to have someone in your corner who knows how to cope with this kind of thing.” I’m coping fine. “By listening to shitty emo music all day in your room? Yeah, because that’s super healthy.” Tim twiddles the pen between his fingers, glaring at Jason. Finally, he puts it to paper. I keep calling my cell phone to listen to the voicemail. Jason blinks. “Why?” Don’t want to forget what my voice sounds like. “You won’t.” Forgot my mom’s after a year. Starting to forget my dad’s. Tim pauses before adding, He yelled a lot though, so I think he’s got a lead. Jason has no fucking idea what to say to that, thanks for asking. He gives it a shot anyway. “Then...then I’ll remember it enough for the both of us. It's kind of hard to forget that annoying-ass nasally voice babbling about Star Wars for hours anyway.” Wow, thanks, Tim signs with an eye roll. No problem, Jason signs back. That makes Tim smile for the first time since Jason sat down. Maybe this kid will be all right, after all.

[lilallama]

(Sorry if I spell something wrongly lol) Idk, This is my opinion? Gryffindor, Jungkook. Hufflepuff, Taehyung & Yoongi. Ravenclaw, Namjoon & Jin. Slytherin, Jimin & Hobi??? I literally just searched the meaning of each house and just picked one based on the personality shown. Also, If you don't think this matches them, Sorry ;-;

[Don't worry, sweetie ^^. You don't have to apologise! 💕🍑]

Hoseok is a lot more two faced than I actually tend to show. The way he presents himself is mostly a mask. While he seems mostly calm on the outside, he's actually quite the opposite on the inside. Out of all the boys it'd be easiest for him to manipulate/influence Y/n (@bangtans-apollo Tae is quacking-) and he's aware of that. That's one of the reasons why they started the club 1. To protect Y/n, 2. The club concept came because it'd be easier to meet up and they would automatically get a clubroom and 3. Hoseok threatened to tell on them if they don't join, he'd make Y/n despise each one of them.

He is a strong leader (one of the Slytherin traits), I try to make him resourceful (but I am not myself so that might not shine through too much), he is definitely cunning. The whole ordeal with wanting to be with Y/n no matter what is pretty ambitious, I'd say. And lastly the traditionalism trait, he is very into tradition and has to keep his domestic fantasies with Y/n a secret. His parents raised him very traditional, he would hate it if (female) Y/n would ask him out first or would propose first and would at first frown upon his attention to (male or non binary) Y/n.

All in all Slytherin seems very accurate.

Now concerning Jimin; similar to Hoseok he too can be a two faced snake. He doesn't hide his true thoughts from Y/n or the boys, if anything he overshares sometimes (one time he started talking to Taehyung about some... rather inappropriate things concerning Y/n. That got his Y/n privilege taken away for a whole month). And despite practically pleading to be the "dumb bimbo" stereotype, he is surprisingly clever and intelligent. Before Highschool, before he made his first experiences with popular boys, he was a straight A's and B's student. Yet once he had his first boyfriend, he discovered that the people surrounding him typically preferred the dumb blondes. (He actually broke up with the captain of the football team for Y/n.)

He also sometimes displays ambitious, just in a whiney sort of way. Self preservation is definitely something. Unlike Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon or Jeongguk, he wouldn't let himself be killed for Y/n's sake. If Y/n were to be killed he would end up deluding himself into thinking a person who looks similar to them is them and would force Y/n's personality and style on them. Cunningness is 100% accurate. He's fake. He pretends to be a silly sweetheart who loves everyone but will spread rumours about you, blame things on you etc. and everyone believes him. His cunningness concerning Y/n is more whiney than anything.

So I do think Jimin fits Slytherin.

Namjoon was raised by strict parents who forbade him a tremendous amount of things and painted his world for him. It was engraved in his head, he was going to be the CEO of their company one day. Yet despite everything he still had a head of his own. Maye it was because if his high IQ that he understood that his parents weren't the only opinion in his life. Don't get me wrong, they still left him scarred (sadly literally, as his father once hit him bloody) and traumatised but not without a mind of his own. Ever since he was small creativity and originality was something he admired and loved. It was partly reason of why he fell for Y/n, their individuality, their mind, their heart, their soul.

We will not need to discuss intelligence, it's a trait he undoubtedly has. He is always willing to learn and showed interest in many different things before Y/n captured his focus. He is most likely one of the wisest members as he is aware of how twisted his love for them truly is (once again something I tend to fail at portraying) and tried to stop it when it started. But somehow that only made everything worse and by now he doesn't care anymore at all. When he was a child he used to be more openly curious than nowadays (as it caused him many punishments from his parents).

I feel that Namjoon would fit Ravenclaw.

Seokjin was spoiled all his life. His parents adored him, other kids adored him, everyone adored him. While he might've acted oblivious he knew that it's because of his money. Similar to Jimin, Seokjin changed when he entered high school. While he always was a pretty intelligent and well behaved student (still very arrogant though) he then became less concerned with studies and once made a teacher cry (that was before he met Y/n). He loves standing out as an individual, that includes making anyone change who crosses his path with the same outfit (not in school as they wear a school uniform. But outside, yes, he has that much power. Everyone knows Kim Seokjin).

As said before, Seokjin is far from stupid. He is a very intelligent individual but doesn't show the extent of his nolage. Instead aiming for a cool "Queen B" persona. He is witty with his comebacks (something I cannot write because I do not possess that superpower), he's quick with his words. He holds respect for people who are 60+ years old as he believes they've been through a lot in life already. These people have wisdom he could only gain by experience and that he respects (there is one very sweet lady that lives alone in a very big mansion a few streets away from his penthouse. He always visits her because he loves her genuine kindness. When he met Y/n she recently passed away and he saw a part of her in them).

Seokjin could qualify for a Ravenclaw.

Taehyung was raised by a very Christian family that he still cherishes very much. Because of their intense belief he was raised to worship. He never fell in love, so when Y/n crossed paths with his, he started showing love how he's used to it (Out of all the boys Taehyung is straight up insane. Something in his brain might be wired wrong, there is no explanation on why he likes them, on why he believed that's what love is because his parents treated him with normal, familiar love. So he is simply sick, there is no "saving" him. He's better of in a mental hospital). But he was always a very kind boy. Giving instead of taking, never wanting anything in return. Out of everyone, Taehyung was the one who welcomed new students and made tons of friends. But he grew out of it as his focus turned to art. He aimed to make his parents proud so he didn't have time for friends.

His loyalty is unlike any other. You could torture him half dead and he'd still forgive you, stay loyal to you, serve you. He is Y/n's servant. He works hard on improving his artistic abilities and also to maintain fairly good grades. For Y/n any labour he'd have to be put through would seem like a blessing. Another trait for Hufflepuff would be fairness and he surely is fair. As one of the least jealous members of the club he really only cares if Y/n's okay with what's happening or could get hurt (he always kets the other members have more privileges than he has because he believes it'd be not only greedy but prideful to want Y/n to hinself. He avoids any sin when it comes to Y/n, envy, wrath, pride, sloth, nothing will ever come near his modern day Jesus).

Taehyung definitely is a Hufflepuff.

If the boy who works two parttime jobs, to pay for rent, bills and food, cleans the shabby apartment by himself because his alcoholic mother is busy messing it up again, yet still treats his mother with kindness, only to be treated like trash by seven more powerful and successful guys in his school who all like the same person he does and still manages to maintain the position as intern and honour roll student at a prestigious school for roch people, isn't in Hufflepuff then I don't know what. This poor soul is incredibly sensitive and kind. He isn't judgemental (as he himself is used to people judging him). All round very sweet.

I think it's very clear that he's very diligent and hard working. He holds great passion for music and enjoys writing poetry, a very sensitive soul. Yoongi isn't someone to complain about something being unfair (cough cough Jimin cough cough) or try and steal Y/n away from them. His day dreams consist of imagining Y/n liking him back, but he is certain that would never happen (according to you guys, it seems a lot of you would pick Yoongi if you'd get to decide). Not only is Yoongi kind but loyal as well, he'd never imagine leaving anyone behind even his useless mother.

Yoongi is 1000% a Hufflepuff.

Jeongguk tends to be hot tempered, he goes from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds. Everything in life seems like a challenge to prove he's better than others think (his father was a notorious serial killer who killed twenty one people yet got away with a ten year prison sentence and got released after six, ten months later Jeongguk was born). In truth he did not care for anyone else, only Y/n. So all tge chivalry he could muster was directed at them.

He is one brave guy who doesn't get easily scared (I guess living with as well as being a serial killer at sixteen years old desensitised him). Jeongguk is courageous just not in/for a positive way/purpose. He deluted himself into thinking that Y/n needs protection, HIS protection. He once attacked a teacher because they were helping Y/n with a question, that's very daring (more like stupid) just not in a good way. A (still not) more positive example of his daringness is when he wants to impress Y/n. He hung from a skyscraper for five minutes doing pullups, just to inpress them. One time he also jumped across his luxurious pool at home (and almost slipped, almost bashing his head in) just to prove that he can jump further than someone they talked about.

I could very much picture him as a Griffendor.

If you enjoyed reading my work, please consider reblogging it. Thank you for reading

[hotdadslade]

DC’s Failed Shared Continuity

This is a subject that I see touched on a lot but not really addressed, so I wanted to break it down.

DC’s core comics (That is, Batman, Superman, Justice League, etc, and not the elseworld style books like DCeased or White Knight) are generally understood to be happening in a shared continuity. That is, what happens in one book reflects in the other. The series cross over, because they take place in the same universe.

Only that isn’t true anymore.

There are a lot of plot holes that don’t really make sense, but that isn’t what I want to talk about. Instead, I want to talk about the fact that DC has absolutely no timeline, the absolute glut of events happening in and out of main books, and the fact that each DC comic is effectively its own universe, rather than shared between it.

I’m going to address the following examples, just to give people an idea of what’s going on and exactly what I mean when I talk about a shared continuity:

The fact that Alfred Pennyworth’s funeral happened before he died.

The fact that Bruce Wayne was in at least three places at once at the start of Perpetua’s invasion.

DC’s insane event schedule through 2019.

The lack of impact events are having with the readers, such as the fact that fact that the entire of South America went to war, China engaged in mass orgies, and the entire of Britain stared at the sky for days on end and almost no reader has heard about it.

City of Bane’s complete lack of impact in the larger DC universe

And last but not least: Why does this matter, and where does DC go from here?

Alfred’s Funeral is before his Death:

Alfred Pennyworth dies during City of Bane. We see his funeral in Pennyworth: R.I.P., where we see the family come together and share stories before immediately getting into a slap fight over it.

This unquestionably happens after City of Bane, because City of Bane is when Alfred died. Despite this, Ric is still around:

That little note in the bottom left makes it clear that this happens before Nightwing Annual #2.

The majority of Annual #2 is a flashback, but it specifically ends with the Court of Owls telling Cobb (that is, Talon) that Dick will soon be his, and telling him to move in. This happens in Nightwing 63, when Cobb shows up (aided by Apex Lex’s gift), and starts screwing with Dick’s life. I’ll skip over the most of it: what matters is that Talon brainwashing Dick Grayson appears the same night Perpetua’s symbol appears over the city (in Nightwing 66 and a number of other issues), Dick attacks the Nightwings, fights Condor Red, and then is freed from the mind control all in one night.

Which is great. Except this can’t happen after Alfred’s death, because the symbol of Perpetua (which appears everywhere at once) appears over Gotham during City of Bane (in Batman 81):

So we have one event happening simultaneously in Nightwing and Batman, only one happens before/during Alfred’s death, and the other supposedly happens well after.

Which leads us into...

Batman apparently can be everywhere at once

So up above we have Batman 81. Bruce is, at this point, in the city rushing to beat Bane when the symbol pops up.

Here’s the symbol popping up in Detective Comics (1014) while fighting the Freezes (the city, I’ll note, is normal Gotham at this point, not controlled by Bane):

Bruce is in Paris (in theory, after his coma) in Outsiders #6, and then arrives back in Gotham just in time for the symbol to appear in the sky in issue 7:

Even just while researching this, I realized that it happened in other issues too. The symbol appears in the sky in Batman/Superman issue 3 while Bruce is being attacked by the infected:

It also happens in Justice League, but I can’t be bothered to get pages.

This is all taking place in a shared universe, so the fact that there’s three or four different Bruce’s in three or four different books who are all doing completely different things in different areas is... baffling. DC has always played a bit fast and lose with Detective Comics and Batman, rarely defining which is happening first or what their exact order of events is, but this takes it a step beyond that.

It also leads into...

DC has how many events? and What happened to the infected?

2019 was a year. Specifically, it was the year of the Villain, but it really should have been year of the event, because DC had so many events happening almost concurrently that it was impossible to figure out what was going on when.

You had Heroes in Crisis running from late September 2018 to May 2019 (acknowledged in Batman, Flash, Green Arrow, Red Hood, and Titans, but largely inconsequential and rarely referenced again).

Year of the Villain itself spanned the whole year, with two dedicated series (YoTV and YoTV: Hell Arisen), a huge Justice League arc (14 issues!), literally dozens of tie in issues in main books, and 8 oneshots focusing on specific villains and their upgrades. 

This also tied into The Infected storline, where the Batman who Laughs infected six heroes and sent them out into the universe to torment people. This, too, got a number of oneshots and tie-in issues.

You had Event Leviathan, a six issue series which then got a spinoff and soon a sequel through the second half of 2019, which promised to ‘stretch across the DC universe and touch every character’, which has been, outside of Action Comics (which spun it off), a complete non-entity.

You also had Doomsday Clock, which launched all the way back in 2017 and only finished in late 2019. This was intended to ‘impact the entire DC universe’, with the idea that when the series ended, the rest of the continuity would catch up to it and you’d see the repercussions. It’s effectively been rendered non-canon, taking place outside the universe in a single line in Justice League.

So many things were happening, and they were all stressed as extremely important, but when the chips were down...

Most of them weren’t.

Half the Villain upgrades went away with the blink of an eye (Black Mask hasn’t shown up since his oneshot, and Riddler threw his retirement out in favor of being cRaZy in Batman). Heroes in Crisis had almost no affect. Event Leviathan is waiting on its sequel, having meant almost nothing despite the fact that an entire country was taken over. Doomsday Clock is now effectively out of canon.

Many of these (mostly YOTV itself) lead into the Death Metal event happening now, but that’s the thing: they only lead into that. There’s minimal acknowledgement of those events happening in other books. Even when huge things that should be impossible to ignore happen, they have minimal to no effect on the wider continuity. When is Death Metal happening, in continuity? No idea. What about the infected arc? What about Justice League?

Who knows? DC doesn’t seem to.

Which leads into the finale, the great big ‘are you kidding me’ moment:

Remember that time hundreds of thousands of people died, the whole of South America went to war, and China descended into mass orgies?

No?

Neither does anyone else.

In Wonder Woman issue 50 (and some issues around it), a series of dark gods emerge from (you guessed it) the dark multiverse. Each takes control over a single country, enacting their dark bidding. 

(Brief Suicide CW in the description below)

The goddess of war causes the entire of South America to literally go to war, invading and murdering each other. The mob god causes the whole of Britain to walk outside and stare up at the sky, not eating or drinking until they started to drop dead. A god of indulgence causes the entire of China to engage in bacchanalia, which is effectively a frenzied orgy of celebration and dancing. The nameless god has taken over Saint Petersburg, causing those within to commit mass-suicide impulsively.

And of course this has been happening world wide. Tens, if not hundreds of thousands are dead. We see shots of other places - mass murder in the streets of Hong Kong, for example.

We actually see other heroes in this. The whole arc actually starts with Supergirl fighting Diana, and then while she's briefly out of commission, the Justice League (Bruce, Arthur, Barry, J’onn, Victor, and Kendra) show up to help only to get absorbed by the big bad. That’s when the above panel happens, and then even more heroes get thrown at the problem.

In the end, Diana ‘wins’ - by sacrificing her brother Jason to the Dark Gods. The gods return the Justice League, and undo the damage they’ve caused on Earth. Those dead aren’t actually dead, for example. Time gets rewound... partially. We see the Justice League who only partially remember what happened, but the damage around the area is still there.

This should be, by any metric, a huge fucking deal. Literal gods appeared from the multiverse and fucked over huge chunks of the planet. Hundreds of thousands died and then were, in theory, un-killed. The heroes are aware of this, and have at least partial memories.

And yet it’s never acknowledged. 

This is supposed to be a huge event. The stakes literally could not be higher, and yet I’ve never seen this arc even acknowledged in any other book. This isn’t even a unique thing, either: all of New York (and most of the world) flooded in Doctor Fate and no one noticed outside that book.

So what about City of Bane?

But by far the most significant example of this is City of Bane itself. City of Bane was a huge event. Some of the top selling issues of 2019 were the City of Bane issues. It received numerous ads in other books, as well as major attention. It was the culmination of Tom King’s entire run, and lasted for more than half a year. It involved Gotham taken over by the titular Bane, ruling it with an iron fist and using mind-controlled villains as his own personal police force. It was a huge, game-changing event.

And outside of the pages of Batman (and Gotham City Monsters), it might as well not have happened. Any time it is acknowledged, it’s in the most awkward and confusing manner possible.

Batman and the Outsiders, Issue 6, Bruce is in Paris, Alfred gets a callout from Ra’s, and calls Bruce home: 

Bruce immediately gets on a plane and flies home, landing at the end of issue 7 when the Perpetua symbol goes up.

In issue eight, taking place immediately after, we are lead to believe that the entire City of Bane arc happened in between Bruce flying home from Paris and arriving in time to help:

This is far from the only example. City of Bane tends to be acknowledged exclusively in terms of ‘this issue takes place before City of Bane’ editor notes. The only real thing that gets acknowledged is Alfred’s absence: Detective Comics skips over City of Bane entirely (The YOTV issues taking place before, and then going straight to ‘after), Red Hood and the Outlaws ignores it, and Batgirls acknowledgement is effectively skipping City of Bane itself to go right back to talking about ‘cleaning up the city’ with a one line mention of ‘what Bane did to Gotham’. Plenty of other books either don’t mention it at all, or the mention is so minor I completely missed it.

So why does this matter?

Early on in my time in this fandom, I noted that the more a fan is into DC comics (not the fandom, but specifically the comics), the more they’d hate the comics themselves. This extends beyond what most people on tumblr would consider the ‘fandom space’ - I’m talking reddit, league of comic geeks, comic review sites, etc. The fact is that DC has created a scenario where the more you read their work, the worse it gets. Any individual comic from the examples above reads just fine on its own, but when you read multiple comics you start getting confused about why nothing makes sense. There’s no order to things, no continuity. Things are said in one issue and ignored in the next. Major events are trumpeted as changing the status quo but don’t change a thing. DC is actively pushing away their most dedicated readers, the ones who are going out and buying 5+ issues a week.

So what comes next?

The original reason this all came up was the news that DC’s upper editorial staff had been hit with major layoffs. While nothing yet has been confirmed (this happened only three days ago), the general rumors is that DC is going to be majorly cutting back the number of titles. With Death Metal almost certainly heralding a continuity reboot ala Flashpoint, now is the perfect time for DC to figure out what it’s doing with its continuity, and realistically, they have two options.

Option One: Forsake Shared Continuity.

I’m sure a lot of people would hate this idea, because shared continuity is such an intrinsic part of DC’s history, but looking realistically at sales numbers, there’s some major appeal. There’s far less work to it (important with the loss of their editors), and this isn’t to say all the books will be separate, just that they won’t all be inherently linked. Maybe they keep TEC and JL in the same canon. Maybe Nightwing, Batman, and Batgirl share too. The point is, though, that the fact that Gotham is burning to the ground will no longer reflect on Clark, who is apparently just out of earshot with his thumb up his ass doing nothing.

There’s precedent for this as well. Injustice, DCeased, Criminal Sanity, and White Knight are all stories in their own world that are selling (or have sold) extremely well. DC’s top fifteen issues sold for January to March of this year include seven issues of Batman, one issue of Wonder Woman, one issue of Flash, and then two issues of Unkillables, the Robin 80th oneshot, Strange Adventures (its own continuity), and an issue of Batman: Curse of the White Knight. If you go farther down, it’s more of the same - you have to go through every issue of Curse of the White Knight released, as well as Criminal Sanity, to get to Batman/Superman, Detective Comics, Justice League, and Superman.

I’m not sure this is the best choice, but I can’t imagine it’s not an appealing choice just the same.

Option Two: Fix Shared Continuity.

Without question, DC’s going to be (at least temporarily) paring down the number of books they have, and there’s never been a better time for figuring out what’s going on with their continuity. Less books means less to organize. A reboot and one very determined editor could help establish a baseline to work from, but that would require DC to focus on it as a priority.

I’m sure this is the choice most people will lean for, but it’s definitely the more intensive option, and we can only hope DC decides it’s worth it.

[inawickedlittletown]

Can I Be Close To You

Summary: Buck doesn't have a "covid crush", which doesn't mean he isn't hiding something. A look inside Buck's head during 4.01 and 4.02. 

Words: 3,249

Notes: Cannot escape writing fic, apparently. So here we are. Obviously there be spoilers here for the aired episodes. This fic is pre-relationship/pre-buddie. Title from Bloom by The Paper Kites. Enjoy. 

Read on Ao3

-

The one thing that Buck was grateful for was that Chimney wasn’t teasing him about his “covid crush” outside of the apartment. It was something he only ever brought up when Maddie called or whenever Buck made the mistake of being too loud or using his phone or laptop outside of his bedroom when Chim was around. Chimney of course also noticed whenever Buck got alerts or calls on his phone that had him rushing away. Buck didn’t really care about the teasing. He did care that no one find out why he was being so secretive. It was just easier to be teased about something that wasn’t true, than to be teased for what was true. 

The problem was that they were in the middle of a global crisis. A pandemic the likes of which hadn’t been seen for about a hundred years. It was a lot. In March when everything started to go wrong it had been easy to convince himself and everyone else that it would be over fast. That lockdown would work and in a few weeks or a few months everything would go back to normal. Hen and Bobby had been the firsts to question that logic because they only expected things to get worse. Buck really hated when they were right. Of course, nothing was normal anymore. 

Hen was the one to bring up concerns about them doing their jobs during the pandemic and bringing the virus home to their families. Between all her work to put her in the path of becoming a doctor, and being an amazing paramedic to boot, Hen was the first to start pushing them on the road to taking extra caution. Her concern for her family and for the families of the others was real and unfortunately necessary. 

“I don’t want to stop working. I want to help people and we are more important than ever right now,” Hen had put it into words back then. It was everything they were all feeling. 

Buck had lost count of the number of calls that made them practically just collectors of the dead or dying. Not just that but they all knew first responders that had been personally affected by Covid-19 and it wasn’t just them but their families too. Buck was the only one with no one back at his apartment waiting for him. That’s what gave him the idea. 

“You can come stay with me if that makes you feel better,” he offered. 

Hen hadn’t hesitated for long. She and Karen had had a long conversation about it and before Buck knew it he had Hen and then Chimney living with him. It was nice. It made it easier to bury all the anxiety and worry that had been clawing at him with every article or video or news report that he consumed. His living room had been taken over by an aerobed for Hen while Chim took the sofa. 

Eddie showed up a week after Hen and Chim with a sleeping bag under his arm. 

“I have Carla staying with Christopher. It seemed — it’s for the better, you know? Can I — is there room for one more?” 

In reality, Buck’s apartment wasn’t all that big, but Buck wasn’t going to turn away his best friend. So, Buck just welcomed him in. And for a while, despite everything going on in the world, things were okay. Buck wasn’t freaking out with every new report on the rise in cases and the rise in the dead and how the curve wasn’t flattening and yet the intrusive thoughts nevertheless showed up in his head and late at night when everyone else was sleeping his phone was right there with more information and facts and figures that made it hard to imagine that the world would ever be set to rights. 

Eddie was the first to notice that Buck wasn’t getting a lot of sleep. It became a whole thing with Eddie and Hen and Chim feeling like they were being imposing and Buck not being able to voice that it wasn’t them, but everything else. Somehow, he managed to convince them that they weren’t in his way. 

Buck had tried to reach out to Frank, but he was overwhelmed with clients and all of them of the first responder persuasion. Buck had felt weird asking the department to help him find someone else to talk to and it was only partially to do with the time he slept with his therapist and certainly more to do with how Buck knew other first responders probably needed the help more than he did. In other firehouses, some firefighters and paramedics had succumbed to the virus. Catching it was the newest hazard of the job. Frank did him the favor of sending him a few names. At first, Buck figured it wasn’t that important. So, he put it off. 

He focused on being present. In sitting with Chim while they video called Maddie and in jumping in to say hello to Denny, Nia, and Karen and in reading a bedtime story here or there to Christopher when Eddie wasn’t available and even when he was, the two of them sitting in the kitchen or up in Buck’s room, shoulders pressed together. He tried not to watch the news, and he tried not to keep looking at the numbers. 

Pretending wasn’t easy, but after two nights of Eddie catching him up at 3am eyes glued to his phone, Eddie made a point of taking his phone away at night. And then, instead of sleeping down on the first floor, Eddie moved up to the loft on the small camping mat and sleeping bag. 

He and Eddie talked until they drifted off, and sometimes it felt better to not be able to see Eddie and to stare out in the shadowed ceiling. Talking to Eddie made it easier to let go of the day, to not let his mind wander and come up with more of the world’s problems to worry about. 

So, Buck didn’t think about therapy. Not while he had Eddie near him at night keeping him distracted and willing to stay up until late discussing nothing at all. Buck couldn’t imagine Chim or Hen bothering to do that for him. Rarely, it did happen that Eddie was the one wrung out and needing a conversation. He missed Christopher too much or something they’d seen at work had been just a little too close to home. They were there for each other and all of it just worked. 

Of course, that was when Hen decided that it was time she go back home. She missed her kids too much. She missed her wife too much. Eddie didn’t last more than a few days after Hen’s decision as if Hen making that first move made it okay. Buck didn’t blame him, not with the way that Buck missed Christopher which just meant that it was twice as bad for Eddie. And once they were gone and there was just he and Chimney left, Buck found himself falling into old habits. Chimney wasn’t as much of a distraction especially when he spent so much of his time talking to Maddie or reading parenting books, and because Chimney didn’t turn off the news like Eddie or Hen would. 

Being in his room alone at night without anything to keep his mind occupied and missing Eddie’s voice and the way that Buck could calm himself to the sound of his breathing brought Buck to a breaking point. He needed help. 

Dr. Copeland was the second therapist he had a video call with. She was calm and friendly and she didn’t push him to talk. It felt okay to share his concerns with her in a way that he couldn’t say out loud to everyone in his life. Buck didn’t know if it was somehow easier because she was someone that didn’t know him in real life, or if it had something to do with how Buck could tell that she cared and wanted to help, but he found himself opening up. Dr. Copeland didn’t push, but she did give him insight. She made him aware of the ways that he was being unhealthy about the pandemic. 

Chimney picked up at once that Buck was keeping a secret. It took him a little longer to figure out that Buck was talking to someone through a screen and in the same breath to assume that it was some woman that Buck started dating. It did make Buck wonder if people were actually doing that — the whole dating through skype or zoom or facetime. Buck didn’t try to correct him or to be too bothered by Chim teasing him. He didn’t even worry too much once Maddie found out because Maddie wasn’t there in front of him to get the whole thing out of him. So the “covid crush” gave him an excuse to not tell them the truth. Dr. Copeland kept telling him he should tell them how he felt, but Buck didn’t want that burden on his friends and family when the world itself seemed to want to crush them. And either way, he’d been feeling a lot better about everything. He wore his mask and he followed protocols, and he didn’t allow himself to think in “what ifs”. 

Emergencies were his job. He better than most knew the quick turn that things could take for the worse. But as Dr. Copeland reminded him, fear couldn’t rule his life even if there was a lot to be afraid of. And it wasn’t the virus that Buck feared, it was loss. Losing his friends and losing his family and being incapable of changing anything. He was, thus, hyper alert. About the pandemic, and about anything else that might prompt worry. Dr. Copeland thought that too much information could be harmful to his mental health, but for Buck knowing facts and doing research kept him from spiralling. 

It was Dr. Copeland that made the connection to Buck’s past trauma and realized how likely it was that his worry stemmed from that — from the truck falling on his leg and the tsunami and perhaps even more than that, other parts of his life that he retained and that still bothered him on a deep level. She asked him how much he hid away and didn’t deal with — how much he coped with by researching and by using facts against worry. It made Buck think. 

Then, the micro-quakes happened. And Buck got all the alerts, he read up on the dam and he pictured all that could go wrong. 

Worrying didn’t mean panicking for him. Buck was cool under pressure, he was good at his job. Most of the problems came after when he considered what might have happened and also how many hadn’t made it out alive. Not because of the virus. But because of a disaster. But by the end of the day, Chimney had finally moved out and Buck had a new roommate in Albert, and after everything that happened in the day, Buck figured that he maybe needed to take his own advice and realize that he couldn’t let fear hold him back. 

So when his next therapy session came up, he admitted it to Dr. Copeland. Confirmed what she’d been telling him about himself. He hid his true feelings. He hid away behind platitudes and facts and letting things go because it was easier to move forward than to linger and make things weird with his friends and with his family. Examining that fully meant talking about the past and Dr. Copeland, as gentle as she was in letting him lead the conversation, asked the kind of questions that weren’t easy to answer. 

She pressed him about why he feared sharing his feelings and why he felt he had a need to keep so much to himself and Buck was cognizant enough to realize it was his fear of being alone. 

“I just...I don’t think they get it,” Buck said. “I don’t think they see it. At the beginning of this whole thing — the pandemic — they all had someone. My sister is pregnant and she had just moved in with her boyfriend and his brother. Hen has her wife and kids. Bobby has Athena and their kids. Eddie, he has Christopher. And the reason I even have Albert here right now is that he rather not be around my sister and her boyfriend now they’re finally together again. I’m alone. I’m always alone.”

“But you aren’t,” Dr. Copeland insisted. “You have people. Your team, your sister. Evan, you are not alone. It may feel like you are, but that just isn’t true. I haven’t known you very long, but the way you talk about your team and your sister it is clear you have a support team. That is why I’m encouraging you to speak with them and share your worry and share even this — that you are getting help and looking at things with a new perspective.” 

It was easier to hear it told to him that to do something like admit to Maddie that he was so full of issues that he actually needed therapy. Of course, Maddie herself had gone through a long bout of therapy after Doug and yet compared to that, Buck didn’t feel like he was all that messed up. 

“I get what you’re saying. I do. I just...it doesn’t feel like it. And I don’t want to burden them with more just because I’m feeling left behind or just…”

“And that brings us back to you hiding your true feelings,” Dr. Copeland said. “Is there even one person you feel comfortable talking to about this. Your sister perhaps.”

Buck shook his head at once. “No. No. I couldn’t bother Maddie. She has enough on her plate.” 

But his mind went to Eddie. Eddie had noticed he wasn’t doing well. Eddie had moved to sleep on Buck’s floor and then talked to him until he fell asleep. And since going back home to Christopher it wasn’t like Eddie had forgotten about Buck, because when he had the time sometimes he would call Buck and they would talk over the phone and it had brought him back to those nights. At work neither of them brought that up, they just worked as seamlessly as ever. 

“I don’t want to pressure you, Evan. You’re doing so well and admitting and realizing that you’re holding yourself back is an amazing place to be. I just know that you’ll feel even better once you start sharing your feelings or working through them.” 

Dr. Copeland always gave him plenty to think about. And he considered the notion of coming clean to someone — to Eddie — and maybe getting other things off his chest. His fears about the pandemic, the things about his parents that had made them horrible parents to him and Maddie both, how Buck had so many things about himself that he left unacknowledged, and the loneliness. Eddie wasn’t exactly good with emotions either, but he would at least understand the therapy aspect. Eddie had stopped seeing Frank a while ago, but Buck knew that Frank had done what he could to help Eddie and that Eddie had come out the other side lighter and less jaded. 

“I’ll think about it,” Buck said. 

“Good.”

They talked about other things for the rest of the session and then Buck went back down to join Albert. He’d let Maddie and Chim go, so instead he was busy on his phone. 

“Seriously, dude, how did you meet someone? Now that I’m here, I need to know.” 

Buck rolled his eyes. At times Albert reminded Buck of his younger self, the guy that had been interested in nothing but chasing tail and hoping that that would fill the parts of him that were broken. It hadn’t ever worked, at least not for long. Vividly, he could recall wanting to make connections with those girls and the way that they’d all looked at him like he was asking for far too much. 

“For one thing, I’m not seeing anyone. For another, dating apps are still a thing even if completely inadvisable because we’re in the middle of a pandemic. It might even be good for you to not be hooking up with random girls.”

Albert just pouted at him and groaned. “I just want this to be over.” 

“So does everyone,” Buck pointed out. 

Albert would probably have made a good choice in finding someone to tell about the therapy. He was a good kid and if Buck asked him to, he wouldn’t go blabbing to everyone else. Not to mention that Albert was a bit removed from it all too in his own way. Still, when Buck opened his mouth to say something, the words didn’t want to come out. 

The next time he was at work and Eddie was walking at his side, Buck turned towards him, and Eddie’s gaze met his. They shared a quick smile. It was easy, a habit. 

“How’s Christopher?” Buck asked.

“Misses Carla. Misses everyone, really, but after all that time with Carla he got used to having her around all the time.” 

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you around, man,” Buck said. 

Eddie nudged him. “You know, Buck, I didn’t even think about it that way.”

Buck shrugged at him. Being around Eddie made most of everything else fade away. And when later that day, they were walking from the ladder truck onto a call, Buck just threw a grin his way and Eddie returned it. 

At the end of their shift, Buck walked with Eddie to their cars. 

“Do you remember, before all this, we’d just head over to mine or yours with Christopher. I miss those nights,” Eddie said. 

Buck hadn’t thought about it. He tried not to think about before — about how different life had been back then and how similar because even then he’d done that thing where he pretended that everything was alright. He’d kept it to himself how alone he felt and he’d kept it to himself that sometimes when he and Eddie were sitting in his living room side by side, he wished that it was permanent. It wasn’t about Eddie — or even about Christopher — it was about how Buck longed to have people. Family. 

That had been a thing for a long time. Long before Abby and before he’d moved to California when he’d gone from place to place trying to find himself and trying desperately to belong. The 118 had been one of the first places where he began to feel like he’d found a place, but he’d soon found that it wasn’t enough. It was one thing to love a job and to make it all that he was, but if his time recovering from the ladder truck incident had taught him anything, it was that he needed more outside of the job. It was just that he had no luck finding it. 

“Me too,” Buck said and then before they had reached their cars. “Hey, Eddie, can we talk tonight?” 

Eddie’s face showed some of his surprise. They had never acknowledged it before, not out loud outside of the phone calls or outside of Buck’s bedroom. 

“Sure we can,” Eddie said, crinkles around his eyes forming as he smiled. 

Buck nodded and then he climbed into his Jeep. 

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Seeing Ghosts (Alec Volturi x Reader)

Supermarket Flowers - Ed Sheeran

Italy was supposed to be for time off. You most certainly needed it. You couldn't ignore the tug you felt toward the castle, though you wanted to because you couldn't run from your abilities. 

Seeing the dead was a gift passed down in your family, it skipped a generation so the next person you had known in your family to have had it was your grandmother. She told you to keep it secret, wanting to keep you from the pain she had in her life. She had to learn it the hard way. People thought she was crazy and her childhood was constant bullying. Her mother had kept it from her father so he too thought she had problems. 

As always, it started young. There were many pictures of you looking off into an empty space, hundreds of drawings of imaginary friends. Though they weren't all sweet. There was the nightmares and gruesome drawings of horrific characters. Whilst your parents deemed it imaginary, your grandmother always reassured you in secret that they couldn't hurt you and you'd be completely fine. That was the curse your grandmother told you of. No matter how horrifying or evil the spirits could appear, they couldn't touch you. They were cursed to watch the world go by until they found peace. That's where your family come in, many are able to be saved by showing them the way to the light and move on. 

What drew you in wasn't the castle itself, it was someone calling out from the inside. You couldn't see anyone calling and you knew it was be a bad idea to go inside. That didn't stop you from entering as a tour group entered. You were about to step out of the group of tourists to speak with the receptionist but only made the step out before freezing. The receptionist was looking at you, smiling as she did so, waiting for you to say something to her greeting. Though she wasn't who had your attention. Behind her, in the dark, was a girl. She was blonde, her hair down that was slightly tangled and looked to be a teenager. She wore jeans and a crop top. She looked miserable and wore a look you were very acquainted with. She looked like she wanted to leave for some time now. Many bored teenagers wore that expression, but so did the dead. It was an expression you just couldn't escape. However the girl was only the first warning. The air felt heavy and you knew immediately that there were many ghosts here. Many were trapped here, the place of their death. "Quickly, please, stay together!" The beautiful woman in a red dress smiled warmly, violet eyes gleaming. That was strange. You didn't know violet eyes were even possible. 

The double doors opened and that was when the nightmare began. You were roughly grabbed by a man with long black hair and bright red eyes. Screams rang in your ears, your eyes wide. The man leaned down before he froze. He roughly threw you to the floor. "Not that one!" He barked. You could only sit and stare, horrified at the scene. The screams of people around you and the snarling of others dressed in various shades of black and grey. Your next observation was their frightening red eyes. They were monstrous. You had never seen such a thing. You had hoped you’d never have to. It was something you couldn’t have imagined. 

Just like that it was over. Bodies were piled and pulled to a drain. The man from before towering over you. “What are you?” You cowered in fear. The man chuckled. “My name is Aro.” He crouched down, yet still towered over you. “You, my dear, have magnificent talents.” The words couldn’t escape you and you could only shudder.  Suddenly he reached out and pulled you to a stand. “Come now. You poor thing. You’re shaking.” His words were sickening. As though he wasn’t aware how horrible the scene was. 

There was something oddly obscene that you had settled after weeks of being in the Volturi’s presence. From what you understood, they were vampires who enforce the vampire laws. Aro, Marcus and Caius were the leaders. The rest were their guard.  You were still alive because of Aro’s fascination with your sight.

It wasn’t the usual family heirloom. Very few in your family actually had it. You were the only living relative who had it. Your aunt had the sight but had difficulty coping. She had been sad for all the times you had met her. She died in a car accident when you were fifteen. The holder before that was your grandmother’s and her grandmother. Your grandmother saw it in you at a young age. She always defined you as sensitive. However, she never clarified what she meant by being sensitive.

Whilst there were many Volturi members, they were nothing in comparison to the number of ghosts. Alec had become a friend despite being one of the most feared, if not the most feared vampire of the vampire world. With you, he warmed up gradually although quicker than he had with most. “So what do you think of the place?” Alec asked. “Its loud.” You responded. What he didn’t realise your response wasn’t in design or what you could hear, many simple noises turning into echoes. Instead it was the screams of the dead roaring in despair. “That’s a new one.” You hummed in response, cracking a smile. 

After some weeks that consisted a lot of time with Alec, he finally asked you what was on his mind. “What’s it like? Do you see everyone who has ever died here?” You hummed again in thought before hurrying off your bed and grabbing a marker as well as two sheets of paper. You drew a circle on each. “So let’s say this. This bit of paper is this world, the physical one. You and I can see it. Everyone is living in this world. When people die, they leave this world to another.” You held up the other paper. You then put the paper together overlapping the circles slightly. “This is what i see. My grandma would tell me that I’m sensitive to the other world. Although she only ever told me that. I wasn’t allowed to tell my parents about it. It’s scary sometimes. I see them in the condition they died. In this castle it’s worse…because sometimes I hear them in between the walls.” 

You did your best for every ghost, some were successes, some where failures and then there were many you didn’t quite understand what they wanted. You offered the grey man a smile. “I see you. You aren’t forgotten. I promise.” He shifted slightly before climbing into your closet. You opened the doors to find him gone. You never saw him again. You assumed that perhaps that’s what he wanted - to be assured that he would be remembered. 

Another week later, you saw her again, the tourist girl, she had just passed by your room. You immediately looked around your door to see her standing and waiting for you. She didn’t look afraid, or in pain. In fact, she looked very comfortable with you. This didn’t surprise you anymore, she seemed to be trying to tell you something but she never said a word.  “(Y/N)?” You jumped slightly turning to see Alec. “Hey Alec.” Alec looked over your shoulder. “What were you looking at?” You shook your head. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” The tourist girl brushed past you to stand behind Alec, continuing to smile. “Well i wanted to tell you something, you’ve been here for some time now and...i’d like you to know.”  “Oh, okay. Fire away.” You smiled.  “You’ve been here for six months and during that time, it’s been wonderful to know you. You’ve opened my eyes to a whole other side of being, it’s made life i little less boring.” He paused. “It’s been a joy being your friend but...i can’t help but feel that isn’t enough for me anymore. What i mean to say is that i care and feel for you more things than i should for a friend. I usually wouldn’t be so forward but i trust you. You don’t have to say anything right now. I just thought you should know.” Alec finished. You closed the space between yourself and Alec, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  “I can get on board with that. I look forward to seeing where this goes.” Your eyes flickered behind him to see the tourist girl continuing to smile but her expression changed to one of satisfaction. Only this time, a grey hand reached out for her in the open door and she turned to looked at the owner, taking their hand and walking into the room. After that day, you never saw her again. 

“You’ve got that face again.” Alec said, taking your hands in his. The two of you were cross legged on his bed and you were once again distracted.  “So this will sound crazy but, i’ve been seeing a new person.” You began.  “That doesn’t sound crazy at all, we feed-”  “No.” You shook your head. “It’s not someone from this time. It’s a woman, she has dark hair and wears black dated clothes but, she never looks at me. I’ve never seen her face and she seems to just wander in and out of sight. I just can’t piece her together.”  “This really bothers you.” Alec said, looking into your eyes and rubbing his thumb along your knuckles.  “She has a strong presence but she doesn’t seem interested in communicating.” It could just be the time of year. Today is a special day after all.”  “It is?” Alec asked.  “Well apparently. it’s a legend my grandma always told me. Tonight is the night marking 100 years. There isn’t a name for it as far as i know but according to legend every one hundred years for one night only the dead and the living align. For a few people that means they’ll see a ghost of someone they miss the most. It’s completely at random and seemingly used as an explanation for some ghost sightings. Sightings are supposed to be more likely around this time.” You thought for a moment before shrugging. “Who knows? What i know is that i’m tired. This lady is making me work for answers and i still can’t figure it out. So on that note.” You leaned forward kissing Alec’s lips. “I’m going to bed. It’s eleven at night and i’m exhausted. I look at one more age of a book and i’ll die.” Alec chuckled. “Sleep well, my love.” 

You turned on your playlist which was needed after such an exhausting day. You didn't have any ear buds so you hoped it wouldn't annoy anyone too much. You cracked a smile to hear Ed Sheeran's 'Supermarket Flowers' playing. You closed your eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet. 

'Oh I'm in pieces, it's tearing me up, but I know. A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved.'  Alec stiffened, unable to believe his eyes. He had seen the woman in front of him before, but it was a distant memory like a dream. She was pretty, petite in form, her brown hair, like his own, smoothed back into a low bun. She adorned a soft smile and seemed to know Alec. His eyes stayed on her and he realised just who this woman was. The song you had played oddly fitting. If only you knew what was happening right now. 

'So I'll sing Hallelujah. You were an angel in the shape of my mum' 

This woman wasn't a stranger. It took him some time but when it hit him, it hit him hard. This woman was his mother. 

Demetri looked at the little blonde girl in front of him. He never thought he'd see the angelic face again. To see her was the biggest gift he could have gotten even if she was to disappear before him. 

'I hope that I see the world as you did cause I know, A life with love is a life that's been lived.' 

The little girl moved towards him and oh how he wished he could remember her name. He knelt down to her level with a gentle smile. Her hair was just as he remembered, long and wavy. Her green eyes and wide smile welcoming him. Had the little girl missed him like he had missed her? Demetri never talked about his daughter. He was ashamed he couldn't remember her name. He wanted to keep her to himself and cherish the memories of her that remained. Even if they were brief moments. All consisted of her wide toothy grin and the most prominent was no different as she ran around in the nearby field. The grass so tall it was levelled at her shoulders. He couldn't remember how she died. A piece of him was glad for that. To see her now, in front of him, still smiling just as he remembered, his heart felt full yet so broken all at the same time. She died young, too young. Barely six years old. Demetri remembered how much love she had for the world. Even though the world had none for her. She had more love and forgiveness in her heart than trying someone would in three lifetimes and the world in her mind was light and beautiful. There was no evil in her eyes and Demetri was led to believe that never changed even in her final moments. The world was darker after she died. He hoped that he could be capable of the love his daughter had by nature. Or even learn to do so and see the world, just as she did, in the future. Whilst she died too young, she was at peace with the end of her life. She seemed at peace with it, yet he knew of vampires who lived for thousands of years and couldn't stomach the very thought of their own death. He spent so long trying to understand it but only one theory could suffice. Demetri's daughter lived a short life but she gave everyone so much love that perhaps she lived a better life than any of them combined. 

'You got to see the person that I have become. Spread your wings. And I know that when God took you back he said Hallelujah. You're home' 

Alec felt as though all of the air in his body suddenly escaped him. He didn't know if his mother was proud of him or if she knew everything that brought him up to this moment but just as always, her smile adorned acceptance for her son. It felt like a dream, a gift too good to be true to be reminded of his mother. He didn't know how to explain this to Jane but he was thankful that knowing you, you'd believe him and help him through the experience. 

Demetri watched as the little girls smile fell slightly into a small one, no longer her usual toothy grin and a hint of sadness behind her eyes. Somehow he knew he'd be losing her again. A part of him silently pleaded that she'd stay but her own expression told him that wouldn't be the case. Demetri wanted to reach out and touch the girl but he couldn't bring himself to do it, afraid that his hand would pass through her. The hardest part was always saying goodbye and having to do it twice was too much. Demetri didn't remember the first time yet he still felt the pain like it was yesterday, just by seeing the girls face. "Please..." He whispered, curling into himself slightly in attempt of protecting his heart from breaking again. The little girl faded away before his very eyes and was gone. Demetri's eyes squeezed shut for a moment, stifling back the pain. He then exhaled slowly, regaining his composure and rising to a stand. 

'When I fell down you'd be there holding me up. Spread your wings as you go. And when God takes you back we'll say Hallelujah You're home.

Fluffed the pillows, made the beds, stacked the chairs up.' 

Marcus trailed his fingers down the case on the bed that was filled with Didyme's old things. The ones he couldn't bare the sight of nor the possibility of being destroyed. So they remained hidden and untouched. He looked up and froze. Marcus couldn't tear his eyes away. He didn't dare. "Didyme..." The name barely got passed his lips, becoming only a broken whisper. The dark haired woman wore a slight smile on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes telling him one thing she never had to say. 'I miss you.' Their relationship was built upon that. The ability to say so much to one another with only a look and no words at all. The moonlight reflected off her face. Slowly she moved around the bed, never breaking eye contact or her smile. She reached out her hand, moving towards him and almost touched his face. Just like that, she was gone and his grief returned but somehow he knew that this was a gift. He just didn’t know who to thank.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//have you ever. sugawara koushi//

Warnings: School Shooting.

Word Count: 2K

Have you ever thought about getting married?

That's the question that spikes your interest and causes you to roll over in your boyfriend's arms as the two of you lay in his bed after a long day of classes and practice. You can't keep the smile off of your lips. "Well, yeah. I am a girl, after all. I think we've all thought getting married," you reply.

"Tell me about your dream wedding," he says simply, playing with the ends of your hair.

"I really want to get married in the spring, when all the cherry blossom trees are in bloom. It'd be an outdoor wedding. The alter would be under one of the cherry blossoms. It will be a fairly small wedding, just some family and friends. My dress will have lace and be so beautiful that it will cause my mother to cry when I try it on for the first time."

"What about your groom? What's he like?" Sugawara asks.

"He's perfect. He's everything I ever wanted. He has the most beautiful smile and he understands everything about me. He makes my days brighter and he's my best friend, so I know he'll always be there when I need him," you explain, a small smile playing at your lips, trying your best to describe the young man in front of you without giving too much away.

"It sounds like a beautiful wedding," he whispers, brushing your cheek softly with his nose. He breathes in your flowery scent, the scent that calmed him so much when his day was not going how he had hoped. He can feel the soft tickle of your lashes against his skin. He's been aware that this was something he dearly wished to have for the rest of his life since the beginning of your second year of college together.

You hold onto his hands, the hands that have been worn by years of playing the sport he so dearly loved. They were hands that you wanted to hold forever if the world would allow it. You desperately didn't want to live in a world where you were not allowed to call Sugawara Koushi yours. You needed to be able to see his smile and hear his voice and watch the way his face scrunched up when he laughed.

"Can I ask you something else?" He asks after the room is filled with silence for a few moments. You just nod. Sugawara leans over the edge of his bed, pulling out a shoe box that he had filled with things he couldn't bring himself to get rid off, a few medals, some old photos from high school, and so many other things, but you notice something different in the box. He picks up a smaller box out of the mess of things before pushing the shoe box back under his bed. Suga sits cross-legged in front of you with the box in the palm of his hand. His teeth have captured his bottom lip and he can't meet your eyes.

"Koushi," you say, lifting his chin so he's looking at you. You watch as he takes a deep breath and gives you a smile that makes your heart melt.

He starts to open the box, but then he shakes his head, "No, I need to do this properly," he mutters to himself. He stands up from his bed, pulling you with him so you're standing in front of him. He takes one of your hands in his and sinks down onto a single knee, his hazel eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes widen as you look down at him and your mouth hangs open. You see him smile in amusement before lifting the lid of the box and showing you a small diamond ring that he had once told you belonged to his late grandmother.   "I want to be the groom at your dream wedding.  We've been together for almost five years and I want to be with you so many more.  Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He asks, looking up at you with hope filled eyes.

Have you ever thought about having kids?

Koushi asked you this on your fourth wedding anniversary.  It had been over a beautiful dinner that he had prepared for the two of you so you could both spend the evening at home, especially considering that you both had work in the morning.  The question nearly caused you to choke on your wine.

The subject of kids had been something briefly discussed when you two were still dating and had never really come up since.  You both just really enjoyed the company of one another and, up until now, didn't want it to be interrupted by a baby.  You were aware that kids had been something that Koushi did see in the future and he was aware that, while you were hesitant, the possibility of children was something you were open to.  

You were unaware of what to answer in this moment.  Yes, allowing Koushi to be the father of your children was something you had thought about.  But, were you ready for locking in your fate as a possible mother?  You weren't really sure.

You took one look at his face.  His eyebrows were knit together, trying to read you, trying to figure out if he what he had said had been to sudden and abrupt.  Should he have just kept the thought to himself for the moment and shared the desire with you later?  

The look in his eyes was nothing but love and that was what brought your answer from your throat.  "I want kids."  He recoiled back at your answer, completely prepared for rejection, so your approval came as a shock to your silver-haired husband.

"R-really?" he stuttered.

You nod, standing up from your chair.  You grab him by the tie of his shirt, tugging him softly up so he can stand in front of you.  You stood up on your toes, connecting his lips with yours.  It was perfect, as always.  The kisses that you and Koushi shared never failed to disappoint you.  It seemed like every kiss was the first.  You always felt your heart skip a beat when his soft pink lips made contact with yours.  

You pulled him down the hall, untying the tie, and hanging it on the doorknob of your bedroom.  You back made contact with the sheets and Koushi hovered over you, placing gentle kisses along your neck and down to your collarbone.  He was never one to take things quickly in the beginning.  He wished to savor every moment he could as his lips met your skin.  He enjoyed watching the way you would close your eyes and hearing you curse softly when he did something you enjoyed.  He wanted to prolong those moments, proving to you that every touch, every kiss, every movement, was meant to bring pleasure to you, to make you feel the love he held for you.

Have you ever imagined living without him?

No.  You honestly didn't.  You weren't sure you could manage in a world where Sugawara Koushi was non-existent.  And the fact that that world was upon you, shattered your world into a million pieces.  You barely kept yourself together as they lowered the dark oak coffin into the ground.  You six-year-old daughter, whom looked exactly like your deceased husband, clung tightly to your hand, tears streaming from her large hazel eyes, knowing, and at the same time not, that her daddy would not be coming back to her.  

When the breaking news came across the television that Tuesday morning, you had been tucked away peacefully in your office.  Your co-worker ran in, not saying a word, just grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you down the hall to the break room.

The others on the floor were gathered around the small TV, watching the news channel as the news anchor continued to fill new viewers in on the events.  "-student has opened gunfire on hundreds of innocent students and faculty in a Miyagi prefecture high school."  That made your breath catch in your throat.  Part of you was being reasonable.  There were many other high schools in the prefecture.  You didn't know that it was Karasuno, the high school where your husband had taken up a teaching and coaching career. But, if it wasn't, you doubt your colleague would have dragged you away from your work.

"-over thirty victims in the past two hours.  Authorities are currently trying to locate and apprehend the shooter.  There seems to be no real target, just random killing.  We will fill you in on the current situation at Karasuno High School as the information comes in."

You're unable to move.  You're pretty sure you stopped breathing at one point.  There were only thirty dead.  You didn't know that Koushi was one of those thirty.  He could still be alive.  But, Koushi wasn't the type of man to sit back back and watch it happen.  

It wasn't until the following day that the names of the victims were released.  You had been home, watching the late night news after putting your little girl to bed, knowing the truth before even seeing the list.  He would've had someone contact you, no matter his condition, if he was alive.  

You couldn't bring yourself to cry.  Everything hurt too much.  You just felt empty.  Your brain wasn't working and you were pretty sure you passed out for a moment, because when you opened your eyes, you were lying on floor with an awful headache.  What were you supposed to tell your six-year-old when she asked you when Daddy was coming home?  How would you explain that Daddy wouldn't be coming home?  How could you break her heart like that?  How could you break your heart like that?  

This was the first time you cried since the incident.  You passed your daughter off to Koushi's parents after they gave you a tight hug, his mother's eyes stained with black eye make-up.  You had told them that you wished to stay back for a few minutes and to take your daughter with them.  You watched them walk away, their granddaughter holding onto their hands between them.  

You turned your back to them, walking back to the gravestone that had Sugawara Koushi etched across one half and Sugawara Y/F/N across the other.  You knelt down the best you could in your black dress and heels, running your hand over the date as tears fell down your face, soaking into the freshly refilled hole.  

"You weren't supposed to die yet.   You promised that we would be together forever!  You promised you'd walk our little girl down the aisle on her wedding day!  It's not fair!  You can't leave me! Not yet!" You yelled at the headstone.  The tears fell even quicker down your face.  "Koushi, I miss you... It's only been a few days, but, God, I miss you.  I miss your smile and your eyes.  I miss how warm your side of the bed always seemed to feel.  Our baby girl doesn't have her daddy anymore and I don't have the love of my life.  I need you.  I can't do this b-by m-my-" you couldn't finish your words, they got caught in your throat and a sob took their place.  You covered your mouth with your hand, clutching onto the fabric of your dress with the other.  Your whole body ached with sorrow and the intensity of your sobs.

You're not sure how long you were there, but your sobs finally began to turn into muffled sniffles.  "You know how you wanted another baby, Koushi?  Guess what.  We're pregnant," you mumble, running your fingers over the curve of the marble as you stood from the grass, not even bothering to worry that you now had grass stains on the front of your dress.  "Bye, sweetheart.  We'll come see you every weekend, okay?" You smile sadly, walking away from your deceased husband for the first time.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

kiribaku supernatural au w exes “i know this looks bad, but i swear, it’s not.”

Anon, I don’t know if you know this... But I heckin love me some supernatural AUs~! Also there’s a hinting to Huwumi in this because I lack the self control!

Bakugo Katsuki tended to let certain work-related things slide past him just to save himself the headache of dealing with them when he wasn’t actively on duty. Part of his work as a warlock was all about using smoke and mirrors to keep the populace at large from learning they shared the world with mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes. So if he was at a party with friends and, after a few shots, noticed the glimmer on Mina’s pixie wings fading a smidge? He kept it to himself. All the dumbass drunkards at the bar would either think she was just glowing with joy or that they were hallucinating.

The lumbering, black pelted werewolf poised on his apartment patio, though, was not one such thing.

This wolf was unfamiliar to him, he realized right away. He wasn’t Deku or Round cheeks, who dealt with the local pack quite often, but he was aware of the more notable members in their ranks. There were only two wolves – Yaoyorozu and Iida - in that pack with black pelts but they bore the tell-tale signs of their pureblood heritage; the diamond-shaped mark of different colored fur at the center of their chests. The wolf before him was sporting no pelt markings from what he could see, but he was willing to wager that the rest of their form was much the same.

A shifted, he thought in mild shock.

He groaned as the beast shifted, gently pawing at the glass door with one clawed hand. In their other arm they had two small pups curled tight and close to their form, two sets of large golden eyes glowing as they stared at Katsuki. In the low light, he couldn’t see them too well, and he didn’t want to push his luck turning on the patio lights. Knowing his luck, it’d be the one fucking time one of his annoying ass neighbors would come trotting out on to their patio and see a huge fucking beast man just standing there.

“God fucking damnit,” he groaned, stepping back towards his kitchen table and swiping the beast amulet from among the herbs he’d gathered earlier, as well as tucking a silver blade into his back pocket, just in case. He made a grand show of latching the amulet choker around his neck and threw the door open, then, once inside, he drew his curtains closed and turned on the living room lights. Just in moving past him, the scent of fire and blood filled his senses, making him wrinkle his nose. Damned mongrel better not get blood all over his carpet! With proper light to get a better look, he confirmed there were no pelt markings on the adult wolf though there did seem to be a small, slim scar over their right eye. Nothing about them seemed feral, though. Most shifted weren’t built for the change and lost themselves, though he supposed this one could be the rare instance of maintaining oneself after being bitten. There had certainly been stranger things in their neck of the woods, he thought dismissively, then glanced down at the two wide-eyed pups.

One pup was a dark red color while the other was a bright blonde, but it was the marks on their foreheads that gave him pause. Dead center on each was a white crescent moon mark, an indication of being kin to an Alpha wolf chosen by Lunestra the Benevolent themselves. His mind reeled through the information he’d been updated on to recall that half n’ half bastard had mentioned his sister and her mate having a healthy first litter of two boys.

His hand started to go for the silver dagger, mind piecing together that this shifted had probably kidnapped the pups from their mother, but the shifted held their free hand up in a placating manner. “I know this looks bad, but I swear, it’s not!” The shifted’s yips and whines translated in Katsuki’s mind to their human voice, giving him even greater pause.

His hand faltered in wrapping around the handle to the blade. Despite the fact it had been a good long while since he’d heard that voice last, he recognized it immediately. “Shitty hair?” he asked incredulously.

The wolf’s eyes lit up and his tail wagged a bit. “I’m glad you remember me, Kat- er, Bakugo,” he stammered out with a nervous laugh, slowly lowering his hand a bit.

“We dated for two fucking years, why the fuck wouldn’t I remember you, dumbass?” he snapped, anger starting to bite at his words. What the Hell was this about? This made literally no fucking sense! Kirishima Eijiro had been one hundred percent pure blood normal-ass human! No mythic blood anywhere in his veins, and Katsuki would know! He’d traced the family line back by at least three fucking centuries!

So how the Hell was he standing here, clearly a shifted that hadn’t gone completely feral, 16 months since their break up?

“Well, it’s been over a year since last we… Um, you know,” he rumbled meekly. He glanced back down at the two pups in his arm, whom had started to squirm and quietly yip. The pups were still too young to make proper words so the amulet did nothing to help with that. “O-Oh, um, the little guys… They’re probably kinda hungry.”

“Do I look like the kind of fucker who just keeps puppy formula laying around?” he quipped back.

Kirishima’s ears tipped downward a bit, his wagging tail ceasing. “They still need milk, but they can also have small bits of meat, if you have some,”

Katsuki groaned and dragged a hand across his face. “Fine. I’ll make the little shits some food. But you’re gonna explain what the fuck is going on in exchange!”

The other’s eyes lit up again and he nodded. “Thanks, Bakugo,” he said quietly. He let out a small huff as he moved towards the small kitchenette in his flat, peering briefly back as Kirishima settled on the carpet. He set the pups down and they hovered close by him. They weren’t scared of him which implied it wasn’t a kidnapping. An attack on the pack grounds, maybe? He’d have to give fucking Deku a call.

But that could come later. To see if he could pry any answers Shitty Hair didn’t want to give up from the damn nerd.

[ethereallyastral]

ALWAYS: LEVI ACKERMAN

genre: angst

fandom: attack on titan

word count: 2822

warnings: angst, character death, slight ooc, soft levi

“Levi... I’ll always be here, they’ll always be here.”

LOSS. A thing that often occurs within the Scout Regiment. It was something that was always expected. The people in the Scouts were people who were willing and brave enough to fight and throw their lives away for the sake of humanity.

For freedom.

Freedom was something that was deprived from the people of the walls for over a hundred of years. In the wall they were safe, they felt free. Or so they thought. But once you're out of the walls, it was only safety you felt within those fifty meter rocks. Freedom... was never there.

Those wings that are placed on those capes, were signs of hope. Symbolizing freedom, that one day they would be free from the torment of living in fear. Taste of freedom, an endless one. Where everything is painless.

But what is life without a little pain.

The most painful thing is to lose someone so dear, but hey, we all have out preferences of the most painful thing, but loss is something so painful. Whether it be a loss on a game, a pet, or something dear.

The human body and soul can only take too much.

Sometimes, some wished that emotions never existed. Just so that they can never feel the pain. But that's what makes you human, emotions are what humans have that what titans don't.

Pain can be overbearing. Some are driven insane, and some are driven to build their own walls. Locking themselves out from society. Drowning in their own emotions and pain.

Being a scout as a reputation, pushes you to become stronger than what you already are. Either by physical strength or most importantly, mental strength.

What goes on outside those walls every expedition is a sight to see. It was horrible. The smell of death fear, that any time you can be scooped up and find shelter in the beast's belly. And only if you are lucky or strong enough to fight, will you be able to get off easily.

You needed a strong mind and body for this job.

But as they say, the human body and soul can only take too much.

Some needed rest.

He needed rest.

Levi sat on his chair, a stack of paperwork in front of him. He felt dirty, he hadn't showered yet. He reeked of sweat and blood. They just got back from an expedition where a female aberrant came rushing in, taking lives.

And that included the lives of his squad members, only one making it out alive, traumatized.

He felt his heart clench as the image of the only surviving squad member flashed through his mind. Her E/C eyes were glossy and dead looking, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed and screamed in agony. Her cries were painful to hear.

He couldn't help but pity her as she screamed and cried, letting all of her feelings out.

It hurt him to see her like that.

She was left alone with four fallen soldiers that held place in her heart and a broken shoulder.

"AHHHHHH!" The H/C-nette screamed as she knelt down on the dirt. "Fuck it all! Fuck it all! Damn it!" She cursed and slammed her fist on the ground.

She couldn't help it. She knew that her captain's advice was to move and mourn later, but she needed to let this out before it affects her performance.

She screamed on top of her lungs, letting all of the pain out and sobbed her eyes out until she couldn't breathe anymore. The pain in her shoulder seemed non-existent because of the pain she was feeling because of the loss of her comrades. She felt it all over again, she felt everything she felt all those years ago.

She gripped her chest as she struggled to breath, she lets out another scream, "FUCK IT ALL! I FUCKING HATE IT ALL, DAMN IT! DAMN THIS WORLD FOR BEING LIKE THIS! SO FUCKING UNFAIR!" She sobbed.

Was she cursed? She thought. Why does this keep happening? The woman was fully aware that people come and go. But why is it so painful? Like hell, this woman had been through hell and back but it still hurts like hell.

With her cries, she failed to notice and hear the sound of footsteps. The raven haired captain stepped out from the shadows, "Oi, what are you crying about?" He stopped just behind her and looked around.

"Get up, L/N." Levi ordered, his voice stern.

Y/N didn't bother wiping her tears and stood up, dusting the dirt off her knees. She did a firm salute, but didn't look up from the ground, "I'm sorry captain!" She croaked out.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, L/N." He lied. In that moment, he was blaming you. Just like how he did years ago. He blamed you. But didn't succumb to it. "You're lucky to be alive." He added.

Y/N stayed quiet. Her eyes on the ground, still holding her salute. She couldn't bring herself to face the raven haired captain. He said it. The same damned thing he said from years ago. She knew that in some way, Levi blamed her.

She blamed herself too.

If only she got back on time.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, L/N." Levi spoke up, sternly.

She gulped and slowly looked up at her captain, "I'm sorry, captain."

"Tch. Group back with the others. Take my horse, I have business to deal with."

"Yes captain."

He knew you knew better than to deal with pain during an expedition. Something could've happened, get hurt or worse, killed and be found dead.

But he was thankful, someone from his squad was still alive. He wasn't better himself, after having to put up a fight against the female aberrant, he had himself a sprained ankle and a pile of paperwork. His cup of tea.

Speaking of tea, he noticed that his cup was already empty. He stood up from his seat and walked towards the burner and grabbed the kettle, only to frown when there isn't tea anymore. He reached for his box of tea leaves to find it empty.

In frustration he kicks the kettle to the floor, "Damn it." He muttered as he realized what he has done. He crouched down and picked the kettle off the ground.

He saw his reflection on the clean metal. He took out a hanky from his back-pocket, wiping off the dirt on his face. He looked strong on the outside.

But in the inside, he was breaking down.

Deep down, he couldn't stand it anymore.

His train of thoughts were cut off with the sound of knocking, it was soon followed by a voice. "Levi? Can I come in?" The man, Levi rose to his feet and placed the kettle back on the burner.

"Name and business."

The H/C haired girl's lips twitched into a smile before replying, "Cadet Y/N L/N, captain. I've brought dinner..." She trailed off, "AND tea, sir." She added.

"Don't you have any hands L/N? Open the fucking door."

"I would've captain, if my hands weren't so fucking full."

Levi, who was inside, rolled his eyes and walked towards the door. He twisted the knob and pulled the door open revealing the small S/C girl.

Her H/L H/C hair was pulled back in a little low ponytail, she looked much better than she was previously on the battlefield. Her lips were etched into a smile that could literally brighten up the captain's day.

"Good evening, captain. Would you like some tea?" She asked, tilting her head.

The raven haired man didn't waste any time and pulled her in his office. He swore that he was doing this for the tea.

For the fucking tea.

--

Once the H/C-nette got inside, she didn't waste a second and started to clear out the tired captain's desk while he lounged on the couch. His head leaning on the edge, he was closing his eyes.

Once the girl finished clearing out his desk, he sorted all his finished paperwork into folders and labelled them with her neatest handwriting. She placed the tray of food and tea on the desk.

She took his cup and went ahead to wash it before pouring in a good amount of hot tea. Adding a drizzle of honey, making it a tad bit but not too sweet to affect the captain's liking.

She turned around to see the captain snoozing off on the couch. She had a small smile, "It's been awhile since you've slept, Levi." She says in a soft tone.

She took the cup of tea and walked to towards the couch, she gently placed the cup on the small table before them to emit a sound and wake up the captain.

She slowly set herself on the couch beside him. She turned to face him, her elbow leaning on the edge of the couch with the side of her face resting on her palm, she watched him.

She's known this man for so long and for the first time in ten years or so, did she finally see him at peace again. His breathing was steady, his features light and serene.

It was a beautiful sight to see.

But once she noticed how he started to switch positions, she regained composure and straightened herself up only find the captain wrapping his arms around her waist.

Her hands were raised in the air, her E/C eyes were wide in shock. Levi wasn't one to be touchy feely, so just him hugging her was quite a surprise.

Levi's right hand rose up and reached for her hands, settling it down the nape of his neck. She was again caught by surprise but her hands moved on its own, finding its way through Levi's soft black locks.

"Levi?" His name rolled out of her tongue as she felt the sudden wetness on her shirt. She looked at the male who just tightened his grip on her waist. She looked closely to find him shedding tears.

He's kept them long enough.

"Just hold me, darling. Please." The old endearment rolled off his tongue, making the woman flinch.

"Darling, huh? Haven't heard that in a while, Levi." Y/N said and sweetly smiled, brushing her fingers through his hair, slowly massaging his scalp.

"I'm sorry, darling." He spoke out, "I haven't been strong lately. Everything's falling down. I'm losing everything." He says and turned on his back. His head now laying on the woman's lap, playing with her hands.

The woman gave him a sad smile and leaned down, planting tender kiss on his forehead. He looked at her, asking if he could go on with all of it. She simply nodded and let him talk.

She listened to every single thing he said. All the hurt and pain he had been through and how it affected him. It wasn't only that, he cried while doing so. Showing his vulnerability to Y/N and only Y/N.

It has been ages since she saw him cry. She felt a wave of ego boost when she realized how much this man trusted her, letting her see his vulnerable side. Because Levi was one to keep it all inside, no matter how it hurts.

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

"Why are you saying sorry, Levi?" She asked, raising a brow.

"I'm sorry for blaming you." He sat up and faced her, pulling her hands into his, "I'm sorry for blaming you for everything. I'm sorry for not being there. I'm a sorry excuse of a partner, I'm so fucking sorry—" He was cut off by his sobs.

She sheds a tear before pulling the raven haired man in her arms, wrapping her arms around his torso as she felt him bury his face on the base of her neck.

"Hey... Hey... It's okay, I blame myself too." She says cradling his head in her hand. "That's it. You blame yourself, then I blame you when in reality those events cannot be prevented what so ever. It wasn't anyone's fault." Levi said, hugging you tighter.

"I know I shouldn't be letting this out on you, but I'm just losing so much. They always find a way to leave. I'm scared that I'll lose you too, darling."

"Levi, look at me." Y/N says.

Levi couldn't bring himself to look up, keeping his face hidden between her neck and shoulder. Y/N unwraps her arms around him and pushing him away gently before cupping his face in her hands. Levi leaned into her touch, how he missed it. He wouldn't admit it, but he did.

"Look at you missing my touch," She teased and chuckled.

"You brat."

"But I'm your brat, aren't I."

"You're damn right."

He and Y/N laughed. She gently wiped the tears off his face, swiping her thumb against his soft cheeks. "Levi," She stared into his glossy grey orbs, "People come and go. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and it just so happens that their time is finally up."

"Our world is where death in inevitable. That's why you need to live and love while you're still alive. It's hard to do that in a place like this, but, that's that." She sighed.

Levi stared at her, listening intently. "But just so you know." She leaned closer to him, "Levi... I'll always be here, they'll always be here." She says and pushing her finger to the left of his chest, "They're always here. Right in here." She wrapped her arms around him and he gladly hugs her back.

"Damn it. I love you so much."

"I love you too, idiot."

"What a brat." He muttered making her chuckle.

He laid on her stomach while Y/N played with his hair, he broke the silence. "Y/N..."

"Hmm?"

"I'm scared."

"The Levi Ackerman? Scared? What did you eat, Levi?"

"I'm scared of losing you too." Levi says, reaching for her hand, intertwining it with his. "I've lost Farlan, Isabel. I lost my whole squad, my mother, heck. I don't even know who my father is. I don't think I can bare losing you too."

Y/N smiles as he looks in her eyes, "Idiot. You'll never lose me. If ever my time comes and runs out, I'll always be with you. Whether I'm alive or not, I'll always be with you."

"Always?"

"Always."

--

You idiot. Levi thought as he kneeled beside her lifeless body. Y/N beaten up and bloody, you took a blow for a mere cadet to save his ass form getting kicked by the hairy beast, the beast titan.

Levi didn't know if you were crazy or were you just foolish enough to sacrifice your life for someone you merely know. But what he knew you were always this selfless.

He couldn't stop his tears from flowing down as he gripped your cold hand. His temperature contrasting yours. What broke him the most, you died smiling. You made eye contact with him seconds away from your death.

He said he could've done something to prevent it, but remembering what you said, he couldn't bring himself to move.

"You fucking idiot." He cried, gripping onto the green cape wrapped around your shoulder, "Why the hell did you leave me?!" He lets out.

"I'll always be with you."

"Always?"

"Always."

"You shitty brat, wake up." He muttered as he looked at a part of your face, your eyes particularly, wishing it would just flutter open and say it's just a prank. "Please.." He whispered.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder, turning his head he saw Hanji, "Levi, it's Erwin—oh no..." Hanji covered their mouth as they saw your lifeless body.

"Levi, I'm so sorry."

He shuts his eyes and replied, "It was unavoidable." He slips his arms under your legs and hoisted you up bridal style, "My fiancé will be needing a proper burial."

"Of course. I'm sorry, again."

Levi couldn't utter a reply. His silence being the only response to Hanji's apology.

--

Levi was once again in his office, a stack of paperwork before him and an empty cup of tea. An empty kettle and an empty box of tea leaves, tired body and red puffy eyes. No one to bring him dinner or make him tea. No one to hold him and no one to bring him comfort.

He looked up from his table, staring at the blood-stained scouts cloak hanging on his office door. The image of her smile flashed through his mind, he missed her dearly.

Her voice ringing in his ear, "Whether I'm alive or not, I'll always be with you."

"Always?" he asked softly to practically no one, but he can hear her reply.

"Always."

--

eep! my first post, hope it wasn’t that cringe. hope you enjoyed tho. criticism is appreciated. 

[princesssarcastia]

the republic shatters, but it does not Fall. and its not Ahsoka’s goddamn job to pick up the pieces, actually.

GUESS WHO SPENT ALL OF THIS WEEK HAVING LOTS OF STAR WARS FEELINGS.  GUESS WHO JUST WROTE AN 8K+ WORD FIC ABOUT THOSE FEELINGS.

definitely haven’t been subsumed by thoughts of the Fall Of The Republic as a proxy for all my anxiety about the election, no siree. 

anyway.  In which Ahsoka takes Maul’s hand, convinces Anakin to sit his ass down, and then has to learn how to hand the fate of the galaxy back over to he people who fucked it up in the first place.  And in which the author acknowledges Barris Was Right, Even If Her Methods Were Radical and Flawed, And Ultimately Detracted From Her Message.

will probably call this, “had we but world enough and time,” on ao3. edit: here it is on ao3, if you prefer.

—

Maul smirks and the feeling of it lingers in the wider office, grating.

But that doesn’t mean she’s wrong.

Her breath comes and goes in quick bursts, montrals shuddering lightly with exhaustion.  The enormity of what they’ve done has started falling on her; the enormity of what she’s done, by the Force.  But her hands are the kind of steady earned through a crucible of three years of constant battle.

Too much battle, Master Windu thinks, and Ahsoka narrows her eyes at him when she catches it and presses closer.

“You don’t lay a finger on him; none of you get to do that, not now.”

“Now that I’ve—” Maul starts to drawl, but Ahsoka cuts him off.

“Not helping, Maul,” she spits without taking her eyes off the threatthreathreat she can feel from Master Windu.

Ahsoka showed up out of nowhere with the enemy she was meant to capture as backup—or, she was his backup, they hadn’t quite straightened that out on the way.  But it’s also that Anakin has—Anakin was—Anakin is—and Ahsoka was his apprentice for three years.  

And whose fault is that? Ahsoka thinks desperately, and Windu catches it, and it’s getting harder and harder for them to keep their shields up, keep their minds from meeting in the Force; Master Fisto lies dead not ten feet from her, and she’s used to dead bodies, she is, but dead Jedi still feel anathema and the violence of it lingers in the Force here even though they’ve been dying in droves in the last stages of this pointless conflict all this pointless death she is a solider not a Jedi what was it all for?

“Come now, Lady Tano,” Maul says, an undercurrent of pleasure at the chaos he can sense from her—not that he’s any better, he likes chaos.  It’s what he’s good at.  But she’s not, and it dulls her keen edges.

She forces a slow, full breath in, and out, and her hands stay steady.

“This is not the Jedi way,” Master Windu says like it matters.

“No?  Maybe not.”  Ahsoka draws in another breath.  “But I don’t think that means anything, anymore.  There have been too many compromises in this war, Master Windu, for you to tell me here and now that Maul deserves to die for winning it.”

“Obi-Wan would agree with me.”

“Obi-wan isn’t here, master,” Ahsoka says like an accusation.  “And can you honestly tell me you were going to do anything different? Why were you here in this office?”

“Arresting him, so he could be brought to justice,” Master Windu bites out, and Ahsoka knows she’s won, because it’s a lie.

That’s not what this was about. 

This was about millions of dead clones and thousands of dead Jedi and hundreds of years of steady decay disguised as peace.

Another lie.

Master Windu sighs like the weight of the galaxy is pressing it out of him.  And maybe it is; destiny fell hard on their shoulders today. 

Now, they find out if they can bear it.

“Fine.  We’ll do it your way, Lady Tano,” he capitulates, using Maul’s title for her to make a point.  “For now.”

—

 “How did you get away with being pregnant for so long?”  Ahsoka asks hesitantly, as they wait together.  “I mean, your gowns make a good effort, but…”

Padmé hums.  “They weren’t meant to convince anyone I wasn’t pregnant; it’s,” she taps her armrest, “it’s a cultural thing.  Padmé Naberrie is pregnant, but Senator Padmé Amidala isn’t.  Our private lives are sacrosanct, on Naboo, and with Palpatine,” her voice breaks, and she clears her throat.  “With Palpatine being the Chancellor for so long, Naboo culture was something most of the Senate understood.”

“Ah,” Ahsoka says, and it almost makes sense.  “We never had a lot of privacy in the Order. Or in the GAR, but that was different,” she adds, shaking her head.

“How so?”  Padmé asks, her eyes brightening the way Master Obi-Wan’s did, those rare moments in between battles when Anakin and Ahsoka could be lured into debating philosophy.

“I mean, we’re all Jedi, we all grow up together, learn together, live together.  We’re Jedi,” she repeats, “and we—it’s—we blend together in the Force.  There are things we just knew about one another, unless someone made an effort to hide, but then we knew that, too.”  She makes a frustrated noise.  “It’s not bad, though, it’s comforting.  Usually we didn’t feel the need to hide anything from other Jedi, and it was comforting, to know that you could just be in the Temple, without any pretenses.

“Whereas the GAR,” Ahsoka twists her lips wryly, “the lack of privacy stems from the close quarters and the constant battle and movement.  There’s no time for privacy when every second wasted means someone else dies.  And a lot of the regulations meant there were things we had to report to our superiors. Everything, basically, because some senators who helped draw up regulations thought that our use of the Force meant our every thought and feeling was pertinent to the war effort.”

“I see,” Padmé says, and they sit with these things they’ve said, and all the things they haven’t.

Ahsoka can feel the question in the back of their throats, and she can’t tell if it’s coming from her or from Padmé, but Padmé is the one who gives it life.  So kindly that it almost doesn’t feel like the dagger to her gut that it is.

“Is it still like that now?”

“I don’t know,” Ahsoka whispers, finally, because this isn’t something she can say loudly; not yet. “I don’t—not for me.  It isn’t like that for me, anymore.   But for everyone else?”  She asks.  “I can’t tell the difference between trauma and classified information and loss of faith in other Jedi, in the others.”

Or in herself.

—

When the find the chips—

Little gods and all the Force, too.

Anakin felt like he could have torn all of Coruscant asunder, and Ahsoka knew she wasn’t far behind him.  A lot of the other Jedi weren’t far behind him; Aayla Secura and Plo Koon and Depa Billaba and the others who lived and died by thousands of brothers for three years.

But Rex isn’t surprised. That’s what finally breaks Ahsoka: the lack of surprise on Rex’s face and the grim way Cody asks if these chips really change anything.

She leaves the now-chaotic debriefing room and hurries blindly through the halls of the Senate, grasping at the Force for a safe place to land and fall to pieces.

 She stumbles into a large set of offices, meant for a senator, maybe, but Ahsoka can’t quite grasp the lay of it with her montrals vibrating like they are; with her eyes so full of this last shattering betrayal, the final throw of earth in its burial.

“Master Jedi?” Someone calls sharply, but Ahsoka can’t answer them before she backs into a corner and sinks to the floor.  Can’t correct them, say, I am no Jedi, because she doesn’t know truth from lie anymore.

“Master Jedi,” that same voice repeats more calmly, right in front of her and vaguely familiar. “Ahsoka, right?”

She desperately trills some affirmative, and it must be within their range of hearing because they say, “Okay,” and nothing else.

Slowly, in fits and starts, the physical creeps into her awareness.  This is a senator’s office, and if she’s not mistaken, it’s the office of the man crouching in front of her.  She recognizes him, vaguely, and might be able to name him with another minute of study.

“Do you know where you are?” He asks, radiating calm like a Jedi master without any of the awareness in the Force.

“Your offices,” Ahsoka bites out lowly, starting to feel a low burn of embarrassment.  “Sorry, I’m—sorry.  I’m sorry.  I was just—”

“It’s fine, Master Jedi. There’s a lot of that going around,” he jokes lightly, except for how it isn’t a joke at all.

“The debriefing,” she says, the debriefing, because there’s only one, and if Ahsoka can recognize him then he’s definitely important enough to sit in on it.  “You weren’t there,” she adds questioningly.

“Ah, yes,” he says mildly. “I’m afraid I’ll need to be briefed on the debriefing later by one of my colleagues; Senator Amidala, perhaps, her notes are usually impeccable.  I was unavoidably detained by the Queen.”

“The queen,” Ahsoka repeats back to him, like Hondo’s stupid monkey-lizard. 

“Queen Breha Organa,” he responds, and she’s grateful that still, all he radiates is calm, because her embarrassment now is strong enough to rival her desperate horror.

“Your wife,” she says like an idiot to Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan, one of the leaders of the delegation of 2000 and main architects of the Republic’s efforts to rebuild.

“Yes,” he says.  “Do you drink tea?”

She takes a deep breath in, forcing her heartrate to slow.  “I do,” she replies.  You can’t spend any time in proximity with Master Obi-Wan without it. 

“I would be honored if you would join me, then,” Senator Organa says, rising and extending a hand to her in one smooth motion that belies his heavy robes.  “I think your perspective on these proceedings may be invaluable, if you’re willing to offer it.”

Ahsoka grasps it and pulls to her feet.  “It’s the least I can do,” she says.  “Seeing as I just had a panic attack in your office.”

“Wonderful,” he smiles at her, not denying it, and leads her away.

—

A galaxy cannot stumble up to the edge of oblivion and then step back gracefully, kindly, simply, easily, just because they notice it’s happened.  An end is inevitable.

The Republic fell three years ago, thirteen years ago, seventeen years ago.  Now the work is sorting shattered remains to see what is worth preserving, and what can be thrown out wholesale.

Saving isn’t on the agenda.

—

There are so few Jedi left, now, compared to what they were before.  Perhaps half the Order has died, in three years of relentless violence, and those who remain feel brittle in the Force.  The very young and the very old alone remain whole, and the disconnect is stifling.

Not all of those who remain stay.  Entire lineages depart from the Temple, unable to contemplate trying to live as they had before.

Trying, and failing.

Tholme and T’ra Saa depart for parts unknown to the Order at large as soon as the last battle fades into armistice.  Years of intelligence work and corralling those brave few Jedi who were willing to let the darkness swallow them whole have left them closer than the Code can abide. And Quinlan Vos follows soon after, to no one’s surprise. 

Aayla…she stays.  She stays, for now, but it’s a tenuous settling. As long as Bly is with her, she will endure.

But if she has to choose between the Order and Bly, or the Order and seeing her master again, the Order will lose.

—

Calling them Senate hearings would be a misnomer; the Senate doesn’t really…exist, anymore. With Palpatine gone, a crippling power vacuum sits at the heart of the Republic, leaving them, somehow, even more ineffective than they were before.  No system trusts any other system well enough to vote someone else into the Chancellorship that, all of a sudden, seems too powerful for any one being.

But their bylaws are still legal.

If not for the Jedi’s efforts to negotiate armistices with the Confederacy, they would be completely unable to negotiate or sue for peace, left mired in a thousand little wars, shards of the larger conflict that shattered with Dooku and Grievous.  The Jedi hold the peace of hundreds of worlds in their palms.

No one is particularly happy with this state of affairs.  Not even the Jedi, though some of Bail’s colleagues doubt that to the point of insult.

This particular briefing is in one of the lesser chambers, with perhaps only two hundred key systems directly represented.  A dozen Jedi and half that many clones have joined them to provide information and counsel on military matters, and all of their agitation is more palpable by the moment.

Master Windu, as Head of the Order, has spoken before the Senate many times; but today, he remains quiet and stone-faced, his hand pressed against his mouth as if to remind himself of his silence.

Master Kenobi, on the other hand, has exhaustedly pulled and pushed at conversational threads the entire time, lambasting falsehoods and correcting ignorance and on one very startling occasion baring his teeth at a senator who suggested—demanded—the Trade Federation be allowed a voice in these proceedings. 

That motion died swiftly.

The famed negotiator is seemingly at the end of his rope when it comes to these proceedings, and Bail can’t blame him.

After the very first of these briefings, the one Bail missed, Master Skywalker was not allowed to attend, and the look on Ahsoka’s face when they learned of this made him think it’s for the best. 

No Kaminoan representative has appeared after Halle Burtoni was swiftly recalled just before Master Shaak-Ti revealed what had been done to the clone troops, which Bail thinks is also for the best; if only because their safety could not be guaranteed.

—

Mace doesn’t understand it until he meets Padawan Vrosch.

Barely Padawan Vrosch; if not for the war, this little nautolan would still comfortably be an initiate, but needs must.

Padawan Vrosch is a padawan of the Temple.  Masterless, and left that way too long because no master could take up their training after…after what always happens to Jedi in wars. 

Padawan Vrosch’s master died very early on, after taking a padawan very young on both ends. They went to their master’s funeral, when they were still affording every Jedi lost in battle their own funeral, their own pyre and remembrance.

Most Padawans their age would have been at odd ends; but Vrosch quietly took up their own education, signing up for and attending classes as they came, joining initiates in their saber training, and patiently waiting for the day someone noticed them again.

They also found purpose in these intervening years, a much harder task: attending all the funerals held for fallen Jedi at the Temple.

“I was the only one there for my master,” Padawan Vrosch speaks solemnly up to him.  “When he died.”

Mace settles down next to them in the gardens—still too quiet, too empty, too devoid of the sparks of brightness that made it easy to just be in—and waits, patiently, for what the Force is telling him he needs to hear.  

Not just the Force.  Mace has trained one Padawan to Knighthood already.  A youngling alone shouldn’t stay that way.

“I know the war was important,” Vrosch continues.  “The Jedi wouldn’t fight in it if it wasn’t.”

Their faith stirs some inkling of wonder and shame from Mace; he finds he isn’t so certain.

“But we’re Jedi,” they say insistently.  “We’re all Jedi.  We shouldn’t die alone, and we shouldn’t pass into the Force alone, and we shouldn’t be remembered alone.

“I can’t fight very well, Master Windu,” Vrosch whispers, their tentacles twitching listlessly, like this is a failure on their part.  “But I could do this.  We aren’t mean to be alone, Master Windu.”

Mace sighs and looks out over too-quiet gardens.

“No, we’re not, Padawan.”

—

“Where is he?”

Ahsoka has been avoiding Obi-Wan for this exact reason. 

“I don’t know,” she says quietly, looking back at him steadily.  Steady, steady, so, so steady; Ahsoka is steady because if she isn’t then it all falls apart.  She’s certain and resolute because if she isn’t then she was wrong, and they Fall.

Obi-Wan runs a hand through his hair, pulling too-long strands out of his face.  He’s eroded to the quick.  They all are.  But leaving on what should have been the last mission of the war, only to return to find the Republic and your padawan on the brink of collapse, your oldest enemy free and your former grandpadawan responsible for freeing him…

The one thing he could still be sure of had been Cody, and even that was taken from him.  Now, he has only himself.

“He pulled us back from the Fall, master, and left without taking advantage of it.  I don’t think we can ask more from him than that.”

Welcome to my world, Kenobi.

None of their shields are functioning anymore.  Ahsoka gets Obi-Wan’s full impression of Maul, his sense of Maul’s whole self, and accepts it as another burden on her shoulders.  She knew the second she took Maul’s hand that Master Obi-Wan would never forgive her, would never understand, and she did it anyway.

Before he can work through to quiet acceptance of another grievous wound from someone he didn’t expect—a burden that might finally break her—Ahsoka untangles them from each other in the Force and walks away.

Infinite sadness, the Force murmurs to her, but she doesn’t look back.

—

It’s like they hit the Republic and the Order and the Galaxy over and over and over and over and over again until cracks spread into their very foundations—and then each took the finishing blow inside themselves, in place of the things they all bled and died and Fell for.

And they all shattered instead.

—

When Ahsoka tells Rex what she wants, he drags her to Cody—who gives in with surprisingly little resistance, and then lets her watch his comm to Commander Fox and the face that he makes, because Cody outranks everyone, and Fox can’t say no.  It almost makes up for stifling-fear-anger-betrayal from her time in Fox’s custody.

Sometimes, Ahsoka forgets that Anakin spent half a year serving with Cody the same way Ahsoka served with Rex.

They try to take her lightsabers at the last checkpoint, but she hands them off to Rex to safely hang from his belt.  Not a single one of the men here can be trusted with them in her mind, even though that’s not fair. 

The hard part of being self-aware is knowing you’re being irrational with no way to stop.

She waves the escort off, and to her surprise, they leave, though she can feel them linger just around the corner.

One beat, two beats, three beats of silence.

Fine.

Ahsoka settles onto the durasteel floor, lets the cold seep into legs and work its way up her lekku and down her montrals.

In, out, in, out, in…out…i n… . . o u   t . ..   . …….

Her-not-her-other expands and contracts in time with her lungs, and she becomes grassland; wind whips across the plains and she is the predator at the center, low to the ground, tasting the breeze and aware of every creature, every hidey-hole, every current. Daughter, the wind murmurs, and a convor’s cry echoes across the endless sky.

In the place between them, grassland and frigid desert meet, warm and cold winds mixing to create something more.  Something terrible.  They are not the same winds; the predator snarls, for it knows death rides on the cold.

Death and betrayal.

Barriss stiffens in her cell, and Ahsoka sighs.  As it should be, she thinks, but also, that’s not why I’m here.

But also, Barriss, is that true? and justice is merely the construct of the current power base.

Barriss’ eyes fly open at that.  “So, the rumors are true.  You did help him,” she says dully.

“He helped me,” Ahsoka fires back.  Sighs again. “But maybe it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh?” Barriss raises an eyebrow cooly. 

With your help, the Jedi can stop Sidious before it’s too late!

Too late for what? The Republic to fall? It already has, and you just can't see it!  There is no justice, no law, no order, except for the one that will replace it!

Energy crackles between them, and Ahsoka bites her lip.

“I think…” she hesitates. “I think he was right, Barriss,” she whispers.  “I think you were right, too.”

Barriss’ breath catches in her throat, her eyes snagging Ahsoka’s until they’re caught in a deadlock and warm and cold winds rise, rise, rise together, and a squall erupts in the Force.  At the edge of it, the clone troopers shift, discomforted. 

“You can feel it, too?” Barriss asks desperately, and Ahsoka catches flashes of Master Luminara sitting where she sits now, beaten and drawn and blind.

In, out.  Ahsoka expands the grasslands and points out the guiding winds to friend-not.  These aren’t Master Windu’s shatterpoints, but they are everywhere: in the Senate, in the Temple, on the Star Destroyers, in the Jedi and the people and the clones. The Republic has shattered already. It just hasn’t fallen to pieces.  The Republic is failing!  The Republic is Falling.

Tears slip down Barriss’ face, relief-fear-sadness-righteous.  Ahsoka trills, acknowledgement-soothing-fear-anger.

“What are we doing? What are we going to do?”  Barriss throws out.

“What have we done?” Ahsoka counters.  Blasters-energy-darkness-death-dying-agony-conflict-violence-pain-destruction-death-war-war-war-war.

In, war, out, war.

“It didn’t die with Sidious. I thought—but Maul was right, you were right.  It’s all of us.  And I don’t know how to fix it, Barriss, and I don’t think anyone else does, either.” She shifts, hugging her knees to her chest.  The predator morphs, uncertain, into prey, akul-scented on the wind, nowhere to run; they can only face it.

“That’s because it’s not our job,” Barriss says, face darkening.

“Why not?  We are j—” Ahsoka swallows the word.  They aren’t.  Barriss, expelled.  Ahsoka, lost.

Barriss shakes her head sharply.  “No, that’s not what I meant.  We should never have—we—we’re peacekeepers!”  She says indignantly.  “And that doesn’t mean pacifist, but it also doesn’t mean warmonger.  The jedi lost their honor the second they put us on the battlefield.”

Blasters-energy-darkness-death-dying-agony-conflict-violence-pain-destruction-death-war-war-war-war.

Death Watch surrounds her, too close, and it damns them; her lightsabers whirl out and catch all four of them in the neck at once.  And on to the next before their heads roll to a stop.  Bloodless, cauterized death-wounds, but the smell of it….

The grasslands are set ablaze, and the predator learns to run with the flames, instead of from them.

Barriss’ hands are never fully clean.  Mud and viscera stain her skirts as she lashes out at the Umbarans to protect her men, and then drops to hold the men she couldn’t protect together in the Force, desperately failing to hold them all together, Master Luminara isn’t here no one is here it’s just Barriss and Death nipping at her heels.

Desert sands whirl and whip like glass shards, higher and higher and colder and colder until all that lasts is the storm.

And….and….

Anakin, only seven years older than Ahsoka is; Master Obi-Wan hadn’t even been knighted yet at his age. Ahsoka thinks about being thirteen and missing Temple classes for battles.  Thinks about being fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and feeling death emanate from her lightsabers in the unifying force, stronger than any other feeling. 

Thinks about being knighted at seventeen.  Thinks about Barriss alone on the battlefield.  Thinks about Katooni, and wonders if she’s a Padawan yet. 

Thinks about half of the Jedi Order, gone.

When the guards come back for her, Ahsoka stands and works the kinks out of her muscles ruthlessly fast, too used to her surroundings shifting on a credit to let that kind of weakness linger.  Barriss stares after her with water and hope in her eyes, because they both know Ahsoka is coming back.  More questions lie between them than answers, now.

—

The debriefings turn into hearings, public ones.  Ahsoka’s shoulders tense every time she sets foot in the Senate, feeling the searching-grasping-angry-false atmosphere.  As inaction continues to dominate their government, some senators have started making noise about someone to blame for all of this.  Like Sidious isn’t to blame; like they all aren’t to blame.

Whenever the noise overwhelms her, the directionless anger prowling for an easy target, she finds her feet taking her back to Senator Organa’s offices, again and again.  It’s the will of the Force that he’s always there when she does, always with tea already waiting for them.  The unifying Force swirls lazily in the space around them in a way Ahsoka can’t interpret; like the future has its eyes on this moment in its past.

They talk about the proceedings.  About the war.  About the peace talks some Jedi are still presiding over without any authority to back them.  Ahsoka discovers that she has opinions about these that are uniquely her own, ones Senator Organa finds fascinating in a purely kind way.

Senator Organa opens up about the troubles Alderaan’s relief missions face, without proper authority and with the Republic forces’ attention off some of the usual hyperspace lanes.

Frustration is a bonding emotion between them.  But the time they spend together is the only peace Ahsoka’s life affords her. 

—

When Ahsoka left the Jedi Order, she felt the weight of all the work she wasn’t doing press hard on her shoulders, guilt twining between her legs and tripping her up every time happiness or contentment seemed in reach.  It made it so easy to take Bo Katan’s hand when she reached out; so easy to take on Mandalore’s battles as her own, because it felt like war and inaction were her only options.

Ahsoka was decisive. Her actions determined the course of so many lives.  So many troopers under her command, so many citizens depending on their victory; and for those brief, too-long hours with Maul, the whole Republic balanced on their backs.

Now, inaction has descended again.  The weight of roads not taken and guilt encircle her throat like a collar.  With Master Obi-Wan and Commander Cody and Captain Rex in the Senate every day, with Padmé and Senator Organa, the future of the Republic doges her every step, but she’s nearly powerless to help.

And it doesn’t help that her future with the Order is still up in the air.

Master Windu seems to have set her brief partnership with Maul aside until they know whether the Republic will fix itself, but having the threat of his disapproval hang over her head is worse than any swift punishment he could have devised.  Like, for instance, barring her from rejoining the Order.

The Temple is her home. The Jedi are her people.  Ahsoka knows she doesn’t want to live without them anymore.

But the Order has ground to a halt, and Ahsoka doesn’t know how to be still, anymore; her waiting is purely predatory, a simple watching for the next moment to strike. 

Meditating has never been her strong suit, but she takes it up again anyway.  It’s supposed to afford her clarity, if not peace. 

In, out.  In, out.

In, out.  In, out.  In, out.  In, out. In, out.  In, out.  In, out.

Ahsoka lets out a frustrated huff.  It’s so easy when she slips into the grasslands and the desert with Barriss; the both of them searching for answers no one seems to have, answers to questions too many people aren’t asking.

But on her own?  For herself? 

Not a damn moment of clarity.

She lets out another frustrated huff and pushes to her feet. Fine. Moving meditation, it is.  In, out.  Rise.  In, out.

In, out.  Left foot back, right foot forward, arm across the body. Ahsoka automatically pulls her empty grip in front of her face, instead of at her side, and lets her other hand act as both counterbalance and guard behind her.

In, out.  In, out.

Forward, back. 

Parry, attack, defend.

Deflect.  In, out.

 In, out.  In,    out,   In….. out…. …. ……….

 She alternates slow and fast repetitions and allows the living Force to flow through her, abandoning all thought toward the future.

In out forward back parry attack defend deflect in out; In, out, forward, back, parry, attack, defend, deflect, in……out……..

“Always in motion, the future is,” Master Yoda says from where he’s settled into the grass across from her.  “Always in motion, you are, Ahsoka.”

In, out.  The grasslands recede, leaving only Ahsoka.  She dashes the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and falls into slow, easy stretches, letting the moment extend between her and her oldest teacher.

When they’re both ready, she releases a last breath and lowers herself in front of him.

“Happy here, you are not.” His ears dip low.  “Happy here, many are not.  Leaving, many are, to find themselves outside the Jedi Order.”

Ahsoka says nothing, content to wait for him to ask, not sure she has an answer to offer.

He sighs.  “Leaving, are you, Ahsoka Tano?”

“I don’t know, master. I don’t know…what I’m supposed to do now.”

Yoda offers no answers, either. 

“Jedi, you are,” he says, but it feels like a question.  He feels…uncertain, and it strikes Ahsoka like a blow.  Yoda isn’t supposed to be uncertain; he’s supposed to be…Yoda!

We’re peacekeepers! Barriss’ voice says in her mind, and he and Ahsoka flinch as one.

But…

“Yes,” she mulls, “I am a Jedi.”  In, out. “But I don’t know what that means anymore.  What we stand for.  What we’re supposed to do,” she repeats her earlier refrain.

Yoda hums.  “Neither do I,” he says, full of mischief and sorrow for not having the answers younglings always expect from him.

“Jedi, you are; in the Temple, Jedi, you are.  On Mandalore, Jedi, you are.  And on Felucia, Alderaan, Naboo, Tatooine.

“Jedi, you are, always.”

 It rings out in the Force. Daughter, it murmurs to her, and the cantor soars over the grasslands, free once again.

Her breath shudders out of her, leaving tears in its wake.  She shudders, and cries, until it turns into great rolling sobs that wrack her whole body and seep into the Force around them, sinking into the grass and plants and trees.

Relief.  It flows openly between her and Master Yoda. Relief-identity-purpose-forgiveness-Jedi.

“Searching, you are, for answers none have yet.  Find them for ourselves, we must.  Yes,” he hums again.  “Find them for ourselves, we will, and then, know them together, we will.”

She wipes uselessly at her face, still crying.  “But what about the Senate, the armistices, the clones—”

Yoda shakes his head. “Your job, this is not.  Jedi, you are.  Jedi Knight, I name you, Ahsoka Tano; now; always.  But young, you still are.  Heavy burdens, we have placed on the shoulders of all our younglings.”

 “But you just said I was a Knight,” she protests, and he smiles at her.

“Younglings,” he grumbles playfully.  “Younglings you all are, to me.  Even Master Windu.”

A beat.

“Youngling you were, when sent into battle, you were.  When send you into battle, the Council did.”  He sighs heavily.  “Great things, you have achieved, on the field of battle.  Under Master Skywalker’s tutelage,” he emphasizes Anakin’s new title.  “An exaggeration, it is not, to say that saved the Republic, you have, Ahsoka Tano; even if with the unlikeliest of allies, you did.  But had to, you should not have.”

Half the Order, gone.

Fresh tears flood her eyes, and the beginnings of a dehydration headache start to throb. 

“Many things, we will have to consider.  What we have done, for the sake of this war.  What we will do, for the sake of our future.  Easier it is, for myself and other masters, to contemplate these things here, in the Temple.  Easier it is not, for you.”

In, out.  She breathes easier now than she has since the Temple was bombed months and months past.  Now that Master Yoda…he…. Force, his approval still means so much to her.

“Need my approval, you did not,” Master Yoda chides gently.

“I wanted it, though,” Ahsoka realizes.  In, out. With his approval, so much of her uncertainty is gone, the things that temper her will to act dissipating with the knowledge that she isn’t alone anymore.

Jedi aren’t meant to be alone.  

 A breeze winds through the physical world around them, and Ahsoka tilts her head up to feel it better.

“Here we will be, when ready you are to return.”

—

Unsurprisingly, she finds Skyguy at Padmé’s apartment.  The two of them kind of abandoned any pretense when the war ended and he got to stay on Coruscant for more than a week.  When his troops—and the Republic, nominally—didn’t need him on the field of battle anymore.

“I have something to tell you,” they say at the same time, awkwardly sitting across from each other at Padmé’s kitchen table; Padmé herself having retreated to her—her and Skyguy’s? —bedroom with her handmaidens to keep packing.  Ahsoka doesn’t know everything about human reproductive cycles, but it doesn’t seem like Padmé can get much bigger without literally bursting, so she must be preparing for the end of it.  She’ll be on Naboo for a few months.

Or at least, that’s what she says.  Ahsoka suspects she may be back on Coruscant sooner, given the state of the galactic government.

They both gesture for the other to go first; they both pause awkwardly, waiting each other out, and Ahsoka rolls her eyes at them internally.  Little gods, really?  This is what they’re reduced to

And then they speak at the same time again:

“I’m rejoining the Order.”

“I’m leaving the Order.”

“What?”  They yell, together, and Ahsoka growls at the both of them.

“You’re leaving the Order?” Ahsoka demands, finally speaking on her own.

“I,” Anakin blinks, and rubs the back of his neck like she’s blindsided him.  “Yeah.  I don’t think I can stay, Snips, not with the way things are.”

She raises her brow.  “And how is that?”

He rolls his eyes at her, externally.  “I’ve never exactly been a model Jedi, Ahsoka.”

“Banthashit.  Everyone says you’re one of the best Jedi in the Order.”

“No,” he counters, “they say I’m one of the best Generals in the order.  One of the best warriors.  And now,” he turns to look in the direction Padmé went and his whole being softens in the Force, “I want to try and be one of the best husbands.  One of the best fathers,” he grins, and it strikes Ahsoka that he’s so young.  He’s so young, to have done the things he’s done.  So young to be a father.

Holy kriff, Anakin Skywalker is gonna be a dad. 

Visions of him jumping off of cliffs and being electrocuted run through her mind.

He catches the memories and grumbles at her.  Sighs.

“I don’t think I want to try and be a better Jedi, is the thing.  There is no try,” he says bitterly.  “Only do or do not.”

“And you…do not,” Ahsoka says hesitantly.

“I love my wife,” he says. “I love my children.  I love you, and Obi-Wan, and Rex and our men.  But I don’t love the Jedi Order anymore, if I ever did.”

Ahsoka thinks she loves the Order as much as it’s possible to love something so integral to who she is and who she wants to be.

Were you not cast out of your Order?

I left voluntarily.

Yes, but you were motivated to leave by the hypocrisy of the Jedi Council.

Many things, we have to consider.

“So, what are you going to do now?  If you’re not a Jedi.”  Ahsoka asks.

Anakin leans back in his seat, crosses his arms.

What do you want with Anakin Skywalker?

 He is the key to everything.  To destroy.  He has long been groomed as my master’s new apprentice.

 The Force roils as he sees what she has seen, hears what Maul said to her; it’s always so responsive for him.  Anger. Hate.  Disbelief. 

Yeah.  Ahsoka didn’t believe it either, until Maul told her who Sidious really was.  Until they got to Coruscant and Ahsoka could feel Anakin, his rage and fear and uncertainty. They barely got there in time, and the galaxy hung in the balance between Anakin and Ahsoka.  He pulls the memory of that from her too, and visibly brings himself back under control.

“I’m going to Naboo with Padmé.  And maybe,” he hesitates.  “I think I’ll help Rex and the other troops out, too.  With whatever their plans are.  Some other Jedi are helping, too.  Aayla, for one,” he adds when he sees her twitch in curiosity.  “Padmé’s been helping them fight the Senate for citizenship rights, and they’re just starting a search for places to settle down.

“It’ll calm a lot of anxieties in the Senate when they find it,” Ahsoka says, mulling it over.  “Having a standing army makes everyone nervous.”

Anakin snorts.  “Sure.  But it’s less that and more that they deserve it.  They always deserved it,” he says lowly, the seeds of a greater anger taking root.  “And if we tried to frame it like that, then some senators would say the troopers shouldn’t be able to leave until the Separatists decommission their droids.”

Something doesn’t quite make sense about that.  Ahsoka thinks about what she’s caught of the recent debriefings, and can’t remember any of the senators talking about this as anything more than a distant possibility.

“Hang on,” she says, the pieces coming together.  “What exactly are you planning, Skyguy?”

He grins, sharply this time. “Yeah, don’t go spreading it around. We, uh, requisitioned some medical droids and started removing their chips weeks ago.  There’s nothing stopping them for doing whatever they want, now.”

“Holy kriff,” Ahsoka breathes, eyes wide.  “How is this even going to—they’re still members of the GAR, can’t they get court martialed?”

“Not if all of them leave,” he smirks.  “There’s no law or force in the galaxy that could tell them all what to do, anymore.”

She thinks about Anakin and Rex, Master Obi-Wan and Commander Cody, Master Windu and Commander Ponds.  “Not even the Jedi.”

“Which you’re going back to.”

“I am a Jedi,” she says, and the Force winds around her like a satisfied lothcat.  Anakin senses it and purses his lips.  “A Jedi Knight,” she adds, and his shoulders sag in defeat.

“It suits you,” he admits, and leans back toward her over the table. 

“Just because I’m a Jedi doesn’t mean I’m staying here, though.  I’m not just gonna sit around, anymore, even if the Order isn’t assigning missions.”

He hesitantly reaches for her hand.  “So, you’ll come to Naboo to meet the twins, when they’re born?  It won’t be long now,” he says, not meeting her eyes.

She reaches back, leaning closer to snag his prosthetic hand, too.  “I wouldn’t miss it, Skyguy.”

A beat.

“Hang on, twins?  Two of them?”

He bursts out laughing, and the whole apartment brightens with his delight.  “That’s exactly what Obi-Wan said!”

—

Ahsoka walks into Senator Organa’s offices on purpose, for once, and he looks up at her in surprise.

“I see I’ve finally caught you off guard,” she grins.  “I was starting to think you had foresight, the way you’re always ready for me.”

“Well,” he smiles warmly and gestures for her to sit, “perhaps you’ve finally done something unpredictable, Master Jedi.”

He’s called her that this whole time, oddly enough, from the first moment she burst into his space in a panic.  Always certain of who she was.  It’s pretty telling in retrospect that she never corrected him.

“What brings you to me today?” He asks.

“You’re still having trouble with your relief missions,” Ahsoka states.  “I want to help.”

Senator Organa’s brow furrows.  “I was unaware the Jedi Order has started assigning missions again.  Or the Senate, for that matter.”

“They haven’t,” Ahsoka grins.  “But as a fully-fledged Jedi Knight, I’m allowed to offer my services as I see fit, even outside officially sanctioned missions.”

“That’s a very generous offer.”

“I want to help.”  She repeats plainly, but it means something different this time.  “And I know you want to help, too.  I trust your judgment; and,” she shrugs, “Alderaan’s judgment, too.”

“And what kind of help is that, exactly?”

“Whatever kind of help is needed.  Diplomacy, piloting, negotiating.”  She grins again.  “Aggressive negotiations.”

Senator Organa studies her, his hand coming up to his chin in a contemplative gesture.  “I trust your judgement as well, Master Jedi.”

Ahsoka sighs in relief. “Well, that’s good.”  Her backup plans if this didn’t work were pretty, uh, nebulous. 

“You’ve been very occupied by the Senate hearings and the armistices; I suppose,” he says slowly, meeting her eyes directly, “I’m surprised at this decision.  I thought you would remain on Coruscant until matters were settled.”

She tilts her head to the side and considers it.  “Maybe, in another life.  But I think I’m ready to let other people decide the fate of the galaxy again,” she says like it’s a joke, but feels relieved when Senator Organa doesn’t take it like one.  “I think,” she continues tentatively, “I can finally trust that everything will still be here when I return.  And in the meantime, there are people who need my help, and I need to help them.”

“You’re in luck,” Senator Organa says, pulling one datapad of many off his desk and thumbing it open. “Queen Breha just finalized the details of a joint relief mission with Chandrilla to Ryloth.  They only accept aid now when it isn’t the military delivering it, but the hyperspace lanes between there and Alderaan are still tumultuous.  And to be honest,” he admits, “we could use some help smoothing the transfers over with local officials, too.”

Ahsoka breathes out, and feels this mission sink onto her shoulders, displacing the greater weights that took up that space before.  Greater, but not more important.

“I’ll put you in contact with the mission lead, they can give you details about departure times and what exactly they’ll want you to do.”

“Thank you, Senator Organa,” Ahsoka says as she pushes to her feet.

“I think you can call me Bail,” he says, extending a hand.

“Then I think you should call me Ahsoka,” she replies, taking it.

—

Anakin drags Rex and Kix and Jesse and Cody to Naboo with him, when it’s time, and Padmé thanks them quietly for bringing him back to her, more whole than he’s been since they rode into an arena chained together.

Time away from the politics of rebuilding a government and the Jedi Order—and the relationship between the two and the larger galaxy—has been so good for him that she can’t begrudge personal opportunities lost.

At least now, she knows he’s safe in more ways than one, working for something he really believes in.

—

Ahsoka meets Luke and Leia ten days local standard after they’re born at Varykino on Naboo, and loves them instantly.

A Feeling strikes her as she stares down at the pair of them, utterly enchanting and more powerful than anything she’s ever seen before.  “Oh, they’re going to be trouble.”

“You think?” Anakin grins at her.

—

Barriss can feel it, somehow, when Ahsoka finally leaves Coruscant again.  Like their increasingly frequent joint meditations have bound them together.

Her strength in the unifying Force has only ever brought her pain; foresight in the middle of a war is nothing but death and darkness.  But as Ahsoka leaves, more settled than she’s been since Barriss utterly destroyed the trust between them, and between them and the Order and the Republic, the Force seeps into her vision once again.

Desert winds swirl, sweeping aside too-familiar sands to reveal what potential lies underneath.

Growth.  New beginnings.  Life.

Barriss sees:

Her hands sweeping over the head of an anxious youngling, murmuring sweet nothings as she applies bacta patches to the saber burns the little Twi’leck who slipped during their first training class, completely accidental.

“It’s going to be alright,” Barriss says with a smile, and she believes it.  And the youngling believes her.

 Barriss s e e s:

 It is not so easy for the scars of war to fade.

We are not soldiers; but we used to be; but we shouldn’t have been.

When the Jedi Order shouldered the burden of galactic war for the Senate, their lauded foresight didn’t reveal the perils of the aftermath.  What the real cost of war is for the soldiers who fight it: the ones who die for it, and the ones who have to live with it.  Live with what they did in the name of something that was truly corrupted.

Too late for what? The Republic to fall? It already has, and you just can't see it!  There is no justice, no law, no order, except for the one that will replace it!

The temple of the New Republic is not a sanctuary suffused with the warmth of a thousand years of brotherhood that they once lived in.  It reflects its inhabitants in more ways than one.

It is an alert place, the tension of a thousand survivors of Civil War trained to be on their guard, always.  At once a more insular place, disillusioned with the government they’re re-learning how to serve, even now, years after the fact, and a more connected place, with the Jedi more aware of the people themselves by necessity.  There are some who will always be more comfortable in a battle than out of it, no matter how long it’s been, because they came of age in battle after battle after battle.  But there are others who are finally growing up without a war nipping at their heels, corrupting them.

Jedi come and go more frequently than they used to.  There are more Rangers and Watchman than there have been in hundreds of years.

But they are. And they will be.

 Barriss sees:

 Ahsoka climbs the steps to the Temple, her home, completely at ease, the echoes of her descending them in anguish and uncertainty long faded.  Returning from a long, satisfying journey.

Barriss is waiting for her just inside the Temple walls and falls in step next to her.  They make their way through the Temple together.  

Younglings and Padawans and younger knights and older masters alike whisper in Ahsoka’s wake, as they always do; things they once whispered about her Master, and his Master before him: one of the greatest Jedi of the era.  Sith-slayer.  Negotiator. Warrior.  Her adventures are easy stories to tell in creches, ones where the Jedi triumphs over many different types of evil.

The reality of them is more complicated, of course, but that is something saved for people who can bear it and learn from in; not fear it.

“She’s waiting for you,” Barriss says calmly.

Ahsoka groans.  “Barriss, I haven’t even been home five minutes, can’t this wait?”

“You’re ready.  She’s more than ready; she’s been waiting for you.”

“Am I?  Ready, I mean,” Ahsoka says uncertainly.

They pause in the hallway, passersby parting around them without protest because it’s clear to everyone that the pair of them must stop here.

“Are you?”

She heaves a long, heavy sigh that slides into another groan.  “To train a padawan?” Ahsoka hesitates.  “Or to stay in the Temple again?”

Barriss says nothing, projecting the serenity she feels every day in the Temple; the serenity she feels when she’s with Ahsoka; the serenity that emanates from their current topic through the unifying Force.

“Because I won’t train a Padawan the way we were trained,” Ahsoka says harshly.  “Always on the move.  No solid ground to fall back on, no peace.  That’s not who we are.”

“Not anymore,” Barriss replies, with that same hint of bitterness.  In, out.  She releases it as quickly as it appeared.

“I want her to know peace, Barriss.  And love,” she adds petulantly, still stinging from her last debate with some of their elders over the Skywalker Clan, the one Barriss suspects played no small part in sending her back out of the Temple again.  “Safety.”

“Well, you have your answer, then.”

Ahsoka looks at her blankly. 

“Who better to provide those things than you?  It’s not like you’d trust anyone else with her, at this point.  Still ready to take the fate of the whole galaxy onto your shoulders, Knight Tano,” Barriss teases, gently, because that weight still aches for her friend even now.

“And you’re still ready to take its wounds onto yours, Healer Offee,” Ahsoka returns.

“It’s not like you’ll be alone,” Barriss says with exasperation, starting through the Temple again.  Ahsoka keeps to her side automatically, her ‘sabers swinging at her hips.  “You’ll have me, and Master Kenobi, and Knight Katooni, and even—Skywalker,” she settles on delicately.  “Even if he should never be allowed near our younglings.”

“Maybe we can share her,” Ahsoka muses lightly, still protesting Barriss’ decision not to take an apprentice. Barriss lets it go for now, because she just won the argument.

They slow to a halt outside the Bear Clan’s quarters, and Ahsoka curses.  “C’mon, I haven’t even showered yet!”

“You’re no good to anyone putting things off.  Always on the move, that Ahsoka Tano.  Always looking forward.”

Ahsoka sighs again, with a touch of finality, and relents.  She turns to Barriss and tilts her forehead to bump into her friend’s.  “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Barriss says, and presses into Ahsoka’s touch for a moment, before giving her friend one final push.

“Hey!”  Ahsoka exclaims as she stumbles through the Clan’s doorway, but Barriss is already halfway down the hallway, her lingering amusement in the Force the only sign she was ever there.

—

Barriss sits in her cell and weeps unabashedly, full of relief for this gift the Force has given her: a future. 

For her people.

For herself.

—

fin.

[iselsis]

Unholy Matrimony 3

Trigger Warning: attempted sexual assault.

Tim briefly hoped that Oliver Queen had less moral character than Bruce Wayne and would agree to marry a reluctantly submitting thirteen-year-old, but the thought soured in his gut. They say that meeting your heroes is disappointing, how much worse would it be to marry one? He knew that adults mating with kids was bad, but Luthor was bad, and bad people doing bad things was nothing new. Heroes, though…

Tim didn’t want to live in a world where a hero would want a child as a wife. That was just wrong, and heroes weren’t allowed to be wrong like that.

He decided just to start compiling evidence of Mr. Luthor’s more egregious crimes – the dead business rivals, inconvenient employees, and private detectives, along with the swindling and stilted business deals. Those were the things that might actually convince them not to deal with Luthor. Not the fact that he was an extremely horrible person and a credibly accused serial rapist.

He stayed at his laptop for hours, assembling his evidence, and once he felt that he had enough, he finally closed his laptop and looked up.

The first light of dawn was starting to peek in through the gap in his curtains and he groaned. He was definitely going to regret pulling an all nighter later, especially while he was still in heat. At least he’d already been planning on avoiding his parents all day.

As an awareness dawned on him that time and his physical body were both things that, surprisingly, still existed even if he ignored both things indefinitely, he realized that he was hungry.

Tim tapped a nervous pattern with his fingers on the plastic casing of his laptop, weighing his options. He was pretty sure that he had at least half a granola bar stuffed in one of his backpacks, but he was hungrier than that. He wanted real food, which meant going down to the kitchen and running the risk of bumping into his parents. He’d had enough verbal beatdowns over the past days to last him the rest of his life, but they were probably still sleeping at…

Tim glanced at his alarm clock. 6:23. They were probably still asleep.

His stomach growled angrily at him, making the decision. It was a chance he’d have to take. Worse came to worse, he’d get to be told how worthless omegas are and how disappointed they were in him again, as if it were fresh news the hundred thirty-seventh time.

Tim quietly tiptoed across his room and turned the knob. The door swung open without a sound, courtesy of the well-oiled hinges he’d found were a staple of any kid who liked to sneak in and out of his house without getting caught. He could technically climb up the rugged brick exterior of their home, and he could even be doing that now, but it wasn’t a climb he liked to make in the dark, or when he was physically compromised, as he was in heat.

There was no light coming from under his parents’ bedroom, so Tim sneaked silently down the hall to the stairs. He stayed quiet, though less cautiously, as he got farther away.

Two flights of stairs and a hall later, Tim had reached the kitchen. He flipped on the light and made a move for the pantry, only to freeze when he noticed his father glaring at him.

“What are you doing up?” Jack asked brusquely.

Tim blinked twice, recalibrating quickly. “I just like getting up early. Wh-what are you doing up?”

Jack grunted. “Tashkent is nine hours ahead of Gotham. It takes some time to adjust. Of course, having to deal with the fallout of our only heir being an omega hasn’t helped our sleep schedule much.”

Tim wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to respond to that, so he just nodded and tried to look docile and submissive. Jack turned back to the bagel he’d been eating at the window, watching the sunrise, and Tim took that as his chance to sneak into the pantry.

He’d been hoping to be able to sneak a bunch of food back up to his bedroom so that he wouldn’t have to leave for the rest of the day, but with his dad right there, that plan was dashed. Tim stuffed some packaged food into the pockets of his pajama pants, then grabbed a box of cereal and took it to the counter.

He tried not to look directly at his dad while he made himself a giant bowl of cereal. It was more than he’d normally eat, but if he ate it all, and what was in his pockets, he might be able to hole up in his room, at least until his parents went to bed. If they were getting up early, they’d be sleeping early too.

He did have to present his “please don’t make me marry this terrible person, not because you care in anyway for my well being or anything, but because it’ll probably turn out badly for you too” plan, though, and he’d have to do it before anything with Luthor was finalized. He couldn’t hide all day, unless he got it over with now.

Tim sat down at the island and took a few bites, trying to come up with a natural sounding conversation starter that wouldn’t get him berated, but he gave up quickly.

“Dad?” Tim tried.

Jack’s nose wrinkled in disgust, and Tim remembered all the “you’re not our son” stuff.

Tim lowered his head and tried again, trying to keep the hurt out of his tone and scent. “Sir.”

“What?”

Tim poked at his cereal with a waning appetite. “H-Have you decided who I’m going to marry?”

Tim chanced a quick glance to Jack, who seemed annoyed, but not violent as he had been before. Not yet, at least.

“You’ll marry who I tell you to marry, bitch,” Jack snarled.

Tim nodded obediently, then started tapping nervously on the counter.

“Cut that out,” Jack warned, and Tim stopped immediately.

“It’s just-” Tim took a deep breath and raised his head to meet his father’s eyes. “You know that Luthor is suspected of several murders, and of defrauding his business partners, right?”

Jack’s expression briefly flickered to surprise before the glower was back. “If you think that making up things is going to get you out of this-”

“It’s not that!” Tim rushed, and nearly panicked when he realized that he had just interrupted his dad, which would have landed him in a heap of trouble even before he had presented. He had less than five seconds before his dad exploded, though, and then he’d never get a word in edgewise, so Tim just went for it. “I have a lot of evidence on my computer. I’ll show it to you. I’m fine with anyone else, but I don’t think that Luthor is a-”

Jack stood with enough force to send his chair crashing to the floor, and he stormed toward Tim. Tim scrambled off his barstool and backed toward the door, watching his father with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, sir, I just-”

Jack grabbed Tim by the throat and slammed him against the doorframe, hard. Tim cried out in pain, a second cry choked off when his dad tightened his grip. Tim could barely breathe, and tears of pain and fear sprang unbidden to his eyes. He can’t hurt me permanently, he wants that money, he can’t hurt me, he can’t hurt me.

That didn’t make it hurt any less as the hard wooden corners jabbed into his back and his father’s fingers dug deep into the flesh of his neck.

“You’ll marry who I tell you to marry, whether you like it or not,” Jack snarled, leaning in close to Tim’s face. Jack stopped, then closed his eyes and put his nose against Tim’s collarbone, right on the scent gland, and took a deep breath. “This, right here, is all you have anymore. This scent and this…” Jack’s free hand came up and rested on Tim’s chest, then began to trail, slowly and uncomfortably, down the front of Tim’s body.

“Dad?” Tim whimpered. Jack’s hand hit the waistband of Tim’s pajama pants and started to toy with it. “Dad?!”

Jack pulled back to look at Tim’s face, a lecherous gleam to his eye to match his vicious grin. His scent was shifting too, becoming muskier and stronger.

His dad was going into rut.

Jack’s hand started to tug Tim’s waistband lower and lower on his hips. “If you’re so scared of what Luthor’s going to do to you, maybe I should give you a preview.”

Tim grabbed his pants and tried to pull them up, but his dad growled at him and tugged more insistently.

“Dad, please don’t do this! Please!” Tim choked out.

Jack pressed his body against Tim’s, pinning him to the doorframe more effectively. His hand slid away from Tim’s throat, and he started sloppily mouthing Tim’s neck. “We wouldn’t want you to be scared when your new husband stakes his claim, would we?”

“Dad, please!” Tim’s protest and struggles were ineffectual. Both of his father’s hands lustily gripped the dips of his waist, the fingers tight enough to bruise, then slowly felt their way down Tim’s sides. He wasn’t going to stop. There was no way to stop him, no way to-

“MOM!” Tim screamed. Jack growled in annoyance and tried to cover Tim’s mouth, but Tim turned in time to scream once more before his dad clapped his hand across Tim’s face.

“Do you think she’s going to help you, Timmy? She might decide to join me in breaking you in,” Jack snapped.

But she wouldn’t, because his mom was a beta and not in rut, and she was smart enough to know that he was worth a lot more as a virgin. It was a big house, but if she had heard him, he might stand a prayer of not getting knotted by his dad. Jack knew that too, or he wouldn’t have covered Tim’s mouth.

Before Jack could resume his groping, Janet Drake rushed into the kitchen from another door. She took one look at Jack, then at Tim, and huffed in frustration.

“Jack, what in the world are you doing?” she snapped, storming over and pulling Jack off of Tim.

Tim’s knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. He raised his trembling hands to cover his face and the silent tears of fear and relief that he couldn’t stop.

Janet dragged Jack a few paces away, keeping her body between the rutting alpha and the heat-stricken omega. “We offered Luthor a virgin omega. You know as well as I do what happens when people cheat Lex Luthor. If you could keep your instincts in check so that we don’t get ourselves killed, that would be quite satisfactory, dear.”

Jack growled, but it seemed a token protest. He clearly knew that his wife was right.

“I’m sure a little…practice, for the boy, wouldn’t hurt, don’t you think? Just touching,” Jack promised.

The trembling in Tim’s hands spread to the rest of his body and he nearly threw up.

“I’m your son!” Tim cried, unable to stop himself. Didn’t that count for anything?

Jack growled at him, but Janet silenced them both with a disapproving glower.

“Honestly, Timothy, you should have known better than to be around an alpha alone in your state. Why do you think I’ve stayed close to you during your heat? It certainly wasn’t the quality of the company,” Janet scoffed. “Omegas are a temptation to alphas in the best of conditions. In heat, they are nearly irresistible. Add to that the stress your father has been under, and of course he would be in an unfit state of mind. If you didn’t want to be assaulted, then you should have stayed in your room.”

Tim stared at her in horror. “B-but-”

“Go upstairs, Timothy,” Janet sighed.

Janet took Jack by the arm and led him away, leaving Tim a shaking, terrified mess. He had to make three attempts at standing before his ankles and knees agreed to hold him up, and even then, it was only long enough for him to stumble to the sink and vomit up everything he’d eaten.

They knew.

He leaned back, supporting himself with a white knuckled grip on the rim of the sink.

They knew that Luthor was dangerous for them, they had to know that he was also a danger to Tim, and they’d chosen to force him to marry Luthor anyway. There was no way out.

His sides tingled as phantom versions of his father’s hands grabbed his sides slid down to his hips. His stomach churned violently, and he barely leaned forward in time for the bile to land in the sink. He swiped the cuff of his sleeve across his mouth, but caught the scents of fear and rut that lingered where his sleeve had hit his father’s wrist scent gland, and he threw up again.

Finally, when there was truly nothing left in his stomach, Tim stood up. He didn’t rinse out the sink. It was a small, meaningless victory, but one of them would have to do it.

Walking up the stairs felt like climbing a mountain, even though it was only two flights. He couldn’t escape the sensation of his father’s hands sneaking up on him and grabbing him. He couldn’t stop the tears blurring his vision, either.

When he reached the third floor, he took a deep, shuddering breath, rubbing his hands up and down his sides to cover the feeling of hands. It helped, but the phantom fingers went deeper than his hands could hope to.

He practically ran into his bedroom, locked the door, and shoved his desk up against it. With that secure, he rushed into his bedroom and started pulling off his clothes, which he hated because now he was uncovered and even more vulnerable than before, but those clothes smelled unescapably like his father. He shoved them into the trash can, then stuffed a towel over them to stop it up.

Tim turned the water on as hot as it could go, then jumped into the spray and viciously scrubbed everywhere his father had touched, not even stopping when his skin was red and raw. He just wanted it to go away, but he could still feel him.

The tears that had been so quiet and manageable caught in Tim’s throat and he choked on a sob. If he couldn’t even trust his own father not to do this to him, and if he couldn’t trust his mother to save him for anything other than her own benefit, then who could he trust?

The sobs kept coming, wracking his whole body. He wanted to stop, so he could get out and get dressed and hide and not be so vulnerable, but he couldn’t do anything more than huddle miserably on the floor of the shower and cry, even as the burning hot water ran out and turned frigid.

He left his room once the rest of the day. He briefly napped, hidden under his bed, but it was a restless sleep and plagued by nightmares. He didn’t eat, either, but he dumped all the packaged food he’d stolen from the kitchen into his backpack, along with several pairs of dark clothes that would cover almost his whole body, a toothbrush, a sleeping bag, and all of his money.

He waited until he hear his parents in the kitchen for an early dinner, then sneaked into their room, found their wallets. About half of it was in foreign currency that he couldn’t use, but he got nearly three hundred American dollars between the two wallets. He considered taking the cards, too, but decided against it. If he got caught, that was a crime they could prove. They wouldn’t actually be able to prove that the cash he’d taken was theirs and not his allowance. He also found a box of scent blocking patches that his parents wore in business meetings, and took those too.

He quickly went back to his room, locked and barricaded the door, then waited. It was another hour or two before they made their way up to their bedroom. He gave it another hour, until it was nearly dark and he was sure that they were asleep.

Opening the window and swinging out onto the brick footholds for the last time should have felt awful. He should have had second thoughts, and then third and fourth thoughts, until he realized that his parents were not as bad as he thought, and climbed back inside and then never speak of his aborted runaway attempt again.

But it didn’t.

Gotham was a dangerous city, especially for packless children and omegas, but it was far more home than his house was. Gotham, for all its faults, would hide him from his parents, and his marriage. He could do odd jobs, maybe forge some papers and pretend to be older than he was to get hired some place, or even just steal. It didn’t even matter anymore, but he was never letting an alpha touch him again.